Loving Spirit

friend, but for one moment it had seemed something more and, from the way he was sounding, she was sure he’d felt it too …
    ‘We’d better get back on the yard or people will start looking for us.’ Joe went to the barn door and looked back at her. ‘You coming?’
    As Ellie nodded and stood up, their eyes met for a second. Both of them quickly looked away.
    ‘Hey, I rode Spirit today,’ she said wanting to break the suddenly tense silence.
    ‘Really? What happened?’ Joe asked. They left the barn and, with Ellie aware that they were both talking just slightly too fast, they walked together down the hill to the yard.
    Ellie threw herself into her work that afternoon, trying not to think about the strange moment in thebarn. There was enough else to occupy her mind. First of all there was Spirit, and what she was going to do about him. She couldn’t sell him. She wouldn’t. Particularly not now, after she’d just ridden him for the first time. But what could she do? Her uncle had clearly made his mind up. Five days was no time at all to come up with a plan.
    And it wasn’t just Spirit she had to worry about, it was Picasso too. Although Joe, Stuart and Len tried again that afternoon, they simply couldn’t get the bay pony into the horsebox.
    Uttering a string of swear words, Len finally stomped away, having made the decision that they would give up on the idea of taking Picasso to the show next day.
    Ellie was disappointed about not going to the show, she couldn’t deny it, but her worries about Spirit overshadowed the disappointment. She had to think of a plan. As if to emphasize that he meant what he had said, her uncle left a local newspaper out in the tackroom with an advert for the next horse sale circled with thick red pen.
    Ellie thought about it over and over again as she helped to prepare Barney with Darcey and Alfie, two of the clients’ horses, for the show. Their legs and tails needed washing and then they all had to be groomed and strapped until their coats were as soft as velvet. The tack had to be cleaned until it wasspotless – the leather soft and supple, the bits and stirrups shining like new silver. Then the horsebox had to be loaded up with everything that would be needed – saddles, bridles, grooming kits. And as well as the horses who were going to the show, the other horses needed grooming and looking after too.
    ‘You should be going and I should be riding you,’ Ellie told Picasso as she strapped him later that afternoon – banging a leather pad on his neck and hindquarters over and over again to build up his muscles. He was in fantastic condition, his bay coat shining like a piece of dark chocolate, his muscles rippling under his soft skin. ‘It’s no wonder Uncle Len’s mad about you not loading,’ she said, sighing. ‘You look amazing.’
    She wondered if the plan to sedate him to get him used to the horsebox would work. She hoped it would. Joe had told her Picasso loved shows. But if he wouldn’t box he couldn’t go to any, and if he didn’t go to any shows Len would sell him without a doubt.
    ‘Why have you got such a problem with it? What are you scared of?’ But, unlike Spirit, Picasso ignored her as he usually did, staring into the distance and fidgeting slightly at the end of his leadrope.
    By the time everything was finished, it was after six o’clock. Ellie ate a quick supper of pizza with Joe,Luke and Len. None of them said much as they sat round the kitchen table. Luke spent most of the meal texting and raising his eyebrows as he read the texts he got back. Joe was quiet. All Len could talk about was the show the next day. And Ellie’s thoughts were full of Spirit. Every time she looked at her uncle she wondered how she could persuade him to let Spirit stay.
    As soon as they had eaten, Joe hurried away to do some revision, Luke went out and Len sat down to watch the TV. It was Ellie’s turn to clear away. She put the plates into the dishwasher and turned it on, crammed the cardboard packets in the recycling bin and then went out to be with Spirit again.
    Spirit recognized her footsteps as she came down the yard and, hearing his whinny, Ellie felt her heart lighten. Putting her arms either side of his warm neck, she rested her face against his mane. He swung his head round and rested his muzzle on her right shoulder. She felt as though he was pulling her in tight, hugging her.
    ‘Oh, Spirit. It’s been such a busy day. Picasso’s not going to