got used to the dark. A certain amount of sunshine was filtering in from behind. More comfortingly, the way out was clearly visible straight ahead, the circle of light widening with every step. He tried to relax. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
And then Fiona spoke. She had slowed down, allowing his horse to catch up with hers. ‚Are you still worried about the train, Alex?‛ she said scornfully. ‚Perhaps you’d like to go faster.‛
He heard the riding crop whistle through the air and felt his horse jerk as Fiona whipped it hard on the rear. The horse whinnied and leapt forward. Alex was almost thrown backward off the saddle. Digging in with his legs, he just managed to cling on, but the whole top of his body was at a crazy angle, the reins tearing into the horse’s mouth. Fiona laughed. And then Alex was aware only of the wind rushing past him, the thick blackness spinning around his face and the horses’ hooves striking heavily at the gravel as the animal careened forward. Soot blew into his eyes, blinding him. He thought he was going to fall. Minutes seemed to pass in mere seconds.
But then, miraculously, they burst out into the light. Alex fought for his balance and then brought the horse back under control, pulling back with the reins and squeezing the horse’s flanks with his knees. He took a deep breath and waited for Fiona to appear.
His horse had come to rest on the bridge that she had mentioned. The bridge was fashioned out of thick iron girders and spanned a river. There had been a lot of rain that month and, about fifty feet below him, the water was racing past, dark green and deep. Carefully, he turned around to face the tunnel. If he lost control here, it would be easy to fall over the edge. The sides of the bridge couldn’t have been more than three feet high.
He could hear Fiona approaching. She had been cantering after him, probably laughing the entire way. He gazed into the tunnel, and that was when Fiona’s gray horse burst out, raced past him, and disappeared through the gate crossing on the other side of the bridge.
But Fiona wasn’t on it.
The horse had come out alone.
It took Alex a few seconds to work it out. His head was reeling. She must have fallen off.
Perhaps her horse had stumbled. She could be lying inside the tunnel. On the track. How long was there until the next train? Twenty minutes, she had said. But at least five of those minutes had gone, and she might have been exaggerating to begin with.
Alex swore. Damn this wretched girl with her spoiled brat behavior and her almost suicidal games. But he couldn’t leave her. He seized hold of the reins. Somehow he would get this horse to obey him. He had to get her out, and he had to do it fast.
Perhaps his desperation managed to communicate itself to the horse’s brain. The animal wheeled around and tried to back away, but when Alex kicked with his heels, it stumbled forward and reluctantly entered the darkness of the tunnel for a second time. Alex kicked again.
He didn’t want to hurt it, but he could think of no other way to make it obey him.
The horse trotted on. Alex searched ahead. ‚Fiona!‛ he called out. There was no reply. He had hoped that she would be walking toward him, but he couldn’t hear any footsteps. If only there were more light!
The horse stopped and there she was, right in front of him, lying on the ground, her arms and chest actually on the line. If a train came now, it would cut her in half. It was too dark to see her face, but when she spoke he heard the pain in her voice.
‚Alex…,‛ she said. ‚I think I’ve broken my ankle.‛
‚What happened?‛
‚There was a cobweb or something. I was trying to keep up with you. It went in my face and I lost my balance.‛
She’d been trying to keep up with him! She almost sounded as if she were blaming him—as if she had forgotten that she was the one who had whipped his horse on in the first place.
‚Can you get up?‛
And then Fiona spoke. She had slowed down, allowing his horse to catch up with hers. ‚Are you still worried about the train, Alex?‛ she said scornfully. ‚Perhaps you’d like to go faster.‛
He heard the riding crop whistle through the air and felt his horse jerk as Fiona whipped it hard on the rear. The horse whinnied and leapt forward. Alex was almost thrown backward off the saddle. Digging in with his legs, he just managed to cling on, but the whole top of his body was at a crazy angle, the reins tearing into the horse’s mouth. Fiona laughed. And then Alex was aware only of the wind rushing past him, the thick blackness spinning around his face and the horses’ hooves striking heavily at the gravel as the animal careened forward. Soot blew into his eyes, blinding him. He thought he was going to fall. Minutes seemed to pass in mere seconds.
But then, miraculously, they burst out into the light. Alex fought for his balance and then brought the horse back under control, pulling back with the reins and squeezing the horse’s flanks with his knees. He took a deep breath and waited for Fiona to appear.
His horse had come to rest on the bridge that she had mentioned. The bridge was fashioned out of thick iron girders and spanned a river. There had been a lot of rain that month and, about fifty feet below him, the water was racing past, dark green and deep. Carefully, he turned around to face the tunnel. If he lost control here, it would be easy to fall over the edge. The sides of the bridge couldn’t have been more than three feet high.
He could hear Fiona approaching. She had been cantering after him, probably laughing the entire way. He gazed into the tunnel, and that was when Fiona’s gray horse burst out, raced past him, and disappeared through the gate crossing on the other side of the bridge.
But Fiona wasn’t on it.
The horse had come out alone.
It took Alex a few seconds to work it out. His head was reeling. She must have fallen off.
Perhaps her horse had stumbled. She could be lying inside the tunnel. On the track. How long was there until the next train? Twenty minutes, she had said. But at least five of those minutes had gone, and she might have been exaggerating to begin with.
Alex swore. Damn this wretched girl with her spoiled brat behavior and her almost suicidal games. But he couldn’t leave her. He seized hold of the reins. Somehow he would get this horse to obey him. He had to get her out, and he had to do it fast.
Perhaps his desperation managed to communicate itself to the horse’s brain. The animal wheeled around and tried to back away, but when Alex kicked with his heels, it stumbled forward and reluctantly entered the darkness of the tunnel for a second time. Alex kicked again.
He didn’t want to hurt it, but he could think of no other way to make it obey him.
The horse trotted on. Alex searched ahead. ‚Fiona!‛ he called out. There was no reply. He had hoped that she would be walking toward him, but he couldn’t hear any footsteps. If only there were more light!
The horse stopped and there she was, right in front of him, lying on the ground, her arms and chest actually on the line. If a train came now, it would cut her in half. It was too dark to see her face, but when she spoke he heard the pain in her voice.
‚Alex…,‛ she said. ‚I think I’ve broken my ankle.‛
‚What happened?‛
‚There was a cobweb or something. I was trying to keep up with you. It went in my face and I lost my balance.‛
She’d been trying to keep up with him! She almost sounded as if she were blaming him—as if she had forgotten that she was the one who had whipped his horse on in the first place.
‚Can you get up?‛
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