Garden of Ashes by Kathryn Lee Martin

Author:Kathryn Lee Martin [Martin, Kathryn Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Parliament House

Chapter Twenty-One

Henny returns to the stall bearing a woven blanket and a small, flat saddle not too unlike the English-style one he has for Xanthos, though this one is much smaller than his—and looks like it was dredged up from the annals of some dusty, long forgotten tack room that was probably being used to store rusty tools and broken buckets. I’m not going to complain. The fact that he’s letting me have a chance with Nigel is something I’m more than thankful for given the circumstances.

I reach up and tighten the makeshift rope halter, leading the mule to a corner and tying him to a small stall support beam. He swishes his whisk-broom tail and cranes his neck back, muzzle nosing my shoulder as if this is Rondo and not the Threshing Floor.

A worn brush works over his hide, dried blood flaking down into the straw and slowly revealing his cream-colored splotches. The blood has stained him, making him even redder than he already was, but it’s far too cold to give him a proper washing. He’ll have to settle for as much of a grooming as I can give him at the moment.

Nigel doesn’t seem to mind, settling into a content, heavy mule sigh as I move around him and do my best not to aggravate his wounds. They whipped him enough to break the skin, but mercifully it doesn’t look to be too deep. Still pisses me off though.

There’s nothing you can do about that right now. I sweep the brush over his neck and run my hand through his short, scruffy mane. I have more important things to worry about—one of which is passing this evaluation.

“This is the best I could do for tack that might fit him,” Henny rests the saddle over the stall door and drapes a worn bridle beside it. “Most horses here are used for the carts and patrols but every so often the hierarchy enjoys watching the soldiers ride them for sport. It’ll need cleaned, but this should work for the time being.”

“Thanks.” I retrieve the gray saddle cloth and drape it over Nigel’s back, taking extra care not to let it rub too much over the whip marks as I smooth it out. This is a lot different from my half assed attempt at a saddle back home. That was just a leather blanket with two poles to weigh it down and a linen girth to secure it in place.

The thick, leather girth soon secures the saddle in place. Henny hands me the bridle and for a moment, I study it. Back home, Nigel’s bridle wasn’t leather and didn’t even have a metal bit. It was rope. I vaguely recall Matthew once mentioning that while my mule does understand the concept of an actual bit, it wasn’t his favorite thing in the world and since he could never find one that fit well enough for full time use, bit-less it was. This will be an adjustment for him.

Slipping the bit between his teeth, I work it over his long ears and secure it in place.

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