Nightstorm and the Grand Slam

Suddenly there were voices in the darkness. The guard was back – and he had the vet with him.

“I’m Maurice Cross,” the vet introduced himself with a brisk handshake. He dropped his medical case to the ground, dug out a stethoscope and began to examine Storm straight away.

“So he’s showing signs of colic?”

“He’s been getting to the ground and trying to roll,” Issie confirmed. She ran through the rest of Storm’s symptoms while the vet examined his heart rate and breathing.

“His pulse is very high,” the vet looked concerned. “He’s at over 100 beats per minute at the moment.”

“Is that bad?” Issie asked. “Is he going to be OK?”

The vet shook his head. “I can’t tell you that yet. There are different types of colic. If it’s just a nervous muscle spasm then he’ll recover overnight. But if it’s something more serious, like a twist in his bowel or an impaction, then he’ll deteriorate in the next few hours…”

The vet stopped talking and began to hunt about in his bag. He pulled out a hypodermic needle and loaded the syringe with clear fluid.

“We’ll give him a muscle relaxant and see what happens,” the vet said. “With any luck, he’s having spasmodic contractions and the relaxant will help to ease them.”

The vet took the hypodermic needle and thrust it firmly into the muscle of Storm’s neck. The stallion didn’t flinch as the needle went in all the way to the hilt.

“It should take effect in a few minutes,” the vet said. “The main thing now is to keep walking him. It’s vital that you don’t let him roll.”

The vet gestured towards the security gates at the front of the yard. “They have my number on speed dial,” he told her. “I’ll come back and check on you in the morning. But don’t be afraid to call me before then if there’s any change.”

Issie watched the vet leave and hoped that a phone call wouldn’t be necessary.

“Is there anything I can do?” The night guard was clearly feeling awful that he had tried to turf her out earlier. “Do you want me to lead him for you for a while?”

Issie shook her head. She couldn’t bring herself to leave Storm’s side, not even for a moment.

“Can you do me a favour?” she asked. “I need you to make a phone call for me.”

By the time Avery, Francoise and Stella arrived at the yard the vet’s injection had begun to work and Storm’s pains seemed to be easing, but the stallion was still distressed and Issie still needed to keep him moving.

“It looks like we might be lucky,” Francoise said gently to Issie. “If the pains are lessening then the chances are that he has spasmodic colic. It is painful – but it is the best kind of colic to get – he’ll get better again quite quickly.”

“It’s not because I overfed him, is it?” Stella looked distraught. “I gave him a regular feed…”

Francoise shook her head. “No – this kind of colic attack is usually brought on by nerves and stress, not food. He needs to be walked for the rest of the night, but the chances are good that he will recover.”

Avery agreed. “It looks like the muscle relaxant is working.”

“Will I be able to ride him tomorrow?” Issie asked. “It’s only a few hours until the cross-country.”

Avery shook his head. “It’s too soon. Even if all of his symptoms were gone by then, riding him would be a huge risk. He could develop a second bout and it would kill him.”

Issie’s heart plummeted. If you had asked her an hour ago she would have wept with gratitude just knowing that her horse was going to live – but to have her dreams yanked away like this… ohmygod, they were in the top three after the dressage! It was too cruel. But she knew what she had to do.

She couldn’t ride – she had to retire. She was pulling Storm out of Badminton.

Chapter 4

Issie felt like she had only just fallen asleep when she was being woken up by the glare of bright sunlight on her face. The canvas flap of the truck had been opened up and it was daylight outside.

“Oops!” Stella quickly shut the canvas behind her again. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to wake you!” She reached across Issie and began rummaging around in a gear bag until she found a roll of gamgee bandage.

Issie sat up, still feeling groggy. “What time is it?”

“It’s nearly ten,” Stella said.

Ten! No wonder the sky had looked so blue. She should have been awake hours ago. The cross-country would be underway already!

“It’s OK. Everything is under control,” Stella said. “Tom told me to leave you to sleep in.”

Nightstorm’s bout of colic had kept Issie up until the early hours of the morning. She hadn’t wanted to leave her horse’s side but at five a.m. Avery finally insisted that she go back and get some sleep.

“Stella will stay with him,” Avery told her. “You need to rest. You’ve still got Victory to ride tomorrow.”

Stella finished packing the gamgee bandages in the kit bag and slung it over her shoulder.

“Storm’s doing much better,” she said, anticipating Issie’s question. “Maurice came to check on him again at around eight this morning and he’s pretty sure that he’s over the worst of it. He might have a few more stomach pains over the next twenty-four hours but he’s going to make a complete recovery.”

“Thanks, Stella,” Issie said gratefully.

Stella looked like she was going to burst into tears. “I’m so sorry, Issie. I should have realised when he wasn’t eating that something was wrong…”

“There was no way you could have known he was going to get colic,” Issie told her.

Stella looked miserable. “You should be riding him today. He would have gone clear around that cross-country course. I know it.”

Issie swallowed down hard on her disappointment. She didn’t want to make Stella feel any worse, but deep down she was devastated. Yesterday she had been in third place after the dressage. Now, her hopes of taking the trophy on the big bay stallion were destroyed. But her chances weren’t completely lost. She still had her second mount to ride. She had to pull herself together, get out of bed and get ready for battle. Victory was due to tackle the four-star course that afternoon.

The green fields of Badminton Estate, usually populated by sheep, were home to over a hundred and fifty thousand spectators on cross-country day. Everywhere that Issie looked there were people crammed up against the rope barriers, all trying to get into the best possible position to see the action.

The Tannoy crackled, then Mike Partridge resumed his commentary. “What a morning it has been! The course here at Badminton has proved to be one of the most challenging in the history of the event and has upset many a combination of horse and rider. Only five clear rounds have been completed so far. Gerhardt Muller on Velluto Rosso is hoping to add to that tally and make it six. He’s clear so far as they head towards the water complex…”

As Issie rode Victory into the warm-up arena, she caught sight of William Fox-Pitt and Piggy French, both mounted up and ready to ride and her heart skipped a beat. The most famous faces in the sport of eventing were here today and the atmosphere in the stadium was electric.

Issie still couldn’t quite believe that she was about to ride one of the most famous cross-country courses in the world!

Don’t think about the pressure, she told herself firmly, focus on the task ahead. She looked across the main arena and concentrated her eye on the first fence, the flowerbed. From there, she let her mind ride the course, mentally cantering and galloping through it, committing to memory the turns and checks that she would make before each obstacle. As she did this, she was only slightly aware that Victory too was beginning to grow tense. The brown gelding was swishing his tail in consternation. Tacked up in his cross-country kit, his front and hind legs smothered with white grease to help him to slide more easily over the solid jumps, he knew that their time had almost come. He was keyed up and anxious to get out on the course and there was already a lather of white sweat on his neck from anticipation as Avery took hold of his reins and led him towards the start box.

“There have been quite a few run-outs at that brush element in Huntsman’s Close,” Avery told Issie as he walked her forward. “Make sure you keep your line to that corner and don’t rush it.”

“OK,” Issie nodded.

“And kick on as you come into the water. You need to get three big strides in before you strike that middle element. A lot of riders have tried to put in a fourth stride and come to grief.”

Even though he had already checked her girth at least five times, Avery now gave it one more final check. Issie noticed that he was trembling a little as he took the girth straps in his hands. Her trainer looked up at her and that was when she saw the concern in his eyes.