It was a sweet offer, but as Joe threw a lid on his pan of mystery and left the kitchen, I knew it was one I’d never take up. Mani washuge, and more than that, I’d seen Joe in his stable late at night, his head resting on the horse’s neck, his face buried in his mane. I knew jack about horses, but I knew a sacred bond when I saw one.
Mani was Joe’s soul horse. Perhaps one day I’d find my own.
Chapter Five
Joe
“Come closer,” I called to the young girls who’d come to the farm on a school trip. “Ava don’t bite.”
The gaggle of kids inched closer. Ava paid them no attention whatsoever and continued stripping a nearby tree of its bark, while I went on with my pre-packaged sermon on stable work. It was hard to tell who cared less: the kids, who just wanted to stroke the horses that were small enough to be cute, eat their lunch, and go home. Or me... who just wanted a nap.
Because, fuck, I was knackered. The escaped gelding from Crantock Beach—Buddy, apparently—had returned to his owners, but in his place had come two colts from an abandoned fairground in Swindon. Nursing the horsebox there and back and settling the weak youngsters into their stall had taken all night and most of the morning. I’d been on my way to bed when the minibus of bored tweens had shown up. Damn Emma and her bloody anxiety.
I didn’t mean that.
Ava got bored with the tree and wandered off. I clicked my tongue and Mani came to me. The children took a collective step back, and the temptation to hide behind Mani until they went away entirely was strong, but the gazes of their watchful parents were burning a hole in the side of my head, and I reluctantly coaxed Mani forward.
“This is Mani,” I said. “He’s the tallest horse here.”
“Do you ride him?” a young girl asked.
“Occasionally,” I said. “He’s quite old now, but he likes a turn around the field from time to time.”
It was a far cry from the wild rides Mani and I had grown up on—galloping along the beaches at dawn, hurling ourselves over rocks and waves, and tearing through the woods and fields, trees and fences no barriers for two young boys with energy to spare. But life was different now. Mani was old, and I wastired.
But still, the call to ride, combined with the disbelieving stares of the visiting children, prompted me to retrieve some reins from the box I’d brought out from the tack room and fasten them on Mani. I’d rarely ridden him with a saddle, or even a helmet, but I got the feeling the watching parents would do their nuts if I didn’t behave.
So I saddled Mani up and used the fence to mount him. I’d run out of words, so I turned Mani and took him on a slow loop of the paddock, easing him from a walk to a lazy trot. Beneath me, Mani’s muscles bunched, ready for his smooth canter, but I didn’t have time for that right now. “Sorry, old boy. I’ll take you out later.”
If I had time. Fuck it. I’d make time. Mani was born to gallop, even now, with his arthritic joints and knobbly knees.
Harry came out of the house as I trotted back to my starting place. He seemed taken aback to find the yard full of children, but to his credit, didn’t run screaming back inside—he was a better man than me.
He was also on my mind far more than he should’ve been since I’d convinced him to eat the Carter sausage casserole a few days ago, so I decided to have a little fun. “Hey, Harry! Come here.”
Harry moved his graceful bulk across the yard and came to the fence. “You rang?”
“I did. These lovely ladies here seem to think Mani is scary. What do you think? Pussycat, ain’t he?”
Harry glanced briefly at the gaggle of girls and then at me, his gaze as friendly as ever, but with a tinge of wickedness that I didn’t expect. “You’rea pussycat, Mr. Carter. Not sure about Mani yet.”
Wanker.I pursed my lips to contain my grin and slid off Mani. “There’s an easy way to find out. I’ve been riding Mani since I was nine years old, but Mr.—” Shit, I couldn’t remember his surname. Did he even have one? “Uh, Mr. Holistic, here, ain’t never been on a horse’s back. Think he should try now?”
The girls giggled as Harry took a step back from the fence, his eyes wide with mock horror that was likely more real than he cared to admit.
“Come on,” I goaded. “You’re as big as Mani, really. He’s probably more scared of you than you are of him.”
Mani wasn’t scared of anything and Harry knew it. He glared at me, his back to the children, and I thought for a fleeting moment that he would walk away, leaving the joke on me.
But he didn’t. He came back to the fence, laid his hands on the rail, and jumped over with a nimble grace that belied his broad frame. “If he runs off with me, I’m taking him back to London.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I beckoned him closer and brought Mani alongside him. “Stick this helmet on and put your foot on the fence.”
Harry obeyed. I fed Mani a hay cube and murmured in his ear. He ignored me entirely, which was his usual code for compliance. Mani was a wicked ride, but the rest of the time he was simply too lazy to misbehave. I patted his neck. “Atta boy.”
Then I turned to Harry. “Just grab his mane and vault up. Piece of piss—uh, I mean cake.”
“Right.” Harry took a fistful of Mani’s mane. “You sure I won’t hurt him?”
