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Will nodded at Gable, looking up at her hair in disarray and the blood from the pony’s wounds drying on her. ‘Yes, yes,’ he encouraged her. ‘Yes, go on ahead and get yourself cleaned up a bit. We won’t really need to be doing anything until late afternoon. Then you can help me bring the ponies and horses in from the exercise yard and get them brushed and fed. We can check on that new pony’s wounds, too, and see how . . .’
He was cut off mid-sentence as a voice from the stable door called for service. ‘Go on now, Gable, I’ll see to what the man wants. You go on and wash up.’
Will plunged his hands into a clean bucket of water and washed them up as quickly as he could. He was just drying them on a towel as he reached the door to the stable. One of the Big Folk stood there and just beyond him stood two lovely greys still hitched to their cart.
‘Name’s Will. Will Hayward,’ he said, nodding at the man, a welcoming smile on his face. ‘How can I help you?’
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