Issie and the Christmas Pony by Stacy Gregg Read Free Book Online Page A

wind and his thick, silvery tail trailed behind him. His dapples had faded a bit with old age so that his coat was now snowy white in some places, with dappled patches on the rump and withers. Although his back was swayed from age, he still had good conformation, stocky and compact, and he moved with such grace. Issie thought he was the most beautiful horse she had ever seen.
    The pony kept trotting towards Issie, his stride high and bouncy. Then, when he was just a few metres away, he halted. He looked at Issie, and for a moment the girl and the horse connected, and Issie knew right then and there that she had found him.
    You’re the one , she thought . You’re mine .
    But the grey pony seemed uncertain. He pawed the ground with his front hoof, flicking his head up and down as if he was trying to make his mind up about something. Then he wheeled about on his hocks and cantered off, back round the side of the red barn and out of sight.
    â€œWait!” Issie called after him. “Don’t leave!” She desperately wanted to stop the pony, to make him stay with her, but she didn’t know what to do. “Don’t go…”Issie murmured. “Don’t leave…Come back. Please, don’t leave me! How will I find you?”
    Then came the sound of her name, a voice calling to her. “Issie? Issie!” Hands softly shaking her awake. Her mother’s arms wrapped round her. “Issie? Are you OK?” And suddenly she was no longer in the field next to the red barn. She was in her bed and her mum was there too, snuggling her tight, whispering to her that it would all be OK, that it had just been a bad dream.
    â€œI’m all right, Mum,” Issie managed. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”
    Mrs Brown looked worried. “Dreaming about your dad again?”
    Ever since her father had left, Issie had been having bad dreams. She would wake up sometimes in tears, not remembering the details of her dream and not knowing why she was crying. Her mum had become used to the nightly ritual of coming into her daughter’s room to settle her down again with reassurances. Tonight, as far as Mrs Brown knew, was the same as any other night. Except it wasn’t.
    â€œNo,” said Issie, “I wasn’t dreaming about Dad this time, Mum. It was about my horse.”
    â€œSweetie,” Mrs Brown said gently, “you don’t have a horse.”
    Issie felt confused. It was hard to believe she had been dreaming-the grey pony had seemed so real, as if she could have reached out and touched him.
    â€œBut there was a grey horse…” Issie trailed off. Had it really just been a dream?
    Mrs Brown tucked the blankets in tightly and kissed her daughter on the forehead. “Go back to sleep, OK?”
    â€œOK, Mum.”
    Issie didn’t sleep. She lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, her mind racing. She didn’t care what her mum said. She knew it sounded crazy, but it had been more than just a dream. The grey horse and Issie were connected somehow; she could feel it. “He’s real,” Issie told herself. “He’s real and he’s mine. All I have to do is find him.”

7
The Chevalier Point Pony Club
    Issie’s horse-hunt was going nowhere fast-but at least her daily lessons with Tom Avery and Bert were going well.
    â€œI’ve never had a student who focused so hard or improved as quickly,” Avery told her, making her glow inside with pride.
    Avery had been giving Issie lessons every day after school in the arena at Winterflood Farm. He was an exacting instructor and would drill Issie as if they were in the army. He was the sergeant-major in the centre of the ring, barking instructions to her as she rode around, concentrating hard on trying to do just as he said.
    On the very first day Avery made Issie ride without stirrups to improve her balance. Issie wasterrified at first, but it worked. When she took her stirrup irons