Finding Black Beauty

by Lou Kuenzler

  Then I told her about Aunt Lavinia and The Slug. About how they got rid of Nanny Clay and tried to send me off as a companion to Lady Hexham. How they sold all the horses. And how I escaped with Merrylegs and become a boy.

  “That’s how I came to Birtwick and met Black Beauty,” I said. “He’s all that matters to me now. He’s the nearest thing to family that I have.”

  “I know what you mean.” Doris had been quiet most of the time I was talking – only nodding her head and gasping now and then. “My old dad had this lurcher once,” she said. “Terrible smelly dog it was, always farting, but… Oh my goodness!” Suddenly she leapt to her feet, her face as white as her apron.

  “What is it?” I said, leaping up too and looking round. “Did you see a rat?”

  Doris shook her head. “Here’s me talking to you about a farting dog … and me hands are all greasy – and … and I’m chattin’ away as if you was Daisy in the laundry. But you’re not Daisy, are you? You’re gentry…”

  “No, I’m not,” I said, with a grin. “Not any more anyway. Look, my fingers are just as greasy as yours.” To prove my point I picked up a cold potato, took a huge bite out of it and wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve. The only trouble was, the bite I took was so big I began to choke on it.

  “Huuh!” I spluttered and coughed, sending a shower of half-chewed potato flying through the air. A big wet chunk hit poor Doris right on the nose.

  “Eww!” she squealed. But, as my spluttering turned to laughter, we both collapsed in a heap of giggles on the floor.

  “I’ll tell you something,” Doris panted. “You ain’t nothing like me and Daisy. You’re common as muck you are, Lady Josephine.”

  “Exactly!” I giggled and we burst into fits of laughter all over again.

  “Seriously, though,” she said when we finally managed to calm down. “You can’t go on pretending to be a lad for much longer, Josie. You’re just too … well, you just don’t look like a boy no more.”

  “But … but I have to be a boy,” I said. “I have to work in stables … with horses. It’s the only way I’ll ever have the chance to be near Black Beauty.”

  “Well, I don’t see how that follows.” Doris shrugged in her matter-of-fact way. “You ain’t near him now. You might as well pull on a frilly bonnet and get yourself back to Earlspark Hall…”

  “Earlshall Park?”

  “Exactly. Get yourself back up there and see if they’ve got a job going in the laundry or the dairy. Then you don’t have to bother with all this,” she nodded at my bandaged chest. “You can nip out and see your Beauty in the stables whenever you want.”

  “Doris, you’re brilliant!” I stared at her. Why hadn’t I ever thought of that? “Although … won’t they recognize me?”

  “Ha!” Doris laughed. “Believe me, Josie, nobody sees a laundry girl or a dairy maid. Not properly.”

  “But the servants will recognize me. Mr York…”

  Doris made a dismissive noise. “He won’t think twice. Not if you’re in a dress.”

  “But James … he’ll definitely recognize me.”

  “Then why don’t you just tell him?”

  “I suppose I could…” I thought it over. If I really was going back to Earlshall, James would have to know my secret. If he knew the truth, he could help me out. “Maybe I could tell him tomorrow – he’s going to be here for the horse fair.”

  “Is that so?” Doris sat up and pushed her hair behind her ears.

  “Yes!” I felt a leap of excitement as I thought of all the different horses that would be arriving in Riverside. “He’s bringing Linnet, a hunter with a big white blaze. Sir George rode her too fast, now he wants James to sell her at the fair. She’s about fifteen hands high with…”

  “Blimey! You really do natter on about nags, don’t you?” Doris laughed. “What I want to know is what time you are meeting our gorgeous James Howard?”

  “James? Gorgeous?” I raised my eyebrows. “If you say so.” But I felt suddenly nervous. “I should be able to slip out for a bit around noon,” I explained. “But Doris … please don’t tell James I’m a girl. Not yet. I’ll have to see if the moment is right – he’ll be busy with the horses and – well, I think I ought to break it to him myself.”

  “All right!” Doris dug her spoon into the rice pudding. “Put a bit of soot on your chin, it’ll look like you’re growing a beard. You be Joe Green for one more day if you like. Then we’ll turn you back into a girl for good.”

  “Doris!” I shouted up the stairs to the maids’ rooms at the back of the hotel. “Hurry! – we’re going to be late…” I glanced over my shoulder at the stable clock.

  “All right, all right, I’m coming.” Doris clattered down the steps in a pair of pointy-heeled shoes and her best Sunday frock. “You might not want to dress like a girl for James Howard, but some of us thought we might make a little effort.”

  “You look lovely,” I said, trying not to giggle as I stared at her enormous hat, which was tied with an even bigger yellow ribbon.

  “You don’t think it’s too much do you, Josie?”

  “No.” I stretched up and pushed the ribbons flat at the back. “There. That’s perfect. But just remember, you have to call me Joe.” I pulled my stable lad’s cap firmly down on my own head. “I’m not Josie. Not yet.”

  “Got it.” Doris smiled. “Come on then, J—”

  “Joe!” Someone was shouting my name from the courtyard. “Joe!”

  “It’s James,” I said. “Something’s the matter.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  James was standing in the courtyard. His face was as white as a sheet and his dark eyes were miserable. He was holding Linnet, Sir George’s hunter, by the reins.

  “Oh Joe – I’m so sorry,” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t know they were going to take him. I tried to follow as fast as I could on Linnet, but she’s lame and—”

  “Slow down.” I caught hold of James’s arm and felt it trembling in my grip. “Who’s been taken, James?”

  “Beauty!” James blurted. “It’s Beauty. He’s gone.”

  “James!” Now it was me that was shaking. “I don’t understand what you are saying. Start again from the beginning and, please, James, talk slowly.”

  “It happened the day I was last here,” said James. “The day we went to the river, remember?”

  “Of course I remember.” James was still holding Linnet’s reins but his legs were shaking so much I led him over to the water trough and made him perch on the edge. I was desperate to find out more but I tried not to rush him.

  “It was just getting dark when we arrived back at Earlshall that night,” said James. “I cleaned Beauty down, fed him and put him in his stall as usual. It was only then that I noticed none of the other horses seemed to have any hay or fresh water. I asked if any of the farm lads had seen Reuben Smith, seeing as he was supposed to be in charge. But the lads said no – they hadn’t seen him since lunchtime.”

  “He’d been drinking again?” I guessed.

  James swallowed. “I’m so sorry, Joe. I tended to the horses and went to bed myself.” He shook his head. “I-I had no idea Reuben would come back and take Beauty for a ride. It was the middle of the night – pitch black for goodness’ sake.”

  “He rode Beauty? Drunk?” The panic rose to my throat.

  James took a deep breath. “Reuben had been drinking all afternoon in the King’s Head. When they finally threw him out, he said if they wouldn’t take his money, he’d fetch a horse from the stables and ride to the Rusty Nail in Upton instead.”

  “But that’s ten miles away. On a horrible broken road.” We had gone towards Upton once with Lady Magpie in the carriage. She had banged on the ceiling telling James to go faster even though the horses had to pick their way over the stones. “He took Beauty there? In the dark?” I asked in disbelief.

  “Not all the way.” James shook his head “They never made it.”

&nb
sp; “What do you mean?” I said. “What do you mean they never made it, James?”

  “First thing I knew about it was when I woke in the middle of the night,” said James. “The horses were restless, I could hear them fretting. As soon as I went down I saw Beauty was gone. I thought for a minute it might be you, Joe. I thought perhaps you’d come back and stolen him after all.”

  Oh, how I wish I had.

  “I took a lantern and ran to the gate,” said James. “That’s when I saw Ged Herr, the landlord from the King’s Head. He was worried Reuben was in no fit state to ride a horse and he’d run all the way from the village to warn me. But it was too late.”

  James told us how he had harnessed Ginger to the dog cart and he and Ged Herr had driven as fast as they dared towards Upton.

  “We’d only just passed the turnpike when we saw them,” James said. “Reuben was lying on the ground and Beauty was standing over him, with his head bent. I – I untangled Beauty’s reins while Ged went over to Reuben.” James looked up at me. “He was dead, Joe. His neck was broken – he must have been galloping flat out when he fell.”

  “And Beauty?” I gasped. I knew I should feel something for poor dead Reuben Smith, but all I could think about was Beauty. My precious horse.

  “He was missing a shoe,” said James slowly. “And his knees were ripped to shreds.”

  “He fell?” I felt sick.

  “Must have done.” James nodded. “Reuben rode him like a lunatic. I could see that from the way he was sweating and shivering. I think he must have stumbled on the sharp stones and Reuben flew right over his head.”

  “But-but this happened weeks ago. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you,” said James miserably. “I hoped Beauty’s knees would get better. And they have … they’ve mended brilliantly. But they’re scarred for ever.”

  I felt a twisting pain inside me.

  “That’s the problem,” said James. “Sir George says his mother won’t have a carriage horse with scars on his knees.”

  “No,” I said slowly. “I don’t suppose she would.”

  “Sure enough, Lady Magpie ordered he was to be sold,” said James. “But I never thought it would be so soon. I thought they’d give him more time to recover. But the dealer was passing through on his way to the fair – he came at the crack of dawn this morning and just rode Beauty away…”

  “Wait! Beauty is to be sold? At the horse fair? Today?” I stared while James nodded helplessly. “We have to find him,” I cried.

  James thrust Linnet’s reins at Doris, who was standing in the doorway to the inn. “Look after her. Joe – wait for me.”

  I was already running under the stable arch and out into the crowded market place beyond.

  I had to find Black Beauty before he was sold to a stranger and disappeared from my life for ever.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  There were horses everywhere.

  Normally I would have loved every second of the fair. Pens of three or four little ponies and groups of coloured cobs filled the market square. Huge shires with shining brass on their harnesses thundered up and down the road. There were thoroughbreds and farm horses, brood mares and geldings; coats in every shade of chestnut, grey, bay and dun.

  But all I was looking for was a glimpse of black. The rich dark ebony I knew so well.

  Nothing.

  “And now,” cried a man with a clanging handbell. “I pronounce the Riverford Winter Horse Fair open. Sales may begin.”

  The town was thronged with buyers, dealers, grooms and stable lads – everyone seemed to be dressed in tweed or brown corduroy, hollering numbers at each other beside the horse pens.

  “Twenty-three pounds for the dapple grey.”

  “Twenty-two ten and not another sixpence.”

  “Done.”

  The noise was deafening. Horses neighed, calling for lost owners and missing friends. Men shouted and hustled. Two yearling colts kicked each other and squealed. Two young men punched each other and rolled on the ground outside the Rose and Crown.

  I leapt over them and dashed down River Street, my heart pounding.

  “Beauty, where are you?”

  On the corner by the churchyard, a blacksmith had set up a makeshift furnace to fit horses with new shoes. I felt the blazing heat flush my cheeks as I ducked past and the clang of his anvil echoed through my ears. Beside him, a saddler hammered studs into leather bridles, harnesses and reins.

  “Excuse me,” I panted, “have you seen a black horse with a white star?”

  “Couldn’t say.” The saddler shrugged.

  I pelted on towards the river.

  As I crossed the bridge, I stopped for a moment to catch my breath. Looking across the lowlying fields I saw that the pens here were more spread out. Instead of ruddy-faced farmers, gentlemen strolled across the grass.

  I passed a beautiful brood mare, her belly round with a new foal. She had a fine head and bright eyes. And there were two strong hunters in the pen behind her. Then a pair of dappled grey carriage horses…

  “Nice, aren’t they?” said the dealer, catching my eye. “You get a better class of horse down here by the river. Not like the riff-raff up in the town.”

  “Is that true?” I asked, with a surge of fresh hope.

  “Reckon so,” said the dealer, turning to smile at a gentleman who was examining the greys. “Have you ever seen a finer pair to pull a carriage, sir?”

  I dashed on across the field, hoping with every step that I would see Black Beauty. But there was still no sign of him.

  I saw the flick of a black tail. But it was just a bay gelding.

  A coachman in a mustard-yellow coat was haggling with the dealer.

  “Seventeen pounds and I’ll take him,” he said.

  “Seventeen? Don’t insult me.” The dealer spat on the ground. “If that’s all the money you’ve got, head down to the tannery. That’s where the broken old nags can be found.”

  “Broken?” Suddenly I remembered the wounds on Beauty’s legs. But surely he still belonged here, amongst the fine horses.

  “Lame, sick, stubborn. So long as you’re not fussy you can get yourself any kind of bargain in Tanner’s Yard,” said the dealer. “Pumice foot, fallen pasterns, capped hock, ewe neck, quarter crack, mange, megrims, heaves, poll evil … worms, warts and windgalls. They can all be yours.”

  “Scarred knees?” I asked.

  “Now the lad gets my drift,” said the dealer, laughing. “If that’s the sort of broken beast you want, head down Tanner’s Yard with the horse-meat butchers and the knackers’ boys. Otherwise, I’ll hear a serious offer for this fine bay gelding.”

  “Nineteen pounds…” offered the coachman as I sped away.

  Butchers? Could my poor, proud Black Beauty really be sold for meat?

  I ran back over the bridge, heading for the terrible-sounding Tanner’s Yard, as fast as my legs could carry me.

  “James!” I saw him darting round the corner by the blacksmith’s forge. “Have you found Beauty?”

  “No. We better try Tanner’s,” he shouted over the sound of the hammering. We’d obviously both had the same horrible idea. “But Joe” – he tried to grab my arm – “what will you do if you find him?”

  I shook him off. I couldn’t answer that; all I knew was that I had to find Beauty and soon. I would reveal my true identity – tell people I was the daughter of a baronet; I would beg, borrow and steal the money if I had to. But I must have Beauty.

  We dived into a narrow alleyway behind the saddlery and were soon in the dark cobbled lanes that lead towards the town tannery.

  “A dealer said the horses down here might be sold for meat,” I said, panting. “Is that true?”

  James said nothing as we ran on past a poor old donkey with a belly so low it almost touched the ground.

  “James?” I panted. “Is it true?”

  “Sometimes.” James nodded.

  “Not Beauty, thou
gh.” I kept on running. “I don’t care if his knees are scarred. No one would do that to him. They’d see how fine he is. I know they would.”

  We hurtled round the corner in to Tanner’s Yard.

  It was a big square space overlooked on four sides by the high brick walls of the tanning factory. The air smelt thick and strangely sweet.

  There were three long rows of crowded horse pens, all surrounded by groups of shouting men. Wordlessly, James and I split up to look.

  I glanced into every pen I passed but could see at once that these horses were not Beauty. The atmosphere here was very different. The animals all looked shabby and tattered. Some were very old, some young and badly used. But some pricked their ears and watched me as I raced by.

  “I’m looking for something steady to ride about my parish,” said a vicar, talking to a dealer with an old white cob.

  “Then Moses here is your fellow. Steady as Sunday morning, so he is,” the dealer said and chuckled. And I felt a tiny lift of hope. Even in my panic for Beauty, I was pleased to know some of the horses here would get a second chance.

  “Excuse me,” I slid to a halt, “I’m looking for a horse…”

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place, lad. This is a horse fair.” The dealer chuckled even louder than before. “But I think the vicar has first choice on Moses…”

  “No, I mean a special horse,” I said.

  “Now hang on. Are you saying my old Moses isn’t specia—”

  “A black horse,” I interrupted. “Beautiful. With a white star right in the middle of his forehead. And one white sock.” My eyes were filling with tears. “I think he may have ruined knees.”

  “Ah, yes!” the dealer scratched his chin. “Proper bargain, that one. Saw him myself this morning … magnificent creature. Just a shame about them scars.”

  “You saw him?” My tummy turned a somersault. “Where?” I cried. “Where did you see him?”

  “Just there. Middle row, about halfway down.” The dealer pointed towards the centre of Tanner’s Yard. “You can’t miss him. He’s right next to the pen with the three mules.”

  I saw the mules at once. Their long ears were poking up in the air.