Loving Spirit (10 page)

Len stood staring at the damaged inside of the horsebox, lips pursed. The inside partition had been kicked to pieces. The leather padding was torn and there was a hole through it.

Ellie knew better than to approach her uncle when he looked like that. She went back on to the yard and found Joe holding Picasso while Stuart checked the pony’s legs over for injuries. There was a slight cut just above one of his hind hooves, but otherwise the padded travel boots seemed to have protected him well.

‘What happened?’ said Ellie, stroking the pony’s lathered neck. She could feel the tension in his muscles, feel the stress radiating off him.

Joe looked mystified. ‘I’ve no idea. We were just driving along and Picasso flipped. Dad stopped and I went to see what the matter was. Picasso was bucking and kicking like a crazy thing. We couldn’t calm him down and so just had to bring him back. There was no reason for it. He’s never liked travelling much, but he’s never done anything like that before. Dad’s mad about it. It’ll cost a fortune to repair the box.’

‘Is Picasso OK?’ Ellie asked Stuart.

Stuart nodded. ‘Seems to be. Take him down to the trough and hose that cut, Joe. Ten minutes of cold water should help keep the swelling down.’

Luckily, Picasso’s cut healed quickly and he was only off work for a couple of days. Len sent off an entry for the qualifying show in mid-March with Ellie named as Picasso’s rider. Ellie was worried what Joe would think about her riding Picasso, but
he seemed supremely unbothered when she asked him if it was OK.

‘Definitely. I’m too tall for Picasso now anyway and like I told you, I don’t like shows. I do them because I have to, that’s all,’ Joe said. ‘If you take Picasso in, it saves me from a class. You’re doing me a favour.’

Ellie could hardly believe he really felt like that. Going to a show seemed so exciting, but Joe genuinely didn’t appear to enjoy it.

On Wednesday Len took her to a saddlers where she was kitted out with a showing outfit.

She stood in front of the mirror on the shop floor, trying to hide her grin of delight as she looked at herself in her new cream jodhpurs, brown jodhpur boots, dark gloves, dark brown tweed jacket, shirt, tie and new velvet riding hat. On the chair beside her was a pair of long black boots for wearing if she was riding the larger ponies. On the way to the saddlers, Len had explained to her that every class had its own specific dress code.

‘You’ll do,’ he commented now.

Ellie smoothed down the jacket with a gloved hand – she was really looking forward to competing. She wished Joe was more into shows, so she could go home and show him her new outfit. Luke would understand, but she was hardly likely to go and show off her clothes to him.

Instead, she told Spirit about the trip when she got back. Each day the bond between them was growing stronger and she spent every second she could just being with him. He was putting on weight now and his injuries were slowly starting to heal.

On Thursday Ellie woke up to the sound of rain beating down on the bedroom window. Forcing herself out of her warm bed, she threw on some clothes. When she went outside, the rain lashed against her, soaking her hair and finding its way down her collar. She splashed through the puddles and went up to the feedroom where her uncle was giving out feeds. It was a miserable day to be up so early, and she and Joe exchanged commiseratory looks as they walked round the courtyard with the feedbuckets.

The rain continued all morning, driving down from the mountain. It was too wet to ride and so the horses and ponies were turned out in the fields. Ellie turned Spirit out with some of the others while she mucked out his stable. She hated it when it rained like this. The grey sky felt so heavy it seemed to press down on the dull green and brown fields, and she felt like she was being squashed. It made her long for the summer in New Zealand where the sun shone on the large, rolling fields and the skies were wide and cornflower-blue.

Sighing, she finished the stable and went down
the field to catch Spirit. The mud was thick around the gate and the short winter grass slippery underfoot. Three of the horses were trotting around near the bottom of the field, one nipping the others, making them buck and throw their heads up. Spirit was staying out of trouble as usual, grazing peacefully. Gem, Wisp and Picasso were beside him. Ellie had noticed that the quieter horses often seemed to gravitate towards him. She called out his name, but in the rain he didn’t hear her. Ellie began to squelch through the mud and across the grass. ‘Come on, boy!’ she called, not wanting to have to walk all the way down the field.

Spirit noticed her and, pricking his ears, he started to head towards her, but as he did so something startled the three horses near the bottom of the field. They leapt forwards. Gem, Wisp and Picasso’s heads flew up at the sound of the others and they began to canter. The six horses were caught up in each other’s alarm. Ellie stopped, but her feet slipped on the wet ground. She felt herself bang down on her side as her fingers closed on mud. There was a yell from behind her.

The next few minutes seemed to happen in slow motion. Pushing herself up on her arms, Ellie saw the six horses galloping straight for her through the rain, too caught up in each other’s fear to notice her lying there. Even if they did see her, it would be too
late for them to stop. Ellie cried out and curled up into a ball, bracing herself.

She felt rather than saw Spirit reach her. Before Ellie knew what was happening, her eyes blinked open to see Spirit standing over her, his legs on either side of her body. She felt his strong reassuring presence as the other horses thundered by. They broke into a trot as they finally realized there was nothing to be scared of, and Ellie heard their snorts and the sound of their hooves slowing as they began to circle round, tails high.

Ellie’s heart hammered against her ribs. For a moment she was too shaken to move. Her eyes flicked from side to side and then Spirit stepped carefully over her, picking his hooves up high so he didn’t touch her at all. He stopped at the side, his head by hers.

Ellie slowly uncurled and sat up. Spirit nudged at her with his muzzle, anxiously touching her knees and her face as if checking she was OK. The rain dripped from his eyelashes and down his face.

‘Ellie! Ellie! Are you all right?’ She looked round. Joe was running down the field through the rain.

‘Yes.’ Putting a hand on Spirit’s leg, Ellie struggled to her feet. Her own legs felt like jelly. ‘Yes, I’m OK.’

Joe reached her, his face pale. ‘I was by the gate. I saw what happened. I thought you were going to be trampled!’

‘Spirit saved me,’ Ellie stammered, as she kept stroking the grey horse over and over again.

‘I know,’ Joe said in awe. ‘He just stood in their path and they went round him. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

Ellie swallowed. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered to Spirit.

Together, the three of them walked up the field, Ellie holding shakily on to Spirit’s mane.

For the rest of the day, she thought about what her horse had done. He’d seen her fall, stood over her, shielded her and protected her.

‘You’re amazing,’ she told him gratefully when she went to his stable after supper. The rain had now turned to sleet. The fields were waterlogged and it was freezing cold. Closing her eyes, she put her arms round Spirit’s neck and hugged him. She was so tired. It had been a very long day. She’d planned to give Spirit a proper groom but now she just couldn’t find the energy. Instead, she just stood there, stroking his head and neck, too exhausted to do anything but be with him. He sighed contentedly, his eyes half closing as she ran her hands over his forehead and down his nose and cheeks.

She didn’t know how it happened, but very gradually Ellie became aware of a shift in the atmosphere around them. She couldn’t describe the feeling
exactly, but it was almost as though there was a field of energy surrounding each of them and it was somehow merging. She opened her eyes and saw that Spirit was staring straight at her. As their gaze met, a connection flared and Ellie was aware of images and feelings coming into her mind. She saw the tall figure of a man at a stable door and fear ran through her. The bolts on the door pulled back with a loud metal clang and the man stood in the doorway, whip in hand. She knew she wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. Leaping forward, she was stopped by the manger. The man shut the door behind him and approached, the whip raised, his eyes angry. She tried to jump past him but heard the whistle as the whip came slashing down; she felt the terror as it hit her neck, a searing biting pain –

No!

Ellie blinked and recoiled. The pictures stopped.

She stared at Spirit, her heart thumping, the feelings of terror fading as she realized she was in the stable with him. What had just happened? Those awful pictures in her head …

They’d seemed so vivid, so real. Shakily, she reached out a hand and touched Spirit’s face again. It was as though she had seen into his mind – seen his memories, seen why he was now so scared when the door bolts on his stable were pulled back. But that was impossible.

Ellie shook her head. Yet even as the logical part of her mind protested at what had just happened, an instinctive deeper part of her knew it was true – as true as the fact that sleet was falling outside the stable.

She hesitated and then threw herself open again to the feeling.

Spirit?
she thought, half-wondering what she was doing.

There was the same shift in energy …

The whip slashed down again and again. She wasn’t Ellie any more. She became Spirit, feeling what he had felt, seeing what he had seen. As the whip beat into her, she felt his unbearable pain and confusion.
I didn’t mean to be bad. I didn’t understand. Stop, please, stop!

The memory suddenly changed.

Cold, wet, hungry. Outside. She could feel the wind blowing down the mountain, feel the ache in her legs as she trudged up an uneven hill in the rain. There was a heavy rider on her back, a beginner, he was unsteady and she could smell stale beer on his breath. His hands grabbed at the cold bit, using the reins to balance his weight. ‘Gee up, you lazy devil!’

I’m trying. Please, I’m trying
.

Spirit’s back –
her
back – was hurting. Her tendons were sore from overwork. She stumbled, one shoe loose. The man slapped her again with the whip.

Get off me
. The thought swelled through her mind as the whip fell again, and this time she couldn’t bear it any longer; she reared up. The man’s weight fell to one side, his hands yanking at the bit. Tired, weak and hungry, she hadn’t strength enough left to stay on her feet. She twisted in the air, crashing down on the stony ground, landing with her whole weight on her shoulder – and the man.

Lying there, she heard the chaos, the people from the trekking centre yelling, the man being pulled out from underneath, swearing and clutching his leg. The rain beat down and the people shouted …

Ellie opened her eyes. The air in the stable was very still. Neither she nor Spirit was moving. It was as though they were standing together in a spotlight, the rest of the world having faded to black around them.

She stared at him, horror sharp inside. ‘All the things that people have done to you.’

Spirit regarded her steadily. Putting her hands on the left side of his neck where she had felt the first whip blows, she stroked down, wishing she could change what had happened and take away the pain. No horse should ever have to feel like that. Not ever. Ellie shuddered at the memories. Now she knew how he had felt, it was almost too much to bear. Undoing his rug, she stroked gently over his whole body, sweeping down over his shoulder where he had fallen, across his back that had been so sore, over
his ribs which had been so bruised. Spirit stood absolutely still until she reached his head again and then he snorted. His eyes were softer than she had ever seen them. He nuzzled her and then stepped away, taking a long drink before going to his haynet. Ellie rugged him up, functioning on autopilot, not thinking, just doing. Whatever had just happened was too big for her to get her mind round quickly. She fastened the front buckle of his rug, rested her head against his for a moment, and then kissed him.

‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ she whispered, dazed.

She hurried into the house, thankful not to see anyone as she took off her boots and coat. She ran all the way up to her room, washed in the bathroom and got into her pyjamas. Then she got into bed and lay there, letting herself start to think about it all.

She didn’t know how but she was sure she’d seen into Spirit’s mind. He had sent her pictures and thoughts. In his own way, he had communicated with her.

She shook her head.
But how? How? How?

Deep down, though, she knew that right now
how
wasn’t important; what mattered was that it had happened. And it had. It really had.

Curling up on her side, Ellie put her arms round her knees. Pictures flooded through her mind, thoughts, questions. She replayed the whole thing. She knew now why the sound of his stable door opening scared
Spirit so much. She knew why his shoulder was scarred. She knew part of where he had come from – where he had been. Would he communicate with her again? She hardly dared to hope.

Don’t be stupid
, she told herself.
There’s no way it will happen again
.

But what if it does?

It was a long, long time before Ellie got to sleep that night.

Chapter Nine

The harsh sound of the alarm pulled Ellie from a deep sleep. Eyes still shut, she reached for the clock, but then suddenly everything from the night before flashed into her mind and her eyes shot open.
Spirit!

Remembering what had happened, she threw back the covers, furious with herself for not waking earlier. If she’d got up sooner, she could have gone down to his stable and seen if the same thing could happen again. But it was too late now. In fifteen minutes everyone would be out on the yard.