Free The Dark Horse by Rumer Godden

doubt if this hope of Leventine’s will win any race this side of Doomsday.’
    â€˜Any race! He’s aiming at the Cups.’
    Captain Mack laughed. ‘What! The Viceroy’s? I’m not a betting man and I won’t bet with you, but if Dark Invader gets anywhere near that, I’ll eat my hat.’
    â€˜H’mmm,’ was all John said but, next evening, as he and Ted were watching the grooming down, ‘What did you mean, Mullins,’ he asked, ‘when you said this… ’ he gestured at the working grooms, ‘might do the trick?’
    â€˜You heard?’ Ted was amazed.
    â€˜I heard. What did you mean?’ Ted looked up at John. If a hawk or falcon could have blue eyes, thought John, this man’s are like a hawk’s, missing nothing, but Ted was silent. Some inward struggle was going on. John tried to help.
    â€˜Dark Invader was thoroughly vetted before he was bought, by the vet Mr Leventine chose.’
    â€˜He certainly was.’ The day after Michael’s telephone call from Dilbury, a grizzled man in a bowler hat, brown gaiters and black boots had driven into the Traherne yard in a yellow-wheeled dog-cart drawn by a high-stepping hackney. ‘That was Major Woods, sir. He’s well known and you should have seen the going over he gave the Invader. Even had his shoes off. Real old sort, that one,’ said Ted. ‘Did a proper job and time no object. Learned his trade before there were motor cars. He filled in a printed form with a mighty lot of words and told Mr Michael: “A1 at Lloyds and sound as a bell of brass.” He knew a quality hoss when he saw one – meaning no disrespect to Captain Mack, of course.’
    â€˜Well then,’ and John said quietly, ‘in spite of all that, and Captain Mack’s opinion, you still think there’s something wrong. What?’
    â€˜Ar!’ Ted drew a breath of satisfaction. ‘Soon’s I saw you, I knew one day you would be asking me that. I believe it’s his muscles, sir, high on the shoulder.’
    â€˜Yet they didn’t find it?’
    â€˜Couldn’t,’ said Ted. ‘Not looking at him like that. Can’t see nothing, nor feel it. Pass your hand firm and there’s nothing, but with pressure… muscles have two ends, sir, and it’s deep. Did you see when Mr Saddick… ’
    â€˜Sadiq?’
    â€˜Yes. Mr Saddick was strapping; the hoss flinched,’ and Ted burst out, ‘It was that Bacon what began it. Those damned bow legs of his. Nutcrackers,’ said Ted with venom. ‘Squeezing a hoss in a place God never meant a man’s legs to be – he rides so short, see, and the Invader, he were nothing but a great sprawling baby, and it were his first race. But that Captain Hay was set on a win, no matter what.’
    â€˜Which he got,’ said John.
    â€˜Yes.’ Ted’s face was grim. ‘Will you watch, sir? Just watch – when Mr Saddick lays it on hard.’
    John watched, standing close. In his presence, Sadiq and Ali doubled their efforts and, on the far side, as Sadiq came up the shoulder, John saw the Invader flinch and, ‘You’re right,’ he told Ted. ‘There is a tender spot. We’ll get Captain Mack to have a look.’
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    Captain Mack stood, like John had, close beside the horse, but his scepticism showed as he let Ted, as far as Ted could reach, then Sadiq, guide his fingers slowly up the Invader’s shoulder, pressing all the way. Suddenly the horse grew restive. ‘S-steady, Darkie, s-steady,’ hissed Sadiq, but Captain Mack pressed harder – scepticism had given way to intentness – harder, harder – there came a definite flinch and Dark Invader threw up his head, almost jerking Sadiq off his feet. ‘Ar!’ whispered Ted as, ‘Get me something to stand on,’ ordered Captain Mack. ‘You great brute!’ He clapped Dark Invader