Ginger
One day, a carriage arrived outside a park where we were waiting to take a family home. The horse that pulled the carriage looked very thin and very old. She had sad eyes, which looked at me carefully. “Black Beauty?” she said quietly, and then coughed. It was Ginger! Ginger looked so very different. She told me about her life since we lived at Earlshall Park. First, a wealthy man bought her, but she was not able to run very fast after her fall and she was soon sold again. She had many new owners, each one paying a little less money for her. “Then I was bought by a man who has many horses, and hires them to men who need them for taxi carriages,” she continued. “But I’m not strong enough for this work. The men hit me hard when they want me to go faster. I work every day, without any break.” “You usually kick people who aren’t good to you!” I reminded her. “I’m not strong enough to do that now,” she said. “Men are always stronger than me. If they can get me to work longer hours for more money, they will. I know life is difficult for them, too. They always think about their families before they worry about their horses.” At that moment, a man came up to her and began to drive her away. “Goodbye, Black Beauty,” she said. “You’ve always been my best friend.” I never saw poor Ginger again.
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