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And how I loved them for it.
I loved them so much it made me cry at night, when they were asleep, crying for my luck at having them, even though everything else had turned to shit.
I loved them for everything they did, but I loved them most for taking me to see Samson, even though they didn’t think I was ready.
“Where is he?” I said, as the car turned in the opposite direction of the equine hospital. “Is he not in Cirencester anymore?”
Carl shook his head, and he looked wary, shifty.
“What?” I said. “Where is he, Carl?” The panic engulfed me. “They can’t send him back to the yard! It’s being repossessed! There’ll be nobody there! Nobody who can take care of him!”
“He’s not in Woolhope,” Carl said. “He’s not far.”
“Where’snot far?”
Carl looked right at me as he answered. “He’s at your father’s house. They have facilities, Katie.”
I can’t deny my heart pained. “Who’s taking care of him? Who’s going to be there for him?”
“Verity,” he said, just like that. “Verity and a team of equine physiotherapists. He’s doing well, I promise you.”
“Verity?!” I could hardly comprehend it. “Verityis taking care of my Samson?”
He nodded. “You’ll see for yourself.”
They wheeled me through the stalls, the ones I’d hated so much when I was a kid, and I could feel my heart pounding, nausea threatening to make me vomit.
Rick and Carl were so quiet, the whole yard was so quiet. A couple of horsey faces peered out to say hello, but none of them were my Samson.
They pulled my chair to a halt at the stall on the end. I held my breath. Hardly daring to look.
And there he was.
He poked his head over the door, and his ears pricked forward, and I could hardly see him through the tears. Relief and guilt and love, all mushed together.
“Help me up,” I said, squirming in my chair, and even though Rick and Carl protested, they helped me stand, held me tall and balanced while I threw my arms around his neck. “I’m sorry,” I cried, my face in his mane. “I’m so sorry.”
I leaned over the door to look at him and his forelegs were still bandaged, still swollen and sore and messed up. But he was still him, still happy, still snuffling around for mints.
“He’ll be alright,” Carl said. “He’s doing well.”
“I did this,” I cried. “It was my fault. All my fault.”
“Don’t be daft,” Rick said. “You were amazing, you were both amazing. It was just an accident, that’s all. Just one of those fucking awful things.”
I shook my head. “I wanted to win, it was all I was thinking about. I was stupid, and selfish and reckless.”
“It was a split second,” Carl said. “One split second of bad luck. Everyone on that course wanted to win, Katie.Everyone. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Look at him.” Rick’s voice was so warm. “He’s doing just fine. Snug in his stall with an endless supply of hay and mints. He probably thinks he’s on fucking holiday.”
The thought made me laugh, and it was snotty and wet and no doubt thoroughly unattractive, but those guys held me tight and kissed my hair and made it feel alright.
“You’ll ride him again,” Carl said. “Just give it time. Don’t give up Katie, not on him and not on you, either.”
“I’d never give up on him,” I said.
“Not your dreams, either. Never give up on your dreams.”
