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    Faster Than Lightning
    Faster Than Lightning
    Faster Than Lightning
    Ebook152 pages1 hour

    Faster Than Lightning

    By Michael Panckridge and Pam Harvey

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    About this ebook


    twelve-year-old Angus lives and breathes horses. His father is a horse trainer, and on most mornings before school, Angus is down at the racecourse helping him out. After a scary incident at the track one morning, Angus, with the help of his friends, discovers suspicious goings-on at the local stud farm. When a horse, Lightning Strikes, appears to be the exact replica of a dead horse, Gale Force, Angus knows something's definitely not right. Is the stud involved in a special breeding program, or is it something more sinister? It's up to Angus and his friends to find out - before it's too late.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins Publishers Australia
    Release dateMay 1, 2010
    ISBN9780730401469
    Faster Than Lightning
    Author

    Michael Panckridge

    Michael Panckridge has published over 20 books, including the bestselling Toby Jones cricket series and the new Legends of League series with Laurie Daley.  

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      Book preview

      Faster Than Lightning - Michael Panckridge

      Chapter 1

      Teasdale Racecourse: Friday morning

      The young horse threw his head up and reared again. Angus sat forward in the saddle, hands firmly on the reins either side of the colt’s neck, and gritted his teeth. For the twentieth time that morning, he wished he was riding King, his own gelding, and not this colt that had rarely been on the track before. As the horse landed on all four hooves, three strappers rode past. Angus saw Jack among them.

      ‘Having some trouble, Gussy boy?’

      Jack was riding his stable’s favourite mare. Her coat was a velvety chocolate in the early morning light. She looked magnificent. Angus scowled, wiped his brown curly hair away from his eyes and pushed his helmet down further.

      ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’

      ‘You can handle anything, so the rumour goes. Angus is the next strapper of the year.’ Jack didn’t look at him as he spoke but addressed the other boys. Angus could imagine the smirk on Jack’s face.

      ‘You know I’m not a strapper. You can’t be at thirteen. I’m just helping Dad.’ He would have said more but his horse grabbed at the bit and took off along the track.

      Angus sat down hard, trying to hold him back. The horse fought, shaking his head and kicking up his back legs. Angus talked as they struggled, trying to calm the colt. ‘Settle, you stupid horse,’ he said quietly, keeping his hands low. ‘Easy does it, easy…’

      By halfway around the track, the colt had slowed to a steady trot. Angus could lift his head to study what was going on around him. The sun was just beginning to rise and threads of light let him see most of the racecourse.

      Besides race days, this was the busiest time of the day for the track. Racing stables lined one side of the fence, horses coming and going in and out of their gates. Visiting stables, like his father’s Brookwood, parked their vans in a section along the end of the horse yards and used the stables next to them. Each van brought at least two thoroughbreds. Horses called to each other and trainers shouted and strappers ran here and there. It was hectic.

      Angus urged his horse into a canter and followed the outer rail. Every now and then, small groups of thoroughbreds galloped past and the colt would start to fight again.

      ‘You just keep it steady,’ Angus said to him. ‘It’ll be your turn to race one day.’ The horse flicked his ears back and forth at the boy’s words.

      They had nearly made their way around the track when the sound of thundering hooves made Angus look behind him. Usually strappers rode in twos or threes, but this was a group of at least ten horses, taking up the whole track. Angus steered his horse as close to the rail as he could, but it still seemed like there wasn’t enough room.

      ‘What are they doing?’ he muttered to himself as he tightened the reins to try to keep his horse in check. The colt heard the commotion behind him, tucked his back legs under him and threw his head up. Angus had to sit down in the saddle to stop the horse from going berserk.

      The group of horses drew level with Angus, the outside one brushing against him so that their stirrups clanged together. ‘Watch out,’ he said angrily.

      ‘Sorry, mate,’ called the rider but he didn’t move from his position.

      It was strange behaviour for track riders. Usually other people kept out of the way when someone was training, even if they were arch rivals. Anyone can see that I’m on a young horse, Angus thought. What’s wrong with them?

      Even stranger was the way the riders were travelling. It seemed that one horse was in the middle and the others were spread around him like…well, like bodyguards.

      The young colt couldn’t handle it anymore. The others were just too close. He tensed under Angus and started bucking. Angus held the horse’s head up as best he could, but the colt was letting him have it big time. They ploughed sideways into the mob of horses, making them scatter.

      ‘Careful!’ yelled one of the men. ‘Move that horse out of here!’

      Like I’m not trying, Angus thought grimly as he tried to steady the colt beneath him. The horse was thoroughly spooked and had his own ideas. He kept kicking out. Angus felt hot slippery sweat along the animal’s neck. ‘Easy does it,’ he said quietly, trying to get the horse’s attention. ‘Settle down, take it easy.’

      Suddenly they were in the centre of the pack, next to the horse that the others seemed to be guarding. Angus glimpsed a tall black with a snip of white along its nose before his horse crashed into it. There was a roar of something angry from the man riding the black. Angus looked at him and saw the man looking down at his horse’s shoulder, checking for injuries. Angus felt bad but was struggling enough with his own mount to be too worried about the other horse. He settled down and tried to find his way out of the pack.

      The colt slowed, finally taking notice of its rider. The horses in the group pushed past, settling back in their positions around the black. Angus pulled the colt down to a walk and patted the wet neck. ‘Good boy,’ he murmured, keeping his voice calm even if his words weren’t. ‘Stupid morons. Why were they riding like that? Easy does it. Easy now.’

      He made the horse walk calmly along the rest of the track and then turned through the exit.

      The world off the track was still busy. Horses went past him, getting ready for their turn to run. Angus threaded his way through the trucks and made it to his father’s.

      ‘Okay then, Angus?’ Mr MacDonald was putting a rug on their other horse. He was busy doing straps up and checking the horse to see whether it had cooled down, but Angus wasn’t fooled. He knew his father would have seen everything that had happened on the track. ‘Bunched up a bit today, weren’t they? That’s the new horse from Bentley’s. Trying it out on this track before it races here this weekend.’

      ‘Could’ve given me a bit more room but I think the colt’s okay,’ said Angus, jumping off and flinging the reins over the horse’s head. He did a quick tour of its body just in case, running his hands over each leg to feel for heat or injuries. The colt was fine and even managed a playful nip on the boy’s arm.

      ‘I’ll walk him out a bit more,’ said Mr MacDonald. ‘You go and have some breakfast. You probably need it after a ride like that. The thermos is on the front seat and food’s in the box.’

      His father took the reins of the young horse, pulling the saddle off and flinging a light rug across its back. Angus saw the way his dad rubbed the colt’s nose affectionately before he walked off to the cool-down yard. There was no doubt that Mr MacDonald loved his horses—you could see it in his eyes when he was around them. For some men, training racehorses was just a business. For Angus’s father, it was something he was born to do. And that’s how Angus felt too. Most times. At the moment, though, he was starving.

      He climbed into the front seat of the truck. Earlier that morning, hours before the sun had risen, Angus’s dad had made a thermos and packed their breakfast. Angus looked at the time. He still had an hour before he had to meet Hannah—an hour to eat breakfast, finish the horses, clean the truck and the box stalls they used every Tuesday and Friday mornings, have a shower and get ready for school. It sounded like a long time, but with horses you never knew what was going to come up. Sometimes he’d had to go to school without a shower, spending all day sniffing his clothes and wondering whether he stank. Luckily this was the last day of school before holidays.

      It would be easier to go home and get ready, Angus thought. But everything was in the truck; even his bike had been tied onto the metal bar that ran along the side, ready to be ridden to school. Usually Dad stayed on at the track. Since Mum had died, there was no hurry for his father to go home.

      Angus hunted through the box of food his dad had left and grabbed some bread and Vegemite. The thermos was full of steaming Milo and, as he sipped it, he felt better. The bad track experience began to fade, although he could still see Jack’s smirking face as the young horse had played up in front of him. And it was strange how the other horses had ridden past him in such a large group.

      After breakfast, he helped his dad with the stables and cleaned the truck. He’d only just finished getting himself ready for school when Hannah found him.

      ‘Hey, Angus. Oh, hello, Mr Mac.’ Hannah Williams stood a safe distance from the horses that were tied up at the truck. She’d been to the track enough times to know that they were unpredictable.

      ‘Hi, Hannah. I’ll just help Dad get the horses on.’ Angus went to untie the older horse.

      ‘No, you go, Angus. I’ll do it. I don’t want you to be late.’ Mr Mac gave Angus a pat on the shoulder.

      ‘If you’re sure, Dad.’ Angus hesitated, then pulled his bag on his back and flung his leg over his bike. ‘See you later. I might be over at Han’s after school.’

      Hannah waved to Mr Mac. ‘He’ll be home for tea.’

      She smiled at Angus’s father. He was a friendly, hard-working man who had worked even harder since Mrs Mac had died, and sometimes

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