Chapter-4
Soon, I was familiar with Ginger. I used to accompany her in pulling the carriage. Soon I understood that she was not actually bad or ill-tempered. The passage of time had marred her innocence and sweet attitude. Right from the time she was young, she had spent all her time with ruthless and hard-hearted masters who didn’t care about the trouble and pain they gave to the poor mare.
We made a good pair together and travelled over long distances, pulling carriages. John never felt like using a hard hand on us.
On Sunday, we were left free to enjoy the cool shade and beauty of the orchard. Now, I had been acquainted with four horses. Together, we made an appreciative group. Merrylegs and I were best friends. Besides, Ginger and the old colt Sir Oliver completed our group of four. Trotting freely and playing games in the orchard made the day quite enjoyable and refreshing after pulling carriages for the whole week.
That was the time when Ginger and I actually came to know about each other deeply.
She spoke first, “You seem to be well off. Where were you before you came up to replace me in my loose box?”
She kept reminding me that I had taken her place, though she now minded it the least.
I told her about Farmer Grey and king Daniel, the beautiful meadow and my sweet and lovely mother.
My reply made Ginger sadder. She said, “You are lucky to have such a stable keeper and the master. But everyone doesn’t have a life to lead like you. I have come across the hateful set of men as my brokers and masters.”
“I parted from my mother when I had just learnt to feed on grass. My owner sold me to a horse-buyer who left me into a field. There were four or five others, but I heartily disliked them.”
She further continued, “The groom was so bad that he didn’t much care about our food or shelter. Winter shelter and meager food was what all of us got in the field. Besides, the country boys used to come around with stones, which they threw at us. When we trotted, they merrily clapped hands. I always thought that young boys could never be soft-hearted.”
I asked her about her breaking in. “They were ruthless, severely lacking in emotion,” she replied.
“Four men came up to me one day. One of them held my hair on the forehead. The other opened my mouth forcefully and the third thrust the hard bit inside. It was all so painful. But my biting and kicking gave me an adjective ‘ill-tempered’,” said Ginger.
Now and then, I thought of gentle ways and etiquettes of Farmer Grey.
“Next, there came the bearing rein. I was taken to a man called Samson. He ruthlessly fitted the bearing rein to my bridle and I was ordered to run throughout the field, till I was completely exhausted,” said Ginger.
“One day, he saddled me and climbed on my back. I disliked this the most. But my efforts to throw him off failed and I was harshly handled by the strike of the whip on my back. Finally, he fell off my back.”
“I was least bothered about it and hurriedly galloped to the corner of the field, in the shade of a tree. The flies were so irritating. But still, I didn’t care for my wounds. I wanted to be safe from the men around. Flies were less disgusting than men, I felt.”
“When Samson’s father saw my wounds, he cursed his son and took me to the stable. He scolded him saying that such bad temper was not fit to manage a horse.”
“After a few months, my owner sold me to a rich person in London. The poor thing was that the gentleman and his wife were only concerned about their royalty and fashion. They knew nothing about the likes and the dislikes of a horse. To show off their royal nature, they tied my bearing rein so tight that I had to hold my head high for hours, for whole day or probably for weeks together. My neck ached so much that I felt like kicking everybody around me.” Although I had never faced such a condition yet the caricature itself shook me. I did know how Ginger managed to cope up with all this.
Just then, she said, “One day, they crossed their limits. It was very difficult to withstand the pain in my neck. I couldn’t even breathe properly.”
“What did you do then?” I asked with curious looks. I could see the picture of such horrible past in her eyes. I guessed; she was about to cry. I didn’t want to listen to such unkind facts, but I couldn’t stop her.
“I kicked so hard that I was free,” she replied and then stared at the birds hovering in the sky. Probably she was thinking that they were so happy.
She summarized finally, “This is the best place till now. I have no complaints and I don’t feel like misbehaving here. Yes, I bit James once because I felt he was going to hurt me. But later, I realized my mistake.”
Not even a month had passed when Ginger and I became good friends. She was happy to share her feelings with me. Soon, she became good-tempered and more sweet and graceful. Everybody started admiring her.
One day, I heard James say, “This mare is getting better nowadays. She is behaving well.”
“Yes, she needs some more kindness and care,” said John, patting Ginger.
