The
little filly stirred in her dark stall, startled by the
sound of activity outside. No one had come to feed her
or check on her in a very long time. She had a supply
of fresh water, but Destiny had gnawed at the wooden boards
of her stall, trying to find some sustenance for her weakened
body.
The
few shafts of light streaming in through the cracks were
her only indication that the sun was shining outside.
It had been a long time since she had felt the warmth
of that sun on her black hide. She tried to raise the
courage to call out, but fear took hold and in silence
she buried her head in a corner. She would do nothing
that might bring back the evil man who had locked her
in here. Instead she went back to dreaming, dreaming of
the time before…
*
* *
Camelot's
Destiny, the last foal of world famous Excalibur, had
been born the only remaining hope of Rosewood Thoroughbreds.
Though Rosewood struggled to stay in business and many
of its horses suffered from the effects, Destiny had felt
no hardship. She had been treated like the royalty her
pedigree demanded and she wanted for little during the
first few months of her life.
"Good
morning, your ladyship," called a voice from outside
the stall Destiny shared with her mother. "How is
our little princess doing this morning?"
Destiny's
Mother, Black Diamond, nickered a greeting. Ian McGregor,
their groom, came each morning to see to their care. Mac,
as most people called him, had been born around horses
and the racetrack. Mac's father had been a jockey and
Mac hoped to follow in his footsteps. His small stature
and skill with horses had already earned him respect as
an excellent exercise boy. He hoped his experience at
Rosewood might win him his first mount.
Destiny
scooted behind her mother as Mac entered the stall, slipping
a halter over Diamond's head. Destiny's cautious nature
made her slow to trust. She wasn't afraid, but she wanted
to do things on her own terms.
"Hiding
from me again, princess?" Mac said, as he pushed
his cap back revealing a thick patch of blonde hair also
inherited from his father.
Destiny
peeked from behind her mother's flank. Mac pulled a treat
from his pocket and fed it to Diamond, who happily munched
on the molasses and oat cookie. Mac held out a cookie
toward Destiny. The smell intrigued her. She took a few
cautious steps forward and sniffed, then daintily lifted
the snack from his hand.
"See,
princess. That wasn't so hard," Mac said. She allowed
him to gently stroke her forehead while she crunched her
cookie, inexpertly dropping most of it to the stall floor.
Mac
led them from the stall for grooming and their daily romp
in the pasture with the other mares and foals. During
Diamond's grooming, Mac tickled Destiny with the soft
brush he used to make Diamond's coat shine. When he hit
an itchy spot on Destiny's rump she decided to hold still
and let him do a proper job.
Out
in the pasture Destiny greeted her playmates. Together
they romped and played, nibbled, nipped and ran like the
wind. Destiny enjoyed the wide-open space of the paddock.
Racing about was her favorite game. Few could keep pace
with her and none could outrun her.
When the grooms returned for their charges in the afternoon,
Mac paused to watch Destiny's antics. "Princess,"
he laughed, "you could at least let someone else
win every once in awhile."
As
time passed Destiny grew and flourished under Mac's expert
care. She trusted him and enjoyed his attention.
As
spring turned to summer, changes threatened to shake Destiny's
perfect world. Mac came one morning and lead Destiny's
mother from the stall, but he cut off Destiny's departure.
She called out in distress, surely a mistake had been
made. He had forgotten her.
The
time had come to wean the foals, separating them from
their mothers. The stable corridor resounded with the
mournful calls of the weanlings. Mac returned to Destiny
and offered her a cookie, but she refused, moving to the
darker end of the stall.
"Come
on princess," Mac pleaded. "I know you're sad,
but I'm still here. You're a big girl now. You don't need
your mother's milk anymore. Look, I've filled your bin
with fresh, sweet hay." Mac fluffed the hay trying
to entice the filly, but Destiny was not interested. Sulking
seemed more appropriate. After all, she was a princess.
"OK,"
Mac said with a sigh. "I get the hint. Maybe you'll
feel better about it tomorrow." Mac stepped out of
the stall and closed the door, leaving the top half open
for air and light. Destiny felt alone and, for the first
time, a little afraid. She called out, but never heard
the reassuring response of her mother. The broodmares
had been moved to the other side of the stables.
The
next day, Destiny was relieved to see the sunlight stream
into her stall through the top half of the door. Her first
night alone had been miserable. She missed the warmth
and comfort of her mother's side, the soft sound of her
breathing. If the new day did not bring her mother back,
at least Mac would return. She heard footsteps and whistling
in the breezeway. The sounds were not quite right. Perhaps
Mac had brought someone with him. The stall door opened.
"Who
on earth left this stall open," said a gruff voice.
"That worthless kid. Glad he got sacked."
Destiny
looked at the figure standing in the stall opening. This
was not her groom. She had seen other people before, but
few had entered her stall or attempted to touch her. The
filly nervously shuffled her feet and twitched her ears.
"None
of that," said the man. "You may be spoiled,
but you better behave with me if you know what's good
for you. I'll show you who's boss."
The
man quickly pinned Destiny against the wall and deftly
slipped the halter over her head. Before she knew what
had happened, the man tugged her from the stall. Destiny
balked in the breezeway, but the man ignored her, popping
the lead each time she stopped. After being tied to a
post for a rough grooming, Destiny was turned out into
a smaller paddock with several other weanlings. A crack
on her flanks from the man's large hand sent her scurrying
to the safety of the group. The old groom laughed and
headed back to the stable. He was to start cleaning stalls,
but instead he found a shady spot, and taking a sip from
a bottle in a paper bag, leaned back and took a nap.
Destiny
huddled into the small herd seeking comfort in companionship.
Her world had been turned upside down in just two days.
Little did she know that much more would change, and soon.
Rosewood had finally failed. Most of the stable hands
had already been let go. Only the old groom remained to
care for the horses, all of which would soon be sold at
auction. Destiny's carefree days had come to an end. Though
the open paddock beckoned her, for the first time she
did not feel like running.
Destiny
both feared and longed for the mornings when the man came
to release her from her stall. Each evening she was shut
in alone to await her release the next day. Both halves
of the door were shut tight allowing little light to penetrate
the gloom of the stall even after the sun was high in
the sky. Destiny hated the dark, lonely confinement, but
also feared the man's arrival in the morning. He had cuffed
Destiny several times with his large, heavy hands. She
became hand-shy and tense around him. When the stall door
finally swung open, Destiny moved away nervously.
"Time
to come out you black she-devil," he said as he entered
the stall. The man walked to Destiny and reached for her
head to throw on the halter. Destiny shied away from the
motion and turned her flank towards him.
"Hold
still," he growled pounding a heavy hand on Destiny's
flank. Destiny jumped from the blow and kicked out in
defense trying to get away. Her kick landed solidly on
the man's thigh.
"Arrrrggrrrr,"
he groaned as he hobbled toward the stall door. "Kick
me, will you? I'll teach you a thing or two."
The
old groom hobbled from the stall. Destiny's heart pounded
with fear in her chest. She knew the man was a threat.
Her mind told her to run, but trapped in her stall there
was nowhere to go. When he returned his anger had been
replaced with coldness. He held a whip in his hand.
When
the old groom finally left, he slammed the stall door
and locked it behind him. Destiny stood alone, head buried
in a corner, shivering with fear and shock from what had
just occurred. Raised welts from the vicious lash scoured
her body. She painfully shifted her weight on and off
her right front foot. The ankle had been injured as she
had desperately tried to escape the wrath of the old groom.
When the panic and fear finally left her mind, it was
replaced with a numbing darkness. The mood seemed to fit
well with the gloomy stall that would become her prison.
*
* *
Destiny
roused from her dreaming, her velvety black ears twitching
at the sounds outside. Giggles, laughs, and occasional
groans were coming from the stall immediately next to
hers.
"Arg!"
groaned Samantha. "Trina, I don't think I can lift
one more shovel!"
"Come
on, Sam," encouraged Katrina. "We're nearly
done with this one, then we can take a break. You don't
want Mrs. Prescott to think we're a couple of weaklings?"
"Oh,
OK," said Samantha with a sigh. With two final scoops
the stall was completed. The girls emptied their haul
onto the manure pile and returned to the cool of the covered
breezeway.
Sam retrieved their packs and each pulled out their lunch.
The girls relaxed with their backs against the door of
the next stall. Katrina looked down the row of completed
stalls. Eight stalls had been cleaned out down to the
bare earth, all ready for fresh bedding.
"I
can't believe we've gotten this far," said Samantha.
"I'd say we're doing pretty well. Mrs. Prescott can't
complain. The last time we emptied our barrow on the manure
pile I noticed we're at least two stalls ahead of those
boys she hired. I think they're spending more time smoking
and messing around. Mrs. Prescott..."
"Shhhh,"
interrupted Katrina.
"What?"
questioned Samantha seeing the intent look on Katrina's
face.
"Do
you hear something?" said Katrina.
Both
girls grew quiet, listening intently.
"There!
There it is again," said Katrina hearing a faint
rustling sound from behind her. "I think it's coming
from behind this stall door."
"You
don't think it's rats, do you?" said Samantha, concern
in her voice for one of her least favorite animals.
"I
don't think so," said Katrina. "Didn't Mrs.
Prescott say that these stalls were empty? I swear that
sounded like a horse."
Both
girls set their lunches aside and stood facing the closed
stall. They looked at each other, not sure whether either
wanted to open the door. Finally Katrina reached for the
latch to release the top half of the door. As the door
opened both girls gasped at the foul odor that assaulted
their senses.
"Oh
my!" exclaimed Samantha. "That's awful. Let's
save this one for last." She began to close the door,
but Katrina stopped her. Peering into the gloom, she could
just see a dark form.
"Oh
no!" gasped Katrina in horror. "There's a horse
in there."
"What?"
said Samantha. "There can't be." Samantha leaned
into the stall letting her eyes adjust to the darkness.
Just as she was able to make out the shape in the dark
she jumped and yelled, "Look out!"
As
the two girls jumped back a black head with wild, rolling
eyes and snapping teeth darted out of the stall opening,
just missing its intended victim. Both girls stood back
a safe distance from the stall, hearts pounding at their
near mishap.
"Now
we know why the stall is closed," said Samantha.
"But
Mrs. Prescott said there were no horses over here,"
said Katrina. And by the smell of that stall, that horse
has been locked up in there for some time. I don't believe
Mrs. Prescott would do that."
"Maybe
she doesn't know the horse is there," said Samantha.
"We didn't until we opened the door. And there are
at least 100 stalls at Rosewood."
"But
how could someone forget a horse?" said Katrina.
"And who's been feeding her? I'm going to take another
look."
"Wait,
Trina," said Samantha placing her hand on her friend's
shoulder. "Let's get Mrs. Prescott."
"No,
I want to look," insisted Katrina, a spark of anger
in her eyes. "If Mrs. Prescott knew this horse was
here and in bad condition, I want to know."
Samantha
knew the determination in her friend's voice meant there
was little she could do but go along.
"OK,"
said Samantha. "We'll look, but let's be careful.
No need to lose a chunk of your face." Samantha turned
and tentatively moved toward the stall opening.
The
girls quietly peered into the stall, their eyes adjusting
to the gloom. A sad sight awaited them. One side of the
stall was piled high in manure. The ammonia smell brought
tears to their eyes, at least that's what they both claimed
was the cause.
The
last of her strength spent, Destiny huddled in the corner
of her stall. Her once black, glistening coat was dull
and caked with filth. Both girls could see she was malnourished
and in serious need of help. It took but a breath of a
moment before both girls were running as fast as their
legs could carry them to find Mrs. Prescott and help for
this poor creature.
