CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Life in the City

There is a day that I remember very clearly from that period. It was approaching noon and Jerry and I were waiting at the cab station, when a man carrying what seemed to be a heavy bag, stepped on a banana peel and fell to the ground very hard. My master jumped down from the cab and helped the man to his feet and into a store. After several minutes passed, the man came out of the store and approached us to ask if we could get him to the train station quickly, for he feared his fall might prevent him from catching the 12 o'clock train.

"I can only promise you that my horse and I will do our best," replied my master.

"Do what you can, for I really have to catch that train! I'll even pay you extra!"

So the man carefully climbed into our cab with Jerry's help, and we were soon off to the train station. But getting there quickly was going to be very difficult, for the city was always very busy at this time of day. Because Jerry and I knew the city streets so well, we were able to avoid a lot of the bad traffic, but when we arrived at Cheapside, the traffic was completely stopped and there was little we could do.

Seeing this, the passenger said that it might be best for him to walk to the station from there, but my master told him that it was still too far to walk with all of the bags that he had. He would never make it in time. And just after he had said this, the traffic started going again and we had a nice run straight across London Bridge, which allowed us to arrive in front of the station 8 minutes early. This made the man extremely happy.

"I can't tell you how much you have helped me! Here. Take this extra money."

"That's OK, sir. You needn't give me that. Just be sure to catch that train," replied Jerry.

And having said that, he called over the luggage boy and arranged for him to take the man and his luggage to the proper train. Then we quickly pulled away from the station, so that the man could not try giving us the extra money again.

Many drivers had seen this, and when we returned to the cab station they started to make jokes about it.

"I can't believe this guy!" One of them said. "First he refuses to take those two young guys in his cab when they offered to pay him well for it, and now he's just refused money again!"

"You just can't seem to understand, gentlemen. First of all, the man really needed to catch that train. I wanted to help him and nothing more. Second of all, my horse and I sometimes like to run for fun; and, lucky for that man, today was one of those times. And lastly, it's none of your business what we do!"

On another occasion, a well-dressed man came to the cab station and, after walking past all the other cabs, approached ours.

"Yes, sir. What can I do for you?" Asked my master.

"I'd like to offer you a well-paying job. Mrs Briggs has begun to attend church services every Sunday, and she would like you to drive her."

"Sundays, huh. I'm afraid I don't work on Sundays, sir. And I think I'd need a special license to work seven days a week."

"I could very easily get that license for you, sir. Mrs Briggs thinks you're the best driver in the city. She wants no one else."

"And nothing could make me happier than to drive such a nice lady as Mrs Briggs, but I wasn't used to work seven days per week and it was too hard on my horses and me. And I like to spend Sundays with my family. We go to church too."

The gentleman argued with my master for a few more minutes, but Jerry continued to politely refuse.

Finally, the gentleman gave up, saying, "Fine, Mr Barker. We'll find someone else," and he walked off, looking disappointed.

Later that evening, my master told his wife about the job offer. He said that he felt bad having refused such a nice woman, and he also felt a little guilty because she would have paid him well and that would have helped his family.

Polly took hold of Jerry's hand and said, "Honey, I don't care how much she might have paid you. The most important thing to us is spending our Sundays with you. You did the right thing today. You have nothing to feel badly about."

Soon almost all of the other cabmen knew about Jerry's decision. Most of them thought he was crazy, but there were a few who stood by his side. One day, the drivers got together and criticized Jerry to his face. After they had finished, he just looked at them all without much seriousness and said, "There shouldn't be any need for cabs on Sundays. People can find their way without a cab one day out of six. People were all given legs for walking and if church is important enough, they will find a way to get there. And if the weather is bad, man has made coats to protect himself from the elements. Let them make use of this, as well. If a thing is right it can be done, and if it is wrong it can be done without."

And none of the other cabmen had any answer to that.

A few weeks later, after a full day's work, we came home to find Polly waiting excitedly to tell Jerry something.

"Guess what happened today." She said to my master with wide-open eyes. "Mrs Briggs' servant came by to tell us that the lady wants you to pick her up tomorrow morning! She has accepted the fact that you don't work on Sundays, and while she's disappointed, she knows that you keep the best cab in the city. So it looks like you haven't lost your biggest customer after all!"

And hearing that, my master smiled and turned to me saying, "Well alright, my friend, it looks like we are to drive the wealthy again."

And we were to drive Mrs Briggs as often as we ever had, but she never asked for us to work on Sundays. However, there was one exception.

After a long day of work on Saturday, Jerry was grooming me in the yard, enjoying the restful morning of Sunday. But then Polly suddenly came running out of the house looking worried.

"What's wrong?" Asked Jerry.

"It's Dinah Brown. She just found out that her mother might be dying. She wants to see her before she does, but they live almost ten miles apart. Taking the train is no good because it stops several miles from her mother's home and she'd have to walk from there."

Jerry said nothing.

"Can you take her, Jerry? She promises to pay you as soon as she saves up the money."

"Now, you know I don't care about the money, Polly. The horses and I are very tired and we've another long work week ahead of us!"

"You know we should help others as we would like them to help us," said Polly, "and even though I'll miss you today, I know that if it were my mother who was dying, I would beg you to take me to her in the cab."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Jerry said, laughing. "Go ahead and tell Dinah I'll pick her up at ten. And, if you don't mind, stop at Butcher Braydon's and see if he will lend us his carriage for the day."

Jerry wanted Mr Braydon's carriage because it was nicer than his cab, in that it was not as heavy and the wheels were much larger. All this made it much easier to pull. And today we had a long way to go.

We were lucky, actually, because today was a perfect day for being outside. The weather was wonderful and driving through the countryside reminded me of the good old days. Besides, I needed a break from the city.

We arrived at Dinah's mother's home without any trouble. I was put in a lovely little meadow with tall grass, where I played all morning. I hadn't enjoyed myself that much in quite a long time. And, later, while I had a rest in the shade, I realized that this had been the first time I'd run in a field since Ginger and I last saw each other.

Later that day, as we arrived back at home, the ladies of the house, Polly and Dolly were outside in the front yard. Jerry jumped from the driver's seat and from behind his back he brought out some wild flowers he had picked along the way and gave them to his little daughter. He then looked at his wife and said, "I have to admit, Polly. This was an excellent Sunday. All the way there and back I got to listen to the birds sing the most beautiful songs; and our horse seemed to have grown four years younger, I've never seen him play so much!"

In the winter, as Jerry and I waited at the cab station for customers, Dolly would often come running down to see if we were there. If we were, she would then run back home and return to us with some hot food and drink. On one such day, as Jerry was eating his soup with his daughter sitting by his side, a wealthy customer asked for our services. Seeing this, Jerry quickly handed his soup to Dolly, but before he could do anything else, the man shouted to him, "Wait! You can finish eating first. I need to be somewhere pretty soon, but I have time to wait for you to eat your soup and see your daughter off home."

Jerry raised his hat to the man in thanks and said to his daughter, "Now you see that man there? That's what a real gentleman looks like."

So after finishing his meal and taking Dolly home, Jerry asked the man where he wished to go.

"To my home at Clapham Rise, please."

When we arrived, the man's dogs came running out to greet him at the gate. And before going in, he turned to me and touched me gently on the nose, which was not an ordinary thing for men to do. Usually, it was the women who liked to do that. To men, a cab horse was only a cab horse ... a thing.

From that time on, we drove the gentleman quite often. And on one occasion he and another gentleman entered our cab. The stranger, a friend of his, told us to take them to Rye Street. At Rye Street, we waited outside while the stranger went inside a store. As we waited, I noticed two horses harnessed to a cart in front of a wine shop. Their owner must have been inside, and he must have been gone for quite some time, because the horses started to walk away as though they had given up on waiting for him.

About a minute later, their owner came running out to catch them, and when he did, he started to whip them angrily. The gentleman in our cab saw all of this happen and he immediately jumped out of our carriage and ran over to the man yelling, "Stop that this moment! I'll have you arrested if you don't!"

It seemed that the horse owner had been busy drinking wine inside the store, for his speech was unclear and his movements were very clumsy. He started to yell horrible words at the gentleman and then drove away. As he did, the gentleman took a piece of paper from his pocket and started writing something down.

"What are you writing there, my address?" Shouted the drunken man.

But the gentleman did not answer. He simply smiled and then walked away.

By this time, his friend had come back out of the store and climbed into our cab. He shook his head when he saw his gentleman friend and said, "Now why would you bother yourself about some stranger's horses, Wright? I'd think that you have better things with which to occupy your time."

"Do you know why the world is such a bad place?" Said Mr Wright after a few moments, and when his friend didn't answer he continued, "It's because of ideas like yours. It's because too many people care only about themselves and never bother to help others when they need it. If your horses were being treated like that, wouldn't you want someone to tell you about it?"

When Jerry and I heard this, our respect for the gentleman became even greater than before.

One day when we were at the cab station waiting for a fare, a cab in bad condition, pulled by a tired, old, brown female horse, came up beside ours. I could easily see the horse's bones showing through her dull, poorly cared-for coat. Her knees were in poor condition and her front legs looked very weak.

As I was eating some hay, the wind caught hold of some of it and blew it near this pitiful horse next to me. I tried not to notice when the horse ate it quickly and immediately searched the ground with her eyes for more, as if she hadn't eaten in weeks. In her eyes was a look of terrible sadness. And I could not help thinking that there was something about her that I recognized.

While I thought this, I suddenly heard her shout, "Is that you, Beauty?"

I was both excited and horrified to see that this horse was Ginger. But this was not the Ginger I so happily remembered. She was different now. Her once beautiful and strong body was now nearly destroyed. But not only had she lost her beauty, I could tell by the way she breathed very loudly that her health was very poor.

I asked her to tell me what had happened since we had last seen each other. Her story was, of course, a sad one.

After staying another year at Earlshall, resting, she was then sold to a wealthy man, who took very good care of her in the beginning. However, he decided to ride her very hard from morning to night one day and this proved too much for her, for her old back injury quickly returned, and she could no longer do the job.

So, he sold her to someone else, who then sold her to another person, and for some reason, she continued to be sold again and again, each owner seeming much worse than the last. Then she was finally sold to a horse and carriage rental company.

"Because the man who is driving me today pays so much money to my owner, I'm often made to work seven days a week."

"But Ginger, I remember how strongly you used to fight people who treated you badly. Now it seems you've just given up," I could not help saying.

"That's true, Beauty. I've found that fighting does me no good. If men choose to treat us badly, we are powerless to prevent it. But you look well cared for! I am so happy that at least one of us is living a good life. For me, it's all over. I hope that I die soon, but I hope that I die while working. I don't want to die in the gun yard like so many other horses."

I could think of nothing else to say. I felt a deep sadness for her. I didn't want her to die, but I didn't want her to continue to live such a horrible life, either. I put my nose against hers to try and make her feel better. Her owner then came over and took her by the reins. Just before being led away, Ginger turned to me and said, "You were the only friend I've ever had."

And that was the last time I ever saw her alive.

I remember shortly thereafter, seeing a cart pass by the cab station one morning, carrying a dead horse. I could not be sure, but the horse looked very much like my friend, Ginger. Her eyes were empty and from her mouth hung a large, bloody tongue.

I believe and hope it was her. For if it was, then I can at least be happy to know that she has finally found peace.

(end of section)