Chapter 11 Job Horses.
As soon as my knees were healed, I was turned out to a beautiful small meadow for a month or two.
I missed Ginger and neighed when I heard horses in the distance, but I rarely got an answer back.
One morning the gate was opened, and who should come in but Ginger?
With a joyful whinny, I trotted up to her, but Ginger was not there to keep me company.
Hurt by hard riding, she was put out in the meadow to see if the rest would help her.
Lord George had been careless with Ginger.
We couldn't gallop about any longer, but we would feed and lie down together.
We stood for hours with our heads close to each other until our family returned from town.
One day the master came into the meadow with Mr. York.
They looked at Ginger and me and seemed quite upset.
"'These horses belong to my old friend.
I promised him a good home, and look what I've given them.
The mare should be okay after a long rest, but I'm afraid I must sell the black one.
I can't have a horse in my stable with knees like these,'
Mr. York agreed.
"'I know a man in Bath with stables.
He often looks for a good horse at a low price.
He's good to them.
I will check into it.'
The two men left, leaving Ginger and me very sad.
"'They'll soon take you away,' said Ginger, "'and I shall lose the only friend I have.
Most likely we will never see each other again.'
A week later a man came into the meadow and I was sold to the man Mr. York had spoken about.
I found myself in a comfortable stable where I was well fed and well groomed.
Our master kept a good many horses and carriages for different jobs.
Sometimes the horses and carriages were lent out to gentlemen or ladies who wanted to drive themselves.
One day I went out with a driver who had a lady and two children in the carriage with him.
He flicked the reins as we started and hit me with the whip.
My driver was laughing with the lady and children and didn't keep an eye on where he was going, so it wasn't a surprise to me that I got a stone in one of my front feet.
Every step I took make the stone stick deeper into my foot.
But the man drove me a good half mile before he noticed anything wrong with my step.
By that time I was limping badly and in great pain.
"'Now why would they send us out with a lame horse?' the man cried in disgust.
He then hit me with the whip, ordering me to keep moving.'
About that time, a farmer came riding up on a brown pony and stopped.
I think there's something wrong with your horse, the farmer said as he came to me and at once lifted my hurt foot.
Bless me, there's a big stone.
This horse is not lame.
He just needs someone to pay attention to his step.
At first, the farmer tried to get out with his hand.
He finally drew a knife out of his pocket and worked on it till it came out.
Holding it up, he said, look at this stone.
It's a wonder he didn't fall down and break his knee.
I never knew horses picked up stones, the man said.
Well, they do, said the farmer, and if you don't want to hurt this horse further, you'll drive him gently for a while.
The foot is already bruised, so your horse will limp.
Then the farmer got back on his pony and trotted away.
When he was gone, my driver flicked the reins and whipped me like he had before.
I went on, glad that the stone was gone, but still in a lot of pain.
This was the sort of treatment we job horses often got.
One type of driver that often hired me out I called the steam engine.
These people were used to traveling by train and they believed a horse was something like a steam engine, only smaller.
They thought that when they paid for a horse to do a job, they could take it as far as they wanted, as fast as they wanted and with as heavy a load as they pleased.
It didn't matter if the roads were sloppy and muddy or stony and dry.
To them, a horse should go at locomotive speed.
Sometimes I did have the chance to meet up with a good driver, someone who knew horses.
One morning, two gentlemen came out.
The tallest one came over to pet me.
This gentleman took a great liking to me.
After riding several more times, he asked my master to sell me to a friend of his.
He wanted a safe, pleasant horse for riding, and so it came to pass that I was sold to Mr Berry that summer.
