The day arrived to start our journey to visit the squire's friends. John and James hitched Ginger and me to the carriage. Then James drove us to the front doors of the house where the squire and his wife were waiting. They got in, and we were off.
We were on the road all day. There were some steep hills along the way, but James drove very carefully. And he always kept us on the smoothest part of the road. If the uphill was long, he turned the carriage to the side to let us rest for a moment.
Ginger and I were grateful for his thoughtfulness. It made our job easier.
Just as the sun was going down, we reached a town.
"We'll stop here for the night," the squire said. "Take us to the hotel, please, James."
"Yes, sir," James said.
He drove us through the streets and beneath an archway that led into the courtyard of a large hotel. We left the squire and his wife at the entrance, and then continued on to the stables at the back.
A stable worker was waiting for us. He was a little old man with a crooked leg. But the leg didn't seem to bother him much. He was as active and lively as could be, rushing out to help James unhitch us.
"What a beauty you are," he told me in a friendly voice. "Let's get you cleaned up so you can rest, all right?"
He led me into the stable. There were a number of stalls in there, with horses standing in several of them.
Another worker brought Ginger in. He began to groom her while the little old man worked on me. James watched them both carefully.
I have never been groomed as lightly and expertly as I was by that little old man. When he finished, James ran his hands over me.
"Wow," he said. "I thought I was fast at grooming a horse, and my boss John even faster. But you put us both to shame!"
"Practice makes perfect," the old man said with a chuckle. "And I've had plenty of practice. I've been doing this for forty years!"
"Forty years?" James said, sounding impressed. "That's a long time."
"Yes, indeed," the old man agreed. "I started at age twelve. I've always been small, so I was a jockey for a while. But one day I was riding in a race when my horse slipped. I came off and broke my knee, and after that I couldn't ride anymore. But I couldn't live without horses, so I got a job at this hotel."
"I can see that you do a good job here," James said.
"Thank you, my boy," the old man said. "I enjoy it, especially when I get the chance to handle an animal like this one." He patted me. "If you let me handle a horse for a few minutes, I can always tell you what sort of treatment he's had. And I can tell this black horse of yours is well-bred and was treated kindly."
After that the old man put me in a stall and fed me. Ginger was in the stall beside me, and we were both glad to have a rest after our long day on the road.
Later that evening a different worker came in to give us more hay and water. Horses stood in every stall by now, and he was busy taking care of us all.
Then a young man wandered in. He was smoking a pipe.
"Hello, Fowler," the worker greeted him. "Could you do me a favor?"
"Sure, what is it?" The young man let out a puff of smoke from his pipe.
"Climb up into the loft and toss down some more hay," the worker said. "But be sure to set down your pipe first."
"All right." The young man hurried off out of sight.
Just then James came into the stable to check on Ginger and me. "Everything looks fine here," he said, giving us each a pat. "Get some rest, and I'll see you in the morning."
Shortly after he left, the stable went dark and quiet for the night. I ate a little more hay, and then drifted off to sleep.
I awoke sometime later, feeling strangely uncomfortable. At first I wasn't sure why.
I stood, coughing. A moment later Ginger coughed too.
The air was thick with smoke, and a crackling sound came from the loft overhead. Suddenly there was a cry from somewhere outside:
"Fire!"