Page 9 of Wild Lily
“Not yet. But the horse is out of control. Come on.”
The two broke into a run at the same time, weaving and darting among the shocked pedestrians.
“Let us through,” Julian shouted, skirting bystanders.
“Pardon. Pardon.”Remy grabbed one lady’s shoulders, picked her up and put her aside.
Confronted by chaos, Julian and Remy halted in their tracks. The small black hackney swished back and forth along the cobbled street as the horse charged this way and that among the throng. Atop the swaying perch sat the driver, wide-eyed and yelling at the animal. He struggled to keep the reins from slipping from his hands.
A doleful cry came from inside.
“A woman’s in there!” Remy shouted.
“The horse,” Julian yelled, as he ripped off his coat and ran toward the animal. He was a sturdy Breton, his chestnut coat dull, his flaxen mane gray, his long teeth bared in abject fright.
Julian understood spooked horses. He’d calmed many who’d been scared by lightning, an errant cat or the sudden snap of a broken harness.
“All of you, get back. Go in the shops,” he said in English and began in French when Remy barked at them to do as he said.
The crowd parted. Cleared.
Julian saw Remy had managed to climb up on the box. His extra weight slowed the animal. The horse whinnied, changed direction and headed into the alley between two buildings.
Julian ran alongside him, pleased when he realized the alley was blind. This horse had corned himself.
“All right, all right, old man.” He soothed the animal, one hand out to ward him off in case he’d take an idea to rear up in the air. The alleywas narrow and if the animal decided to attack him, he’d not survive. “You’ve nowhere to go. Honestly. Nowhere. Look what you did here. Made a scene. What will all the lovely mademoiselles think of you, eh? And your master here, what will he do without you? You must settle. Must settle.”
As he spoke, the horse snorted and thrashed his head to and fro. But he gave up the crazed prancing and slowed.
Julian shrugged out of his coat, spread it between his hands, then glanced at the box.
Remy who sat beside the driver had somehow caught up the second rein. Squashed together on the tiny perch, the cabby and the burly Frenchmen were a sight. One tiny, one huge. One blubbering, one tranquil.
“Come here, my boy,” Julian cooed to the fine French workhorse. “I’m here to help you. Feed you. I’ll find something from these merchants, don’t worry. For now, let’s get acquainted.” Continuing in a low voice, he appealed to the animal with his tone and casual demeanor. The horse looked about, stomped a bit and stopped. Julian nodded to him to approach. “That’s right. No need to run like a bedlamite.”
A few minutes more while the horse snorted—and he stood, unhappy and unbowed. But peaceful.
Julian ventured to touch his nose. Pet him. Stroke him. “You are capable of this. I know it. And when you are quite calm, we’ll see if we can find a carrot or an apple. Something wonderful. A reward.”
Remy chuckled from his seat. “Talk to him like a lover and you’ll have a new friend to follow you home.”
Julian stroked the animal’s nose. “I have too many high-tempered creatures at my house already. I’m sure monsieur has a better idea for him.”
Remy arched a brow. “You’d better give the withers a good look before you make assumptions.”
Julian turned to the side and saw the marks. The lash of a whip never did look good on any creature, man or animal. “Ask him what happened in the street.”
The two bantered back and forth. Remy at first inquisitive. The cabby, defensive. Then Remy annoyed, angry. The cabby, blustering.
“A dog ran between the hooves,” Remy told him.
“What the hell is a dog doing in the Rue de la Paix? It’s fine, boy. Fine.” Julian grabbed the horse’s straps. “I’m mad, but not at you.”
“The pet of a grand duchesse, he says.” Remy jumped down from the box.
“Well, she should’ve tethered him.”
“He escaped her,” Remy said as he headed for the door of the hackney and pulled it wide. “Mademoiselle? Ah, ah. Madame le Comtesse. Are you well? Can you move?”
