It must have been nearly midnight when I heard a horse’s feet far away, coming from Earlshall. As it came nearer, I was almost sure it was Ginger, pulling a small carriage. I neighed loudly, and I was overjoyed to hear Ginger answer, and men’s voices. They came slowly over the stones and stopped by the dark shape that lay on the ground.
One of the men jumped down and bent over it. “It is Reuben,” he said, “and he doesn’t move!”
The other man followed. “He’s dead. Feel how cold his hands are.”
Then they came to look at me and soon saw my cut knees. Robert, the groom, tried to lead me forward. I took a step and almost fell again.
“Look, his hoof is cut to pieces! No wonder he came down, poor fellow. I’m afraid Reuben was drinking again, Ned. Just think of riding a horse over these stones without a shoe! Poor Susan! She looked so pale when she came to my house to ask if he was back. She pretended she wasn’t worried, but she begged me to go and meet him.”
They agreed that Robert would lead me and Ned would take the body home. It was hard to get it into the carriage, because there was nobody to hold Ginger, but she knew as well as I did what was happening, and she stood as still as a stone. I noticed that, because if she had a fault, it was that she could not stand still.
Ned drove off very slowly with his sad load. Robert tied his handkerchief round my foot and led me home. I shall never forget that night walk. It was more than three miles, and I limped along in great pain. Robert went slowly and often patted me and talked to me kindly.
At last I was in my own box, and I slept in spite of the pain. The horse doctor hoped that my knees would heal well enough for work, but he said they would always be marked. Getting well took a long time and was painful.
Because Reuben had died so suddenly and nobody had seen it, there was an official inquiry. The people at the White Lion said he was drunk when he left, the man at the toll gate said he rode through at a hard gallop, and my shoe was found among the stones. So I was cleared of all blame.
Everybody felt sorry for Susan. She was nearly out of her mind. Again and again she said, “Oh, he was so good, so good! It was all that terrible drink. Why do they sell that terrible drink? Oh, Reuben, Reuben!” So she went on until after he was buried. Then, because she had nowhere else to go and no relatives to help her, she and her six little children had to leave their pleasant home by the tall oak trees and go into the big, gloomy workhouse.