Chapter Nineteen

All that night, I stayed curled up next to Beauty on the straw. He was quiet and breathing more steadily now, but when Mr Manly came home from Newmarket in the morning he sent for the horse doctor right away.

“Will he die?” I cried, as the strange little man listened to Beauty’s chest, poked him in the ribs and poured a draught of thick black medicine down his throat.

“Only time will tell,” said the veterinarian. “But with rest and good care he may pull through.”

For the next two weeks, I could hardly swallow my food, I felt so sick with worry. But I forced myself to eat and stay strong. I did my chores like lightning so I could spend every waking moment with Beauty. I wasn’t allowed to sleep in his stable again but I got up four times every night to check that he was all right. James was keeping a good eye on him too, but we did not speak to each other. In all that time he barely said a word to me.

Flora came to tell us her mother was growing stronger. She lent me a book of fairy tales and I sat and read them to Beauty for hours after supper each day.

I knew he couldn’t really understand, but I think he liked the sound of my voice. He would flick his ears and sigh as if listening to every word. Sometimes, when I paused, he would nudge my leg as if urging me to carry on.

“I am sure your favourite is Cinderella,” I told him. “How handsome you would look pulling a golden pumpkin coach to the ball.”

I thought the twins might laugh at me for reading to a horse. I wouldn’t have cared if they did. But they seemed to understand I needed to be with Beauty and help him to grow strong and well again. Often, when I was reading, I would see them perched in Merrylegs’s manger, listening too.

“Our old Ma used to tell us stories,” said Sid. “She can’t read, but remembered them all by heart.” I knew the twins missed their mother dreadfully. She lived about ten miles away on a smallholding with a cider orchard and a flock of white geese. She couldn’t afford to keep the boys at home, not with six brothers and sisters to feed.

“My favourite story is Dick Whittington,” said Wilf. “Lord Mayor of London! I should love to go to the big city one day.”

“My mother is in London,” I said, a picture of her face flashing into my mind. Then I remembered that I had told everyone I was an orphan. “I mean, she was there once,” I added quickly. For all I knew she might not be in London anyway by now. She could be anywhere.

“Did she used to tell you stories?” asked Sid.

I shook my head and began to read another tale. I had said too much already. But I did smile as I saw that I had opened the page on the story of Rapunzel, the girl who has all of her long hair snipped short.

Even Caleb did not laugh at me for reading to Black Beauty. Although he never came to listen to the stories, I often found that he had cleaned a harness I was set to do, filled a water trough or mucked out a stable – extra things so I could hurry through my chores.

We both knew if he had been there the night the doctor came, he could have shown me how to tend to Beauty. I think he felt guilty – and grateful too. If Mr Manly knew he was poaching in the woods, Caleb would have lost his job and been up before the magistrate, probably sentenced to a spell in jail. But there was nothing to be gained by blaming him. He told everybody he had slept through it all. And I said nothing. I still felt the true fault lay with me.

For now, I was pleased to have Caleb’s help with my work. It was good not to have him as an enemy. And he never called me “Slow Joe” again.

Only James did not come to hear the stories. He didn’t even speak to me unless it was to give me an order and tell me what to do.

He was right to be angry. I had put Black Beauty’s life in danger because I didn’t know how to do my job properly. I wasn’t a real stable boy; I was a pampered young girl who could ride well, but who didn’t know anything about horses. I’d had servants to do the hard work and look after them for me all my life. And my play-acting had nearly killed Black Beauty. His fever had passed, but he was still weak. He spent most of his time lying on the stable floor.

Then at dawn one morning, as I came down from the loft to check on him as usual, something wonderful happened. Perhaps Beauty had been waiting for me. Perhaps I was a few minutes late. Either way, he raised his head, leapt to his feet and whinnied with delight. After that, the shine came back to his coat. He grew quite fat, as he was not ready for exercise yet, and his eyes were bright.

Another month passed, and now he whinnied again every time he saw me. If Beauty knew I had put him in danger, he never showed it. The bond between us was stronger than ever.

“A full recovery! I knew Beauty was a fighter,” said Mr Manly leaning over the loose box door. “Yet, I don’t think he’d have made it through without your care, Joe. You’ve done great work tending to him, lad. Well done.”

“He never would have been ill in the first place if it wasn’t for me,” I choked.

“You don’t know that,” said Mr Manly kindly. “That gallop home with the doctor was enough to knock him sideways by itself.”

“I just wish I had known the right thing to do,” I said, rubbing Beauty’s nose.

“Well, now you do and it’s not a mistake you’ll make again,” said Mr Manly. “We’ll shape you into a fine stable lad yet. You’re learning fast, Joe.”

“Thank you.” For a moment I felt a warm glow, as though things might yet turn out right; but as I looked up I saw James walking past with a harness slung over his arm. He didn’t even glance in our direction. He certainly didn’t smile. I thought of what friends we had started to become when we used to ride Beauty and Ginger together on the common. Now that friendship was broken.

“I know he has been harsh with you,” said Mr Manly, following my gaze. “It is only because he cares so much for the horses. You are more similar than you know.”

“Similar? Me and James Howard? I don’t think so!”

If I had my wish, I would have kept well out of James’s way. But there was no avoiding him and a week or so later, we were thrown together again.

Squire Gordon brought the mistress to visit us in the yard. Although she was as thin as a sparrow and clung to the squire’s arm, her cheeks were rosy and she laughed with delight when she saw Black Beauty up and well.

“The doctor says I would have died for sure if he had reached me even half an hour later,” she said, stepping into the loose box.

She patted Black Beauty’s neck. “By galloping like a demon you nearly killed yourself, but you saved my life. Thank you.” She kissed his nose. “And thank you too.” She turned and smiled at James. “I know you rode very bravely to fetch help.”

“My pleasure, madam.” James gave a little bow of his head.

“Oh, do not look so worried,” teased the mistress. “I shall not kiss your nose like I did Black Beauty’s.”

James flushed scarlet. I couldn’t help but giggle. He shot me an even sharper dagger-look than usual.

“You two will be busy these next few weeks,” said the squire turning to us both. “I want you to exercise Ginger and get Beauty fit again so that my wife and I can ride together, just as soon as she is strong enough herself.”

“Very good, sir.” James did not look very happy at the thought spending time with me.

But I did not care about that. My heart leapt for joy.

I was going to ride Beauty again.