Page 11 of Growing Into Love

Delilah mounts up and starts to trot Naturally Sweet around the ring. She’s got a good handle on him, though he’s clearly resistant. Probably scared—who knows how he was treated before he arrived here. Not well, that’s for certain. I let my mind wander, imagining my sanctuary. I could have a whole herd of horses like this one, scared and abused and only needing some wide-open space and a barn to call home. The image is so clear—horses running wild and free, nipping and playing with other rescue horses just like them. Maybe making friends with the other animals. I’m sure Mr. Pickles, our cheeky billy goat, would be up for the challenge of befriending a horse. He likes to get into everyone’s business. I have a vision of sunsets, sitting out by the firepit with horses grazing in the distance, the comfort of knowing that they get to spend the rest of their lives just living. No expectations other than to simply be.

I’ve got to win at the Classic and make this dream a reality.

Suddenly, there’s a pop like gunfire. I whip around and see a stable hand starting up a lawn mower, one of the big petrol-driven ones. In the same instant, there’s a high-pitched squeal followed by a shout and I turn to see Naturally Sweet charging across the arena with Del barely holding on for dear life. Without thinking, I climb up the fence rails and jump down into the ring. Some of the other grooms come running from the stables but there’s nothing we can do except watch helplessly as Naturally Sweet plows into the fence. Delilah goes flying and Naturally rears up. He lets out a wild neigh as Delilah hits the grass hard. Even though she’s yards away, I can hear the thud of her landing. The next moment, there’s a bloodcurdling scream.

“Call an ambulance!” I shout to Will, who’s running toward Delilah. Naturally Sweet’s eyes are so wide I can see whites all around. His nostrils flare and he looks terrified.

“Cass, get out of the ring!” Delilah shouts. Naturally Sweet comes charging toward me—I turn and bolt back to the fence, slipping between the rails in the nick of time. He stops short when he reaches me and shakes his mane.

“Calm down, boy,” I say slowly. “You’re all right. It’s all right.”

He snorts and blows air at me, showing his teeth.

“That horse is a danger to everyone at these stables,” a grizzled old groom says, watching Naturally with a condescending glare.

“He was frightened, that’s all,” I say.

“He hurt Del!” the groom says.

Del raises a hand. “I’m okay!” she calls to us, but she doesn’t stand up. Will reaches her and helps her into a sitting position.

“See, Del is fine,” I insist.

The old groom gets out his phone. “I’m calling Defra. That horse needs to be put down immediately before he hurts anyone else.”

My own nostrils flare. Defra is the government agency that deals with animal welfare. “You will not,” I snap, snatching his phone away.

“Oi!” he cries.

“Poor Naturally got frightened by the lawn mower. It wasn’t his fault. He’s in a completely unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers. He’s clearly been mistreated,” I say.

“Look at what he did to Del,” the groom insists, pointing to where she’s leaning against Will.

“Ambulance is on the way!” he shouts to us.

I won’t let this old groom call the government to come put Naturally down. The horse has calmed a bit after a few gallops around the ring. He’s panting and plods back over to me, looking confused. I always bring apple slices to training and I quickly fetch them from my car.

“Are you insane?” the groom bellows. “And give me my bloody phone back!”

“Shh,” I hiss. “Don’t frighten him again.”

I approach the rail slowly with my hand out, palm flat, fingers pressed together like a little plate with an apple slice on it. “There you go,” I say encouragingly as Naturally sniffs in the direction of the apple. “That’s a good boy. It’s all right. Go on, take it. Yummy apple, just for you.”

I keep as still as possible as Naturally’s whiskers brush against my hand. He scoops the apple up and munches it happily.

“See?” I say to the groom.

The groom shakes his head. “He’s dangerous and that’s that. Now give me my phone, young lady.”

Young lady my arse. I’ll not let this grouchy old codger send him away to be euthanized.

Usually, I would call Declan in this situation but he’s currently in transit which leaves me only one option. I don’t hesitate as I call Jaz. My own personal dignity doesn’t matter a jot in this moment. Jaz has the tools to help, and I need to save this horse. Naturally Sweet will likely require a tranquilizer in order to be led into Gal’s lorry.

I don’t care what Declan will say about me taking on a horse without telling him.

Jaz picks up on the second ring.

“Cass,” he says, sounding surprised.

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