“We? Oh, did you get the horse’s feelins’ on the matter before you came to post?” Both of the men laughed, but Jonathan could sense there was something good-natured, almost respectful in their jest. “Well, come on then, let’s see how you get that nag to move!”
Jonathan doubled up the reins in his fists, rose up slightly in the saddle to give the horse a sign, then nodded to the fence where the two men waited out of the way. One of them struck a large brass bell with a hammer, and the ring echoed around them as Jonathan kicked Winter’s flank gently with his heel.
The horse was confused for only a moment, but at Jonathan’s cry of “hyah!” she bolted through the narrow posts and took off. Her powerful legs propelled them forward at a greater speed than even Jonathan expected, with the trees becoming a blur of different shades of green and yellow as they moved. Dust swirled up in rivers behind them as Winter’s hooves dug into the powdery dirt, gaining more traction with each thundering step.
The two men watched, mouths open, as Jonathan rounded the bend nearest them. One of them reached for his hat as it lifted gently in the wake of an airy draft behind the horse and rider.
“Blimey,” one of them said softly while the other let out a low whistle, but Jonathan couldn’t have heard it. All he could hear was the wind rushing past his ears, the pounding of hooves against the soft ground, and the thud of his own heart.
He took Winter for another lap—remembering with some embarrassment how the race master had had to yell at him to keep riding during his own venture in the races—to see if she could maintain the heady pace. She breezed past the starting gate without a second glance, continuing along the oval fence as though she’d been racing without flaw her entire life.
“How do ya do it, lad?” one of the riders asked when Jonathan finally pulled up close to the fence. “That horse was too skittish to even walk up to the gates a-fore today! And you had her racin’ two full laps and doin’ a mighty fine job of it at that!”
Both men jumped down from where they’d been standing on the bottom rail, walking alongside Winter while Jonathan kept her moving. It was partly to let the horse walk off the effort and adrenaline, but also part of Jonathan’s plan to keep anyone from staring too closely at his appearance.
“Twas nothin’,” he answered. “I just put her through a few bouts of full on runnin’ today, then listened to what she said about it.”
“What’s that ya said? Whatshehad to say?” The two riders exchanged glances.
“Oh aye,” Jonathan answered absently. “You have to ask the horse what it is they want to do, ‘stead of tryin’ to tell ‘em what it is they’re gonna do. Ask ‘em what they want and have a little chat about how it’s gonna be.”
The riders were silent, their expressions unclear. Jonathan finally looked towards them and saw that they were of two minds. Either this was the most asinine thing they’d ever heard, or they were worrying that he might be daft.
“How do ya know what their answer is?” one of them finally asked, still walking alongside Winter as Jonathan continued to let her cool down.
“You’ll know the answer when the horse does it!” he said, laughing lightly as though that explained everything.
It was clear that the concept was a foreign one to these men who were supposed to be such experienced, expert riders. Their astonishment wavered between uncertainty at the possibility that Jonathan was playing at some kind of game, and the very real results they’d witnessed with a horse that none had been able to ride with confidence.
“Can ya show us how ya do that then?” one of them asked. “It took ya no time at all to get her to trust ya, so I, for one, am willin’ to believe that ya might be on to somethin’.”
The other rider eventually nodded his agreement, and Jonathan was at a loss. It wasn’t something that could be taught, but rather come from having a mutual respect and understanding for the horses. It had taken years to understand this, but he could only hope these men believed him.
“It’s about time that horse got her racing legs under her,” a new voice called out, and all three riders turned to see Lord Lanercost now standing at the fence, observing all that had taken place.
“My Lord!” a rider called, and Jonathan instinctively jumped down from Winter’s saddle and stood on her other side, putting some distance between him and his employer.
“Good day, men. I see we’ve got a fair amount of progress with old Winter here. That’s good!” Evan nodded approvingly and grinned. “How long do you think she’ll need to train before she lives up to her promise?”
“I’d say by the end of the month, My Lord,” Jonathan answered confidently. “She wants to run, she just needs to know we won’t let anything happen to her.”
“Excellent news! With a few races behind her—and god willing, even a win here and there—perhaps she’ll make a fine brood mare. She may be better suited to producing fine race horses than becoming one, though.”
“That may well be the kindest thing to do, My Lord,” the other rider added. “If she do-na love to race but has the ability, it may do her better. One as gentle as she will produce fine, intelligent foals as well.”
Jonathan didn’t answer, but inwardly, he agreed. Winter was a beautiful, gentle horse. Envisioning her in the throes of a race such as he’d seen made him stomach drop. He could not envision her once the hooves started flying.
“You there, Gregg,” Evan called out. “Are you up to entering the race tonight on my stable’s behalf?”
Jonathan looked at him wide-eyed, then glanced at Jacobs and the other rider. They both nodded eagerly.
“I’d be most honored, My Lord! But surely not Winter here—”
“Oh no! You’ve well said it yourself, and I trust your word. I think a month at least should give her time to get ready, if not longer. No, I’ve another horse who hasn’t raced in two weeks because I’m short of capable riders. This lot here…” Evan gestured to the two others, “they may be the best riders in the county, but even they cannot ride two horses at once!”
The men laughed, and Jonathan smiled. Finally Jacobs said, “But sir, are you thinking of putting him on Copper?”
“Aye, I’d thought of Copper or Aspen, one of them. What say you two?” Evan asked, weighing their opinions carefully.
