CHAPTER 16
The Horse, 1833

The water tasted of wood and man, but I was thirsty. This new man hadn’t come close enough to bite yet, or kick.

I waited for my chance.

The shadows grew into darkness around us. I could smell smoke. The small man beside me didn’t move. He kept on making noises. They were good noises, for a man. Sensible and soothing ones, not yells and fuss. He smelt good too, a sweet smell that I had never come across before, but which made my mouth water just the same.

He had another smell as well. A smell of horse.

The night grew thicker. Another man came, bringing more water, and a blanket. ‘Billy,’ he said. ‘Billy.’ The small man who talked to me answered.

Billy. His name was Billy.

The second man went away. The small man Billy wrapped himself in the blanket, and lay down just beyond my reach. I drank again. The night grew cold around us.

I dozed, and watched the night. The stars shivered in the great black fur of night. Before it was dawn the Billy man was up again, talking to me.

This time he held out his hand.

I almost bit it. But the night had calmed me down. I was hungry too, and something he was holding smelt good.

I took what was in his hand and crunched it between my teeth, then leant forward, sniffing for more. It tasted sweet and good and I was hungry.

He held out another to me, and then one more.

Slowly, very slowly, he untied the rope. ‘Come on, boy,’ he said. ‘Let’s find some grass. There’s good grass over there, and a creek too. Come on, boy.’

I almost pulled away. But he was leading me where I wanted to go most, where there was a smell of water that hadn’t been carried in a bucket, where there was grass the other horses hadn’t trampled. And so I followed him. He tethered me again, but this time with a longer rope, so I could wander about and eat.

He sat down, his back against a tree, and watched me, still talking.