Loving Spirit

Picasso shied round him and cantered up to the yard with Joe chasing after him.
    Len stood staring at the damaged inside of the horsebox, lips pursed. The inside partition had been kicked to pieces. The leather padding was torn and there was a hole through it.
    Ellie knew better than to approach her uncle when he looked like that. She went back on to the yard and found Joe holding Picasso while Stuart checked the pony’s legs over for injuries. There was a slight cut just above one of his hind hooves, but otherwise the padded travel boots seemed to have protected him well.
    ‘What happened?’ said Ellie, stroking the pony’s lathered neck. She could feel the tension in his muscles, feel the stress radiating off him.
    Joe looked mystified. ‘I’ve no idea. We were just driving along and Picasso flipped. Dad stopped and I went to see what the matter was. Picasso was bucking and kicking like a crazy thing. We couldn’t calm him down and so just had to bring him back. There was no reason for it. He’s never liked travelling much, but he’s never done anything like that before. Dad’s mad about it. It’ll cost a fortune to repair the box.’
    ‘Is Picasso OK?’ Ellie asked Stuart.
    Stuart nodded. ‘Seems to be. Take him down to the trough and hose that cut, Joe. Ten minutes of cold water should help keep the swelling down.’
    Luckily, Picasso’s cut healed quickly and he was only off work for a couple of days. Len sent off an entry for the qualifying show in mid-March with Ellie named as Picasso’s rider. Ellie was worried what Joe would think about her riding Picasso, buthe seemed supremely unbothered when she asked him if it was OK.
    ‘Definitely. I’m too tall for Picasso now anyway and like I told you, I don’t like shows. I do them because I have to, that’s all,’ Joe said. ‘If you take Picasso in, it saves me from a class. You’re doing me a favour.’
    Ellie could hardly believe he really felt like that. Going to a show seemed so exciting, but Joe genuinely didn’t appear to enjoy it.
    On Wednesday Len took her to a saddlers where she was kitted out with a showing outfit.
    She stood in front of the mirror on the shop floor, trying to hide her grin of delight as she looked at herself in her new cream jodhpurs, brown jodhpur boots, dark gloves, dark brown tweed jacket, shirt, tie and new velvet riding hat. On the chair beside her was a pair of long black boots for wearing if she was riding the larger ponies. On the way to the saddlers, Len had explained to her that every class had its own specific dress code.
    ‘You’ll do,’ he commented now.
    Ellie smoothed down the jacket with a gloved hand – she was really looking forward to competing. She wished Joe was more into shows, so she could go home and show him her new outfit. Luke would understand, but she was hardly likely to go and show off her clothes to him.
    Instead, she told Spirit about the trip when she got back. Each day the bond between them was growing stronger and she spent every second she could just being with him. He was putting on weight now and his injuries were slowly starting to heal.
    On Thursday Ellie woke up to the sound of rain beating down on the bedroom window. Forcing herself out of her warm bed, she threw on some clothes. When she went outside, the rain lashed against her, soaking her hair and finding its way down her collar. She splashed through the puddles and went up to the feedroom where her uncle was giving out feeds. It was a miserable day to be up so early, and she and Joe exchanged commiseratory looks as they walked round the courtyard with the feedbuckets.
    The rain continued all morning, driving down from the mountain. It was too wet to ride and so the horses and ponies were turned out in the fields. Ellie turned Spirit out with some of the others while she mucked out his stable. She hated it when it rained like this. The grey sky felt so heavy it seemed to press down on the dull green and brown fields, and she felt like she was being squashed. It made her long for the summer in New Zealand where the sun shone on the large, rolling fields and the skies were wide and cornflower-blue.
    Sighing, she finished the stable and went downthe field to catch Spirit. The mud was thick around the gate and the short winter grass slippery underfoot. Three of the horses were trotting around near the bottom of the field, one nipping the others, making them buck and throw their heads up. Spirit was staying out of