when she saw Caspian suddenly prick his ears at the sight of the Cobalt Lodge horses further up the track. He quickened his stride, heading straight for them.
‘Caspian, no !’ Ginny cried. With a quick look over her shoulder to see Kerry getting to her feet, she urged Libran Charter forward in pursuit. Beyond, she could see Julien Larocque, who was bringing up the rear of his string in a steady jog, turn when he heard the thunder of Caspian’s hooves approaching.
Please catch him, Ginny prayed. A loose horse on the Gallops was a danger to himself as well as others. To her horror, she watched as if in slow motion as the Ravenhill colt barged into the string, bouncing off one body to another like a dodgem car, before finally coming to a tense standstill beside one of the horses. His head came up and he crested his neck, lifting his tail and squealing. Before Ginny could do anything, Julien Larocque had briskly muscled into the string and brought his whip down on Caspian’s hindquarters. The colt screamed with rage. He reared, receiving another forceful belting for his troubles, and plunged through the group, and careered off over the rise and out of sight.
‘What are you doing?’ Ginny’s despair was replaced with rage. She pulled up next to Larocque and glared at him. ‘Why didn’t you catch him?’
He glared back at her.
‘What am I doing?’ he exclaimed. ‘What the hell are you doing? If you’re going to let colts run wild over the Gallops you have no business here.’
‘I didn’t just let him go!’ Ginny retorted.
‘Then get some riders who actually know how to ride!’
‘It was an accident. You beating him like a pit pony sure as hell wasn’t.’
‘That mare is in season. What did you expect me to do? He was about to mount her!’
‘You could have just caught him. Now, God knows where he is or what state he’s in. If, by some remote chance he’s okay, then it’ll be no thanks to you!’
‘Go back to your playpen, Kennedy,’ the Frenchman sneered. He gave her one last contemptuous look then signalled his string, who were all standing there agog, to move on. With emotions riding high, Ginny felt a lump swelling in her throat.
Is that what everyone thought? That she was just playing at being a trainer? Was everyone just humouring her? Let the girl have her fun , she imagined them saying.
She sat astride an impatient Libran Charter, watching Larocque’s proud broad back as he rode away, not entirely sure what to do, immediate or otherwise. Who was she fooling? How could she seriously have imagined she could train a Dewhurst winner?
‘Ginny,’ Alex ventured, interrupting her thoughts. ‘I think we should go find out the damage.’
*
Urging her horse into a trot she led the way down the Gallops in the direction Caspian had disappeared. Although there was a fence between the Gallops and the main road, a loose and terrified horse could cause a lot of harm, especially at this peak hour. Fear gripped her chest as the road came into view and she saw traffic at a standstill. Usually, the cars would be whizzing by. Where was Caspian? Ginny imagined his body torn and broken against the crumpled bonnet of a car or beneath the monstrous wheel of a truck. Had he hurt someone?
The last few hundred metres between them and the road seemed to take forever, but as they approached she moaned in relief when she saw Caspian standing by the roadside, with someone, presumably a thoughtful driver, holding his bridle.
‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry,’ Ginny called as soon as she was within earshot. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘He’s very lame but otherwise no damage done,’ the man said as she came to a halt beside him. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep thankful breath.
‘Thank you. Thank God. Did he get onto the road? How lame is he?’
‘He ran straight into the fence. Didn’t appear to even see it. He’s lame in both his front legs I’m afraid.’
‘Badly?’ she said,
‘Caspian, no !’ Ginny cried. With a quick look over her shoulder to see Kerry getting to her feet, she urged Libran Charter forward in pursuit. Beyond, she could see Julien Larocque, who was bringing up the rear of his string in a steady jog, turn when he heard the thunder of Caspian’s hooves approaching.
Please catch him, Ginny prayed. A loose horse on the Gallops was a danger to himself as well as others. To her horror, she watched as if in slow motion as the Ravenhill colt barged into the string, bouncing off one body to another like a dodgem car, before finally coming to a tense standstill beside one of the horses. His head came up and he crested his neck, lifting his tail and squealing. Before Ginny could do anything, Julien Larocque had briskly muscled into the string and brought his whip down on Caspian’s hindquarters. The colt screamed with rage. He reared, receiving another forceful belting for his troubles, and plunged through the group, and careered off over the rise and out of sight.
‘What are you doing?’ Ginny’s despair was replaced with rage. She pulled up next to Larocque and glared at him. ‘Why didn’t you catch him?’
He glared back at her.
‘What am I doing?’ he exclaimed. ‘What the hell are you doing? If you’re going to let colts run wild over the Gallops you have no business here.’
‘I didn’t just let him go!’ Ginny retorted.
‘Then get some riders who actually know how to ride!’
‘It was an accident. You beating him like a pit pony sure as hell wasn’t.’
‘That mare is in season. What did you expect me to do? He was about to mount her!’
‘You could have just caught him. Now, God knows where he is or what state he’s in. If, by some remote chance he’s okay, then it’ll be no thanks to you!’
‘Go back to your playpen, Kennedy,’ the Frenchman sneered. He gave her one last contemptuous look then signalled his string, who were all standing there agog, to move on. With emotions riding high, Ginny felt a lump swelling in her throat.
Is that what everyone thought? That she was just playing at being a trainer? Was everyone just humouring her? Let the girl have her fun , she imagined them saying.
She sat astride an impatient Libran Charter, watching Larocque’s proud broad back as he rode away, not entirely sure what to do, immediate or otherwise. Who was she fooling? How could she seriously have imagined she could train a Dewhurst winner?
‘Ginny,’ Alex ventured, interrupting her thoughts. ‘I think we should go find out the damage.’
*
Urging her horse into a trot she led the way down the Gallops in the direction Caspian had disappeared. Although there was a fence between the Gallops and the main road, a loose and terrified horse could cause a lot of harm, especially at this peak hour. Fear gripped her chest as the road came into view and she saw traffic at a standstill. Usually, the cars would be whizzing by. Where was Caspian? Ginny imagined his body torn and broken against the crumpled bonnet of a car or beneath the monstrous wheel of a truck. Had he hurt someone?
The last few hundred metres between them and the road seemed to take forever, but as they approached she moaned in relief when she saw Caspian standing by the roadside, with someone, presumably a thoughtful driver, holding his bridle.
‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry,’ Ginny called as soon as she was within earshot. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘He’s very lame but otherwise no damage done,’ the man said as she came to a halt beside him. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep thankful breath.
‘Thank you. Thank God. Did he get onto the road? How lame is he?’
‘He ran straight into the fence. Didn’t appear to even see it. He’s lame in both his front legs I’m afraid.’
‘Badly?’ she said,
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