Loving Spirit (12 page)

Ellie smiled quickly. ‘It’s OK. I’m not thinking about it.’ She looked down quickly at Milly’s hoof. Her thoughts were buzzing. Perhaps people
could
talk to horses then. If the lady that Stuart had met was to be believed lots of people could, although it seemed some people could do it more easily than others.
Maybe I’m one of those people
, thought Ellie. She wondered if she could talk to horses other than Spirit.

Stuart chuckled and nodded at Milly who was looking very fed up. ‘Glad I can’t hear her talk. Right now, she would be saying, “Get off my bloody mane!” and a whole load more besides.’ He patted the pony. ‘All done now, though, girl.’

Ellie put Milly away and then went to groom Picasso. There was no one else in the ponies’ barn. It was the perfect opportunity to try and talk to him. Ellie tied him up and, remembering what she had done with Spirit, tried to stand still and make her mind go blank.
Talk to me
, she thought eagerly to the pony.
I’m listening
.

Nothing happened. Picasso watched her with his usual aloofness. She tried stroking him, talking to him in her head.

She waited some more, but the change in the atmosphere never came. She never felt that strange sensation of their minds merging and becoming one.

Disappointment surged through her. Maybe it didn’t work with other horses. But she comforted herself with the thought that at least she could talk to Spirit, and maybe one day she would learn how to talk to others too.
Perhaps I just have to get better at it
, she thought hopefully.

Picking up the body brush and curry comb, she began to groom.

That evening she went to Spirit’s stable. He was pulling at his haynet and his eyes looked calmer. It was as though the very fact that he had been able to share his thoughts and fears had already helped him in some way.

‘And your legs are definitely looking better too,’ Ellie murmured happily, glancing at his tendons. Going into the stable, she ran a hand down them. The poulticing had done them good and they felt harder and cooler to the touch. Spirit nuzzled her back as she knelt beside him. Smiling, she rubbed his neck. Then she waited, emptying her mind.

Gradually she felt Spirit’s thoughts come to her. He showed her a picture of his stable door with the bale string she had fixed and she felt an intense feeling of relief.
Thank you
.

That’s OK. I just want to help
, she told him.

A thrill ran through her as she realized she was talking to him again, really talking. She thought back to the memories they had shared that morning.
Where were you before you want to the trekking centre?

A picture of the tall man with the whip came into her mind.

Who was he?

Ellie saw Spirit travelling in a horsebox. The journey ended with a jolt and there was a rush of light as the ramp banged down. A groom led him out on to a smart yard. She could sense the nervous energy about the Arab horses looking over the white stable doors. They paced around, tossing their heads.

Pictures flashed through her mind like a slide show. The horses being led out in hand and ridden, taken to shows, but never going out in the fields, never being allowed to roll and play. They had good food – lots of it. It fattened them up, but also gave them so much energy that when they did go out of their stables they pranced and fought for their heads. The tall man was in charge. He was a good rider but hard, demanding instant obedience. The bit in Spirit’s mouth was harsh and the man wore spurs. Ellie felt Spirit’s confusion, torn between the energy that was rushing through him and the man exerting absolute control.

The picture changed and she saw Spirit one night, lying down in the stable, stuck against the wall. He kicked and struggled before finally freeing himself with a twist and getting to his feet, but she could sense the pain in his back now. When the man came the next day, no one could see the pain but it was there. As the saddle was put on, the pain increased. Spirit kicked out but the groom just shouted and hit him in the stomach.

It hurt
.

The tall man took him to the school and tried to mount.

No
. Spirit sidled round and was smacked again. The man swung himself into the saddle and Ellie gasped as a red-hot needle of pain shot through her own back. She saw Spirit squeal and buck, throwing the man off on to the ground. The man got to his feet, shouting. He walked over, Spirit tried to shoot away.

I tried to tell him. I tried to stop him
.

The man called two more grooms to help. They forced Spirit still while the man mounted again, but the second his weight hit the saddle the pain jabbed again. Half-maddened, Spirit reared up and then plunged forward, bucking like a wild thing until the man hit the ground. This time he didn’t get up so quickly.

Spirit was led back to the stall. Ellie felt his relief at having the saddle taken off and then his fear as a
tall figure loomed in the doorway. The bolts slid back and the man came in, whip in hand.

I’d tried to stop him riding me. I tried to tell him about the pain. I didn’t mean to be bad …

She saw the whip raised, heard it slashing down through the air and felt it bite into her, and then the pictures stopped.

Ellie took a deep trembling breath. She knew the physical pain from the beating had left Spirit, but the fear and confusion still filled his mind.

He looked at her.
Why?

Ellie swallowed, not knowing what to say. What answer could she give? Because people can and do? She hated it but it was true. Sometimes bad stuff happened because people were ignorant or cruel.
And sometimes it just happens because life’s like that
, she thought, feeling desolate as an image of her mum and dad filled her mind. She had a flashback to the day before they’d died in the crash. They’d been getting ready to go away, arguing in a good-humoured way as they packed.

Ellie’s eyes stung with tears. She started to force the memory away, but just then Spirit turned his head and nuzzled her shoulder. She could feel the softness of his skin, feel the love coming from him, and sensed him asking her about it. Swallowing, she let herself remember.

‘Come on, Ellie. Your mum doesn’t need all these
things. Tell her.’ She could hear her dad’s voice. ‘You’re on my side, aren’t you?’ he’d appealed.

‘Nope!’ She’d darted over to the bed and picked up the pile of books and clothes her dad had just taken out of her mum’s packed suitcase. ‘You can never take too many books and clothes.’ She’d dumped them back in the suitcase and her dad had tickled her.

She’d squealed and tripped over, almost falling on top of her mum who’d grabbed a hairbrush and brandished it at Ellie’s dad. ‘You will not take my clothes and books!’

‘Honestly! You girls!’ Rolling his eyes at them both, her dad had left the room.

Her mum had laughed and put her arms round Ellie. Ellie remembered the faint scent of her, felt the softness of her cheek against hers.

‘I’m going to miss you, sweetie. Are you sure you’ll be OK without us?’

Ellie knew she had grinned. ‘Course I will.’

Now her throat constricted.
I didn’t mean forever, Mum
. Grief overwhelmed her.
Why did it have to happen? Why? Oh, Mum. Dad. I want you back
.

Wrapping her arms round Spirit’s neck, Ellie sobbed. Not the hopeless tears she used to cry in the nights when she had first arrived at the farm – not the tears that had seeped silently down her cheeks like water overflowing from a too-full cup, but great
wracking sobs that came from deep down inside her, shaking her shoulders, contorting her face, making her gasp for breath.

Eventually she became aware of Spirit breathing quietly on her back. Her sobs quietened until she was simply resting against him, her tears drying on her face. She felt exhausted, drained, like her mind had somehow been emptied.

Spirit’s neck was solid under her fingers and she leant against him, drawing comfort. Her parents and her old life might have gone, but Spirit was real, warm and alive, and neither of them were alone any more now they had each other.

Chapter Eleven

Over the next few weeks, Ellie was kept very busy on the yard. Joe had his exams coming up and was revising hard, and her uncle was intent on getting her ready to go in the first big spring show on Picasso. ‘It’ll be good to get a win under your belt early on in the season.’

If I win
, Ellie thought. But her uncle wasn’t the sort of person who dealt in
ifs
. She did all she could, schooling Picasso and hacking him out, grooming him until he shone. And she wasn’t just busy with Picasso; there were the other ponies to ride too, and the larger horses were all back in proper work now with their show season fast approaching. Ellie helped with exercising them. But no matter how tired she was, or how hard she had been working, she went to Spirit’s stable every night after supper to speak to him.

Sometimes she learnt more about his life and past and other times she would talk to him, telling him about her mum and dad, showing him the pictures
in her head – the times she’d been out with her dad on his vet rounds, riding with her mum, bedtime stories, even the times when she’d got into trouble and been told off or the times she’d argued with them. And when the memories made her cry Spirit would stand still, breathing gently on her skin.

Equally, Ellie listened as he told her about his life. She worked out that he must have been at the trekking centre for four years because he showed her four cold winters passing. After he had fallen on his shoulder and been too lame to ride, he had been put out in a muddy field until he had been taken to the sale, lame, half-starved and neglected. Ellie felt his suffering as he showed her his past and she gave him all the love she could.

Was your life always bad?
she asked him one day.

No
.

He showed her times when he had been at a large riding school and treated fairly, but then a blurry picture of a green field filled her mind. There was a white-grey mare and a middle-aged woman in it. A glow seemed to surround them, and as she looked at the picture Ellie felt deep love and deep loss. These were long-ago memories of soft hands, soft voices, laughter. Joyful at the time, but edged with sadness because they were gone.

They were happy times for you
, she thought to him.
The best?

Not the best
.

A picture of herself suddenly appeared in her mind. She saw herself as Spirit saw her, blonde hair coming out from under a woollen hat, jodhpurs covered with hayseeds, gloves dirty. She felt a deep sense of love and happiness coming from him.

‘You mean now is the best?’ she whispered.

Spirit breathed on her hands.
Yes
.

Whenever she had the time, Ellie led Spirit out down the lane, gently exercising him to build his muscles up. As February changed to March, Spirit’s lameness disappeared and he started to put on weight. He was devoted to Ellie but still wary of most other people, although he would tolerate Stuart leading him out or rugging him up if Ellie was at school. He was a different horse in the field, though – relaxed and confident. Whenever he was grazing, there would usually be at least three or four other horses around him, and wherever he moved they would follow.
His fan club
, Joe joked.

‘Spirit’s a good horse,’ Stuart told Ellie as they groomed Picasso before the big show in mid-March. ‘The others trust him. He’s like Merlin in that I know I can put him out with anyone. Horses like that are worth their weight in gold on a yard.’

Ellie glowed. It was rare anyone said anything nice about Spirit. She knew Sasha and Helen didn’t like
Spirit because he put his ears back and threatened with his teeth if they went in the stable with him. Luke just laughed at him and called him ‘the old nag’. Len ignored him.

‘You’ve done a good job with him,’ Stuart went on. ‘He’s not an easy horse, but you’ve made a real difference so far. Have you tried riding him yet?’

Ellie shook her head. She was longing to but she didn’t want to rush things.

‘You should.’ Stuart patted Picasso. ‘Right, that’s you ready, lad.’

‘Do you think he’ll go into the horsebox?’ Ellie asked.

The bay pony was still completely refusing to load.

‘If he doesn’t, there’ll be no show tomorrow. Joe and I are planning to have another try at getting him in at lunchtime today. If we take our time, hopefully we’ll manage it.’

Ellie went to put the grooming kit away in the tackroom. Luke was in one corner with Sasha. He had his arms on the wall on either side of her and she was smiling up at him. Their faces were very close together, and Ellie had the feeling that if she had come in a moment sooner she would have caught them kissing.

She expected them to spring apart guiltily but they didn’t. Luke gave her a lazy grin.

‘Well, don’t mind me!’ she muttered, marching across the tackroom to put the bridle away.

‘Thanks,’ Luke said, turning back to Sasha. ‘We won’t.’

Ellie felt a rush of irritation. They could at least have the decency to look embarrassed.

‘I should go,’ she heard Sasha say.

‘Stay,’ Luke said, his voice holding a smile.

Sasha giggled and pulled away. ‘I can’t!’ She ducked out under his arm. ‘See you later,’ she said, and then she vanished out of the tackroom door.

Ellie looked at Luke in disbelief. ‘I thought you had a girlfriend already.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed.

‘And that’s not a problem for you?’

‘Jealous?’ he said, raising his eyebrows.

A cross exclamation burst from her. ‘In your dreams!’

‘Don’t you mean my nightmares, Ellie!’ Luke grinned at her outraged expression. ‘So, how’s that old nag of yours doing?’ he went on, turning to pick up a bridle.

‘He’s not an old nag!’

‘OK, so how’s –’ Luke made his voice sound deep and dramatic – ‘
Spirit
.’