“Begging yer pardon, sirs, but I’m looking for employment,” Marjorie started, but one of them laughed.
“Then you might try that shack over there,” he said, pointing with his mug. “They’ll be needing plenty of people to shovel up the shit after we’ve all gone home!”
Marjorie’s face burned with both rage and humiliation. She’d never been spoken to in such a way, and part of her realized that this was because many of her “kind” only reserved human dignity for those like them.
“Good sir, I’m actually an expert rider and stable hand with many years of experience. I do not shovel shit,” she said, spitting out the word in anger. “I direct the boys to do it while I’m busy training a foal for the ring.”
Something about her tone gave them pause. They looked sheepish for a moment, and the first one muttered something that could have been an apology.
Before she could speak further, Marjorie was interrupted by a chorus of high-pitched screams. She turned as the men before her looked in horror over her shoulder, setting down their drinks and hurrying towards the commotion. She watched, horrified, as a beautiful black stallion reared up on its hind legs and kicked the air furiously with its front hooves, sending stable boys scattering. One boy was already flat on the ground, clearly unconscious.
Chapter 12
The horse whirled around in confusion, then took off galloping towards the ring. More screams arose as other horses scattered away from the wild beast, sending even more people running from the path around the fence.
The frightened horse crashed into the fence that ran around the race course, intent on getting away but confused as to where to go. He managed to back up a few paces, overturning several tables in the process, then bolted over the fence to run in circles, changing course at every obstacle.
He was racing towards her from her right, so Marjorie broke into a run, intent on heading him off. Somehow, her own instincts drove her. She managed to vault the fence herself, flinging her feet over the side as she pushed off the top rail. She landed in the soft dirt of the track and her feet sank briefly, giving her a moment to look up and spot the frightened animal.
Instead of running towards him and causing him to change course, she waited until he’d slowed to a trot in the emptiness of the track. He still whirled in circles, looking this way and that, his breath coming so hard that his mighty flanks were heaving and white foam pooled at the corners of his mouth.
As he passed her, Marjorie dropped low into a crouch and let him move freely. She stood up just in time and gave his tail a slight tug, only enough to gain his attention. As the great horse turned his head to see what had caught him, she took hold of his ear with the gentlest touch and squeezed the end firmly. The stallion paused, unsure of what to do next, and Marjorie met his gaze as she rubbed the velvety inside of his ear lovingly.
“There’s a good boy,” she whispered, her own true voice speaking the comforting words. “You’re only scared, that’s all. Shhhhhh, there’s no need to fear.”
The horse’s eyes still looked wild and uncertain, but he paused to take stock of the danger. He jerked his head away when Marjorie reached a hand to pat his neck, but then let her touch him when she gave his ear another gentle but firm squeeze.
“Now, I’m going to get on your back and show these people that you’re a wonderful, loving horse and they have nothing to fear from you. Do you hear me? After a naughty display like that, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone thought to shoot you! Let’s show them that won’t be necessary, hmm?”
Still holding gently to his ear, Marjorie trailed her hands down his neck to his front shoulder, petting him as she went and cooing softly. For only a moment, she registered that there was no sound around her. The once shrill chaos of the race track had gone completely silent, as though everyone had simply left. It was only Marjorie and this poor terrified horse.
“All right, now don’t do anything stupid,” she urged the horse in a low voice. “Worse, please do your best not to fling me on my bottom in front of all these people.”
Marjorie placed one hand above the horse’s shoulder and her other hand at the top of his rump. She heard a collective gasp behind her as all of the people cowering at the far end of the large ring realized what she was about to attempt. She took a deep breath and leapt up in one motion, flinging her leg over the animal’s back so quickly that it didn’t have time to understand what she was going to do.
As soon as she settled her weight on the horse’s back, it neighed in fear and reared up on its hind legs. Marjorie, however, was prepared for that reaction. She gripped the horse’s midsection as tightly as she could with her legs, and held onto two handfuls of its mane. Leaning her weight forward against his neck to keep her balance, she was able to force him to come back down as her weight fell against him.
The horse stamped its feet and kicked once or twice, but soon realized that not only was he unable to shake her off, her weight was not a burden. He ran lightly around the track, and soon responded to the direction Marjorie wanted him to go as she pressed with her left leg and then her right.
The horse slowed to a walk and ambled around the track, led by Marjorie’s gentle tugs at his mane. When it was clear that the horse was now comfortable and well, a great roar of triumph went up from the crowd of onlookers. Applause rang in Marjorie’s ears and she petted the horse’s neck to comfort him at the sudden noise.
When she and the horse reached the gate to the ring, the crowd pressed forward slightly but she held up her hand to stop them. Instinctively, they stopped and walked back to give them room. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw two stable hands approaching from the side with a rope to throw around the horse’s neck, but she glared fiercely.
“Stop where you are! You’ll only cause him to bolt again!” she ordered in a tone that her breeding and years of lessons had instilled in her. “Bring me a halter and a lead line. Oh, and a bit of sugar.”
The spectators waited in awed wonder while the two young men ran to obey. They returned shortly, and everyone waited while Marjorie looped the lead line over her shoulder and slid her hand through the halter. She licked her hand rather undaintily, then poured the small bag of sugar on it. When she held out the sugar for the horse to enjoy, she slid the halter up over his ears and fastened it with the buckle.
After he’d enjoyed the last syrupy lick, the horse looked back for more but Marjorie only smiled. She lowered herself from his back slowly, keeping hold of the lead line, and looked to the crowd. Their stares and cheers made her uncomfortable, lest she be found out in her ruse.
“Has anyone lost a horse?” she asked with a smile.
A low chuckle began near her then fanned out until everyone was laughing, clapping their hands at what they’d just seen. Cheers and mutters of appreciation for her skill and for the strength of the horse sounded around her, and quite a few people waved with their approval.
“You there! Boy! What’s your name? Who’s your employer?” People shouted these questions and more to her as Marjorie led the horse away from the ring. At first, she only responded with concern for the stallion, saying things like, “Please, step back. Give him room. Please sir, let him pass. Make way.” Others soon took up her pleas and began to force the interested onlookers back with their outstretched arms.
The same two stable hands slowly approached to take the lead line from her, admiration on their faces. She reminded them to treat him gently and told them to let him graze away from the crowds until he felt safe again.
“I’ve never seen anything like that!” one man near her said with a breathy sigh. “I thought surely he would kill you! How did you calm such a wild beast?”
