Wear Iron//Thomas Shelby

four

I head to the stables with Tommy. I rather like horses. I think it's the Irish Traveller in me. I want to check on the horse Tommy got from Johnny Dogs.

"Get me down a Spanish saddle, Curly," Tommy instructs.

"Yes, Tom, a Spanish saddle," Curly says. "He's a beauty, Tom. Yeah, yeah, a beauty, Tom."

I take the reins from Curly. "He really is beautiful, Tommy." Tommy nods. "You think I could ride him?"

"Be patient, Hel," Tommy tells me. "I've only just gotten him."

"A fine beast you got there, Thomas," Charlie says. "But is he worth falling out with the Lee family over?" Charlie puts a bullet down on the table. "Just passing it on... a declaration of war, the whole Lee clan." I can see Tommy's name is scratched into the bullet. "The guns and now this?"

"The guns are not spoken of," Tommy reminds him. "Right?"

"Tommy..." Charlie starts. Tommy ignores him as he turns to walk away. "Tommy!" Tommy stops to face his uncle. "You mind how you speak to me."

"Forgive me, Uncle," Tommy says.

Tommy saddles the horse before helping me on after him. I hold on to him, arms wrapped around his waist.

"It's Thomas Shelby against the whole bloody world, right?" Charlie remarks.

Tommy and I ride the horse into the city past the BSA. The horse starts to get spooked as the furnaces explode. I hop down from the horse with Tommy following suit.

I gently run my hand along the horse's snout. "Easy... Easy, easy. Whoa."

"Easy, boy. Shh, shh, shh, shh... Shh." Tommy tries to calm the horse down. "In France we used to say... Shh... In France we used to say it's just the music hall band turning up. Shh. It's just trombones and tubas, that's all. It's just noise." The horse starts to calm down. "Shh. Shh. Shh. It's just noise. Hey. It's just noise. You get used to it. It's just noise. Good boy. Good boy."

I smile. "Thomas Shelby the horse whisperer."

Tommy takes the reins of the horse as we start to walk.

I gesture to the horse's foot. "I think he's got a problem with his foot, Tommy."

Tommy looks at the horse. "You have some pain there, boy, hey?"

As we pass the Garrison Grace tosses a bucket out the door almost hitting Tommy. "I'm so sorry, Mr Shelby. I'm Grace, by the way."

"I know who you are," Tommy assures.

Grace looks at the horse. "What's his name?"

"He doesn't have a name," Tommy tells her.

"Poor boy deserves a name," Grace insists.

"You have something to say to me?" Tommy asks.

"The other night you came into the pub and I was singing... You said singing wasn't allowed," Grace says. "I'd like there to be one night a week when there's singing. I think it would be good for everyone... Saturday nights. Harry was too afraid to ask you, so..."

"But you're not," Tommy states.

"I am," Grace confesses. "But I love to sing."

"You sound like one of those rich girls who comes over from Dublin for the races," Tommy says. "Do you like horses? How do you fancy earning some extra money?" Tommy gets back onto the horse before pulling me up behind him.

"Doing what?" Grace asks.

"Dig out a nice dress. I want to take you to the races," Tommy tells her.