I had just finished sweeping the yard late on Christmas Eve. The horses were settled and a night, sat on the sofa in front of the fire beckoned. It was cold and wet with steady rain falling when I had a sudden feeling I should check the paddocks, a sort of groom’s sixth sense which suddenly fills you with dread. I climbed over the paddock gate and found five of the six horses by the light of my phone torch. Where the hell was Tiny? It wasn’t like I could lose a near eighteen hand horse. I trudged through the muddy field, my toes cold and my feet sliding in the slop, it was only when at the very far corner that I saw him. There was a small stream which ran along the bottom of the field, with a shallow part where the horses could drink and a section with deeper sides which had been fenced off. I saw a mass beyond the fence line and ran towards it. Tiny, having no doubt leaned heavily on the fence for a reason that would only make sense to a horse, had fallen through and landed in the stream. He was trapped having fallen into the water with his legs flailing in the air. I rushed to him, jumping into the thigh-deep water which seeped through my breeches, trying to steady his head. I swore, probably more than I should of done, grabbing my phone and dialling Annie, typically it went to voicemail. “Annie… Shit! Tiny’s trapped in the brook, I’m trying to free him. For goodness sake get help as soon as you get this.” I cut off, dialling May’s number, it rang twice before Tiny swung his head, smashing the phone from my grasp, it landed with a splash in the deep water, it’s light dying as the battery became sodden.
I couldn’t move him, he was wedged in the deep cutting and now I was in the dark, trying to think what I could do, I didn’t want to leave him as the water was deep and he was tiring, if he dropped his head he could drown. I had no way to get help. I panicked, desperate to think but getting colder by the second as was Tiny. It was then I saw the rope, it was trapped on brambles by the side of the brook, a mad idea came into my head. I fought my way deeper through the water and into the brambles which tore my coat and the skin beneath. I struggled, fighting before I was able to drag the rope free of the thorns. I looped it, reaching for Tiny’s thrashing legs as they swung in the near pitch-black inches from my head. Oh, this was madness, I tried to calm him, he stilled for a moment and I was able to loop the rope around his forelegs. I scrambled free of the water, inadvertently smearing my body with mud as I slithered up the bank, but managing to pull the rope clear. There was Duchess, I called her, rustling my pockets as if I had treats. As she approached I grasped her head collar and dragged her close. She was a saint, standing still as if she understood what I was trying to do. I looped the rope around her chest, she hopped in a small rear but steadied as I spoke to her calming her. “Come on girl, your boyfriend needs you.”
I grabbed her withers and heaved myself onto her back, sitting on her rugs and wrapping my sodden legs around her body. I kicked on, she pulled, straining against the rope. I wasn’t sure this would work, I could break Tiny’s legs. I put the thoughts from my mind and pushed her on, she pulled, the rope becoming taut, then slowly Tiny’s legs tipped, his legs now leaning on the bank, I screamed and kicked and she pulled forward, I could feel her haunches drop beneath me as she pulled. I glanced back and saw Tiny sliding in the same slick mud I had. He was slowly sliding, turning as Duchess pulled. I kicked on again and, almost like a cork from a bottle Tiny slid and was laying in the shallow part of the brook.
I lept off, grabbing the penknife from my pocket I cut through the ropes and stood back as Tiny staggered to his feet, shaking the water from his rug. He was lame but standing. I grabbed his halter and steadily walked him towards the yard, Duchess followed, the two were inseparable. I dragged him into his stable, Duchess parked herself next door in her own stable snorting, no doubt complaining about the lack of hay net.
I dragged Tiny’s soaked rugs off, they were thick and seemed to have protected his body from injury. His legs were coated in mud, I grabbed a bucket and sponge and started to wash him down. There were some cuts including a deep one on his hock. I took out gamgee and bandages and wrapped them tightly around his leg to staunch the bleeding before grabbing the emergency phone which was always on charge in the tack room and dialling our vet.
I took as many towels as I could find from the laundry hamper and started to rub Tiny down, drying him off as best I could. Feeling his ears I could see he was still cold, so I took three dry rugs and laid them over him. I am sure it was adrenaline that kept me going for the hour before Steve the vet arrived, he was sewing Tiny’s hock when May put her head over the door.
“I saw a car, what’s Steve doing here…” She fell silent as she caught sight of me, Steve had given me the same reaction before leaping into action. I was soaked to the skin, coated in a thick
