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  Valegro

  A Rising Star

  The Blueberry Stories: Book Three

  Carl Hester MBE FBHS with Janet Rising

  with illustrations by Helena Öhmark

  Copyright © 2017 Valegro Blueberry Limited

  Front cover and illustrations by Helena Öhmark

  The moral right of the authors has been asserted.

  Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

  Matador

  9 Priory Business Park,

  Wistow Road, Kibworth Beauchamp,

  Leicestershire. LE8 0RX

  Tel: 0116 279 2299

  Email: [email protected]

  Web: www.troubador.co.uk/matador

  Twitter: @matadorbooks

  ISBN 9781788030298

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

  This book is dedicated to all staff at Oakelbrook Mill, past and present, who have played such an important part in Blueberry’s extraordinary rise to fame.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Blueberry Extras

  Glossary of equestrian terms introduced in book 3

  Chapter One

  “Steady now, Blueberry,” whispered Carl, asking his mount to slow a fraction and listen to him. The little brown horse Blueberry, known in competitions by his registered name Valegro, was keen to do as his rider requested – but sometimes that meant he was too eager, and forgot to listen. A brilliant dressage horse has to have talent (which Blueberry had) and ability (which Blueberry possessed by the bucket-load), but he also has to listen to his rider and wait for the instructions to come, rather than do his own thing and hope his rider will catch up. Sometimes, Carl acknowledged, Blueberry was so keen to show him how well he understood the aids given by his rider’s legs, hands and seat, his enthusiasm got the better of him and he anticipated what Carl wanted.

  “You’re one of the keenest equine pupils I’ve ever had,” laughed Carl, again requesting that his mount shorten his stride and bring his legs higher under his body, taking shorter, but much more energetic, steps. This time Blueberry did as he was asked, arching his neck and feeling his energy go upward and be contained in his body, rather than move forward. As he did so Blueberry thought of The Silver Dancer, Carl’s amazing metal statue of a dressage horse in piaffe, the most advanced, most elevated and graceful of all the dressage movements. Blueberry longed to dance like the sculpture, and as he sprang from one set of his diagonal legs to the other in his energetic trot he felt sure he resembled The Silver Dancer more than ever.

  “Okay Blueberry,” said Carl, loosening the reins and allowing his mount to stretch his neck and relax for a while in trot then walk, “that’s enough for today. Good job!”

  Dismounting, Carl handed the reins to Lydia, Blueberry’s groom, who led him to the washing boxes where she unsaddled him and washed him down with warm water, drying him off under the glowing solarium lights.

  Blueberry lifted his head and looked around at Brook Mill where he, and all the other dressage horses Carl trained, lived and worked. He always loved feeling the warm water on his back, running down his legs and cleaning the sweat from his coat. The crimson solarium lights made his muscles feel good – he had worked hard and now he enjoyed being pampered. With his shower and drying complete, Blueberry was led to his stable where a full net of hay awaited him.

  As he tugged and chewed at his hay, Blueberry thought about his schooling session. He and the other horses at Brook Mill had only four schooling sessions scheduled every week, and Blueberry always looked forward to being ridden in either the indoor or outdoor arena. He particularly enjoyed being ridden by Carl – although the pupils and students also rode him. They were all good riders, and as Carl was always there to coach and encourage, inspire and direct, all the horses learned something at every session.

  But with Carl in Blueberry’s saddle, it was different. With Carl, Blueberry thought, it was as though his rider spoke the same language as his horse, as though Carl knew exactly what Blueberry could do, even though Blueberry himself hadn’t realised – until he did it with Carl. With some of the other riders, the little brown horse occasionally felt as though neither of them knew quite what was needed – possibly a little more leg from the rider here, a little less bend in the neck from Blueberry there. With Carl, it just flowed and it all seemed easy, effortless.

  This was no accident; Carl made sure every lesson he conducted with his horses was progressive. He didn’t ask any questions from his horses until he was certain they knew the answers – and he was certain they knew the answers because he had given them all the information in the lessons they had had before. That way, if he asked for half-pass, where the horse moved sideways and forward under his rider, he knew his horse’s muscles had developed in previous schooling sessions, and the horse had learned to move away from the rider’s leg and follow the opening given by the rider’s rein – not to mention the feeling the rider gave the horse with his weight, and the direction indicated by the rider’s own upper body. With Carl in his saddle, Blueberry felt as though he was a fully-trained dressage horse, with all the moves at the tips of his hooves.

  Of course, all horses are capable of carrying out all the dressage movements you see in a dressage arena. They do them in the field, in play, on a chilly morning or when playing with other horses, but to carry out these movements under a rider and exactly when asked is more difficult. A bad rider can not only hamper a horse but actually block and prevent him from carrying out the movements. A good rider, on the other hand, can lead the horse into the movement and make the horse feel like he’s flying! It was this feeling that Blueberry got whenever Carl rode him. The other pupils and students were good riders, and Blueberry could do the movements they asked for, but it was only with Carl that felt he had wings on his hooves. It was only with Carl that Blueberry felt he might just be like The Silver Dancer after all.

  “How’s the Badminton Young Dressage Horse of the Future today?” asked Lulu, the small, one-eyed, tan-coloured top-dog-of-the-yard, as she wriggled through the secret, Lulu-sized hole she had made at the back of Blueberry’s stable and settled down on a pile of dropped hay next to her friend’s front hooves.

  Blueberry snorted and for a moment his mind drifted back to the competition Lulu referred to, which he had won in the summer with Lucy in his saddle. At only four years old, he had beaten all the best four- and five-year old dressage horses in the country, including Uthopia, Carl’s almost black stallion, a year older, and more experienced than Blueberry. It had been the most amazing day and Blueberry loved to remember it duri
ng his quiet moments, when all the grooms had finished their work for the day, and the yard at Brook Mill was dark and quiet. He loved revelling in his past achievements and dreaming of future glories came before sleep.

  “Carl rode me today,” Blueberry replied. “It felt really good – I’m beginning to understand how I need to keep my energy reserved in my quarters and when I get it right I feel as though my back is working as well as my legs, and my shoulders feel higher. When that happens, I can hardly hear my hoof beats on the arena’s surface. It’s as though I’m lighter and moving on air. It’s very weird, but in a good way. I felt like The Silver Dancer!”

  Lulu felt herself nodding. She had seen countless horses trained at Brook Mill. She liked nothing more than to sit with Carl while he taught his pupils – equine and human – and she hadn’t wasted that time. She had soaked up all the information Carl imparted, she had watched the horses and understood what Carl was asking for, noticing the difference when a horse went well and when it didn’t, realising what riders needed to do to improve themselves and their mounts. Lulu often thought her knowledge was somewhat wasted – she’d have made a great riding teacher, she thought, somewhat immodestly. If was a shame the humans didn’t understand her.

  “It’s the young horses whose hooves make the most noise,” she said. “The top dressage horses are almost silent they’re so light on their feet. It’s as though they hardly brush the surface of the arena.”

  Blueberry stopped chewing his hay for a moment while he digested this piece of information, storing it away in his brain to bring out and use later before turning his attention back to his hay. There wasn’t much that could stop Blueberry eating – his appetite was legendary!

  “When Carl rides me,” Blueberry continued, grateful as always to have Lulu around as speaking his thoughts out loud helped him to make sense of them, “I feel as though I can be a brilliant dressage horse. I feel… well, it’s as though Carl is not really riding me, more like he’s part of me, like we’re two beings fused together like… like…” Blueberry struggled to find the words.

  “Like you’re a centaur?” Lulu asked him, before realising her friend had no idea what a centaur was. “That’s a mythical creature that is half-man, half-horse,” she explained. She decided against telling Blueberry that the human part replaced the horse’s head, she thought that might freak him out. No need to alarm him, she decided. After all, without a head, how would he eat?

  “Exactly!” cried Blueberry, pausing in mid-chew. “That’s just what it feels like. It’s very weird, but rather wonderful at the same time.”

  Lulu lifted a hind leg and scratched behind one ear. Blueberry, she knew, was enjoying his lessons, loving his training and progressing fast. His dream was to be the best dressage horse in the world and if Lulu was any judge (and she was, she told herself), he was rushing towards reaching his true potential. If thinking about how he felt when he was learning his craft made the little brown horse pause from his food, Lulu acknowledged, he must surely be destined for the top!

  Chapter Two

  “Did you go to the big show?” asked Orange, the large chestnut horse with a white blaze and two white socks. He and Blueberry were turned out in the paddock behind the outdoor school, as they were every day. It was the end of summer; the leaves were thinking about turning to their autumn colours and drifting from the branches, the sun was already travelling lower in the sky and birds were swooping and chirping before leaving for the warmer air and more abundant feeding grounds in the south.

  “Oh I had the most amazing adventure,” replied Blueberry, a little breathlessly but delighted his friend had asked because he so wanted to tell him all about it. He had enjoyed the most thrilling day of his life (so far, he thought, not wishing to close the door on other, possibly even more thrilling days in the future), and he was still buzzing from the excitement of it all.

  “Go on then, tell me all about it,” said Orange, recognising that Blueberry wanted to share without realising quite what he was in for.

  “Well,” began Blueberry, his eyes shining as he reassembled his thoughts to begin his account, not wanting to leave anything out, “Lydia woke me up early and plaited my mane, so I knew I was going to the big show with some of the other horses. It lasts for days, and we’ve seen the horsebox coming and going, so I was hoping I would be included. Then I had some breakfast and I could see Lydia loading the horsebox with all my tack and I couldn’t wait to follow it up the ramp…”

  “Er, any chance you could skip to the more interesting part?” asked Orange, realising he was in for a long story. He hoped his comment wouldn’t upset Blueberry – he was his best friend and he knew he was only excited and wanted to share that excitement.

  “What? Oh, yes, okay,” said Blueberry, his mind scrolling forward. “Lydia didn’t come with me, Lucy did, so I was looking forward to her riding me. After a bit of a journey in the horsebox with Uti and some of the other horses, we arrived at a competition.”

  At the mention of a competition, Orange shuddered. Although the big chestnut horse loved learning his lessons at Brook Mill, and wanted nothing more than to become a dressage horse, he was less than keen on competing. Being of nervous disposition Orange, gained confidence in areas he was familiar with and disliked being taken out of his comfort zone. Unfortunately, any competition was very definitely outside that zone, which meant that Orange found it impossible to concentrate on what he had learned when he was anywhere but home. This, as you might expect, was a major setback in his career, although Carl still had hopes that the big chestnut horse would grow more comfortable with experience. Sadly, Orange didn’t share his confidence.

  “It was a very big and busy showground,” continued Blueberry, pretending not to notice Orange’s shudder. “There were so many horses, horseboxes and people. Anyway, after a while Carl mounted Uti and they went off to warm up for their test…”

  “How did he do?” asked Orange, politely.

  Blueberry told him he had done very well before continuing with his own story. “Where was I?” he asked, staring into the distance.

  “Uti went off to do his test…” said Orange, helpfully.

  “Oh yes, so I had to wait, and wait and wait. It seemed that my test was much later in the day so there was quite a lot of hanging around. So, I chatted with Lulu for a bit – she had sneaked into the cab of the horsebox when no-one was looking so she had managed to come along, too – and had a spot of lunch, some rather nice hay, and looked around at the other horses warming up. As usual, they all seemed much bi…, er… I mean they all seemed very polished and professional,” said Blueberry, seemingly distracted. He had almost admitted that the other horses were all much bigger than he was.

  His mind wandered back to the great day the previous summer when he had won the Badminton Young Dressage Horse of the Future with Lucy riding him. The other horses at the competition had all looked down their noses and mistaken him for an entrant in the Pony Club competition because he had been so much smaller than they were. And Blueberry had felt small, because they made him feel small. It wasn’t until he was in the dressage arena that he decided to show them what he was made of. He had been so determined that his dressage test had made a brilliant impression on the judge, who awarded him first place. He, Blueberry, the horse the other horses had said was too small, had won the title and shown them all! Even so, he was still sensitive about his lack of height, and didn’t feel inclined to share his worry with Orange. Blueberry hoped that if he didn’t mention it, and he didn’t think about it, his insecurities about his height might go away.

  “So the other horses were stiff competition,” continued Blueberry, putting his negative thoughts behind him. “Lulu, of course, was very encouraging, and helped me control my nerves because the longer I had to wait for my class, the worse they seemed to get. Before, I couldn’t wait to get into the arena and show off what I’d learned bu
t the waiting this time made me feel quite jittery. I wished I could have done my test early in the day because that would have been better. It’s funny, isn’t it, I thought I would be confident after my big win last season, but it made the pressure worse somehow. I expected to do well this time, and that made me anxious.”

  Orange nodded. He knew his nerves would have been in shreds and he was sure what Blueberry thought of as nerves were tiny compared to his own.

  “So, I talked to Lulu about it, and she had a really good idea which worked a treat – you might like to try it,” said Blueberry.

  “Any ideas gratefully received,” said Orange.

  “Lulu suggested I tell myself that the nerves I was feeling were excitement. That instead of being nervous, I was excited about the test to come. So I tried it, and it worked! I found myself looking forward to demonstrating what I’ve learned. The more I thought about being excited, the more I wanted to get in to the arena and show everyone!”

  Orange looked doubtful. Lulu’s advice had obviously helped Blueberry – but Orange knew that Blueberry loved showing off his training, and what he had thought of as nerves were probably excitement and impatience anyway. Orange decided he would try out Lulu’s idea but he had little confidence in it which, in itself, he acknowledged, might be enough to stop it working for him. You had to believe in these things, he thought.

  “So, Lucy tacked me up and got me all ready but she was still in her normal clothes and I knew she’d have to change into her posh riding gear,” continued Blueberry. “I thought, she’s cutting it a bit fine, because if my tack is on then I’ll need to be warming up in a minute or two, but still she didn’t get changed. I began to worry that if she didn’t smarten herself up soon, I wouldn’t be able to compete. All that excitement for nothing! But then – oh Orange, this is the best bit, you’ll never guess…”