Born In The Saddle - Quicksilver Stud - Book 1 (#wattys2016)

Chapter 7

There wasn't any sign of Amber around the stables, nor could I see her across the surrounding fields. Clay was still teaching so I took a risk and wandered down to the bungalow on the other side of the yard, where Amber lived with her dad.

It was a pretty little place with a cute stone porch and picture perfect garden. When I used to live at Hoxley, one of the old stud grooms rented it.

I admired the colourful well kept gardens as I walked through the little white gate. Clearly Maggie's handiwork rather than Clay's. I followed the path round the back of the house until I heard Amber's voice from somewhere inside. The back of the house was practically all glass with the most incredible view out across Hoxley's parkland. There were big sliding doors in the middle that were wide open letting the cool breeze into the house. I peeked round the edge of the wall and spotted Amber inside as she spoke again. Actually she was cursing - a lot.

'Aaammmmmmber.' I sung her name but remained out of sight behind the wall. I could hear her sharp intake of breath and something being dropped to the floor. I couldn't help giggling.

'Something wrong?' I asked, revealing myself.

'Jesus! Don't do that.' Amber laughed and held a hand to her heart, which had obviously jumped into her mouth.

'Haha. Getting my own back for this mornings wake up call.'

'Well, consider me repaid. Ten fold.' She laughed merrily before returning her attention to what she had been doing. Not that I was sure what she was doing. She was sat in the middle the sitting room, all the furniture pushed back to the walls out of the way. She'd spread two large white bed sheets on the ground and was clearly cleaning tack. Only there was so much of it strewn all over the place that it looked as though she was cleaning the equipment for the entire household cavalry.

I stepped into the room and stared down in amusement. 'What are you doing?'

'Urgh, good question.' She huffed and flung down a braided browband. 'I promised dad that during the holidays I would clean everything in the tack room. Even the old stuff that never gets used. So....' She waved her arms to indicate the dozens and dozens of dismantled bridles.

'I thought it would be easier just to clean everything in one go and then put it all back together afterwards. Only now I can't figure out what goes where.' She held up two short leather straps that looked the same, only on closer inspection they had slightly different buckles. And these were just two pieces. Amber was sitting in the middle of what looked like a hundred loose articles. I shook my head and laughed hard as she stared at the leather array around her in utter bewilderment.

'Help.' She pleaded desperately.

'Sure.' I sat opposite my cousin and crossed my legs.

It was impossible to know where to start. Suddenly that boring jigsaw of a poppy field looked more appealing. However, as we started to sort out cheek pieces from browbands, reins from martingales, it soon became clear that every bridle did have a slightly different design. Very slight in some cases, but still the point is that it gave us some hope.

Goodness knows how long it took us. Hours definitely. But eventually we managed to put them all back together. And with Amber's lively chatter the time seemed to absolutely whizz by. The only slight hitch was one single, unwanted cheek piece, which, despite us both checking, we couldn't find a bridle with anything missing.

Finally, we trudged back to the yard, each of us weighed down with bridles across both shoulders and in our hands.

'Thanks for helping. Don't think I would have got through that if you hadn't come.' Amber said.

'No worries. It was actually kinda fun.'

'Yeah it was.' Amber replied as she pushed her way through a door.

The tack room was just a sea of leather, rugs and other horse paraphernalia. The smell of leather was intoxicating. I handed Amber the bridles one by one, which she somehow recognised and trotted off finding an individual hook for everyone single one. There were bridles of all sizes, designs, even colours. One, which was clearly a Shetland's bridle, was baby blue with little dancing horses on it. There was a heavy double bridle that had so many straps it looked like three rolled in to one. There was even a hackamore that looked like it hadn't been used in years, but it still cleaned up nicely.

'Can I ask you something?' I ventured as Amber replaced the last one.

'Course.'

'Why does this place do livery and stuff now? I don't remember it doing so before.'

'No I know. But things had to change. The stud doesn't bring in as much money as it used too. We've lost a few of the older horses in the last few years and can't afford to replace them with top competition animals. People are so desperate now for top class breeders.'

'There's still Silver Fox.'

'Yeah, he earns well but it's not always a steady income. People want ready made competition horses now, with points and wins already in their pockets. So, Dad started giving lessons and we have the liveries as you know. It doesn't bring in a lot but it keeps us ticking over. '

'Why doesn't your dad compete the youngsters then?'

'He can't risk it. He broke his neck a few years ago. He nearly died. The doctors said a serious fall could paralyse him permanently. Or worse.' She said drifting off. 'Still, he hacks out a lot and he rides in the arena. There's no way he could not ride at all. It'd kill him not being able to ride, it's in his blood. Oh, sorry.' She said suddenly, her cheeks colouring at her thoughtlessness.

I smiled to show it was Ok. I was getting more used to dad cropping up in conversation. It was weird, having spent five years alone with mum and never mentioning him. But strangely, not only did I not mind as much as I thought I would, but I was kind of enjoying these constant little reminders of him. It's almost like he was back in my life after being shut out for so long.

Ready to head out, I turned my back on the mountain of horse gear and then halted mid stride. I hadn't noticed on the way in but the wall with the door in was invisible beneath a collage of brightly coloured sashes and rosettes. Most of which were firsts. I hesitated for a moment, shocked to be confronted by them here but then stopped and took in the sight, running my eyes appreciatively along the colourful array which reminded me just how good my dad was. His major trophies and rosettes were in the house but he'd won so many over the years the rest had been stuffed in bags and stored away.

'I found them in the attic last year. Gramps let me put them up. Seemed a shame to hide them away. You don't mind do you?'

'No.' I answered in wonder still trying to take in the display.

'There's some in the common room too. He had loads.'

I could feel Amber walk forwards and stand by my shoulder admiring her handiwork.

'You miss him?'

I nodded.

'Is that why you don't ride anymore?'

'I guess so. It felt wrong without him here.'

'But you loved it didn't you? And you were good. Really good.'

'Yeah I suppose. That's what my dad used to say. That I was a natural. Riding came so easily to me it was like I was born in the saddle.'

***********Thanks to everyone who's commented and voted so far - it means a lot to me that you're enjoying my book.

For another great horse story head over to 'To Defy Gravity' by Katakalysm.*************