“Idowant to see the stables and whatever else is open to us today.”
“Well, how would you feel about aprivatetour?”
“Is that an option?”
“As long as you don’t mind skipping the Life Guard stables and the areas only open to officers and NCOs, then yes.”
I grin. “Soldier Boy, that’s the best offer I’ve had today.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“How many horsesdo you have in here?”
Sam has my arm hooked through his as we walk down the middle of a block of stables. Some horses appraise us with curiosity as they munch on bales of hay inside their large stalls, while others ignore us completely. I almost feel like I’m inside an Ikea warehouse with how spacious it is.
“There’s about eighty in this stable block if you include the officers’ horses. We have twelve that are at Horse Guards right now and a few up in Melton in Leicestershire.”
“What’s in Melton?”
“It’s where the horses are turned out to grass. Think of it as a place they can get a little time away from the hustle and bustle of London.”
“Got it.”
“How are you doing? If it’s too much with the horses, we can leave at any point in time.” His voice is full of concern.
I squeeze his forearm. “I’m hanging in there. I have you to protect me.” I eye the thick stable doors. “Besides, it’snot so bad when the horses are secured. It’s when they have free movement that I get nervous.”
Sam nods. We stop walking for a moment. The stable corridor here is wider. “Would you be up for meeting one?”
“If the meeting is supervised and the horse is docile.” My voice quivers as I speak.
“We have these four drum horses that are the gentlest in the cavalry, but the thing is...” We walk into an area and my jaw drops. “. . .they’re also the largest horses here. Just over twenty hands tall.”
Standing in front of us, lazily blinking, are four massive draft horses. If you’ve ever seen the Clydesdale horses that pull the Budweiser Beer wagon, that’s about the size they are.
“Are they Clydesdales?”
“No, but close. Juno, Perseus, Apollo, and Jupiter are all shire horses. They have a slightly higher head carriage and shorter back.”
I stare at their manes, and actually, I’m a little jealous. They’re flowing and full. Much nicer than my hair.
“Who’s the most easygoing of the lot?”
“That would be Harry.”
I stare at the name placards and frown. “I don’t see a Harry.”
“Sorry, Harry is Apollo. The horses each have stable names that they go by.” Sam gestures to Apollo, a beautiful bay horse, who yawns. “I know, big guy, you’re tired. I am too.” Holding his hand up, Sam pats the side of the horse’s neck, scratching it behind the ears. “So what do you say, would you like to meet Harry?”
I take a deep breath. I know I have nothing to fear. I trust Sam, and if he thinks Harry is the right horse for me to meet, I’ll do it. “Yes.”
He nods and picks up a lead rope and a halter. I watch him open the stable door. Harry stands still and yawns again. Sam approaches with slow, even steps, speaking in a soft, low tone to the equine. In one smooth motion, he slips the halter over Harry’s head and brings him out. His hooves make a clip-clop noise.
“I’ll bring him over to the grooming station. I trust him, but I’d prefer to be hands free.” I appreciate Sam’s thoughtfulness.
“There, all done.” Sam reassures Harry by patting his neck. The horse responds by butting his head against his shoulder. His beret falls to the ground. As Sam bends to retrieve it, Harry sticks his tongue out and licks Sam’s head where his hair has been newly shaved.
“Did you do that on purpose, boy?” He laughs.
