Free Issie and the Christmas Pony by Stacy Gregg

pony-club mount.”
    â€œSo which one shall we buy?” Mrs Brown asked Issie and Avery.
    â€œWe bid on them both and wait and see what happens,” advised Avery. “Goldie is number 50, so she’ll be in the auction ring first. If we miss out on her, we put in a bid on Juniper, OK?” This seemed like a good idea to Issie. With two ponies to bid on, she was bound to have one to bring home in the horse float at the end of the day.
    The auction was already under way and Issie stood at the edge of the ring, watching the horses being led in for bidding to begin. The auctioneer stood on a platform to one side of the arena. He spoke very, very quickly, rattling on to the crowd as he asked them to bid more and more for the horse that was being led around in circles in the ring. “How much am I bid for this bay mare, sixteen hands? Who’ll give me $200? Do I hear 200? I have 200. Who will give me 300?” he called. Only the way he said it, it was all jumbled in a blur of words:
    â€œHow-much-am-I-bid-for-this-mare? Who’ll-give-me-two-hundred? Two-hundred!”
    Issie watched as horse after horse went under the auctioneer’s hammer. Some of them sold for thousands others for just a few hundred dollars. Lot 42, though, a brown mare, was different somehow. When she walked into the ring it was clear that the horse was very old. She had a ewe neck, a straggly mane and tail, and the bones stuck out on her rump from lack of condition.
    She looked, Issie thought, like a horse that no one loved. And it turned out to be true. The auctioneer egged everyone on, but no matter what, no one would bid on her. In the end, just one man raised his hand for the mare. He was standing in a row at the back wearing a black jersey and a black hat. He tipped his finger silently to the auctioneer. “I have $50 bid!” shouted the auctioneer. “Going once, going twice…sold!” The auctioneer’s gavel came down and the horse was led out of the ring, but the man in the black hat didn’t even bother to go and inspect his new purchase. He stood and waited for the next lot to enter the ring so he could start bidding again. Issie stared at the man. There wassomething about him that gave her the creeps.
    â€œWho is he?” she asked Avery, pointing across the ring. “Over there. That man who just bought the brown horse.”
    Avery looked at the man in the black jumper. “That’s Nigel Christie,” he said. “He runs the local knacker’s yard.”
    Issie had known there would be horse dealers here bidding today, and yet she still wasn’t prepared for the rush of emotions she felt at that moment. She was consumed with a burning anger for men like Christie. How could they do a job like that?
    â€œCan’t you stop him?” she pleaded with Avery.
    Avery shook his head. “I wish I could, but Christie isn’t doing anything illegal, he’s just doing his job…” Issie couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
    â€œWell, I think he’s horrible and I hate him,” she said. Her voice was trembling as she spoke. She thought about that poor brown mare that no one loved being bought by Christie and suddenly she could feel tears coming.
    â€œIssie, are you OK?” Avery’s kind tone made it worse. Issie shook her head and then, embarrassed by her tears, she turned on her heels and left the auctionring, running towards the back door. As she ran she choked back her sobs, her breath catching in her chest as she gasped for air. Deep down, she knew Avery was right. Men like Christie were a fact of life in the horse world. But that didn’t change the way she felt and it didn’t stop the tears from coming. She needed to get outside for a moment, get some fresh air and calm down.
    As Issie raced out of the back door of the stable she couldn’t hold her sobs back any longer. Her eyes flooded with tears, which she wiped away