by Lou Kuenzler
Chapter Twenty-one
We reached Riverford, the bustling market town where we were to spend the night, as the sun was going down. We stopped at a large hotel called the White Lion and dropped the master and mistress at the front, then we drove under an archway into a long yard with stables at one end and a coach house at the other.
There was an ostler in charge of the stable and a boy a year or two older than James who was supposed to help with the horses too.
“Step to it, Towler,” cried the ostler. “Get those harnesses off.”
“Right away,” said the boy. But the minute the ostler’s back was turned he leant against the wall.
“I’ll just finish my smoke,” he said with a nod to us. I’m sure if Mr Manly had been there he would have leapt forward straight away. He sighed and made a great show of puffing and blowing into his clay pipe instead.
“How far have you come?” he asked.
“From a place called Birtwick. Thirty-two miles away,” said James.
“Phew!” Towler whistled through his teeth. “That’s quite a clip you set. I know a lot of coachmen – old chaps – couldn’t cover half that distance with a pair of horses and a carriage that size.”
“Really?” James squared his shoulders and smiled with pride. “It was up and down hill most of the way.”
“Impressive!” Towler leant against the wheel of the carriage and puffed on his horrible pipe.
“You could start a fire with that thing – look at all this hay and straw,” I said. Mr Manly would never have stood for anyone smoking in a stable yard.
“Don’t you worry your little head, lad. I was looking after horses when you were a twinkle in your mother’s eye.” Towler laughed and tousled my spiky hair as if I was six years old. I saw him smirk at James over my head, as though they were both grown-ups together.
“James,” I said, “tell him he shouldn’t smoke.”
“Oh leave it, Joe. Do,” said James. He was leaning against the side of the carriage now too, chewing on a piece of straw like a farm boy at a harvest supper.
“Thing is,” he explained, unbuttoning his livery coat and throwing it over his shoulder, “I had to put the drag on at least seven times in the last three miles … without it the carriage would have been in the ditch.”
I had no idea what a “drag” was, but James seemed very pleased with himself.
“Phew!” Towler whistled again. “That’s where the skill is, see. You wouldn’t believe the number of coachmen who come a cropper on that last bend.”
“By the sawmill? Pah. That was nothing.” I had never seen James like this before. Boasting and showing off. Being a coachman for the day had gone to his head. “You should see some of the tight bends we have back home,” he said. “There’s one, as you come towards Birtwick from the Beacon Hills…”
On and on they went about this turn, that turn – it was boring. I rolled my eyes and unbuckled Beauty’s traces.
“Come on!” I slipped him out of the shafts. “Let’s find you a stall.”
I don’t think either of the boys even noticed as I led him away. I found two empty stalls, far away from the other horses, right at the back of the stables.
“Nice and quiet for you, Beauty,” I said as I went and fetched Ginger too.
I tied Ginger in the stall next to Beauty, then took off my smart green jacket and hung it on a nail on the wall. “We don’t need their help, do we?” I said as I rolled my shirtsleeves up and rubbed both horses down with a cloth, especially where the harness had made them sweat.
Beauty scratched his head against me to get rid of the itch from his bridle.
“I am not a fence post!” I laughed as I nearly toppled over backwards. Even Ginger let me rub behind her ears. She really was a lovely mare once you got to know her.
As I ducked out of the stall, I saw that James had finally appeared.
“Finished showing off?” I said coolly.
“There’s no need for that. I was only being friendly,” he snapped. “Nice chap, that Dick Towler. And from what he says he’s had a lot of experience with horses. Beauty and Ginger are in safe hands.”
“If you say so.” I shrugged. I didn’t really care whether Towler was friendly or not. I just didn’t like the careless way he wandered around the stable with a burning pipe. James would normally have been the first to tell him off.
I climbed up into the hay loft above the horses’ stalls and filled a good net for each of them.
When they were settled and fed at last, James and I went round to a servants’ hall behind the kitchen for a bowl of stew.
We ate in silence, occasionally glaring at each other. Then we checked the horses once more before going up to our beds in an attic above the hotel.
I lay awake for a long time, listening to the sounds of the street outside. It was strange to be in a town with people talking and carts and carriages rattling past below. But it wasn’t the noise that was keeping me awake…
“James,” I whispered. It was dark in the attic but I sensed somehow that he was lying awake listening too. “Isn’t it odd that we can’t hear the horses?”
I had grown so used to sleeping right above them in the loft. I always knew they were safe and well as long as I could hear the reassuring scrape of their hooves on the stones and the rustle as they moved in the straw.
“Just go to sleep, Joe,” he snapped.
But I didn’t, not for a long time.
Chapter Twenty-two
I must have fallen asleep at last. But I woke suddenly in the middle of the night and sat up with a start. There was an orange glow through the attic window – like a sunset, but it was still dark outside. There was the bitter smell of smoke in the air and sharp crackling sounds like a coachman cracking his whip.
“Fire!”
I don’t know who shouted it first, me or James, but I know we were both on our feet in a moment.
Still in our nightshirts and long johns, we stamped our feet into our boots and thundered down the stairs to the yard.
“It’s the stables!” I cried.
The ostler was rushing in and out of the stalls leading horses behind him. I could see Towler too, untying the row of horses nearest the big door.
“Move, you brutes. Move!” he cried, slapping them on the rumps and waving his arms wildly in the air. This only made the horses more frightened, of course. While some bolted for the yard, others reared up and refused to move at all. Luckily some other stable hands were doing a better job of urging the horses out to safety.
“Beauty and Ginger!” I said, grabbing James’s arm. “They are right at the very back of the stable. We have to get them out of there.”
If only I hadn’t chosen the stalls furthest away from the doors.
“Hurry!” We plunged into the burning building.
The smoke at the front of the stable was thin like a summer mist. But the deeper inside we went, the thicker it became.
Somewhere in the fume-filled darkness I heard a terrified whinny. It was Beauty calling for help.
“Don’t worry, I’m coming.” I tried to call to him, but as I opened my mouth, my nose and throat filled with thick smoke. I doubled over, coughing and spluttering as I gasped for breath.
“Here!” James pulled his nightshirt over his head. As he stood bare-chested, he ripped at the ragged cotton and tore the shirt in two. “Tie this around your face,” he said, throwing half to me. He covered his own mouth and nose as if the ripped shirt was a highwayman’s mask.
I did the same as we stumbled on. Sweat prickled my neck. Although I could breathe more easily now my face was covered, the heat grew stronger. I could see the flickering orange glow at the heart of the fire burning in the roof. It must have started in the hay loft and was spreading all through the stables.
We reached the horses at last, scrambling over a fallen beam which was charred and smoking but no longer aflame.
“Beauty!” I flung myself towards him.
“Steady!” James grabbed my arm. “Don’t let them know we’re frightened.”
Ginger was throwing her head wildly in the air but he stretched out and stroked her neck.
“Good girl,” he soothed her. “Shall we go for a little walk now?”
From the way he spoke, he might have been leading Ginger out to the meadow to graze.
Beauty was stamping his feet, arching his neck and straining at the rope that tied him.
“Come along then. Let’s get you out of here,” I said, trying not to let my voice shake as I fumbled to untie the knot. It was so smoky I couldn’t see what I was doing but at last I backed him out of the stall.
“Ready?” I tugged on his halter and brave Beauty took a big step forward.
“Come on, Ginger!” I could hear James coaxing the chestnut mare to follow. Calm as he was, she was too afraid to move. All she would do was throw her head in the air, shivering from top to toe.
Beauty turned and whinnied. He seemed to be telling Ginger to follow but she wouldn’t leave the stall.
“Come on! Keep walking, boy!” I urged. Beauty reared up. He would not move now either. Not if his stablemate would not follow.
“Please!” I begged, turning around and trying to drag him behind me, pulling the rope over my shoulder like a sailor hauling a boat. The smoke was getting thicker and the crackling sound of the fire was almost deafening.
Beauty dug his toes in, flaring his nostrils.
It was no good. My eyes stung. I could see the orange flames, licking the top of the ladder in the opening to the loft.
The roof above us shuddered and groaned.
“The whole lot will come down on us any minute,” I cried.
“Run, Joe!” James coughed.
“No!” I shook my head.
“Do as I say, Joe. I’m head stable lad!” It was the first time James had raised his voice. “Go!”
I shook my head again.
“Not unless we can all go,” I wheezed. “Beauty won’t leave Ginger. And I won’t leave Beauty.”
“Stubborn fool!” James turned his back furiously but he did not try to fight me any more. “Come on, Ginger,” he coaxed. “Come on, Ginger-girl, we’ve got to get you out of here.”
“If only she had the blinkers from her harness,” I whispered, talking more to Beauty than to James. Both horses wore eye guards to stop them being frightened of things when they pulled the carriage. If Ginger had her blinkers on she wouldn’t take so much notice of the flames flickering across the wall like snakes. The ceiling groaned again.
“James!” I gasped, struck by a sudden thought. It wouldn’t matter if we didn’t have real blinkers so long as we could cover Ginger’s eyes and stop her being frightened. All we needed was some cloth to throw over her head. I had seen Mr Manly do the same thing with a nervous filly to lead her past the pigsty once.
Thud! A burning plank fell to the floor spitting sparks like fiery rain.
Ginger snorted. Beauty whinnied with fear.
For a moment I considered ripping my own nightshirt off – even if it meant showing I was a girl – nothing mattered now except the horses. Then, with a leap of joy, I saw my fancy green coat; brass buttons reflecting the flames, draped on the nail where I’d hung it while rubbing down the horses last night.
“Here! Put this over Ginger’s head,” I cried, tossing the coat to James. He understood immediately and covered her eyes.
Ginger leapt forward.
“Come on, Beauty. She’s coming with us. You lead the way.” I gave his halter a little tug. He took a small step and began to follow me through the smoke towards the door. I knew he would be brave enough to walk without his eyes covered, just so long as Ginger and James were right behind us.
But we had only taken a few paces when Beauty refused to move again. I tugged him towards the left of a burning pillar but he pulled to the right, pushing me with his nose. I tried to pull to the left again – the gap was wider that side of the pillar – but he pushed me the other way, more firmly this time so that I almost stumbled.
“All right, boy. We’ll do what you want.” I let him lead me to the right and Ginger and James followed.
Seconds later, there was a terrible crash to the left of us. A great long beam from the burning hayloft fell to the floor, smashing to the ground.
“You saved us, Beauty!” I spluttered. If we’d gone the way I wanted to, the burning beam would have fallen right on top of our heads.
Smoke billowed all around us, but I could see a patch of light in the distance at last.
“Not long now!” croaked James. I clung to Beauty as we stumbled on.
The noise was terrible. The old building quaked and moaned. The fire was crackling loudly, horses were whinnying from the safety of the yard and so many voices were shouting from out there that I couldn’t hear Ginger’s hooves behind us any more.
I glanced over my shoulder as we reached the door to the fresh air outside at last.
“James?” I couldn’t see him in the darkness.
Beauty hollered.
Then there was a billow of thick grey smoke and James and Ginger appeared again at last.
We burst into the fresh air of the yard together. People dashed forward and tried to take the horses from us, but James and I stumbled on.
We didn’t stop until we’d led Beauty and Ginger out in to the market square, well away from the burning stable.
“We did it, Joe. We saved them,” panted James.
“And Beauty saved us all,” I said, as we flung our arms around our horses’ necks and breathed in great gasping breaths of cold night air.
Chapter Twenty-three
As James and I stood patting Ginger and Beauty in the crowded marketplace, we heard the sound of galloping hooves and rumbling wheels coming towards us.
“Stand back! It’s the fire engine,” cried the ostler.
“Shift yourselves! Move out of the way,” bellowed Towler. He was brave and brash again now he knew nobody would ask him to go into the burning building to rescue a horse. They were all safely outside now, thank goodness, and nobody was hurt.
I pulled Beauty up on to the pavement as two big dun-coloured cobs thundered over the stones dragging the heavy fire engine behind them. Three firemen leapt down from the back of the cart and began to unwind a long leather hose like a snake.
There was no need for them to ask where the fire was. Great orange flames leapt into the sky from the stable roof.
“This is all your fault,” I said to Towler. “You and your stupid pipe!”
“You can’t prove that!” He spun around and glared at me. “You can’t prove nothing, so shut your mouth!”
“Now you listen here, Dick Towler,” said James. Someone had given him a blanket to throw round his bare shoulders. He stood beside me as tall and proud as a prince in a cloak. “You’re right. We’ll probably never know for sure what started the fire. But I hope you’ll always have doubt in your mind. I hope that’ll make you more careful for the rest of your life.”
“Ha! Who are you two tupenny-ha’penny country lads to tell me what to do?” Towler turned on his heel; but, as he walked away, his shoulders were hunched and his head was hung low.
“He can shout all he wants, but he feels guilty. You can see it written all over him,” said James.
“Good!” I folded my arms and watched Towler slink away into the crowd.
“He’s not the only one to blame.” James shifted his feet and stared at his boots. “I should have listened to you, Joe. You were right; no decent horseman would smoke around a stable. It was wrong from the start.”
“No harm done,” I said, but I felt my eyes fill up with tears of relief. It was over. Beauty and Ginger were safe. And James and I were friends again at last.
“We’re quite a team, you and me,” he said, stepping closer. For a minute I thought he was going to hug me. Then I remembered I was a boy and we slapped each other awkwardly on the back before we turned away and q
uickly patted the horses too. “Quite a team!” said James again.
“Just like Beauty and Ginger,” I said, hiding behind the dear black horse as I wiped my sooty eyes.
When I looked up again, the squire was hurrying across the market square towards us. His face was lined with worry.
“Thank you, my boys!” He shook us both warmly by the hand. “I have never seen such bravery. You saved our beloved horses. The mistress was quite beside herself with fear for you all.”
He patted both the horses and then turned and shook James’s hand again.
“Manly will be very proud when he hears how you acted tonight. You’d be fit to be a coachman anywhere in the land.”
“Thank you, sir!” James flushed with pride.
As the master turned to me, I beamed too.
“As for you,” he said, staring down at me in the lamplight. “I have realized something tonight. You are not a boy…”
“Not … not a boy?” My heart jumped suddenly into my mouth.
“You are not a boy,” said the squire, laying his hands on my shoulder, “… because tonight, Joe, you became a man!”
“Oh! Thank you!” My words came out in a rush as I dared to breathe.
“You are both fine, brave young men,” said Squire Gordon, shaking hands with me and James all over again. “And I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
After the terrible dramas of that night, it was decided that we should leave in the early hours of the morning. The mistress had been overcome by shock and the horses were still shaken.
“It is best if we return to Birtwick right away,” said the master. “The mistress will visit her sister at another time.”
He was in such a hurry to be gone that James and I had found no time to wash, except to rinse our hands and faces in a bucket of cold water.
“Just look at the state of me,” sighed James, brushing ash from his hair.
“At least you still have your smart green coat.” I smiled. Somebody had found him a shirt to wear too. But my green jacket had been lost in the all the commotion. The last time I saw it, it was covering Ginger’s eyes.
