Loving Spirit (11 page)

Pulling on some clothes, she hurried outside, desperate for a few moments alone with Spirit. It was bitterly cold still, but the rain and sleet had stopped. The horses were looking over their doors, banging their hooves impatiently against the wood as she ran past. The cats came trotting past the puddles, tails high, mewing at the thought of breakfast, but Ellie ignored them all.

When she reached Spirit’s stable, she was taken
aback by how ordinary he looked. He had straw in his white tail and his stable rug was hanging slightly to one side. But what had she been expecting? That’d he’d have sparkles floating round him or something?

However, as their eyes met, Ellie saw an understanding there and suddenly she knew with an absolute, unshakable certainty that the evening before had happened just as she remembered it. She touched Spirit wonderingly. She couldn’t quite get her head round it, but suddenly her life felt totally different, almost as if she had discovered a completely new colour. She and Spirit had somehow connected. What now? It was as if she was standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down from a great height, not knowing what was beneath her or what would happen if she jumped.

‘What happens next?’ Ellie asked him helplessly.

Outside, she heard the sound of stable doors opening on the yard and people calling to each other. She couldn’t stay long with Spirit now or she’d be in trouble.

‘I’ll see you later,’ she whispered to him. Trying to compose herself and look normal, she headed to the feedroom.

Ellie might have tried to look normal but her thoughts were all over the place. She got shouted at for mixing up Gabriel and Hereward’s feeds and
then for tripping up with a wheelbarrow and spilling dirty straw all over the yard. When she started riding, Picasso sensed her distraction and played up, snatching at the bit and repeatedly shying away from one corner of the school.

Len watched in the centre, his face growing darker by the second. ‘You’re riding like a sack of ruddy potatoes. Get him together! Come on!’ His voice rose. ‘Make him go into that corner! NOW!’

Ellie used her legs hard. Picasso’s ears flattened, but he decided not to argue any more. However, a little while later when she started thinking about Spirit again he decided to throw in a buck and she almost flew over his head. Taking advantage of the fact that she had lost her reins and balance, he shot off down the school, swerving round Luke on Starlight.

Len exploded with a string of swear words as, red in the face, Ellie grabbed her reins back and sat up.

‘For Christ’s sake, Ellie!’ Len thundered. ‘Get your act together! You’ve got your first flamin’ show to go to in three weeks.’

‘If we can get him into the lorry,’ muttered Joe, who was schooling Wisp at the end of the school. Picasso had refused to go into a horsebox since his aborted visit to the show.

Joe gave Ellie a look of sympathy as she turned Picasso round, but Luke just grinned at her as she rode back up the school, her heart in her boots.
‘You’re going to have to ride better than that,’ he said.

Face still red, Ellie kept her attention on Picasso and rode him into place again behind Starlight.

Len continued to shout at her all lesson and she was very glad when it was time to take Picasso in.

At lunchtime Ellie breathed a massive sigh of relief as everyone else headed off the yard and she had a chance to be with Spirit on her own. Her fingers shook as she took off his rug. What was going to happen? Would it be like the night before? Would she be able to communicate with him and see his memories?

She was so excited she found it hard to stand still. She tried touching his neck, but although he nuzzled her shoulders nothing happened. She moved impatiently to his head and stroked his face, waiting for some pictures to come into her mind. But none did. She ran her hands over him.
Come on, come on
, she thought.
Talk to me, Spirit
. But there was nothing. Eventually Ellie stood back, disappointment lying over her. It wasn’t happening.

She tried to remember what she’d been doing when it had started the evening before.
I was just standing with him
, she realized,
standing still
.

Spirit was pulling at his hay now. Ellie faced him, one hand either side of his neck as he pulled and
chewed. Shutting her eyes, she breathed slowly in and out, until the impatience drained away and she was left with a feeling of calm. The space inside her where the energy had been buzzing filled with thoughts of Spirit.

Breathe in. Breathe out
.

She thought about wanting to help him. Thought about wanting to take away his pain.

Breathe in. Breathe out
.

Standing there, Ellie became vaguely aware that Spirit had stopped eating and was now standing still too. She could feel him breathing, her hands still resting on his neck. A warm glow seemed to wrap around them both.

I’m here
, she told him, the words coming from deep inside her without her even thinking about them.
I’m listening
.

A connection surged between them again. Memories came into her mind. Like the night before, they weren’t hers, but she could see them as clearly as if they were. She saw the same mountainside and felt the weight of the man on her back again. She felt the rain driving down and the rough stony ground under her hooves.

Was this where you were before you came here?
she asked him.

Yes
.

Ellie started, her eyes opening involuntarily. She
stared at Spirit. She had asked him a question and he had answered her!

Pushing away her wonder, she shut her eyes and let her mind go blank again. The pictures filled it straight away. She saw a tumbledown row of stables, a steaming untidy muck heap sprawling over cobbles, a stony yard littered with weeds, loose straw and bale string. The yard was in a valley, with tracks leading up steep mountains. Horses hung their heads over the doors, not with pricked ears and eager expressions like the horses on her uncle’s yard – these horses looked empty-eyed and defeated. An aura of sadness and pain surrounded them all.

In her mind, Ellie interpreted what she was seeing, turning the pictures into human words.
It was a trekking centre in the mountains. You weren’t treated well
, she thought to Spirit.
You weren’t fed much, were you? You and the other horses were in pain and tired?

Waves of energy rolled off Spirit as he answered her.
Yes. Yes
.

More pictures shifted through Ellie’s brain as he showed her what it had been like. People coming to ride. Beginners who sat heavily in the saddle. The riding stable owner and a groom who worked for her, shouting at the horses. Never checking them for injuries or aches. Never offering them kindness. The only soft word coming from the occasional trekker who stroked them and offered love.

I tried so hard
. Ellie could feel deep in her heart what Spirit was saying.
I wanted to be good
.

She could feel his hunger, feel his pain, feel the ill-fitting saddle pressing into his spine and the rub of the rough, grass-encrusted bit in his sensitive mouth. She could hear the shouts in his ears, while all the time he had just wanted to please. It was almost too much to bear.

Instinctively she hugged him. Spirit pushed his nose against her back. She stood for a long moment, drawing up all the strength she had and trying to give it to him.

After a few minutes he breathed out deeply, a sigh of release and relief.

He stepped back and she felt the connection weaken. She knew he’d had enough for the moment.

Ellie leant against the stable wall. Again she had the same feeling she’d had that morning, the feeling of life having somehow shifted. It was as though she was now looking at it from a different angle. She had no words to explain quite what was happening between them but she knew that her life would never be the same again.

She was no longer standing on the edge of the precipice; she had well and truly jumped off.

Chapter Ten

‘Joe! Joe!’

Joe had been collecting empty haynets. Ellie raced up to him. ‘I’ve got to talk to you!’

‘Why?’

Ellie hesitated. How did she start?
I can talk to Spirit …
. Joe would think she’d gone mad.
Spirit’s telling me stuff …
That was just as bad.

‘Well?’ Joe pressed.

‘Um, it’s Spirit.’

‘He’s OK, isn’t he?’ Joe’s brow furrowed.

‘Yeah – yeah, he’s fine. It’s just …’ Ellie chose her words carefully. ‘Look, promise you won’t think I’m mad, but I think I can communicate with him. Really communicate.’ She could feel her eyes sparkling despite her worries about telling him. ‘It’s like I can talk to him. He’s telling me things about his life and …’ Joe’s eyebrows had risen. ‘It’s true!’

‘Yeah, right. Hey, look, was that something pink with a curly tail I saw flapping past?’ Joe grinned.

‘Joe!’ Ellie exclaimed, stamping her foot in frustration. ‘I mean it!’

‘That you can talk to Spirit?’ Joe looked disbelieving.

‘Well, not talk exactly.’ Ellie struggled to explain. ‘Not like chat in words. It’s mainly pictures and feeling stuff.’

‘So, what’s he been telling you?’ Joe said, but from his tone Ellie could tell that he still didn’t believe her.

‘Oh, forget it. It doesn’t matter.’ Disappointment flooded through her. She’d really wanted to share it with Joe. She’d hoped he’d get it. But maybe it was too much to expect. It was pretty bizarre. ‘I’m just being stupid.’ She forced a smile. ‘Joke!’ She saw Joe’s relieved smile in return. ‘So, what do we have to do this afternoon? Did your dad say?’ she asked, quickly changing the subject.

‘Yeah, tidy the muck heap.’

Ellie sighed. ‘Great.’ It was her least favourite task.

After she and Joe had swept up all the loose straw, flattened the top of the muck heap and made it into the perfectly rectangular shape that Len liked, she went back to Spirit’s stable, still feeling a bit let down that Joe hadn’t believed her. She stood looking at the door for a few minutes, and then fetched some bale string and a screwdriver and a metal hook from the toolbox in the tackroom.

Fifteen minutes later, she stood back, satisfied. She had removed the bolts and the door was now fastened with a plaited rope of bale string that ran through two hooks. She tied it in a quick-release knot. She could undo it and open the door without a sound.

‘Hi, Ellie,’ Stuart said, walking over. He nodded at the stable door. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I think the noise of the bolt was scaring Spirit whenever it was opened,’ Ellie explained. ‘That maybe something happened in his past and the noise of the bolt reminded him of it. He might relax more without it.’

Ellie hoped Stuart wouldn’t be cross. To her relief, he nodded in approval. ‘Good idea. Look, when you’ve finished can you come and help me with Milly for a while? I need to pull her mane.’

‘Sure. I’m done here.’ Ellie followed Stuart up to the clipping barn where Milly was tied up. The little chestnut didn’t like having her flaxen mane pulled to shorten and thin it, and had to have one of her front legs held up otherwise she would move around too much.

Stuart got out the mane comb and Ellie picked up Milly’s left front hoof. As Stuart worked, pushing the comb down the mane and pulling a few strands out at a time, Ellie studied his face. The more she got to know him the more she liked him; he was quiet but kind and he knew so much about horses.

‘How did you come to work here, Stuart?’ she asked curiously.

‘I met your uncle when I was working at a racing stables. We got on and he asked me if I’d come and work for him. Racing’s a young man’s game and so I said yes as soon as he asked. He taught me all about the showing world – he knows his horses and he treats them well. He may seem harsh and he hasn’t time for hangers-on, but the horses who are here, well, they have a good life. They go out in the field, work, get top-rate food and lots of grooming. If I was a horse I’d want to be here.’

‘Unless you were old or lame,’ muttered Ellie. Joe had told her stories about horses and ponies that her uncle had got rid of when they were unable to show any more.

Stuart chuckled. ‘Well, there is that. Your uncle’s no time for sentiment, but that doesn’t make him a bad man. And he’s helped a fair few problem horses in his time. Horses other people would have shown the bullet to.’

Ellie didn’t say anything and Stuart worked on in silence, whistling through his teeth as he thinned Milly’s mane.

Ellie wondered what
he
would say if he knew about Spirit talking to her. ‘Stuart,’ she said hesitantly. ‘Have you ever heard about people talking to horses, properly talking?’

Stuart frowned. ‘You mean like when someone’s a horse whisperer?’

Ellie shook her head. She knew horse whisperers were people who worked with problem horses by building up a relationship with the horse and trying to figure out what was going on in the horse’s head. She’d never heard of them actually talking to a horse the way she had with Spirit. ‘No, I mean have you ever heard of anyone who can really talk to a horse, ask it questions and stuff?’

She waited for Stuart to laugh, but he looked thoughtful.

‘There was a lady I met when I was at the racing yard. She reckoned she could talk to horses. She was a friend of the trainer’s.’

Ellie was astonished. ‘What?’

‘Yeah. Nice lady. Quite normal-looking, you know. Like someone’s mum. She used to come down to the yard and then stand there, listening to the horses who weren’t behaving right. She’d ask them questions in her head and afterwards she’d tell you what was wrong with them.’ Stuart shook his own head. ‘I don’t know. It was probably just a fluke, but a lot of the time she did seem to work out what was the matter with them. She used to say that everyone could talk to horses if they tried but that some people were better at it than others; it was a case of …’ He frowned for a moment, trying to remember. ‘Tuning
into the horses’ energy or something. She’d been doing it all her life.’ He grinned at Ellie. ‘Why the interest? You thinking of getting someone like that for Spirit? That’d finish the boss off, that would. He doesn’t hold with any of that stuff, you know.’