Loving Spirit

by Linda Chapman

  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.’

  Ellie glared at him. ‘Fine.’

  ‘You’ll never make your money back when you sell him.’

  ‘I don’t want to make my money back! I’m not going to sell him.’

  Luke raised his eyebrows. ‘Have you told that to Len? He’s not going to budge on that one, you know. If I were you, I’d get used to the thought of that horse of yours leaving. After all, it’s almost six weeks since you bought him, isn’t it?’

  Luke’s words sent a prickle of foreboding through Ellie. Her uncle hadn’t said anything recently about Spirit going, but that didn’t mean he had forgotten the deal they’d made.

  He won’t really make me sell Spirit, she thought anxiously. Will he?

  Ellie tried not to think about it. At lunchtime she put Spirit’s bridle on and took him for a walk down the drive. As she led him through the courtyard, several of the other horses whinnied to him. Ellie smiled, remembering what Stuart had said earlier. ‘They all like you, boy.’

  When she reached the car park, she saw Stuart and Joe trying to load Picasso. They were looking hot and the bay pony’s coat was streaked with sweat. He was refusing to go anywhere near the horsebox. Ellie could feel the waves of fear coming off him every time he looked at the lorry.

  Since she had started communicating with Spirit she’d found that even though she might not be able to talk to other horses in the same way she could to Spirit, she could often feel their emotions very clearly – even more than she had before.

  ‘Come on, Picasso,’ Joe said, sighing and sitting on the ramp. ‘Look, there’s nothing to be frightened of.’

  But Picasso rolled his eyes and tried to cart Stuart away. He whinnied as he caught sight of Spirit and pulled towards him. Stuart let him come over.

  ‘No luck then?’ Ellie said.

  ‘No.’ Stuart shook his head. ‘I don’t know what we’re going to do. He’s got himself into such a state he’s never going to go in. The boss will go mad. I reckon we just have to give him a break now and then try again later. If all else fails we’ll have to scrap the show tomorrow and spend the next few weeks working on it. We could sedate him and get him in, then hopefully make him see there’s nothing to be frightened of – feed him in there, take him for short journeys. But we can’t sedate him for a show, he wouldn’t be able to compete.’

  Ellie felt a stab of disappointment as she stroked Picasso’s damp neck. She’d been really looking forward to the next day. Please go in, please, she silently urged the pony. It wasn’t just the show, though. After all, she knew there would be many other shows to go to in the future. It was just that sedating him and forcing him in there while he couldn’t resist felt so wrong.

  ‘Let’s try once more,’ Stuart said, patting his neck.

  ‘Good luck with it.’ Saying goodbye to Stuart and Joe, Ellie led Spirit away up the lane.

  Spirit walked out eagerly, his ears pricked, eyes inquisitive. His mane and forelock were long and silky now, and although his legs were still scarred he was slowly starting to build up muscle. He looked so much better.

  She let him pause to rub his face on a fence post. On either side of the lane there were fields of sheep with small lambs, and the sun was fighting through the white clouds. There wasn’t much warmth in its rays, but it was very welcome after the bleak January and February. Looking around, Ellie could see daffodils pushing upwards and the green buds on the trees. She had a feeling of the landscape thawing, life breaking out on the barren slopes.

  Putting her arm over Spirit’s withers, she felt content – happy to be where she was. She remembered what Stuart had said about riding Spirit. If she stepped up on the first plank of the fence she would be able to get on …

  But should she?

  Deep down, she knew she should wait until she was back at the yard with a saddle and people around in the safety of the school. It was madness to try and get on Spirit’s back now, but it also felt right, and she was learning to trust her instincts.

  Standing up on the fence, Ellie leant her weight over Spirit’s back. His ears twitched, but he didn’t move.

  ‘Can I get on you?’ she asked, feeling somehow that it was right to ask his permission.

  He stayed still. She hesitated. She was sure he was OK with it. Putting her trust in him, she moved her right leg over his hindquarters and slowly sat up. Spirit tensed.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she murmured, trying to stay relaxed. She knew if she tensed up too, then he would think there was something to be afraid of. She breathed out, letting her energy flow down through him. His back felt warm underneath her. ‘There, Spirit. Good boy.’ Her fingers stroked his neck and mane.

  She continued murmuring to him until she felt him lower his head and relax. Should she get off, make that do?

  Spirit made the decision for her. Turning from the fence, he started to walk down the lane. Ellie quickly gathered up the reins, but kept her hands as light as possible. She could remember the way his mouth had been hurt in the past. She let her legs hang down loosely. She’d ridden Abbey many times bareback, usually when she was feeling too lazy to tack her up properly. Spirit had a long, smooth stride. He walked out, his ears pricked, and she had the feeling he was happy to be ridden.

  At the end of the driveway there was a road, and on the far side of the road a small wood with a bridlepath through it. Spirit pulled eagerly at the bit and Ellie let him cross. As his hooves fell on the soft grass and soil of the woods, he broke into a jog.

  Ellie released his head slightly and the next moment he had plunged forward. ‘Steady, boy,’ she gasped, tightening her hold on the reins as the speed took her by surprise. He slowed down to a steadier pace. Ellie had to hold on to his mane to stop herself being swept backwards. Exhilaration rushed through her. She was cantering Spirit! He felt amazing – smooth and in control. A bird flew up and he shied, but Ellie moved with him and they cantered on.

  At last she drew him back to a trot and then a walk. Eyes shining, she threw her arms round his neck and hugged him tightly before they continued on.

  Ellie was still bubbling with happiness as they headed for home. This was just the start. She’d find a saddle that fitted him and then she’d be able to start riding him properly. She couldn’t wait to tell Joe. They’d be able to go for rides together. Maybe even jump. ‘You’re such a good boy,’ she said, patting Spirit’s neck. ‘And I love you so much!’

  Just as they got near to the yard, she heard an e
ngine. Her uncle was driving away from the yard towards her. Her heart sank. He was bound to tell her off for riding bareback on the lane. It was too late for her to get off now. She knew she just had to brazen it out. As he drove up, he slowed the car down and lowered the window.

  Ellie waited for him to snap but to her surprise he didn’t, although his face looked tense.

  ‘So, you’re up on him then?’ he said.

  She nodded warily.

  ‘Good. He’s looking better too. You might get an OK price for him now. The next sale’s Thursday. We’ll get him there for that.’

  Ellie felt sick. ‘No …’

  ‘That was the deal,’ Len said curtly. ‘We said six weeks, you’ve had five. Next week he’s at the sale and off this yard. You’ve done well, though. If you want to buy another and bring it on, then I won’t stop you.’

  The compliment went completely over Ellie’s head. All she could think about was the fact that her uncle was going to make her sell Spirit. She’d been pushing the thought to the back of her mind, assuming it wouldn’t happen. Five days? That was no time at all!

  Her uncle drove on. Heart thudding, Ellie slipped off Spirit’s back. Sensing her tension he pushed against her questioningly. She stroked him, her thoughts swirling round.

  I’ll refuse to sell him.

  We did have a deal.

  So? I’ll break the deal.

  As if he’d let you.

  Ellie turned to Spirit and he nuzzled her anxiously. ‘I’m not letting you go,’ she whispered fiercely. ‘I’m not!’

  Chapter Twelve

  Ellie led Spirit back on to the yard. Her legs felt shaky and her thoughts were racing. What was she going to do?

  Joe came round the corner from putting Picasso away and saw her face. ‘You OK?’

  ‘Yes.’ Ellie bit her lip. ‘No … no, actually, I’m not.’ The words tumbled out of her. ‘Can we talk?’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ Joe said in surprise. ‘Do you want to go to the barn?’

  Ellie nodded unhappily. ‘I’ll just put Spirit away.’

  Five minutes later, she ran into the hay barn. Joe was sitting on one of the bales that were sticking out at the bottom of the pile. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked as Ellie joined him.

  Ellie felt her eyes well with tears. ‘It’s Spirit.’ She quickly told him what his dad had said. ‘What am I going to do, Joe? I can’t sell him.’

  Joe looked worried. ‘I know you don’t want to, but Dad is going to make you stick to the deal.’

  ‘There’s got to be some way round it.’ Ellie remembered what she had first thought when she’d bought Spirit. ‘Maybe I could keep him somewhere else?’

  ‘But there isn’t another stables for several miles. How would you get there?’

  Ellie searched for an answer. ‘Cycle?’

  Joe shook his head. ‘It’s just not possible. You couldn’t cycle there and back in the dark. It would be much too dangerous on those little lanes. Dad would never let you.’

  ‘I’d like to see him try and stop me!’

  ‘Ellie, fighting him isn’t going to work,’ Joe said quickly. ‘You’re going to have to just accept this.’

  ‘No way! Come on, Joe,’ Ellie appealed desperately. ‘You can help me think of something. I can’t sell Spirit!’ A sob burst from her. She turned quickly away, shutting her eyes tight to stop the tears.

  ‘Oh, Ellie.’ She felt Joe’s arm round her shoulder. He pulled her against him.

  A wave of emotion overwhelmed her. She sobbed into Joe’s chest, feeling the comforting strength of his arms. ‘I can’t bear it! I can’t!’

  He stroked her hair. ‘It’ll be OK, Els. Don’t cry. We’ll think of something.’

  Gradually Ellie’s tears slowed down. She rubbed Joe’s fleece where it was damp from her crying. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ he said softly.

  Glancing up at the sound of his reassuring tone, she was caught by the intensity of his gaze. As his eyes searched hers, she suddenly felt as if she was seeing his greeny-grey eyes, his tousled hair and his slightly crooked nose, all for the first time. Joe hastily pulled away, clearing his throat.

  ‘OK. We’ll try and work out a plan. A deal, like I said. An offer Dad can’t refuse.’ His words sounded deceptively normal. But Ellie knew him well enough to hear that there was an unusual tightness in his voice.

  She felt confused. This was just Joe in front of her, her best friend, but for one moment it had seemed something more and, from the way he was sounding, she was sure he’d felt it too …

  ‘We’d better get back on the yard or people will start looking for us.’ Joe went to the barn door and looked back at her. ‘You coming?’

  As Ellie nodded and stood up, their eyes met for a second. Both of them quickly looked away.

  ‘Hey, I rode Spirit today,’ she said wanting to break the suddenly tense silence.

  ‘Really? What happened?’ Joe asked. They left the barn and, with Ellie aware that they were both talking just slightly too fast, they walked together down the hill to the yard.

  Ellie threw herself into her work that afternoon, trying not to think about the strange moment in the barn. There was enough else to occupy her mind. First of all there was Spirit, and what she was going to do about him. She couldn’t sell him. She wouldn’t. Particularly not now, after she’d just ridden him for the first time. But what could she do? Her uncle had clearly made his mind up. Five days was no time at all to come up with a plan.

  And it wasn’t just Spirit she had to worry about, it was Picasso too. Although Joe, Stuart and Len tried again that afternoon, they simply couldn’t get the bay pony into the horsebox.

  Uttering a string of swear words, Len finally stomped away, having made the decision that they would give up on the idea of taking Picasso to the show next day.

  Ellie was disappointed about not going to the show, she couldn’t deny it, but her worries about Spirit overshadowed the disappointment. She had to think of a plan. As if to emphasize that he meant what he had said, her uncle left a local newspaper out in the tackroom with an advert for the next horse sale circled with thick red pen.

  Ellie thought about it over and over again as she helped to prepare Barney with Darcey and Alfie, two of the clients’ horses, for the show. Their legs and tails needed washing and then they all had to be groomed and strapped until their coats were as soft as velvet. The tack had to be cleaned until it was spotless – the leather soft and supple, the bits and stirrups shining like new silver. Then the horsebox had to be loaded up with everything that would be needed – saddles, bridles, grooming kits. And as well as the horses who were going to the show, the other horses needed grooming and looking after too.

  ‘You should be going and I should be riding you,’ Ellie told Picasso as she strapped him later that afternoon – banging a leather pad on his neck and hindquarters over and over again to build up his muscles. He was in fantastic condition, his bay coat shining like a piece of dark chocolate, his muscles rippling under his soft skin. ‘It’s no wonder Uncle Len’s mad about you not loading,’ she said, sighing. ‘You look amazing.’

  She wondered if the plan to sedate him to get him used to the horsebox would work. She hoped it would. Joe had told her Picasso loved shows. But if he wouldn’t box he couldn’t go to any, and if he didn’t go to any shows Len would sell him without a doubt.

  ‘Why have you got such a problem with it? What are you scared of?’ But, unlike Spirit, Picasso ignored her as he usually did, staring into the distance and fidgeting slightly at the end of his leadrope.

  By the time everything was finished, it was after six o’clock. Ellie ate a quick supper of pizza with Joe, Luke and Len. None of them said much as they sat round the kitchen table. Luke spent most of the meal texting and raising his eyebrows as he read the texts he got back. Joe was quiet. All Len could talk about was the show the next day. And Ellie’s thoughts were full of Spirit. Every time she looked at her uncle she wonde
red how she could persuade him to let Spirit stay.

  As soon as they had eaten, Joe hurried away to do some revision, Luke went out and Len sat down to watch the TV. It was Ellie’s turn to clear away. She put the plates into the dishwasher and turned it on, crammed the cardboard packets in the recycling bin and then went out to be with Spirit again.

  Spirit recognized her footsteps as she came down the yard and, hearing his whinny, Ellie felt her heart lighten. Putting her arms either side of his warm neck, she rested her face against his mane. He swung his head round and rested his muzzle on her right shoulder. She felt as though he was pulling her in tight, hugging her.

  ‘Oh, Spirit. It’s been such a busy day. Picasso’s not going to the show now because he won’t go in the horsebox, and then there’s you. I’ve got to find a way to persuade Uncle Len to let me keep you but I don’t know what I can do.’ She could feel the panic starting to curl around inside her, building and swirling like smoke from a smouldering bonfire. Time was ticking away. Thursday loomed large in her mind.

  Spirit breathed softly on her hair. Ellie shut her eyes, drawing strength from him. She’d think of something. Her racing thoughts gradually slowed and her mind emptied. A picture came into her mind. But there was something different about it. She frowned, trying to work out why. It was as if the energy wasn’t quite the same, she realized. She let herself sink into the picture, wondering what Spirit was showing her.

  It was dark. There was a lorry full of foals. There were no partitions and the foals were crammed together, stumbling against each other as the lorry threw them about, hooves grazing each other’s delicate legs. The atmosphere was charged with fear and loss. Mother, mother, mother …

  The air was filled with the foals’ silent cries, and suddenly she knew the foals were all being taken away from their mothers for the first time. They were very young and terrified. But she had shared Spirit’s memories of his first journey away from his mother before and it hadn’t been like this. What was going on? Other pictures took over. The lorry stopping. Being herded out into a yard they had never seen before with lots of other ponies there. Shouting. Rough handling. Utter confusion and, running through it all, a deep sense of loss and longing …