Seeing the twin horse-driven polished box-like carriage heading up the main drive, Jack Wetherly knew exactly what it contained. His heart gave a heave, knowing that this was his new challenge, arriving with two long-coated men sitting upfront. Excitedly, he called to Alf, his boss and mentor.
Alf came hobbling out of the stable. Jack couldn’t help thinking how much slower on his feet the older man had become. He was due to retire soon and that was why Jack had been appointed. But this new arrival was going to introduce some changes in Jack’s duties, and maybe, his life.
Alf came alongside Jack and looked across to the drive. His laugh was more of a cackle, always full of fun, “Too big for a coffin on wheels. Nice polish on it, though. Could be a giant bottle of wine for the major in there.”
“You know what it is,” Jack scolded.
“All the work we’ve done lately,” Alf chuckled, as the horse-drawn box disappeared in front of the manor. “Of course, I know.”
Jack could hardly wait to see inside the box, knowing it was the thoroughbred horse that Sir Oswald Brandling had paid a fortune for. Jack’s breath shuddered in his throat at the responsibility that was about to fall upon him. He was going to learn to be a race-horse trainer. Not only that, his first attempt was going to be with an expensive thoroughbred.
“The major will probably point them in this direction,” Alf observed, as he turned to open the new wooden gate which was the entrance to the special grazing area for the new arrival. Jack and Alf had supervised the two young joiners who had built the fence to form an area, alongside, only slightly smaller than, the area used for the other horses.
Jack had ensured that a large oak was enclosed in the far corner to provide any shade which the thoroughbred might require. Now, he was feeling a strange excitement building inside him. He had read that they could be awkward animals to train. Always there hung over him the doubt of whether he would be able to handle it.
The sound of voices drew his attention back to the manor. The two long-coated coach drivers were walking, leading the twin horses, drawing the box-coach, and Vincent, the butler, was pointing them to the right side of the stables where a rough track would bring them up to the edge of the stable yard.
Jack stood patiently alongside Alf, as the two men came up to them, nodding their heads in greeting. Jack’s heart leapt as he saw, following, not far behind, Sir Oswald, with Lady Oswald, which was a surprise, but just behind them, to his utter delight was Becky, beautiful in a pale green dress.
This new horse was obviously going to have an honoured greeting. The two drivers manoeuvred the horses and carriage round so that a rear door pointed towards the yard. As they began unfastening the door, the taller of the two said, “Hope he’s travelled all right. They can get skittish if we’ve hit too many bumps.”
The other one laughed, “Skittish is hardly the word for it. I’ve seen them go mad, but we’ve had a fairly smooth run. Not too many ruts.”
Sir Oswald approached a broad smile on his face, “A very special day, gentlemen. I wonder which of us is most excited. Lady Brandling is here to see what I’ve spent all my money on.”
Jack had seen very little of Lady Brandling, and after noticing Alf bow his head in deference to her, he did the same. Then he turned his eyes back to the lovely face of Becky, whose eyes, he was sure, were flashing him all kinds of messages. Bowing his head, he said, “M’lady.”
“Good day, Jack.” Was it only he who could read those eyes? Were the sparks that flashed between them not obvious to the others?
The voice of the tall driver drew his attention to the immediate, “Grand unveiling,” he called, as they lowered the bottom-hinged door, so it made a convenient exit slope to the ground.
“What a good idea,” Lady Brandling remarked, and Jack saw Sir Oswald throw her a surprised glance, probably a change from her general disinterest.
The first view of the horse was its tail and muscular hindquarters as his hooves beat what seemed to be impatient drumming on the floor. The two men moved along opposite sides of the animal, the taller of the two called out, “If you could all move back, sir. For safety’s sake.”
As they shuffled away, Alf asked, “Did you know he was a chestnut, Major?”
“I was informed,” Sir Oswald replied, and Jack, although giving his full attention as more of the thoroughbred was backed out, couldn’t help noticing the look of pride on his face.
“Ooh, he’s almost red,” Becky’s voice rang out, “So beautiful.”
The smaller man was at the rear of the horse to ensure there were no problems on the sloping descent. “He’s handling quite well, sir,” he said. “It was a bigger problem loading him.”
When all four hooves were on the paved yard, the taller driver fastened the horse by his bridle to a convenient hitching post, near the trough that the horse immediately took advantage of. “He can stand free, while you examine him. He seems to have travelled without any injury.”
Jack had noticed that the inside of the box was lined with rolls of sacking to protect the horse if it had stumbled. Before making their departure, the taller driver handed Sir Oswald an envelope, “A note from his lordship, sir, in which he gives more details about the horse.” Jack hardly noticed them driving the box away as his whole attention was on the horse which stood quietly where he had been tied.
What a magnificent animal he was. With his rich colouring, his long neck, withers, the deep chest, which Jack had read was an important characteristic, along with a good depth of hindquarters, a lean body, and long legs. Jack longed to see him at full gallop.
He moved to stand face to face with the animal which had a well-chiselled head, full of character. The wide brown eyes set well apart were a further indication that Jack had read about their good breeding. This horse was pure luxury, and Jack put out a hand to stroke the elegant muzzle. The horse pulled his head away, almost angrily.
“We’ll get better acquainted in time,” he murmured. While from behind him Sir Oswald’s voice roused him from his adoring mood, for a brief few seconds even the presence of Becky had been forgotten. Guiltily, he turned to face the others
“You like the look of him, my dear?” Sir Oswald asked his wife.
Pushing at a strand of grey hair that the light breeze had teased from the high style that adorned her head, Lady Brandling shrugged her considerable bosom, nodded her head, and admitted, “He looks like a very special animal.” Her eyes cast a mock glare at her husband as she added, “And he’d better be.”
Sir Oswald laughed and turned to Jack, “What are your thoughts, Jack?”
Jack gave his enthusiastic response, “There’s no doubt you have a thoroughbred on your hands.”
“On your hands mainly, I hope,” Sir Oswald said, with a smile on his face as he reached out to touch the horse’s face, but once again the head was jerked away from contact, and Jack outlined all the positive features he had noted.
“They’re classified as a ‘hot-blooded’ breed.”
“That sounds interesting,” Becky said, keeping her voice flat and without any innuendo.
“Animals bred for speed and agility.” Avoiding Becky’s attempt at eye contact, not knowing what his own reaction might be, and he went on, “High spirited and bold.”
Sir Oswald gave a loud guffaw, “Now that does sound like you, Rebecca.”
With a quick smiling glance at Jack, she said, “I wouldn’t deny that.” Then she stepped between them and held out a hand towards the horse’s muzzle.
“No, he might—” Jack began his warning, but stopped in utter amazement.
Becky had touched on the muzzle and ran her hand up to the wide forehead, and the horse had actually turned his head towards her.
Sir Oswald had noticed it, as he said, “Well, he certainly favours the ladies. Want to touch him, dear?”
Lady Brandling shook her head, “I’d rather not.”
“He’s so tall,” Becky remarked.
Sir Oswald held up the note he’d been sent, “Sixteen hands high according to this.”
“What’s a hand?” Becky asked.
Jack had his answer ready, “Four inches is one hand. Sixteen hands will be sixty-four inches”
Becky looked impressed, “Oh, he’s a mathematician too, uncle. But it can’t be right.”
“Why not?” Sir Oswald asked. “It is four times sixteen.”
“Uncle, I’m only five feet three inches and come nowhere near the top of his head.”
Jack covered his smile as he told her, “Horses are only measured up to their withers, m’lady.”
“Withers?”
“The area between his shoulder blades,” Jack told her and reached out to touch that spot. The horse made no protest. On impulse and remembering what the book section on thoroughbreds had said, he ran a hand forward and back along the withers, before declaring, “Sir, I do believe you have a very promising racer here.”
Sir Oswald frowned, “That was the intention. What makes you sound so confident.”
Jack realised that, by stressing the potential within this animal, he was, at the same time putting more expectation on himself as the trainer, but without hesitation, he said, “The longer the vertebrae from front to back along the withers, the shoulder is freer to move backwards. This gives an increase of stride length, and therefore enhances the horse’s speed.”
Sir Oswald smiled, “I’m so glad you have that book. That is very good news, isn’t it, Alf?”
Alf nodded, “I’m looking forward to seeing what the horse is capable of. And my book reading friend is just the one to make it happen.”
Jack put a grateful arm around Alf’s shoulders, “We’ll do it together.”
Sir Oswald held up the note again, “There is further information here which you both should be aware of.”
“Which is?” Alf asked.
“Simply a cautionary word from his Lordship’s vet about gradual build up in the animal’s training.”
“I’ll be glad of any advice on that,” Jack said fervently.
“It says that if we intend to race him this year training should be incremental.” Sir Oswald until after three to four weeks he is touching on galloping speed. Two-year-olds can be badly affected by over-racing.”
Alf pulled a face, “That is useful information, eh, Jack.”
Jack had been frowning as Sir Oswald had read on, “Obviously care and caution are to be our watchword.” As he said those words, he gave a quick glance in Becky’s direction to see her head nodding.
Sir Oswald nodded, “On the more positive side, he does write that if all goes well the horse could be a classic contender next year.”
Jack felt a shiver up his spine. With such expectations, he felt bound to remain positive.
Lady Brandling spoke then, “Well, I hope it all works out as you’ve said. I’m going back to the house, dear. You won’t be long, will you?”
“Soon, my dear, once we’ve decided on a name for the animal.”
“Oh, yes, a name,” Becky said enthusiastically. “Something that suits. Red something.”
Alf gave a wide grin, “Red Whiskey.”
“Red Racer,” Jack put in weakly.
Sir Oswald’s countenance had become much more serious, and what came next showed the reason for that, “I have thought deeply about this,” he began, hesitated, but then continued, “I would like to name it in honour of my dear brother’s memory and your beloved father, Rebecca. I would suggest the name, ‘Trafalgar’.”
Becky’s voice was full of emotion as she rushed to embrace her uncle, “Oh, that would be so wonderful.” Jack had never seen her so close to tears, but he knew of her father’s captaincy in Nelson’s fleet.
“You agree with that, Alf? Jack?”
“Very fitting,” Alf said.
Jack thought it was an ideal, and heroic sounding name, and he wholeheartedly agreed, adding, “Especially if he is victorious.”
“Trafalgar, it is then. I can submit that to The Jockey Club, and also send a sample of the colours I intend. Equally patriotic. Royal blue body, white shoulders, with red sleeves, and a red and white quartered cap.”
“I’ve seen his sketch,” Becky told them, “I can’t wait to see it in silk.”
“Thank you, my dear” Sir Oswald said, putting an arm around her shoulder, before looking directly at Alf and Jack, and laughing, “I do believe my niece has found a new interest.”
“You could be right, uncle,” Becky whispered, but her up-and-under glance at Jack confirmed her meaning.
How good it was to be in this relaxed mixed atmosphere, with no wall between them. Jack wished it could always be like that. But there was still their hour alone together to anticipate.
However, those hopes were soon dashed, when Sir Oswald took a final admiring stroll around his new acquisition, this thoroughbred, this Trafalgar. His head nodded approvingly, before he looked towards Alf, and said, “I think we’d best forego our ride this morning. You and Jack will have much to do in settling Trafalgar, not to mention the other horses.”
“As you wish, Major,” Alf said with a respectful nod, while Jack gulped his disappointment, and noticed Becky’s brief look of dismay.
“I’ll be keen to follow this one’s progress,” Sir Oswald said, beginning to move towards the corner. “Come on, Rebecca, let these men get on with their tasks.”
Jack saw Becky hesitate, her eyes flickering very briefly towards him, before she said, with a tone of pleading in her voice, “Oh, uncle, couldn’t I stay awhile? Watch how Trafalgar settles.”
Sir Oswald looked, for a second, as though he was about to argue, but he glanced towards Alf and said, “Any objections, Alf? So long as she does as she’s told.?”
Jack was surprised and delighted at Alf’s laughing response, “Major, she’d better stay. She’s the only person Trafalgar’s responded to.”
After Sir Oswald left, with a warning for Becky not to be late for lunch, the three of them moved towards Trafalgar, who immediately became fretful, his hooves stomping at the ground.
“Best we give him some freedom in his own space,” Alf said, but he turned to Becky and asked, “Would you care to try your magic again, m’lady?”
Completely at ease, Becky stepped near Trafalgar’s head, reached out and stroked his muzzle up to his forehead. The animal immediately became absolutely still and leaned his head towards her.
Alf shook his head and chuckled, “Jack, we’re going to have to borrow her perfume.”
“I think it’s more than that,” Jack ventured, wanting to say more
That brought a grateful, and Jack hoped, loving smile from Becky. Alf began untying Trafalgar from the hitching rail. “I’ll lead him to the gate if you could walk along one side, m’lady, and you take his right flank, Jack.”
As they covered the short distance to the open gate, Jack glanced across at Becky, whose head just showed over the horse’s back. She bestowed a warm smile on him, with a kiss pursing her lips. With one hand she showed that she was actually stroking along Trafalgar’s flank. Cautiously, Jack copied the motion along the incredible smoothness and the horse showed no sign of distress.
Once inside the gate, Alf pulled the leading rope away, and the three, hastily passed back through the gate and closed it, as Trafalgar stood still as though shocked at being free for the first time for quite a while. Then, with a slight whinny, he raised his front hooves from the ground before setting off at speed towards the farthest fence.
“Magnificent,” Alf muttered.
“Look at those muscles. He’s pure poetry,” Jack observed, knowing that his own future was arguably in those four hooves and the incredible muscles.
As Trafalgar settled into an exploratory wander around his area, Alf said, “I’d better give Charger a brush down before the major rides him tomorrow.”
“Where will Trafalgar be sleeping?” Becky asked.
“Oh, he has the royal suite,” Alf chuckled. “Will you show her, Jack?”
“If that’s what she wants,” Jack said, with applied innocence, pleased that Alf showed no doubts about sending them off together. “Follow me, m’lady.”
As they entered the stable, Becky whispered, “I’d follow you anywhere.” And she laughed, as she gestured to the corner, “Especially to a bed of hay.”
Jack glanced at the mound in the corner where they had performed several acrobatic acts. He opened the first stall, which he had spent almost a week scrubbing and preparing for its illustrious boarder. As soon as they were inside, their feet sliding through the layer of hay, Becky moved into his arms, whispering, “This is so frustrating.”
But her lips came up to find his and as their tongues fought each other, Jack turned her so that he could see Alf leading Charger out of the field for his grooming. Jack didn’t think Alf could see beyond the high slats of the bay, and even if he could Jack was fairly sure that Alf would never inform on him, but there would certainly be a change of atmosphere.
Becky’s hand dropped down to stroke over the front of his breeches, “Oh, you’re so ready for me.” She looked despairingly into his eyes, before adding, “and, believe me, I’m soaking for you. But I’m wearing my virgin clothes and would be difficult to probe.”
Jack quoted from a poem he had read, “Had we but world enough and time.”
“Damn time,” Becky sighed, “but those words sound good.”
“Out of context, though. It’s for a coy lady.”
“I’m not coy.”
“I had noticed,” Jack said fervently. They laughed, hugged and, after a final long kiss left the stable, with the promise of what the following day might bring.
Jack, along with Alf, spent much of the rest of the day trying to find the best way to attract Trafalgar. They tried clicking tongues, a clap of hands, calling his new name. All to no avail. Jack persevered in using his name frequently. Trafalgar simply stood in the middle of his field and occasionally gave them a disdainful glance.
He only came near the gate in the early evening, as the other horses were being led into their stalls. Alf also observed that it might have been hunger that brought him. But it was promising that Trafalgar did not show too much resistance to being tethered to be led into his new sleeping quarters.
And the following morning, after all the initial work, and when Trafalgar was released in his own grazing area, jack, with the help of a tempting carrot, eventually had the thoroughbred responding to a combination of a tongue clicking and his name. To see him approaching willingly gave Jack such a thrill, with the hope that future training would find Trafalgar equally responsive.
Soon, all he was waiting for was to see Alf leading Charger over to the front of the manor. Rascal poked his muzzle over the fence, as though asking, “What about me?”
He was busy rubbing his special horse between the ears when that magic voice from behind him called out, “I thought you only dealt with thoroughbreds.”
Already aware of his hardening, he turned to view the wonder of her, in his favourite blue “easy-opening” dress. He immediately stepped in close to her, loving the lustre in her eyes, and he told her, “I have to tame one without delay.”
Her voice was a growl as she said, “Then tame me. Frustration hurts.”
Within just twenty seconds they were lying on their hay bed, her dress under them, and Jack’s raging member was gliding hard and true through the wetness of her eager passage. Had they ever been so desperate? Becky orgasmed as soon as he entered and after four more thrusts, Jack joined her in a joyful mutual explosion.
“Oh, Jack, that was so—God, wonderful.”
“Thoroughbreds deserve the best, but I wonder if we’ll ever be patient enough for me just to explore your gorgeous body very slowly.”
“Sounds good,” she said quietly.
Jack now felt compelled to ask the question that had been disturbing him almost since their first coming together at the lakeside, “Becky, have we just been lucky? I mean—about you getting pregnant.”
A gentle, almost sly smile creased her face, “Ah, I wondered when you would start wondering about that.”
“And?”
“You know when I had those few days on the coast with my aunt and uncle?”
Jack did recall those few days of sheer loss without her.
“Well, the people we stayed with had an unmarried daughter. Two or three years older than me. We had a very interesting conversation. I learned that she enjoyed sex, and she showed me the instrument she used. Called it a douche.”
“Douche?” Jack had never heard the word.
“I squirt warm water, with some lemon juice, up inside me.” Her eyes were wide on him “Not guaranteed as reliable but it has worked so far.”
“That’s a welcome surprise.”
She leaned over him, “And a relief? So here’s another surprise for you. We’re going to the races.”
“When?”
“Two weeks’ time. My uncle is keen to absorb you into the atmosphere of the racing fraternity. Oh, it’s all so exciting.”
They spent a few minutes, kissing, touching and he licked around her nipples. But everything went further than intended and he ended up happily inside her once more.
All that took time, and when they were finally dressed and outside, they heard Alf riding back with Charger. With desperate haste, they leaned on the fence and clicked for Trafalgar. Fortunately, he came to the fence and Becky was rubbing him between the ears by the time Alf rode up,
“I’m sorry,” Becky said quietly, ”I just had to see him again, after yesterday.”
Alf nodded his head, and said, “That’s all right.” But he looked hard at Jack who wondered if the old man had guessed.
To cover any embarrassment Jack blurted out, “B—M’lady tells me we’re going to the races.”
Alf had dismounted, and he nodded, “Yes, the major just told me. Isn’t life grand?”
And those wrinkled old eyes looked sagely at Jack once more.
Had he guessed the truth?
