Seeing the twin horse-driven polished box-like carriage heading up the main drive, Jack Wetherley’s heart gave a heave, knowing that this was his new challenge, arriving with two long-coated men sitting up front. Excitedly, he called Alf, his boss and mentor.

Alf hobbled out of the stable, becoming much slower on his feet, Jack thought.  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.

Alongside Jack, Alf, always ready for a laugh,  cackled as he looked across to the drive. “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 knew it was the thoroughbred horse for which  Sir Oswald Brandling had paid a small fortune.  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 racehorse trainer. Not only that, his first attempt was going to be with an expensive thoroughbred.

Alf turned to open the new wooden gate which was the entrance to the special grazing area for the new arrival. Jack and Alf had ensured an area only slightly smaller than, the area used for the other horses. And Jack made sure that a large oak was enclosed in the far corner to provide any shade that the thoroughbred might require.

Now, he was feeling a strange exhilaration 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 two long-coated coach drivers were leading the horses, drawing the box-coach, 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 beside 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 gown.

This new horse was obviously going to have an honoured greeting. .. 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.”

Sir Oswald approached with a broad smile on his face, “A very special day, gentlemen. I wonder which of us is most thrilled. 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?

“Grand unveiling,” he called the tallest driver, 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. Moving on opposite sides of the animal, one of the men 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?”

“One of the reasons I chose him,”  Sir Oliver said, pride showing 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’s 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, and 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 ideal, 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,” Jack murmured.  God, how could he even overlook the presence of Becky? 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 her ornate style, 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, 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 o8n 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, 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 so confident?”

Jack realised that, by stressing the horse’s potential he was increasing the pressure of expectation on himself. But, without hesitation, he said, “The longer the vertebrae from front to back along the withers, make the shoulder 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 cautionary advice here.”

“Which is?” Alf aske8d.

“Simply a word from the vet about gradual build-up in the animal’s training. Any training this year should be incremental up to galloping speed.”

“That’s useful to know,” Jack said fervently.

“Two-year-olds can be badly affected by over-racing.”

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.

“You agree with that, Alf? Jack?”

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, after viewing his horse once more, and, looking towards Alf, he 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 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.”

 Sir Oswald left, warning 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 untied Trafalgar from the hitching rail. “I’ll lead him to the gate if you could walk along 8one side, m’lady, and you take his right flank, Jack.”

Once inside the gate, Alf freed Trafalgar, and the three hastily passed back through the gate and closed it. Trafalgar stood still, clearly surprised at being free for the first time. 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’d shared several loving moments. He opened the first stall, which had been keenly prepared for its illustrious boarder. Inside, Becky moved into his arms, whispering, “This is so frustrating.”

But her lips came up to find his and he responded warmly. Jack turned her so that he could keep an eye out for Alf as he groomed Charger. 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.

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 to 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.8

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,  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, he turned to view the wonder of her, in his favourite blue gown. He immediately stepped in close to her, loving the lustre in her eyes, and he told her, “I have to tame one without delay.”

“Sounds good,” she said quietly.

Jack now felt compelled to ask the question that had been disturbing him almost since their first coming together. “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 that day on the coast with my aunt and uncle?”

Jack did recall his feeling of sheer loss without her being nearby.2

“Well, they have an unmarried daughter. Two or three years older than me. We had a very interesting conversation. I learned that she had a boyfriend, and she showed me the instrument she used. Called it a douche.”

“Douche?” Jack had never heard the word.

“It squirts warm water, where needed – get the picture? ” Her eyes were wide on him “Not guaranteed 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 exhilarating.”

Then they moved outside, just in time to hear Alf riding back leading Charger and Ebony. Quickly 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?