Issie and the Christmas Pony by Stacy Gregg

number 62,” Avery said. “There’s not much time between them. Even if we decided to pass up on Goldie and go and look at this other horse now, we might miss Juniper as well if we don’t hurry back.”
    Issie shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, Tom. I don’t care if we miss the whole auction. You have to come and see this grey pony. He’s the one. I know it sounds stupid and all that and I can’t explain it, but he is. You have to come and meet him!”
    â€œIssie.” Avery didn’t move. “It’s easy to fall in love with a pony, but really you need be sensible here.If we don’t bid on Goldie and the grey pony doesn’t turn out to be right for you then you may not get a horse today at all.” He didn’t need to add the next half of that sentence because Issie knew what he meant: This is your last chance , he was telling her, your last chance to buy a pony and make it to pony camp.
    Issie looked at the auction ring. She could bid on Goldie now and forget about the grey pony. That would make sense, wouldn’t it? Goldie was wonderful after all; there was nothing wrong with her.
    But the grey pony was different, he was special. Issie knew at that moment that she couldn’t just forget about him. It was a risk she had to take-she had no choice.
    â€œCome on,” she said to Avery. “Follow me. You’re going to love him. His name is Mystic…”
    If Avery did love Mystic then he made a good job of hiding it. “His conformation is sound enough,” he said. “Good legs and hooves, but look at that sway back!”
    â€œIs that bad?” Issie asked.
    Avery shook his head. “Well, it doesn’t mean youcan’t ride him. A horse with a sway back can still be quite sound and healthy, but it is a sign of old age.” He opened Mystic’s mouth and peered hard at his teeth.
    â€œAt a guess, I’d say this pony is even older than eighteen. He might be as much as twenty-five, which is very old indeed in horse years.”
    â€œDoes that mean you won’t let me buy him?” Issie braced herself for bad news.
    â€œI didn’t say that,” Avery reassured her. “He seems to be fit enough, and as long as his paces are still OK and he’s not stiff in his joints I have no problem with his age.” He turned to Issie. “What do you say? Want to take him for a test ride?”
    The man who had nearly run Issie over helped them to saddle Mystic up. “He comes with all his own tack,” he told them. “Saddle, bridle and a summer rug and winter rug.”
    â€œWho are his current owners?” asked Avery.
    â€œThe girl already asked me that,” the man replied. “Sorry, but I can’t tell you. I’m just here to sell on their behalf. You know as much about this pony as I do.”
    Issie was nervous as she climbed the mounting block and put her foot in the stirrup. “Do you think he’s safe to ride?” she asked Tom.
    Avery nodded. “He has a kind face-I don’t think this pony’s got a nasty bone in his body. And look at the way his ears are pricked forward,” he said. “That means he’s happy.” Avery gave the grey pony a pat. “No, I get a good feeling about this gelding. I think he’s a trustworthy soul.”
    Avery was right. From the moment Issie sat in the saddle on this pony, she knew she could put all her faith in him. Mystic didn’t put a hoof out of place. His ears swivelled back and forth as he listened to Issie’s cues, and his paces were so precise, it was almost as if he knew what she was thinking and was anticipating her next move, reacting before she asked him to. His walk was loose and free and his trot had a pep to it that belied his age.
    â€œTry asking him to canter now,” Avery instructed.
    The moment Mystic rose up into a canter, Issie’s face broke into a broad grin. “He