by Sarah Winn
Whatever Gerald was saying, Toby gave the words his full attention and occasionally nodded in agreement. They reached the end of cobblestone courtyard and started back toward her. Gerald picked up his pace, going from a stroll to a stride. He had to yank on the reins several times to get the pony to keep up, but the increased pace jostled Toby against the saddle, alarming Ellen, but judging by the broad smile on Toby’s face, delighting him.
They grew nearer and Toby called, “See me riding, Mama?”
“Yes,” she replied, “you look like a real horseman.”
“He’s a natural,” Gerald added. “But what else could he be with a father like Philip Coyler.”
That was a nice thing for Gerald to say. Ellen so wanted Toby to remember his father, who should be the one giving his son his first riding lesson.
Startled by a rattling noise behind her, she turned and saw a stylish cabriolet, pulled by a shiny bay horse, and driven by well-dressed young man, approaching. Another horse was tied behind the carriage. Ellen stepped back and Gerald moved Toby and the pony into the doorway of the barn, well out of the vehicle’s path.
Then he stepped forward to greet the visitor. “May I help you?”
“Are you Captain Osborne?” the man asked.
“I am.”
The visitor tied off his reins and stepped out of the small buggy. “My name is Walter Pickering. I’ve been told that you train hunters.” He stepped forward extending his right hand. Gerald suddenly turned away. “Excuse me while I take care of this boy.” As he moved to encircle Toby’s body, the boy lifted his arms up and around Gerald’s neck without prompting. Gerald called for Mr. Tully to come and put the pony away, as he lightly placed Toby on the ground.
Ellen realized he had turned away so abruptly because he could not extend his right hand to shake the young man’s hand. After Tully took the pony’s reins and Toby had moved to her side, Gerald faced to the visitor. “This is my wife and step-son.”
Mr. Pickering tipped his hat at Ellen and ignored Toby.
Gerald continued, “How may I help you, Mr. Pickering?”
The man gestured at the horse behind his carriage. “I’ve recently purchased this horse. The trader assured me he was a fully trained hunter, but I’ve since discovered the animal to be skittish and balky. Could you possibly work with him?”
Gerald walked beyond the cabriolet and down the length of the second horse, a chestnut with a flaxen mane. He stroked the horse’s back, patted one of his haunches, and leaned down to examine its back legs. Then he said, “He’s a good-looking animal, and has the hindquarters of a proper jumper. But I have to tell you, that some horses just don’t have the temperament to be good hunters.”
Mr. Pickering sighed. “I paid top-dollar for this horse. If he’s not a hunter, I’ll never get my money back. Will you at least try to train him?”
Gerald stared at nothing for a moment. Then he returned his gaze to Mr. Pickering. “We’re just finishing up some lessons out in the paddock. Tie your carriage out of the way of the main door. Then bring the hunter out back and show me how he behaves when you ride him.”
Mr. Pickering stared a Gerald for a moment as if he might refuse the offer, then with a nod he got back into the cabriolet and drove it well away from the barn doorway.
Gerald turned to look at Toby. “I’m sorry your ride got cut short today, but there will be many other times.”
Toby said, “Can I watch that man ride his horse?”
Gerald looked at Ellen with raised eyebrows.
She shrugged. “I have no reason to rush back to the house.”
The sound of the older boys’ excited voices and the thumping of horses’ hooves from inside the barn caused Gerald to move quickly to be sure they were well out of harm’s way before the three young students rode out of the barn and turned toward the road.
“Don’t race!” Gerald called after them.
The oldest boy looked back at him and grinned as if to say that was exactly what they would do when they were out of Gerald’s sight.
Gerald huffed and muttered, “The chance to ride helter-skelter after their lessons is the real reason they come here.” Then he looked at Ellen. “Why don’t you go back to where you were before? That will be the safest place to watch.”
Mr. Pickering came leading the hunter, and Gerald turned to accompany him through the barn. Ellen led Toby around the barn to watch through the fence.
Mr. Sam came to stand beside Gerald who introduced him to Mr. Pickering They were close enough so that Ellen heard Gerald say, “Mr. Pickering thinks he’s been taken by a sharp trader. He wants to know if we can retrain the horse for him.”
“It’s a fine-looking animal,” Mr. Sam said.
Jim arrived to help saddle the horse, who moved about from foot to foot, making the chore more difficult. It took Jim several tries to get the cinch properly tightened.
As Mr. Pickering prepared to mount, Gerald called out, “Take him around the paddock once, going through the different gaits. Then take him over the jumps in the center of the ring. None of them are very high.”
The horse visibly tensed as Mr. Pickering swung himself into the saddle, and the young man had to yank the reins vigorously to get the animal to turn and start moving toward the far fence. The animal immediately broke into a trot. Ellen didn’t think it was supposed to do that.
As horse and rider neared the far end of the circle, Ellen heard Mr. Sam say, “You better call him back.”
Before Gerald could respond, the rider jerked the horse around and headed for the first jump. It was only one log supported at either end by short posts that held it in place. The barrier was no more than a foot high. The horse cleared it easily. The second barrier was two logs high. The horse hesitated just an instant before jumping, and Mr. Pickering kicked him vigorously in the side. Pushing off on its hind legs, the horse barely cleared the barrier.
As they approached the three-log barrier, Ellen could see Mr. Pickering urging the horse on by both shaking the reins and prodding with his heels. The horse went straight for the barrier, but just when he should have leaped, he stopped with a jolt. Ellen thought poor Mr. Pickering would fly over the horse’s head, but he managed to stay on by throwing both arms around the horse’s neck.
Ellen was not sure, but she thought she heard the young man take the Lord’s name in vain as he dismounted, gathered up the reins, and yanked on them. The horse, who had been standing rock still, begin to prance and try to pull away.
Gerald strode toward the pair, extended his hand, and in a commanding voice, said, “Give me the reins!”
Mr. Pickering instantly obeyed.
“You go stand by Mr. Samuels while I calm this horse.”
For a second, Mr. Pickering looked as if he might object, but he apparently thought better of it, turned, and walked over to Mr. Sam.
Gerald stood face to face with the horse and began to pull downward on the reins. Slowly the horse’s head came down to near shoulder height. Man and animal stared directly into each other’s eyes, as Gerald continued to gently pull the reins downward. He had to bend over to keep his gaze clearly fixed on the horse’s. When Gerald’s body was almost bent double, he stopped pulling on the reins and for a long moment just stared into the horse’s eyes.
When Toby asked, “What’s he do—" Ellen shushed him. She didn’t know what Gerald was doing, but she felt sure they shouldn’t do anything to distract him.
Finally, Gerald loosened the reins and straightened his body. The horse’s head came up, but not all the way. He kept it low enough to still look Gerald levelly in the eyes. After another long moment of staring, Gerald dropped the reins to the ground, turned his back on the horse and walked toward the far end of the paddock. The horse watched Gerald with a puzzled expression in his eyes, but then he followed the man, dragging his reins in the dirt.
When it became absolutely apparent that the horse was indeed following Gerald, Mr. Pickering asked, “How did he do that?�
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Speaking softly, as if he did not want to break the spell, Mr. Sam said, “Horses are herd animals. They want to follow a leader, but you have to prove to them that your will is stronger than theirs.”
When Gerald stopped walking, the horse stopped just behind him. Gerald turned slowly and stroked the horse’s neck a couple of times. Then he picked up the reins and easily swung himself onto the horse’s back. After quickly tucking his artificial arm against his upper thigh, Gerald sat very tall in the saddle, almost as if he were standing, rather than sitting. Even in his casual work clothes, he looked strong and in command. With a slight press of his heels, he started the horse in a slow walk. He kept the horse near the paddock fence, going from a walk to a trot to a canter. When the horse had completely circled the paddock, Gerald turned him toward center of the fenced-in area and the jumps.
Ellen’s heart began to race. Mr. Pickering had barely managed to stay on the horse with two arms. How would Gerald do it with only one? But Gerald did not seem the least concerned for his own safety and urged the horse on. They approached the first jump and Gerald leaned forward, rising slightly in his saddle, as if he were helping the horse jump. They easily cleared the first barrier, and then the second, and without breaking stride, the third.
Ellen sighed in relief. Gerald let the horse gallop around the paddock again before bringing him back toward the spectators. He reined in the horse in front of Mr. Pickering and looked down at the man with a stern expression. In a voice that he surely must have used when commanding young cavalrymen, he said, “This horse has been properly trained. You, Sir, have not.”
The younger man stiffened, but before he could reply, Mr. Sam said. “You’re accustomed to riding in city traffic where you have to keep the horse under strict control. Taking a hunter across open country and over fences and hedgerows is a different kind of riding. You have to trust your horse, and he has to trust you.”
Mr. Pickering’s shoulders slumped. “I—uh—all my friends are mad to take up hunting. How can I learn to ride that way?”
Gerald easily dismounted. “Mr. Samuels taught cavalrymen in the army how to ride cross-country properly. I’m sure he can teach you, but it will take time.”
“How much time?” Mr. Pickering asked.
“That depends on how much time and native ability you have. A month of daily lessons might do it.”
“I work in London for my father. I can get off on Saturday and Sunday and maybe some Fridays.”
“Well, I go to church on Sunday, Mr. Sam said. “Maybe you can find someone nearer home to teach you.”
Gerald cleared his throat. “There are few fields and fences in London to ride over. You can board your horse here and save him the confusion of riding back and forth in a cattle car. Take lessons from Mr. Sam on Saturdays and any Fridays you are free and spend Sunday getting to know your horse.”
“Won’t I take my lessons on him?” Mr. Pickering asked.
Mr. Sam shook his head. “I’ll train you on a longeing line first. I need an older more settled horse for that. We have a couple of them here.”
Gerald waved Jim over and told him to cool the horse down a bit before unsaddling him. Ellen realized the men needed to talk business, so she helped Toby climb down from the fence as she said, “It’s time to go in now.”
Gerald looked over as if he had forgotten they were there, and gave them a simple nod. As she and Toby walked along the lane that led back to the house, a thoughtful Toby looked up at her and asked, “Will I have to learn to do all that?”
“Someday, if you want to.”
“The Captain is a good rider, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” she said, and realized any hopes she’d had to keep Toby for forming strong ties to Gerald were impossible. A boy with a need for a man in his life would quickly develop an attachment for one as strong and capable as Gerald. For that matter, she had better keep a tight rein on her own attachments.
* * * *
Although he was tired after a long day, Gerald looked forward to dinner with Ellen that night. It was the one time they had alone and he was learning to value her opinions. When the food had been served and she was sitting across from him, Ellen thanked him for taking the time to give Toby the pony ride. “He could talk of nothing else for the rest of the afternoon.”
“I’m sorry it had to be cut short, but Mr. Pickering may be a stroke of luck for us.”
“How’s that?” she asked.
“He just might become a source of other students. I knew fox hunting was growing in popularity among the new-rich, that’s why I started training hunters, but it had not occurred to me that they might not know how to ride properly.”
“Why wouldn’t they know how to ride?’
“In the past, fox hunting was the province of the landed gentry. They grew up riding pell-mell over fields and jumping fences and in the process trained their horses and themselves. Now with all these hunting clubs opening up, men who have grown up in the cities want to get in on the fun.”
“So, you think Mr. Pickering can learn to ride properly?” she asked.
“Only time will tell,” Gerald said. “When I saw how he yanked on the reins and kicked the poor horse, I lost patience with him. But Mr. Sam has a lot more experience with teaching than I do. After Pickering left, he said, the boy was really afraid of taking jumps, and that’s why he acted so brusquely. I hope he’s right. If so, Mr. Pickering could be the answer to one of my problems.”
“How is that?”
“He said all his friends were interested in fox hunting. If he talks a few of them into taking lessons with us, I can keep my promise to Mr. Sam to supply him with students. To be honest, I’d begun to wonder if I could keep him on.”
“Well, let’s hope for the best with Mr. Pickering. If he suddenly turns into a champion rider, his friends will be impressed and want to know how he did it.”
As she passed Gerald more potatoes, her brow wrinkled into a frown. “Will we have to supply him with room and board while he’s here?”
Gerald had not thought about that. “Well—he’s an adult. He can stay in one of the inns in town.”
She sighed with relief. “I would have done my best to make him feel comfortable here, but I don’t know what I could do to improve Mrs. Moore’s cooking.”
Gerald chuckled. “The old dear is a bit set in her ways. But the real reason I don’t want Mr. Pickering staying here is that he might bring a bunch of handsome, young, city-men with him, and I wouldn’t want them flirting with my pretty wife.”
Ellen’s eyes opened widely and then her cheeks reddened. “Why—I—they wouldn’t flirt with me.”
“Of course, they would. You’re the best-looking woman in the county.”
She tried to give him a censoring look, but she couldn’t entirely suppress her pleased smile. Gerald decided he should pay her more compliments.
Chapter 12
Gerald went to work the next morning eager to push the jump training of the horses along as quickly as possible. If Mr. Pickering did bring him any potential buyers, he wanted to have hunters ready to sell. He and Jim worked hard throughout the morning, taking all seven of the new horses through their paces in the paddock. Four of the seven preformed perfectly and Gerald knew they were ready for open country runs.
He wanted them to be fresh when he took them out for that training, so he decided to spend the afternoon working with the three horses that were not responding as well as the others. When he returned from lunch, he started working with a skittish roan. He took the horse around the paddock, working with his knees to signal when he wanted the horse to change his pace, finally he took it over the jumps several times. Satisfied that the horse was showing improvement, he rode her over to where Jim and Mr. Sam were watching.
“He’s doing better,” Gerald called down to the men as he switched the reins to his wooden hand. He swung his right leg over the horse’s back, but just as his right foot touched the ground, the horse whin
nied and stepped forward. Gerald’s left foot was still in the stirrup, and the horse’s movement wrenched his left knee so sharply that he yelped in pain.
Jim grabbed the horse’s bridle and held him in place. Gerald managed to get his foot out of the stirrup, but when he tried to put weight on that foot, pain ripped through his knee so badly that he would have pitched to the ground if Mr. Sam had not thrown an arm around Gerald’s body and steadied him.
Tully must have heard Gerald’s moans for he rushed out of a nearby stall. “What’s happened?”
“The Captain’s twisted his leg getting off the horse,” Jim replied.
“Should I clean out the wheelbarrow, so we can carry him to the house in that?” Tully asked.
“No!” Gerald called. He didn’t want to be carried back to the house just because he’d been too slow dismounting. Besides Tully used that wheel barrow when he cleaned out the stalls.
“I think Jim and I can manage him,” Mr. Sam said. “Tully, you put away this horse. Jim, you get under the captain’s left arm and I’ll get on his right side.”
After Gerald got his arm around Jim’s sturdy shoulders and Mr. Sam wrapped one arm around Gerald’s body from the other side, Gerald tentatively placed some weight on his left foot as he took one lurching step. Pain shot through the knee, but he gritted his teeth and kept going, determined not to be carried to the house like an invalid.
Slowly he hobbled down the lane toward the house, holding his breath every time he had to put weight on the injured knee. After they came within sight of the house, Mr. Moore ran toward them shouting, “What’s wrong with the Captain?”
“I just twisted my knee,” Gerald ground out.
“Get the backdoor open, will ya?” Mr. Sam asked.
Mr. Moore leaped to obey, and after opening the door, he stood near the doorway ready to assist. Fortunately, there were only two steps up, so with the help of the men on either side of him, Gerald managed to hop up them. Of course, there wasn’t room for all three men to go through the doorway at once, so Mr. Sam released Gerald and Mr. Moore reached out to steady him until there was room for Mr. Sam to enter the house and resume his position.