Chapter 12
Twelve
Ibrush my hands over the silky fabric of my dress once more to ensure it isn’t wrinkled. As I glance around at the people around me, I start to second guess myself. Everyone is dressed casually in jeans, T-shirts, and jumpers. I’m one of the few—correction, I’m the only person—who isn’t.
I dry swallow. Do they know something I don’t? I know that I’ll be receiving a tour of the barracks, but I assumed that the expectations would be to wear something a little better than my bum-around-the-flat clothing. Oh well, there isn’t anything I can do about it now.
Min
Hey, Soldier Boy, I’m getting into the check-in queue now.
Sam
Brilliant. I’ll come and collect you. Wait for me by the horse trailer.
A security guard checks my ID against the names of people on a list and reviews the contents of my bag before I’m waved inside.
Walking through the gates, I enter a wide-open courtyard that could easily fit about a hundred horses inside it.
Behind it sits a red-brick building with a sign labeling it as the “Household Cavalry Mounted Regiment’s Barracks. ”
There are large groups gathered around soldiers dressed in camo uniforms. Kids are running around and chasing one another. In the distance, I see two black horses being walked up a ramp into a vehicle that reminds me more of a motorhome than a horse trailer. I suppose that’s where I’ll find my man.
“Fashion Guru,” Sam’s deep voice calls out.
I stop and spin around. His arms are crossed and he’s staring at me with an amused expression on his face.
My breath catches. The camo uniform is definitely my favorite one I’ve seen on Sam.
It suits him, especially the beret atop his head.
“I expected you to be the best-dressed person in the yard and I was right.”
“I didn’t get the jeans memo.”
Sam’s body shakes with laughter. “There isn’t a dress code for civilians. You can wear anything you like. I’m glad you wore the dress. It’s very you.”
“Thanks. I made it myself.”
“Of course you did.”
His eyes linger on my outfit for a moment longer than necessary, then lock with mine. His brown orbs are dancing with the excitement of a child seeing a pinata filled with candy. My body is humming with energy.
I want nothing more than to greet him with a big hug and feel his arms wrap themselves around me, but we’re not exactly in a place with much privacy right now. And we haven’t moved past hand holding yet. Hopefully we’ll cross that bridge soon.
A horse neighs and we break eye contact. I glance around me. There are a few groups of people lining up near a soldier in a navy-blue uniform holding a riding crop.
“Thanks for inviting me. I’m excited to see your, er . . . home?”
“Home. Work. My office. Call it what you will. It’s one in the same.” He gestures to the group. “If you want, we can join the behind-the-scenes tour of the stables.”
“Oh, that sounds like fun, except, just how close are we going to get to the horses?”
Sam removes his beret and scratches the top of his head. “Close enough to touch them.”
I gulp.
“Min, you’re a little pale, are you all right? Should we move out of the sun?”
“I’m fine,” I squeak. “Just the, uh, horses.”
“I forgot that you’re scared of them.”
I dip my chin. “I’m trying to work through it. I’ve talked myself into petting the police horses twice this week.”
“It’s okay to be afraid. Everyone has something that they’re scared of.
” He closes the gap between us and places a hand under my chin, gently lifting it.
“It takes a strong person to willingly confront that fear. I remember just how frightened you were the day we met, when I brought you into the stables. Were you seeking out the horses just for me?”
I bob my head up and down, like a marionette puppet. “From how you’ve spoken about them, I know how important horses are to you. I want to be able to see what you see in them.”
“That’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me. I find it incredibly attractive.” He gently kisses the top of my head. Butterflies flutter in my stomach. “Thank you.”
“I do want to see the stables and whatever else is open to us today.”
“Well, how would you feel about a private tour?”
“Is that an option?”
“As long as you don’t mind skipping the Life Guard stables and the areas only open to officers and NCOs, then yes.”
I grin. “Soldier Boy, that’s the best offer I’ve had today.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“How many horses do you have in here?”
Sam has my arm hooked through his as we walk down the middle of a block of stables. Some horses appraise us with curiosity as they munch on bales of hay inside their large stalls, while others ignore us completely. I almost feel like I’m inside an Ikea warehouse with how spacious it is.
“There’s about eighty in this stable block if you include the officers’ horses. We have twelve that are at Horse Guards right now and a few up in Melton in Leicestershire.”
“What’s in Melton?”
“It’s where the horses are turned out to grass. Think of it as a place they can get a little time away from the hustle and bustle of London.”
“Got it.”
“How are you doing? If it’s too much with the horses, we can leave at any point in time.” His voice is full of concern.
I squeeze his forearm. “I’m hanging in there. I have you to protect me.” I eye the thick stable doors. “Besides, it’s not so bad when the horses are secured. It’s when they have free movement that I get nervous.”
Sam nods. We stop walking for a moment. The stable corridor here is wider. “Would you be up for meeting one?”
“If the meeting is supervised and the horse is docile.” My voice quivers as I speak.
“We have these four drum horses that are the gentlest in the cavalry, but the thing is . . .” We walk into an area and my jaw drops. “. . . they’re also the largest horses here. Just over twenty hands tall.”
Standing in front of us, lazily blinking, are four massive draft horses. If you’ve ever seen the Clydesdale horses that pull the Budweiser Beer wagon, that’s about the size they are.
“Are they Clydesdales?”
“No, but close. Juno, Perseus, Apollo, and Jupiter are all shire horses. They have a slightly higher head carriage and shorter back.”
I stare at their manes, and actually, I’m a little jealous. They’re flowing and full. Much nicer than my hair.
“Who’s the most easygoing of the lot?”
“That would be Harry.”
I stare at the name placards and frown. “I don’t see a Harry.”
“Sorry, Harry is Apollo. The horses each have stable names that they go by.” Sam gestures to Apollo, a beautiful bay horse, who yawns.
“I know, big guy, you’re tired. I am too.
” Holding his hand up, Sam pats the side of the horse’s neck, scratching it behind the ears.
“So what do you say, would you like to meet Harry?”
I take a deep breath. I know I have nothing to fear. I trust Sam, and if he thinks Harry is the right horse for me to meet, I’ll do it. “Yes.”
He nods and picks up a lead rope and a halter.
I watch him open the stable door. Harry stands still and yawns again.
Sam approaches with slow, even steps, speaking in a soft, low tone to the equine.
In one smooth motion, he slips the halter over Harry’s head and brings him out. His hooves make a clip-clop noise.
“I’ll bring him over to the grooming station. I trust him, but I’d prefer to be hands free.” I appreciate Sam’s thoughtfulness.
“There, all done.” Sam reassures Harry by patting his neck. The horse responds by butting his head against his shoulder. His beret falls to the ground. As Sam bends to retrieve it, Harry sticks his tongue out and licks Sam’s head where his hair has been newly shaved.
“Did you do that on purpose, boy?” He laughs.
“Um, is that normal behavior for him?”
“Harry? No. Other horses, yes. They like to be cheeky.” Sam shoves his hat back on his head. “The horses seem to think human heads taste like a salt lick.”
“Does it hurt?”
“No, but it tickles.”
I laugh nervously, eyeing Harry’s four ginormous fluffy feet. They’re the size of dinner plates. If I get too close, a foot like that coming down on mine could easily break it.
I take a half step backward, directly into Sam.
“You’re doing well,” he whispers into my ear.
His body is warm. He takes my right hand in his.
“Horses are sensitive to emotions. Relax. I won’t let anything happen to you.
” Ignoring every instinct in my body urging me to run away, I force my muscles to go slack. “That’s better.”
He guides me forward. Lifting my hand, he places it on Harry’s muzzle, letting the horse sniff my scent, like a dog. He guides it up his nose and down his neck and shoulder. “Easy does it. When you touch Harry like this, you’re letting him know where you are at all times.”
Harry’s mane is soft, and up close, I can see that it’s been braided. His coat, however, is coarse. “He’s so muscular.”
“He has to be. The drum horses carry two forty-five-kilo steel drums.”
“That’s a big load.” My eyes widen.
“It is, but he’s conditioned for it. Otherwise, we would never let Harry go out on parade.”
Harry turns his head and moves it up and down, as if he’s agreeing with us. Sam and I share a laugh.
“He really is a gentle giant,” I muse.
We stand to the horse’s side, stroking him. At some point, Sam steps back and leaves Harry and I alone to gather some grooming tools. I don’t notice until he returns.
“Would you like to have a go at brushing him? His coat is looking shaggy. Shires need more attention than the chargers.”
“I understood about half of what you said. What’s a charger?”
“Our regular horses.”
“Oh.” My cheeks warm. I should’ve guessed that. What other horses are in the stables? “Can I watch you do it before I commit to anything?”