Hopes (14 page)

Oh, Spirit. I am so glad you’re here.
She touched his face wonderingly and he gazed back at her.
I’m so glad you came back to me today.

Spirit rested his muzzle on her shoulder. They were together again, where they belonged. Not even death could part them.

They stood together, girl and horse, surrounded by their love, as the rays of the setting sun streaked golden and pink across the midsummer sky.

Turn the page to continue reading from the Loving Spirit series

WALKING UP THE EMPTY
field bordered by gray stone walls, Ellie hummed softly to herself, the summer air warm on her bare arms. Behind her the sun had sunk down behind the mountains and the early evening sky was streaked with rose-pink light. It was peaceful in the field away from the bustle of the busy yard below, the shouting of her uncle as he gave lessons in the schooling ring, the clatter of hooves and the banter of the grooms. Out here in the field, the only sounds were the occasional baa from a sheep or a bird calling out overhead. Ellie felt excitement build inside her. Finally. The moment she'd been waiting for all day.

Her eyes fixed on the mound of earth ahead of her—Spirit's month-old grave. Ignoring the strain in her protesting legs, Ellie ran up the last bit of the slope and stopped. Small shoots of grass were already starting to push up through the sun-baked mound.

Shutting her eyes, Ellie focused on her breathing, drawing in the clear air, letting it flow into the ground through the soles of her boots.

Spirit.
She reached out with her mind, feeling for her horse's familiar energy, trying to connect with it.
Spirit? Are you there?

Time seemed to stand still and then she heard a soft whicker.

Opening her eyes, she saw a gray horse standing on the hillside in the half-light. Her heart leaped as he started walking towards her, his ears pricked, his familiar eyes wise and true. He looked strong and healthy; the scars on his neck and shoulder had faded, and his ribs were well covered. As he came nearer, she could see the whirl of hair in the center of his forehead, see the individual strands of his long forelock, the soft gleam of his white-gray coat.

Stopping in front of her, he reached out for her hands, the whiskers on his muzzle tickling her skin.

Ellie swallowed. Even though Spirit had appeared to her many times now, she always felt slightly dizzy with shock when it happened. Spirit was dead. His body had been buried in the grave a month ago, but here he was. When he appeared to her like this, she could see him, touch him, hug him, speak to him.

Her hands reached out, her fingers tracing wonderingly over his face. Putting her arms around his warm neck, she closed her eyes and buried her face in his soft mane.
I'm so glad you're here.
She didn't need to speak the words out loud; just as when he had been alive, he could hear her thoughts.

Spirit nuzzled her hair.
Always.

Ellie felt the world fade away. Their love was so strong that even death couldn't part them.

Safe in their bubble of warmth and love, the girl and horse stood on the hillside, twilight darkening to night around them.

 

ELLIE PATTED GEM
, a blue roan hunter pony.

“You're such a good boy,” she murmured as she rode him back to the horsebox. “You did so well today.”

A second-place rosette was tied to the string around her waist. Gem was only young and he could be nervous, but she'd been working hard with him and he'd performed really well just now in the ring in his first big open class. The show ground was buzzing—children were being mounted on to ponies, grooms putting the final polish on hooves and coats, parents talking into cell phones, and horsebox ramps clattering as horses were led in and out. The July sun blazed down and Ellie felt hot in her show jacket and yellow jodhpurs.

It was only eleven thirty in the morning, but already she had competed in two show classes and had helped prepare three other horses. Her uncle, Len Carrington, owned a very successful hunter showing yard in north Derbyshire and show days were always madly busy. More often than not the team would leave the yard at a very early hour of the morning with a string of horses and ponies, some owned by her uncle, others that he looked after and prepared for clients. Despite the early starts, Ellie loved show days. There was nothing to beat arriving at a new show ground just as the sun was rising in the sky, feeling the excitement at the day ahead, seeing horses and ponies being unloaded from trailers, greeting the other competitors. Now it was the summer break, there were shows every weekend and often in the week too. It was so different from her old life back in New Zealand. Ellie shook her head at the thought. A year ago she'd never even visited England and, although she had always ridden, she hadn't known anything about English horse and pony showing. Now it felt like her whole life.

“So how did you get on?” Sasha, the junior groom, came out of the trailer as Ellie rode Gem over. Sasha was carrying a rug, her make-up perfect as always, her blonde hair poker-straight.

Ellie showed her the blue rosette and dismounted. He was really good.”

“Excellent.” Sasha smiled.

When Ellie had first come to live at her uncle's yard, she and Sasha hadn't got on, but in recent weeks Sasha had seemed to thaw towards Ellie and was now quite friendly.

“I'll fetch his headcollar and wash him down,” the blonde girl offered. “You get changed.”

“Thanks.” Ellie went up the steps into the living quarters. Her uncle's horsebox was one of the smartest on the show ground. It was glossy white and silver on the outside and the living quarters were like those of a very luxurious caravan. There were walnut cabinets, a leather sofa, a shower and two beds, one above the horses and one above the driver's cab. A sandy terrier was lying curled up on the sofa.

“Hey, Pip.” The little dog's stumpy tail thumped against the sofa, but the only person she would run to greet was her owner, Luke.

Ellie pulled on her jeans over her show jodhpurs, took off her jacket and shirt and put on a T-shirt, then shook her long, wavy, dark blonde hair free from the hairnet that kept it neatly in place.

She went back outside, checking her watch, wondering how everyone else from the yard was doing. Her uncle had three clients there that day—she knew he would be off with them, dealing with their horses.

“Luke should be getting Gabriel ready for the intermediate working hunter,” said Sasha. “Have you seen him?”

Ellie shook her head. “No, sorry.” Luke was her uncle's eighteen-year-old nephew from the other side of the family to her. He lived with them and worked full time on the yard.

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Guess he's probably so busy chatting up some girl he's forgotten he has a class.” Ellie gave her a look. Sasha and Luke had been going out for a while, but they'd split up some weeks ago. Sasha had a new boyfriend now and Luke was going out with a girl called Anna Hallett. “You know, I am
so
over Luke!” Sasha huffed. “Rob treats me much better. Luke only cares about himself.”

She glanced at Ellie, inviting her to join in with criticizing Luke, but Ellie didn't. Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and a mocking smile, Luke could be arrogant and very annoying, but Ellie knew there was another side to him too. When Spirit had been diagnosed with cancer and had to be put to sleep the previous month, Luke had been a rock of support. “He's not that bad,” Ellie said.

Sasha raised her penciled eyebrows. “Really?”

Ellie sensed the older girl's prickliness but decided to avoid an argument. She shrugged. “Look, I'll see if I can find him.”

She set off. As she walked around the horsebox she heard the sound of raised voices and clattering hooves and paused. None of those sounds was unusual on a show ground, but there was something this time that made her hesitate.

Help me!

The voice came clearly into her head. Ellie's gaze fell on a woman and teenage girl with a dapple-gray horse, just a few horseboxes away. Ellie had seen the people before but not with this particular horse.

“Lexi, stand still!” the girl was shouting, shaking the reins.

The gray mare pulled her head sharply back, her rear hooves clattering into the ramp again. Ellie could feel tension and pain pulsing off her.

“Stand still, you stupid thing!” growled the square-set woman. Her hair was dyed blonde, cut short. Her tanned face had deep wrinkles.

“I don't know why you bought her, Mom!” the girl complained. “She's a total nightmare. All she's done today is shake her head.”

“She just needs teaching some manners.” The woman yanked the reins hard.

The horse shot backwards, her eyes rolling, her ears flat back.
Help me!
her voice said again.

Ellie blinked. She had a special gift—an ability to communicate with horses—which meant she could hear what they were saying, ask them questions and understand their answers. Spirit had shown her how to use this ability. But she'd never had a horse speak to her first; she'd only ever heard them when she had asked them if they wanted to speak to her.

The gray tossed her head, stamping a front hoof in agitation.
Help me, help me, help me.

Ellie realized that the mare wasn't talking specifically to her. She was just sending out a panicked message so strongly that Ellie was picking it up. She broke into a run.

“Stop it!” she exclaimed as the woman pulled on the horse's bridle again. “Stop doing that!”

The woman and girl turned, surprise on their faces.

“It's OK, beautiful.” Ellie reached out her hand gently to the horse. The mare touched Ellie's fingers with her muzzle and instantly Ellie felt a pain sear across her own head behind her ears. She knew without question she was experiencing what the mare was feeling right then. “She's in pain!”

The woman frowned, wrinkles deepening. “And who the hell are you? A vet?”

“I just know she is!” Ellie said hotly. “She's got a head injury. You've got to listen to me. You can't take her in the ring.”

“I think you'll find I can!” The woman's hard eyes narrowed. “You're Ellie Carrington, aren't you? Len's niece?”

“You live with Luke Black?” the girl said, looking interested.

Ellie could only think about the mare. “You mustn't ride her.”

“And you can mind your own flamin' business!” The woman pulled the mare around. “Get changed, Katie. I'll find a martingale; that'll keep her head down.”

“Stop being so stupid—just listen to me!”

The woman glared. “Who are you calling stupid?”

Ellie gave her an angry look. “Well, if you won't listen and—”

“Ellie!” A hand closed on her arm. She swung around, her eyes travelling upwards and meeting Luke's blue gaze. His dark hair was falling over his forehead, his expression curious. “What's going on here?”

“She's got a screw loose that's what's going on!” snorted the woman. “Telling us we shouldn't ride our horse. That it's got a headache.”

“She's a
she
, not an it!” snapped Ellie. “And I'm right! You shouldn't ride her today!”

Luke gave the woman an apologetic look, flicking his eyes towards Ellie. “Sorry, we try to keep her under control, but sometimes the drugs wear off. Come on, Ellie.” He bundled her away. “See you, Ann.”

“No!” Ellie tried to break free from him.

Luke responded by lifting her up and putting her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift.

“Luke!” Ellie struggled, thumping his shoulder furiously. “Put me
down
!”

Luke strode a few horseboxes away and dumped her on the ground. “Sure.”

The breath bumped out of her. “You … you …” Ellie spluttered as she scrambled to her feet. “Look, I have to stop them riding that horse!”

“Ellie!” Luke grabbed her arm and stopped her as she tried to dodge past him. “Whoa! Look, just wait a second. I don't know what's got into you, but you can't go around telling people not to ride their own horses.” He shook his head. “Girl, you have seriously flipped!”

“I haven't! I just know there's something wrong with their mare. It's one of my feelings—you know the hunches that I get, Luke!” No one else knew she could talk to horses; they all thought that she worked out what was wrong with them because she had good intuition and horse sense. “Maybe if I just spent some time with her I could help …” An idea sprang into Ellie's head and she grabbed Luke's hands, her tone changing. “Luke, I've got it! Give me a distraction,” she wheedled.

“No.” He was shaking his head.

“Yes!” she insisted. “You can do it. Just give me five minutes! Come on!” she pleaded, dragging him back to the box. Ann and her daughter were both in the living quarters now. The mare was tied up, still tossing her head. “Just five minutes, please!”