CHAPTER ONE

Beginnings

Just after my birth I remember lying in the stable with my mother and looking out the door, I could see a lovely, big field with trees around the edge and a good-sized pond to drink from. Beyond the fence that surrounded the field I remember there being a stream from which a hill began its upward climb. And there in the stable, while all of the other horses ate grass, I remember drinking my mother's milk.

Usually, in the morning and afternoon, I would run with my mother or play with some of the young horses in the field. Sometimes, this play became dangerous and my mother would come and take me away from the other horses so I wouldn't get hurt.

I liked the spring and summer seasons best because we would almost always sleep outside, while in the colder months we slept in Farmer Grey's stable. This was comfortable too, but I liked being out in the fresh air day and night.

The farmer was a good horse owner. He took good care of us all, but he seemed to prefer my mother, whom he called "Duchess", to the other horses. And because I was her baby, he started to like me as well. He called me "Darkie" because of my black coat.

Pretty soon I was eating grass like all of the other horses. Because I no longer needed her milk, and because she was his favorite horse, the farmer quickly put my mother back to work, pulling his carriage to and fro the market, always coming back in the early evening.

I remember one evening, just as she was returning from the market, I was playing with some of the other horses, and she called me over to her. I guess we must have been playing a little dangerously, because she said: "Now, Blackie, I want you to always remember the good family you come from. Your father was a great racehorse and your grandmother was one of the sweetest horses the earth has ever known. I never again want to see you playing so roughly with the others. I want you to grow up to be as wonderful as your ancestors. Just remember to always work hard, walk proudly, and never hurt others."

I promised her that I would do as she said, however, I had to admit that it was sometimes difficult to be kind to people when they weren't kind themselves. Dick, the worker-boy, for instance: he was always throwing rocks at us when he should have been picking fruit. He would always upset the horses and get them running around trying to avoid the rocks. I'm not sure he realized how much it hurt us when they hit our back and legs, at least, I'd like to think he didn't realize it. Luckily, one day Farmer Grey caught Dick behaving this way. He walked right up to the boy, put some money in his hand and told him to leave his farm and never come back again. And that was the last time we ever saw the boy.

A little while after that, I remember, playing in the fields and suddenly hearing dogs barking. It sounded as though they were coming toward our field.

Someone yelled out, "Those hounds must have found a rabbit to chase!"

And they were right, because a rabbit soon entered our field through a small hole in the fence and behind it came running a pack of dogs and behind them seven or eight huntsmen, all on horseback. I strongly desired to join them in their hunt, but before I could even try, one of the huntsmen's horses fell to the ground after failing to jump over our fence. The young hunter riding this horse had been thrown several meters and he lay there motionless. The horse tried and tried, but couldn't get back on its feet. It cried out in terrible pain. Soon the other riders gathered around the fallen huntsman.

"Oh, good lord, it's the squire's son, Gordon!" one of them yelled. "He looks badly injured. Someone runs and gets a doctor! Now!"

"That's not Rob Roy, is it?" my mother cried, looking at the poor horse on the ground. "Oh no, it is! And I think he's broken something!"

Then something happened I'd never expected. One of the huntsmen got off his horse, took out his gun and shot Rob Roy right there in front of everyone! The horse immediately stopped crying out and lay still, never to move again.

After three days or so, we noticed many carriages coming toward the church, being led by fine black horses. Between carriages there was a single black wagon, on top of which was a black box. The church bell rang slowly.

I wasn't sure what was happening until my mother said, "What a waste for two lives to be lost over a rabbit."

After this, she didn't say anything for several days. And she never again visited that part of the field where the accident happened.

(end of section)