Rescue Heart

Chapter Eleven

C h a p t e r . E l e v e n

Mum’s condition steadily improved as the days went by. Thankfully, the brain damage was minimal from the accident, however she was going to require several physiotherapy sessions to try and improve her mobility. She continued to heal at hospital, whilst we worked tirelessly to heal the farm and rejuvenate it to a new state of glory.

But whilst Mum went from strength to strength in hospital, the same could not be said for little Warrior. Whilst her brother flourished in the field, growing stronger and livelier, she began to wither indoors like a wilting flower confined to the shadows. The dewy sparkle began to diminish from her chocolate eyes. Her limbs grew weaker, energy dwindling and then finally, with her head in my lap, her breathing ceased.

There was of course an outpour of cascading tears from all of us, even my brother unable to keep a dry eye. But the pain in my heart was tempered by the acknowledgement that life was going to be a great struggle for little Warrior even if she had made it out of the woods, and at least with death her suffering had ended. Due to her inability to stand and keep active very early on, her legs would have been sore and she would have required special fitting boots for her deformed forelegs. She would always be smaller and weaker, and have special requirements, as well as a weakened immune system.

Her body was laid to rest the following morning, and the sunrise was remarkably beautiful. The sun blazed ferociously in the sky, a fiery orange much like little Warrior’s coat. As it began to make its ascent, breaching the crest of the hill, Warrior was buried underneath the same blossom tree as Twister. It had been planted in memory of my father, who was so fond of blossoms, and it had seemed only fitting when Twister bury her in such a treasured place. The tree was on the big green lawn behind the old sheep barn, which Mum diligently tended to every day, sprucing up the flower beds, nurturing the compost heap and all the vegetables she was growing, and mowed the lush grass when required. In Mum’s absence, the garden had admittedly fallen somewhat into a state of disrepair without her here.

Tom raked the last of the soil over Warrior’s grave, sprinkling grass seeds on the surface. I sighed heavily and rose from my solemn, crouched position, wiping away the last stray tears that lay on my cheeks. Ollie’s arm draped around my shoulders tightened a little, squeezing reassuringly. There was nothing else he could say to reassure me that this was the kindest option for Warrior. A peaceful, natural death in her sleep had stolen her last gasp, when we both knew that it was likelier to have been something more severe in the future.

The sound of barking distracted me from my silent reverie, and I turned to see Helen walking down to the stables, trailed by the dogs. Since the nights were a little dryer and warmer, the horses had been sleeping out in the field, rugged up if necessary, and without beds to mucked out every morning it had really taken a weight of workload off of our shoulders and enabled us to get on with the training aspect and the redevelopment of the farm. With Lara and Tom’s intermittent visits to help with any DIY to be done, Helen and I had been making great progress with Diva and Espoir.

I met my coach by the tack room, forcing a smile even though I was still weighted with the sadness of losing Warrior. “What is the plan for today, chief?”

“You are going to ride Espoir, and later on I’m going to long rein Diva up the hill and back to build up on her muscle and fitness.”

“I’m not riding,” I deadpanned immediately, feeling my breathing hitch and panic flourish within me. I had enjoyed watching Helen schooling Espoir, but didn’t relish the prospect of getting back in the saddle, even though I knew it was inevitable. I hadn’t been in a saddle since the accident.

Helen arched her eyebrow, and she folded her arms across her chest defiantly, shoulders squared. “Yes, you are.”

“I don’t want to ruin him.”