BLINDFOLD (20 page)

Immediately Gideon stepped back.

`It's all right for some. Having time to fall asleep in front of the fire!'

`Mm. Well, it's been a long day,' she said, stretching with feline grace. `And some of us had to work.'

Elsa jumped off her knee, cross at being disturbed, and Gideon tried not to look at Rachel's slim curves; they encouraged thoughts that for the time being were much better not explored.

Gideon had an appointment the next day with a farmer in a neighbouring village who trained point-to-pointers for a hobby. He'd recently taken on a young horse that showed a great deal of promise, `If,' as his exasperated trainer had complained to Gideon the previous week, `we can ever get him to the bloody racecourse!' The problem seemed to be a deep-rooted fear of travelling by horsebox, and the trainer, with whom Gideon had worked before, had appealed to him for help.

When he had agreed to see the horse the Duke Shelley situation hadn't existed, but it was obvious as he got ready to leave the house that morning that Rachel was not at all comfortable with the prospect of being left on her own. She had come down to breakfast pale and heavy-eyed, and had shadowed him ever since, as if afraid he would go without telling her.

Finally, as he shrugged his leather jacket on over a thick jumper, uncomfortably aware that she was watching him, darkeyed, from the sitting-room doorway, he took pity on her and, warning her that she'd probably be bored stiff, offered to take her along.

They made the short journey in the warmth and relative comfort of the Mini, and were met at their destination by a ruddycheeked, middle-aged man wearing a flat cap, tweed jacket and trousers held up by baler twine.

Gideon introduced Rachel as a friend of Pippa's, come to watch him work.

Rachel smiled at the farmer; a wide, sweet smile peculiarly her own, and said anxiously, `I hope you don't mind my turning up like this? Gideon said it would be all right.'

`Mind?' Quentin repeated. `You've made my day! Well, I suppose we'd better go and sort out this pesky animal. I've parked the box in the drive because I've been working on it all morning, but actually I think that's as good a place as any to try and load him. Come and see what you think.'

They left the Mini in front of the plain red-brick farmhouse and skirted the building and the towering bulk of the lorry, to reach the yard at the back, where alongside a tractor shed, henhouses and a barn, six looseboxes stood. Six long aristocratic heads appeared as if by magic over the half-doors and six pairs of nostrils fluttered in greeting.

,They're pleased to see you,' Rachel observed with pleasure as they stopped a few feet short of the stables.

`They think it's getting near their lunchtime is more like it,' Quentin said with a laugh. `But it's nice to see, even so.'

`Which is the problem boy?' Gideon asked.

Quentin opened his mouth, half-raising his hand, then stopped. `You tell me,' he invited.

Gideon raised an eyebrow. `It'll cost you extra,' he warned. `Well, I've got to call your bluff now and again. Make sure you're not having me on.'

Without further ado, Gideon went forward.

All the horses strained towards him except one, a coltish bay with wide-spaced, intelligent eyes, which regarded his approach with a slight flattening of its small ears. He ignored it, walking past without stopping and pretending not to notice the flash of temper that was directed at his back as he passed. He spoke to the other five: two amiable bays, a grey that was touchy about its ears, another grey, and one a chestnut who tried half-heartedly to nip him.

Gideon turned back to the first bay, who by now was banging its door, furious at having been passed by. The horse quieted as he approached, once again flattening its ears and, when he turned to face it, backing off a pace or two into its box, from where it continued to eye him.

Gideon deliberately went closer, leaning provocatively on the half-door.

After a moment or two of indecision, the bay took two quick steps forward and snaked its head towards him, teeth bared and ears flat against its skull. Instantly, and without conscious thought, Gideon slapped it hard across the nose.

The bay threw its head up and retreated hastily. Then, thoughtfully and from a safe distance, it proceeded to regard the human who had challenged it.

Gideon half-turned away as if losing interest. This was the crunch point. If he'd read the horse right it would take the opportunity he'd offered to approach without losing face. If not, he'd have to move fast to avoid being the victim of a powerful set of teeth.

A long moment passed, during which Gideon sensed rather than saw the horse capitulating, its ears flicking back and forth, its jaws working in a chewing motion. Then, with one slow step and a pause to gauge his reaction - carefully non-existent - the bay made up its mind to approach. Within moments it was standing with its head over the half-door, next to Gideon if not precisely close. He didn't attempt to touch it. It had made sacrifice enough for the time being. After they'd studiously ignored one another for a minute or so, he spoke quietly to the horse before walking back to the waiting pair.

`That was one of the strangest things I've ever seen,' Rachel said as he approached, then turning to Quentin, `He got it right, didn't he?'

`We'll see,' the farmer said, watching Gideon through narrowed eyes. `Well, young fella. What do you say? Which one is my problem horse?'

`The grey in the middle box,' he stated. Rachel frowned. `But, I don't understand . . .'

Quentin chuckled delightedly. `That's why this guy is doing what he's doing and the likes of you and me's standing here watching, my girl. Yes, Molly is the one. I thought Rattler might try it on with you,' he added to Gideon.

`Yeah, he's an absolute classic Alpha. He'd need another session or two before I'd be sure of him.'

Quentin grunted. `Took me two months.'

`Nice horse, though. They're nearly always the most intelligent. The most trouble and the greatest reward.'

`Not always the best for racing.' `There is that.'

Rachel cleared her throat pointedly. `If you're trying to make me feel left out, you can stop now. Mission accomplished.' They apologised.

`So at the risk of sounding a complete ignoramus, what is an Alpha? And why is the grey horse the problem and not the bay?' `An Alpha is what it sounds like - literally; the first one, a natural leader,' Gideon explained.

`A stallion.'

`A stallion is usually an Alpha, yes. But there are Alpha mares too. Usually the Alpha mare is second-in-command to the stallion. She's his favourite and often has more say in what the herd do and where they go than the stallion does. He's got other things on his mind, such as sex and fighting off challengers. You get Alphas in every species that naturally lives in herds or packs, but dogs and horses are the most noticeable because they're the ones we mostly try to train. Alphas are usually very intelligent and also very strong-willed, so they're not about to give up their dominant position to any Tom, Dick or Harry. You have to win their respect but, if you can do it, the relationship is very special.'

`I never realised it was so complicated, though I suppose I've never really thought about it.'

`Not many people do,' Gideon said with regret. `And probably something like eighty percent of the problems people come to me with are the result of the wrong people owning the wrong animal. Alpha dogs and horses need Alpha people.'

`And Molly? Is she an Alpha too?'

`No. Molly is a nice everyday sort who suffers badly from claustrophobia.'

`Honestly?' Rachel said warily. `No. You're having me on, surely?'

`I knew she wasn't happy,' Quentin put in. `She doesn't do well when she's stabled. Picky about her food, that sort of thing. But what can I do? I can't get her hard fit on grass.'

`You're serious!' Rachel said, looking from one to the other in wonderment. `I thought horses liked being stabled. Warm and dry and safe.'

`Most do,' Gideon agreed. `They usually become accustomed to it very quickly but it goes against all their natural instincts nonetheless. I mean, what does a horse do if you startle it?'

'Runs away? Ah, I see what you mean. In a stable it can't.' `That's right. But most horses soon learn to settle indoors. I suspect the grey mare has had a bad experience or has been shut in too small a space at some time.'

He glanced at Quentin who shrugged his shoulders. `I wouldn't know, lad. She was bought at a sale. Are you saying she won't be any good?'

Gideon shook his head. `I wouldn't go that far. If it's possible, and you think she's worth it, I'd try to get her into a covered pen with open sides. Even if you have to put a New Zealand rug on her. She'd feel a lot less shut in.'

`She's worth it. One of the most promising I've ever trained. But what about the lorry? Will we ever get her into that?'

`Well, I don't s'pose she'll ever enjoy it but maybe we can get her to tolerate it at least. We'll give it a try.'

Quentin went in search of a head collar but Rachel was still puzzled.

`So, how do you know what's going on in these horses' heads? You're surely not expecting me to believe that they talk to you?' Gideon smiled faintly and shook his head. `No.'

`Then how?'

He looked up and away to the horizon, trying to find the words to explain, but as always, they wouldn't come. He sighed. `It's ... well ... instinct, I suppose,' he said lamely. `You have to see the world from the animal's point of view. There are only a limited number of issues that figure in a horse's world, when all's said and done. It's purely a matter of hitting on the right one. Discounting the misplaced Alpha's, almost all problems have their root in fear.'

Quentin led the grey from the stable and took her rugs off. She was a tallish, good-looking animal that could have done with a bit more flesh on her bones. Even from where she stood, some thirty feet away from the lorry, she eyed the vehicle with apprehension. Quietly, Gideon went to work.

After ten minutes or so of familiarisation, he was satisfied that he'd established his role as leader. The grey was following him around happily with no pressure at all on the lead rope, stopping and turning whenever he did. She'd walked past the lorry several times; the ramp was raised and lowered beside her; the engine switched on and off; and finally, when she'd accepted these things as harmless, Gideon attempted to lead her inside.

The lorry had been positioned on a slight slope so the angle of the ramp was not too steep, and although Molly approached it without any trouble she stopped short of actually stepping on to the slatted walkway. Tossing her head, she tried to pull back towards the other horses.

They had opened the groom's door at the front of the compartment and removed all the partitions but the grey still viewed the gloomy interior with trepidation. Gideon could feel the horse's conflict. She was conditioned to do as she was told and wanted to, but instinct held her back.

Careful not to look at her, Gideon stepped on to the ramp himself. The grey stiffened and threw her head up but didn't pull back. After a moment, Gideon walked slowly all the way up the ramp and into the box with the horse one step behind.

Once inside the lorry, the grey began to regret her cooperation. She shifted her weight restlessly, pushing Gideon with her nose and trying to turn round. Gideon spoke softly to her, gently rubbing circles on the dappled grey neck. The horse quietened but Gideon could feel her trembling and her coat was damp with sweat.

Somewhere at the front of the house a car door slammed and Molly started, eyes rolling anxiously.

`Whoa, silly girl. You know what that is. Nobody's going to hurt you. Just a moment more and we'll go back out, okay?' The horse flicked her ears to and fro, not understanding the words but taking comfort from the tone. Feeling she'd done enough for one day, Gideon gave her one final scratch under her mane and prepared to turn her towards the ramp.

Beside the lorry someone shouted, `You in there, Pops?' and thumped on the metal sheeting of the bodywork with enough force to wake the dead.

Molly's nerve broke. Instinct took over and flight became imperative. Too bad for Gideon that he was in the way.

With his size, Gideon was probably a good deal stronger than the average man, but compared to that of a panicking horse his strength was totally inconsequential. Molly whipped round, cannoning into him and slamming him into the inner bodywork of the box with an impact that drove every vestige of breath from his lungs. The lead rein that he'd been loosely holding whipped round his arm and dragged him sideways for an instant before it pulled free, as with a flurry of iron-shod hooves the thoroughbred launched herself down the ramp.

Lying full-length on the rubber matting that carpeted the floor of the lorry, Gideon could think of nothing for a moment except to be glad he'd learned at an early age never to wrap any kind of lead rein around his hand for better grip. If he'd done so in this instance, he could now have either been short of several fingers or being dragged across the gravel of the yard behind the wildly galloping horse. Neither prospect held much attraction.

The sense of having had a lucky escape filled him with gratitude for all of ten seconds. That was about how long it took for the multitude of ill-treated nerve endings to organise their protest to his brain. As the brief stunning effect of the impact passed, his left arm, shoulder and shoulder-blade all began to shout for his attention, but they had to compete with the agony of his forcibly deflated lungs.

He could hear Quentin and Rachel approaching, calling his name with touching concern, and wished them a million miles away. All he needed, for a moment, was time alone.

He wasn't going to get it.

'Gideon lad, are you all right? Did she tread on you?'

Gideon shook his head. No to both questions, he thought grimly. With an effort he looked up. Quentin stood at the top of the ramp, bending towards him, his face creased with anxiety. Behind him, Rachel looked white and shaken. He supposed he must look at least as bad as he felt. In an attempt to reassure them both he managed a smile.