A Making New Master
A man called Reuben Smith looked after us while York was in a place London. He was gentle and clever with horses, and an excellent driver. But he had one fault — he
sometimes drank too much. For weeks or months he was all right, but then without warning he would begin to drink heavily and behave badly. But he was a useful man so York had kept quiet about Smith’s drinking, saying nothing to Lord Gray. Then one night Smith drove some ladies and gentlemen home from a party and was so drunk that he could not hold the reins. York could not hide this and Lord Gray told Smith to leave.
However, some time later, York spoke again to Lord Gray, who was very kind-hearted, and he took Reuben Smith back. Smith promised never to get drunk again and kept his promise, and because of this he was told to look after the stables while York was away.
One day the carriage needed some repairs so it was arranged that Smith would take it to town, leave it at the carriage-maker’s, and then ride me back again. Mr Blantyre wanted to go to the station, so he went with us.
At the station, M r Blantyre gave Smith some money and said, ‘Take care of Lady Anne, Reuben, and don’t let anyone else except her ride Black Beauty.’
We left the carriage at the maker’s, and Smith rode me to the White Lion hotel. He told the stableman to give me some food and have me ready for four o’clock. One of my front shoes was loose but the stableman did not see it until four o’clock. Smith came back at five and said he would now leave at six because he’d met some old friends. The stableman told him about the loose shoe.
‘It’ll be all right until we get home,’ said Smith.
He finally came back at nine o’clock, shouting loudly and in a very bad temper. We left and almost immediately he began to gallop, often giving me sharp cuts with the whip, although I was going at full speed. Before we were out of the town my shoe came off, but Smith was too drunk to notice.
It was very dark, and on the rough road at that speed, my foot was soon cut and bleeding from the sharp stones. I could not go on; the pain was too great, and I fell violently on both my knees. Smith was thrown off. He tried to get up but couldn’t, then he lay still.
I could do nothing but wait.
It was nearly midnight when I heard a horse’s feet and the wheels of a carriage. I neighed loudly, and was very happy to hear an answering neigh from Ginger, and men’s voices. Then the carriage came out of the darkness and stopped.
Two men jumped down beside Smith. ‘It’s Reuben,’ said one, ‘and he’s not moving, Robert.’
‘He’s dead,’ said Robert, touching Smith. ‘His hands are cold and his head is covered with blood.
Ibad_Karim1 · Fantasía
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