**3rd August – Evening**
As the riders drew near, the dog lifted its head and looked at them with eyes so full of pain that my heart missed a beat and tears stung my eyes.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning.
Emily slipped the halter over Ebony’s head and led her out of the stable. She tied the rope to the tie ring in the aisle and stood back to admire the mare. Ebony was a jet-black beauty, with clean white socks on all four elegant legs – the sort of horse every rider dreams of. Emily picked up the brush and set to work, praising her all the while. Ebony fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot, tossing her head and listening to something I couldn’t hear.
“What’s the matter, girl?” Emily murmured, stroking her neck. “What’s bothering you?”
I walked over. “Talking to your horse again?”
“Uncle Ben, she’s been acting strange all day,” Emily said, still stroking Ebony’s glossy neck. “We’ve had her a month, and she’s never been like this.”
“Something’s got her spooked,” I said, eyeing the mare. “She’s a fine one, though.”
“And her temperament’s perfect,” Emily added. “She’s beautifully schooled. I still don’t understand how her last owner could let her go.”
“There must be a hidden flaw,” I mused.
“She doesn’t have a flaw!” Emily snapped, defending her favourite.
Ebony shook her head as if in agreement.
“Look at that – she took offence,” I chuckled, and went back to my chores.
Emily saddled Ebony and led her outside. The mare pricked her ears, staring towards the road beyond which the forest lay. “That’s exactly where we’re heading,” Emily said. “You’ve been perfect in the arena – time you saw the countryside.”
She swung into the saddle and turned the mare towards the woods.
That June morning was still cool, perfect for a ride. Ebony walked obediently, stopping now and then to listen to the forest sounds. Emily let her trot along the bridle path, the same one she used to ride on her old horse, Thunder. Two months ago, Thunder had been diagnosed with a lung condition and sent to a farm in the village where the air was cleaner. For competitions, Emily needed a new horse, and she and her trainer, Mrs Dawson, had searched until they found Ebony at a riding club in London. The mare was well-schooled and gentle, and the club had bought her.
Thinking back, Emily remembered how odd the previous owner had been – desperate to sell, as if she wanted rid of Ebony. Why?
Ebony stopped dead. Emily nearly came out of the saddle, so lost in thought was she. The mare wouldn’t move, no matter how much Emily squeezed.
“Why won’t you go on?” Emily asked.
Ebony snorted softly and turned her head to the right. Emily looked, but saw only grass and trees. “You want to go that way?” She loosened the reins, giving Ebony her head. “All right, then.”
Ebony left the path and walked towards a faint whimpering. Soon Emily heard it too. The horse stopped by a birch tree. On the grass sat a cardboard box, weighted down with thick branches. Inside, three kittens, barely old enough to open their eyes, mewed pitifully.
Emily jumped down, pushed the branches aside, and opened the box. Her voice shook with anger. “How could anyone be so cruel?” She lifted the box and turned to Ebony. “Come on, girl! We have to get them home.”
*****
“Incredible!” exclaimed Mrs Dawson, Emily’s trainer, when she heard the story.
“Ebony led me straight to that box,” Emily said. She’d rushed the kittens to the club’s vet. They were healthy; two already found homes. Emily took the third – a black kitten with white paws, just like Ebony’s socks. She named him Cosmos.
“Ebony is a noble horse,” Mrs Dawson said admiringly. “People walk past, but a horse doesn’t.”
Over the next weeks, Emily and Ebony trained hard for the upcoming competitions. In July they placed second in the local novice class. In August they won the regional event in the neighbouring county. Now they were preparing for the county championships in Birmingham.
“Emily, I need you on the arena in forty minutes,” Mrs Dawson called into the stable.
Ebony stood in the aisle, nervous and trembling, letting out loud neighs that echoed around the yard.
“Easy, girl,” Emily soothed.
“What’s wrong with her?” Mrs Dawson asked, alarmed.
“She acted just like this the day we found the kittens,” Emily replied.
“Take her outside the club grounds. Maybe something’s happened,” Mrs Dawson said. “Bring Uncle Ben with you.”
Twenty minutes later, two riders left the club. Emily let Ebony choose the way. They passed the neat houses on the edge of town, then headed towards the forest. Suddenly Ebony wheeled round and galloped along the road. Cars honked, afraid the horses might dash onto the tarmac.
“What’s this nonsense, following a mare’s whim?” I grumbled.
“Better to check than regret,” Emily said.
On the verge lay a German Shepherd, hit by a car. As we approached, the dog lifted its head and looked at us with such pain that my heart lurched. Tears welled in Emily’s eyes. We’d found what was troubling Ebony.
*****
That was last year. Now I’m writing this after the county championships. Emily and Ebony had just finished their Intermediate dressage test, and Emily was overjoyed.
“Magnificent ride!” Mrs Dawson ran up to them.
“Ebony moves to the music so beautifully,” Emily said, adjusting the stirrups. “She’s the best horse in the universe.”
“She’s a horse with a terrible flaw,” a sharp voice cut in.
Emily turned. A woman in a tailcoat sat on a chestnut mare, ready to compete. Her face looked familiar.
“Why would you say that?” Emily replied coldly. “You don’t know her at all. She’s noble—”
“With a flaw,” the woman interrupted. “I know this mare very well – I used to own her.”
“The previous owner,” Mrs Dawson murmured.
“How can you speak of her like that?” Emily demanded.
“In the year I had her, she brought home several stray dogs and cats,” the woman spat. “Her two owners before me got rid of her for the same reason.”
“You simply failed to understand how noble she is,” Mrs Dawson retorted. “That’s not a flaw – it’s compassion.”
A German Shepherd ran up to Emily, tail wagging. That was Oscar – the dog Ebony had led us to last year. We never found his owner, so Emily kept him. At home, the black cat Cosmos waited, now grown. I’d taken a pup from a later rescue, and Mrs Dawson had adopted a calico kitten from another trip. In total, Ebony had saved three dogs and four cats – all rehomed. And they called that a flaw?
“Maybe the flaw is in you,” Emily said, giving the woman a cold look, and led Ebony away.
That day, Emily and Ebony won first place. That evening, driving home, we heard Ebony stamping in the trailer, clearly trying to get our attention. We stopped and opened the door. She whinnied loudly. Someone needed help again.
**What I learned:** That horse taught me that the truest measure of a creature’s worth isn’t perfection in the ring, but the heart that turns aside for the helpless. Ebony’s so-called flaw was her greatest gift – and I was lucky enough to witness it.
