Outlander - Diana Gabaldon [210]
Donas—his name meant “demon,” and was in no way meant as flattery—was in a horse-box to himself at the far end of the stable, safely separated by an empty stall from the nearest neighboring horses. A huge, evil-tempered sorrel stallion, he was ridable by no one, and only Old Alec and Jamie dared go near him. There was an irritable squeal from the shadows of his stall, and an enormous copper head shot suddenly out, huge yellow teeth clacking together as the horse made a vain attempt to bite the bare shoulder so temptingly displayed.
Jamie stayed motionless, knowing that the stallion couldn’t reach him. Hamish jumped back with a squeak, clearly scared speechless by the sudden appearance of that monstrous shimmering head, with its rolling, bloodshot eyes and flaring nostrils.
“I dinna think so,” observed Jamie mildly. He reached down and took his small cousin by the shoulder, steering him away from the horse, who kicked his stall in protest. Hamish shuddered in concert with the boards of the stall as the lethal hooves crashed against the wood.
Jamie turned the boy around to face him and stood looking down at him, hands on his kilted hips.
“Now then,” he said firmly. “What’s this all about? Why are ye wanting aught to do wi’ Donas?”
Hamish’s jaw was set stubbornly, but Jamie’s face was both encouraging and adamant. He punched the boy gently on the shoulder, getting a tiny smile response.
“Come on, duine,” Jamie said, softly. “Ye know I wilna tell anyone. Have ye done something foolish?”
A faint flush came up on the boy’s fair skin.
“No. At least…no. Well, maybe a bit foolish.”
After a bit more encouragement, the story came out, reluctantly at first, then in a tumbling flood of confession.
He had been out on his pony, riding with some of the other boys the day before. Several of the older lads had started competing, to see who could jump his horse over a higher obstacle. Jealously admiring them, Hamish’s better judgment was finally overcome by bravado, and he had tried to force his fat little pony over a stone fence. Lacking both ability and interest, the pony had come to a dead stop at the fence, tossing young Hamish over his head, over the fence, and ignominiously into a nettle patch on the other side. Stung both by nettles and by the hoots of his comrades, Hamish was determined to come out today on “a proper horse,” as he put it.
“They wouldna laugh if I came out on Donas,” he said, envisioning the scene with grim relish.
“No, they wouldna laugh,” Jamie agreed. “They’d be too busy picking up the pieces.”
He eyed his cousin, shaking his head slowly. “I’ll tell ye, lad. It takes courage and sense to make a good rider. You’ve the courage, but the sense is a wee bit lacking, yet.” He put a consoling arm round Hamish’s shoulders, drawing him down toward the end of the stable.
“Come along, man. Help me fork the hay, and we’ll get ye acquainted wi’ Cobhar. You’re right; ye should have a better horse if you’re ready, but it isna necessary to kill yourself to prove it.”
Glancing up into the loft as he passed, he raised his eyebrows and shrugged helplessly. I smiled and waved down at him, telling him to go ahead, it was all right. I watched them as Jamie took an apple from the basket of windfalls kept near the door. Fetching a pitchfork from the corner, he led Hamish back to one of the center stalls.
“Here, coz,” he said, pausing. He whistled softly through his teeth and a wide-browed bay horse put its head out, blowing through its nostrils. The dark eyes were large and kind, and the ears had a slight forward cock that gave the horse an expression of friendly alertness.
“Now then, Cobhar, ciamar a tha thu?” Jamie patted the sleek neck firmly, and scratched the cocked ears.
“Come on up,” he said, motioning to his small cousin. “That’s it, next to me. Near enough he can smell ye. Horses like to smell ye.”
“I know.” Hamish’s high voice was scornful. He barely reached the horse’s nose, but reached up and patted. He stood his ground as the big head came down and sniffed interestedly