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THE BLACK HORSE TREMBLED, and sweat scuffed the hair on his neck and flanks. His legs splayed rigid, pressing his body against the wall.
Hettie spoke quietly. ‘And we haven’t even tried to put his head collar on yet.’ She raised her eyebrows at Alexander.
‘I could sedate him.’
‘Let me go in there, see if I can talk him down first.’
Alexander shook his head. ‘I’ll go in. Stay clear of the door. The idiot woman tells me he’s come out over the top before.’
‘Which is why his top door was bolted, and the poor creature is in the dark, up to his knees in shit.’ Hettie pressed her lips closed. Now wasn’t the time to get in a state about what had been done to this poor, wrecked horse. She had to be cool and unruffled to stand any chance of convincing Black Look that there was nothing to be scared of, and in his heightened state the horse would be sensitive to every shift in mood or movement.
She looked at Alexander, glad he was there. His calm confidence was reassuring.
He smiled at her, encouraging with the matter-of-fact tone of his voice. ‘And you’re going to change all that. But first we need to get him out of here.’
He put his hand on the top of the stable door. ‘Right. Keep talking, I’m going in.’
Hettie kept up a monotone of banality as she watched Alexander step into the stable. Black Look’s head lifted higher, and his body shrank against the wall. ‘Turn around, so he doesn’t feel like you’re bearing down on him.’
Alexander followed her advice, then took two steps backwards. The horse punched the ground with a front leg, striking concrete through wet straw with a resonant crack. Alexander looked at Hettie, a wry smile on his face. ‘Any suggestion how I’m meant to know if he’s bearing down on me?’
She grinned. ‘I’ll warn you.’
Alexander paused a couple of feet from the horse, allowing Black Look the chance to get used to his presence. The rich baritone of his voice carried command and assurance. ‘Easy boy. Steady.’ He glanced at Hettie. ‘What’s he doing, and am I in firing range?’
‘He’s watching you, and his name definitely suits him. He pulls off an even better black look than you do. He’s wary, but I don’t think he’s going to attack. Let him see the head collar. He must be ready to get out of there.’
‘I’m glad you’re finding this entertaining.’ Alexander moved again. The horse kicked a back leg, slamming the wall.
‘Easy!’
They spoke in unison, and Alexander, in a single fleet movement, looped the head collar around Black Look’s neck. The horse threw up his head and barrelled out of the stable, dragging Alexander with him.
Hettie failed to smother her laughter as Alexander wrestled to fasten the head collar and to wrap the rope across Black Look’s nose in an effort to bring the horse to a standstill.
‘Pass him to me. I’ll let him stretch his legs before we put him in the lorry.’
Black Look danced on his toes as the rope passed from Alexander’s grip to hers.
Alexander brushed himself down. ‘We should have brought something to put in his mouth.’
Hettie jogged to keep up with Black Look’s long stride. She called back over her shoulder as the horse hauled her away. ‘I’d rather not bully him. I want him to know he can trust me!’
As Black Look and Hettie got ever more distant, Alexander shouted to be heard. ‘It’s not bullying if it saves you being trampled. And you’re not going to get his trust in the ten minutes before we put him in that lorry.’
Ten minutes proved to be optimistic, and Hettie decided that Alexander might have been right when Black Look dragged her off the ramp for the third time with a drumroll of hooves and heaving muscle, wrenching her shoulders painfully. The rope cut into her fingers, heating her palms through the cloth of her gloves.
Black Look reared and Hettie sidestepped, but she felt the rush of air on her face as his hooves crashed back to the ground just inches from her feet. ‘I’m okay!’ But her heart beat a bumpy staccato. She turned to the horse. ‘Time out. I don’t know about you, but I need a minute.’
Alexander came nearer, stopping when Back Look lifted his head and began to reverse. ‘Hettie, this is madness.’
‘So what do we do?’ She tried to stroke Black Look’s neck, but he swung away, snorting and showing the whites of his eyes.
‘We strong-arm him in and get us all back to Draymere alive. I’ll go and ask idiot woman if she’s got any long reins and something to put in his mouth.’
Alexander came back with a bit and some long reins. He anchored the reins on the lorry to pass behind the horse to urge him forwards. ‘I’ll lead him. You pull the line across when I’ve got him on the ramp.’
‘I’m sorry, Black Look.’ Hettie passed the rope to Alexander, who slid the bit into the horse’s mouth. Then she got into position.
Alexander lined Black Look up to the ramp. ‘Ready? Let’s get this done and get the boy home.’
Black Look fought the strap across his legs and the cold metal bit in his mouth.
Hettie braced against the long rein as he lashed out. She saw Alexander get slammed into the horsebox partition, and the lorry shook as half a tonne of muscle crashed sideways. Her feet slid over the grass, but she dug in her heels and by sheer force of will kept her hold on the line.
With a final thunder of hooves, he was in.
Hettie tried not to think about whether the noise she heard was Black Look or Alexander hitting the front of the lorry. She heaved up the ramp and laughed with relief when Alexander tumbled out the jockey door and slammed it behind him.
He laughed with her and shook his head as he walked to where she was standing.
‘Well done, that must have hurt.’ She smiled up at him.
The lorry rocked on its wheels and heavy thumps on the side of the horsebox told them Black Look was still fighting back.
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‘I THINK I’LL CALL HIM Lockie.’
‘I think you’ll call him a lot of things before you’re through with him.’ Alexander rubbed his shoulder.
Delivered to the paddock, the gangly black thoroughbred’s head arced in their direction. His nostrils flared as he watched them. He had attitude his dulled black coat couldn’t diminish, and he was statuesque, despite the prominent ribs that jagged his graceful lines.
Alexander frowned. How in God’s name had he let her talk him into this?
Lockie snorted and backed away from the group of curious yearlings edging closer to suss out this newcomer. He spun on his back legs and galloped to the far corner of the paddock, causing a burst of skittishness among the young horses who frolicked and bucked, trumpeting air through their nostrils.
‘We should have put him in the next-door paddock until he’s had a chance to settle.’
‘He’ll settle faster with company.’ Hettie looked at the horse, standing distant and still as a statue while the younger horses cavorted all around him. ‘What do you think the odds are of me catching him again?’
‘I wouldn’t put a wager on it, but you won’t be bored now.’ He placed an arm around Hettie’s shoulders and pulled her close to him. ‘You’ve got a ruined horse and a ruined yard to sort out.’
‘At least I won’t be getting in your way at the practice.’
Hettie’s tone was light but he felt her stiffen.
‘You’ll have to make an appointment to see me now.’
Alexander caught a tress of her hair and tugged it gently. ‘Don’t be like that. How about I meet you in the bedroom, my place. Every night?’
‘Okay.’ She grinned up at him, before slipping away from under his arm.
Alexander thrust his hands into his pockets as she walked back to the field.
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HETTIE WAS RIGHT; THEY barely saw each other.
Her days started at dawn. Taking Doris and Pig, she drove to the field to spend time with Lockie before going on to Hardacre. Her hands developed blisters, and by late afternoon her every muscle ached from the work. The sun burnt her shoulders pink, cobwebs caught in her hair, and her eyes felt gritty with dust.
At the end of her first week, Hettie sat on the sun-warmed concrete and leant against the wall. She swigged lukewarm water from a plastic bottle and surveyed her efforts so far. There wasn’t much to show for hours of labour. Disinfected stables were hidden behind rickety doors that creaked on their hinges, and freshly scrubbed gutters swung loose from their fixings.
‘A couple more hours, dogs, and then we’ll go see Lockie.’
Hettie heaved herself to her feet and picked up the broom, resisting the gloom that had threatened since the council officer’s visit that morning. She couldn’t give up. It had to work. And if it didn’t... Well, she wasn’t going to let herself think about that.
The dogs didn’t even try to get out of the Landy when she parked on the track next to Lockie’s paddock. Hettie left the door open. ‘Worn out, dogs? You and me both.’
She climbed over the gate, made her way across the field and stood against the shade of an oak tree. The bark was rough on her sunburnt shoulders, and the long grass tickled her calves above her mucker boots. She watched Lockie, and he watched her. Hettie liked to think his gaze was less suspicious than it had been a week ago, but it was hard not to feel impatient.
The yearlings came over to see her, their eyes glazed with the contentment of warm backs and full bellies. Lockie stayed away, isolated by his refusal to join in. Hettie rubbed one of the yearling’s dusty foreheads. Their short, scruffy tails twitched at flies.
In the corner of the paddock, Lockie dropped his head and grazed. Hettie meandered a slow circle of the field that took her around behind him. He stopped eating to stare as she passed, but he didn’t run away.
She counted that as the day’s small success.
Alexander found Hettie and the dogs asleep on the sofa. He smiled to himself. She looked sexy asleep, even in grubby cut-off shorts and with cobwebs in her hair.
It had been an interesting day for him. The monthly partners’ meeting had taken an unexpected turn. He’d steeled himself to face resistance when he told Ewan and Tom he wanted to stop doing clinics, but they’d been enthusiastic.
Christ, he was an arsehole.
He poured himself a whiskey, cringing as he recalled his arrogance when he’d sat down in the meeting and listed all the arguments for taking him out of clinics. Hettie would’ve torn strips off him if she’d been there to see it.
He eased himself down on the arm of the sofa and snorted into his drink.
Ewan and Tom had agreed without even looking up from their notes, and then they’d moved swiftly on to the detail of putting his plan into action. Alexander had been relieved, but surprised by the speed of their agreement. Remembering now, he ran a hand through his hair and raised the glass to his lips again. After he’d left the meeting, he’d looked for his phone and realised he’d left it in the room. When he went back the door was ajar, and he could hear Ewan laughing as he spoke. ‘Thank God he brought it up before we had to!’
Alexander had paused to listen to Tom’s reply. ‘I thought he’d lose it when we told him that his bedside manner is driving clients away.’
Ewan had laughed again, a low conspiratorial chuckle. ‘Between you and me, his actual bedside manner is infamous.’
‘Lord knows why. Talk about treat ’em mean...’
Alexander had backed away, feeling like a shit.
Hettie stirred in her sleep. His hand itched to touch her bare leg, and he didn’t resist the temptation. ‘What did I do to deserve this?’
‘What?’ Hettie’s eyes startled open as he traced a finger along her calf.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you awake.’ He slipped from the arm of the sofa onto the seat beside her, lifting her legs onto his lap. ‘I said, what did I do to deserve this? You, all sexy and rumpled, asleep on my sofa when I get in.’
She shifted round so her head was on his lap, and he smoothed her hair. ‘You’re burnt. Your shoulders look sore and your face is glowing.’
Hettie moved an arm across her face. ‘How did your meeting go?’
‘Good. I’m taking you out to dinner, and I’ll tell you all about it. I think you’ll find it funny.’
‘I had some not-so-funny news this morning. The rates officer turned up at the yard.’
‘More expensive than you thought?’
‘You could say that. I forgot to put the rates in my business plan.’
He laughed. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll work it out. Now get your arse off this sofa and go get pretty for me.’