Free The Dark Horse by Rumer Godden Page A

affectionately on his quarter. ‘You’re tall as a giraffe,’ and, ‘That bench will do,’ he said and, as he got up, ‘Stand still, you,’ he said to Dark Invader as his fingers reached steadily on; a moment later he was looking with interest, not where Ted and Sadiq had shown him the tenderness, but above it, where the hairs of the mane came to an end and, ‘John,’ he said, ‘look here.’
    John joined him on the bench. ‘See anything?’ asked the Captain. ‘Look. There’s a scar under those white hairs.’
    â€˜But… it’s minuscule.’
    â€˜On the surface. Mullins, hop up. Ever noticed that before?’
    â€˜Course,’ said Ted. ‘Them’s the only other white hairs he’s got. Had them when he come from Ireland. I reckon when he were a baby running loose he maybe caught a bit of barbed wire, or cut hisself – but that was long before, so it couldn’t be the trouble… or could it?’ Ted had seen Captain Mack’s satisfaction. ‘
Could
it?’
    â€˜It could. In fact, I think that’s it. Happened when he was a foal, guess you’re right there, but not wire, rolling in the grass more like and met a bit of broken bottle or a sharp stone – anything – and made a small cut that healed on the surface but left damage; maybe a bit of gravel or a chip of glass got in and caused infection deeper down. The muscles lost flexibility – in fact grew fibrous – left a scar in the muscle if you like – nothing to see on the outside but any pressure on that spot would cause pain. When the horse was over-stretched, tired as well – remember how young he was… ’
    â€˜It must have hurt like hell,’ said John, ‘and I can guess that Streaky Bacon’s grip just caught it, which could account for everything. Sandy, you clever old devil.’
    â€˜Don’t thank me, thank Ted and Sadiq.’ Captain Mack got down from the bench. ‘But you’re not out of the wood yet. Sadiq’s “hart molesh” is the best possible treatment, but there’s more to this than that. Everything to do with the finish of a race, other horses challenging, the noise, the excitement, tells Darkie, “Stop before it hurts.” That’s it, isn’t it, old fellow,’ he pulled one of the dark ears.
    â€˜So we still have our problem.’
    â€˜You do indeed. You now have to “minister to a mind diseased”,’ and the Captain went on:
    â€˜â€œPluck from the memory a rooted sorrow
    Raze out the written troubles of the brain…”’
    â€˜
Macbeth
Act Five Scene III,’ said John, ‘so shut up and don’t show off.’
    â€˜Dear me!’ said Captain Mack, ‘and I thinking that cavalry officers were semi-illiterate.’
    â€˜Granted, but I acted in
Macbeth
at school. First Murderer.’
    â€˜Pity you weren’t the First Witch. You could do with a little magic just now.’
    â€˜Meaning that you think it’s still no go?’
    â€˜Meaning just that. John, face it. You know that a spoiled horse never comes back.’
    Â 
    â€˜Mullins,’ said John when Captain Mack had gone. ‘Why didn’t you tell Mr Traherne what you thought about the horse?’
    Ted hesitated. ‘The Invader was never no trouble with me, sir, and there was nothing I could be sure of. I hoped Mr Michael might see for hisself. Then when the hoss was sold, who was I,’ asked Ted, ‘to set meself up against a veterinary like Major Woods? Besides, if Mr Michael had listened, it would have put him in a spot. Don’t get me wrong, sir, Mr Michael, or his father or his grandfather, come to that, would never have let a hoss be sold out of his stables if he didn’t think it was sound, and Captain Hay… ’ Ted spat, ‘he wouldn’t have waited. If he had known, it would have been any old