Hard times
After a bit I was sold to a corn dealer. Jerry’s friend knew him and thought he would treat me well. Unfortunately I hardly saw this man as his foreman was left to care for me. Often I had to carry heavier loads than I should. To my horror I was also driven in a bearing-rein and this put an awful strain on my body.
But worst of all was my stable. It was very dark and the poor light weakened my sight. Imagine how bad it felt being led from the darkness straight out into bright sunlight! It was blinding and often made me stumble. The foreman wasn’t happy with me and soon he got my owner to trade me for a younger horse.
I shall never forget my next owner. Nicholas Skinner had a large hooked nose, more teeth than a bulldog and a temper as hard as his voice. He was a cruel man and if I thought that I’d been miserable in previous homes, then I’d been mistaken. Life with Nicholas Skinner was the worst it had ever been.
Skinner owned a string of cabs and he worked his horses and drivers seven days a week. Often I had to carry four adult passengers plus their driver on long trips in the hot sun! No one ever thought to get out and walk, even at the steepest of hills. My driver whipped me so cruelly that bled. Some days I was even too tired to eat my food.
Life became so awful that, like Ginger, wished I could drop down dead to be out of my misery.
Then I nearly did.
I’d already done a hard day’s work when my driver stopped at the station and picked up a family of four. There was a father, a mother, a boy, a small girl and a mountain of luggage.
‘Daddy,’ said the girl. ‘Surely this horse can’t carry all of us?’
‘Of course he can,’ laughed my driver. ‘Climb in and I’ll show you.’
A porter began to load the luggage onto the cab and the little girl came and stroked my face. ‘Daddy,’ she said anxiously. ‘Please hire a second cab. It’s cruel to make this horse work so hard.’
No one listened to her and when the luggage was loaded she was made to climb aboard too. My driver jerked my reins and lashed me with the whip as I slowly moved off. The load was extremely heavy and it was a struggle to pull it, but I did my best until we came to Ludgate Hill. There, the hill beat me.
One minute I was straining with all my might, my driver whipping me harder and harder. The next, my feet seemed to slip away from me and I crashed to the ground, landing on my side.
Badly winded, I lay where I’d fallen and hoped I was dying. Around me people were panicking but over the noise I could hear that sweet little girl’s voice.
‘Oh!’ she kept saying.
‘That poor horse, and it’s all our fault.’
Finally someone came and unhitched my cab. A policeman shouted orders but I kept my eyes closed. My breath came in short rasps and a man poured a liquid into my mouth. After a while he tried to help me to stand. I was shocked and badly bruised and it took several attempts before I made it.
Slowly the man led me to a nearby stable. I was given warm gruel and left to rest. The stable was full of fresh straw and it was so comfortable I wanted to stay there forever!
By the evening I was well enough to be led back to Skinner’s place where a farrier came to check my health. ‘He’s overworked,’ the farrier said. ‘He needs to rest for at least six months.’
‘Then he must go for dog meat,’ snapped Skinner angrily. ‘I’m not feeding a horse to laze around all day.’
‘There’s a horse sale in ten days. Why not feed him up and sell him there?’ suggested the farrier. ‘You’ll get more money than if you sell him for dog meat.’
‘Mmm,’ said Skinner unwillingly. ‘I suppose I might!’
Skinner was a greedy man and decided that’s what he’d do. There followed ten wonderful days of complete rest and delicious food, and changed my mind about wanting to die. When the day of the horse sale came I felt almost cheerful. Maybe my next home would be better.