Frank, on his mustang, followed Lady Davenport's white Arabian to the far pasture. To encourage him to ride alongside of her she tried conversation,
"I see you stick with the mustang breed Mr. Hopkins."
"Haven't seen any reason I shouldn't," Frank replied.
Pleased to be riding together finally, Lady Davenport asked, "Are you planning to mate your mare with Al-Hattal? You are welcome to use one of my Arabians."
"It's a mighty kind offer ma'm. I'll think it over."
Their horses climbed up a small knoll in approach to this pasture where Al-Hattal's ebony color stood in stark contrast with the abundant verdant green grasses. In reply to Frank's earlier statement Lady Davenport said, "You do that, Mr. Hopkins." They stopped their horses at the crest and admired the view. Lady Davenport asking, "Is that not the picture of perfection?"
Frank was impressed. Al-Hattal's attitude showed his belief in a superior bloodline, if there were such a thing. The stallion had stature. Lady Anne and Frank stared a moment until her horse stepped forward and Frank's followed. The groom stood by the fence and Frank wondered if he would recognize him from the previous night when he had dumped him roughly on his bed. The drunk man had still been mumbling, 'Ja-sher-ah."
Frank had almost reached the door to his shed when he had turned around, went back to his bedside, bent down to the man and said in a low growl, 'If you ever lay a hand on her, you'll answer to me."
Had it not been for that brief encounter, the groom would never have remembered Frank, but now he wasn't so sure. As Phillips turned to look at the approaching riders he nodded politely to Lady Davenport. When he made eye contact with Frank it was obvious something about the cowboy looked familiar and the groom looked long and hard at him trying to recall where he had seen him before. Lady Davenport looked from one to the other then introduced,
"Frank Hopkins, this is my head groom, Phillips. He's in charge of my prize Arabians, including Al-Hattal."
Frank tipped his hat, but didn't say anything, as Lady Davenport continued, "Phillips, Frank Hopkins won the Bedouin Race over two years ago. As you know part of the prize was rights to the Muniqiyah bloodline."
Phillips said respectfully, "Good morning sir."
Lady Davenport dismounted. Frank did the same as she asked the groom, "Is he ready for the Run this morning?"
Phillips answered authoritatively, "He is, madam, but the Run is still too soggy from the rain we had earlier. It would be risking a fall to take him on it this morning. But by the afternoon, once it's had the sun shining on it, the breeze drying it out, the ground should be firm again. Perhaps you would like to try later this afternoon."
"Oh what a pity. I was going to invite Mr. Hopkins to ride him." She turned to Frank and explained, "To sit astride Al-Hattal is to feel like a king, you must experience it, while you are here."
Frank didn't particularly want to feel like a king, but he did have a secret longing to ride the stallion, since he had first laid eyes on him. Instead of responding to the suggestion Frank asked,
"What's the Run?"
Lady Davenport smiled, "That's something else I'm extremely proud of at this estate. It takes great work to keep Camira in top form. The Run is the perfect place to exercise thoroughbreds. Come see for yourself."
Frank followed her around the pasture along the tree line where there was an opening. He was surprised by what he saw. A green alley that extended for almost three miles, enclosed on both sides by trees. It was a place made to let your horse have his head, to determine how fast he could run. Frank admitted to himself, he would have enjoyed taking Al-Hattal out on the Run.
Lady Davenport could see the appreciation on Frank's face. She said, "Extraordinary isn't it? That's why I chose this manor for my horses."
"The horses in your stables have it better off than most people," Frank said evenly.
"I'll take that as a compliment," but there was skepticism in her voice. She said suddenly, "I hope you will not take offense Mr. Hopkins, Frank, rather, when I tell you that I promised friends of mine that when you arrived I would introduce them to you. They are fascinated with your story and your horse. You would be doing me a great favor if you rode out with me this afternoon for just a few visits." She saw the reluctance on his face and added, "It will only be this one day, I promise. Please, Frank."
It was the last thing Frank wanted to do, but she had tried to be accommodating and it would be ungenerous of him to refuse. With regret he agreed, "As long as it's just for the afternoon."
"Thank you Frank, you have saved my reputation." And Lady Anne gratefully laid a hand on his arm in spite of Frank's wary look.
It was dusk when Frank and Lady Davenport returned. There had been more than a few visits, and the last hostess had invited them to stay for dinner. The whole afternoon had felt artificial. The only real thing about it was Lord Wellingham, who made no pretense of his dislike for Lady Davenport. The man's wife made outrageous excuses for her husband's unapologetic behavior, as he read the newspaper throughout Lady Davenport's conversation, rolled his eyes and even grunted on occasion. His wife had not allowed him to speak out of fear of what he would say. Frank liked the man immediately.
Back at the manor a young groom came to take Frank's mustang. Frank knew his horse would not be stabled with Lady Davenport's prize Arabians. As the groom reached for the reins Frank said,
"I'll take care of her myself."
Lady Davenport stopped in her ascent up the stairs but Frank's eyes challenged her to refuse him, so she said in agreement, "Stewart, Mr. Hopkins can see to his own horse. Well, then, I will say goodnight, and thank you for a lovely afternoon."
Frank tipped his hat and said only, "Good night m'am."
Almost as an afterthought she added, "The staff has taken your things up to one of the rooms. They'll show you when you return."
His back was to her as he said, "Thank you."
Following the groom to another stable Frank looked up at the darkening sky. There would be another full moon tonight. He took his time feeding and brushing his mustang, until Stewart tired of watching him, left. Frank then tied up his horse and went to the stable where Al-Hattal was kept. The door was open and a lantern hanging from the ceiling was lit, but Al-Hattal was not in his stall. Phillips was not in sight either. Curious, Frank walked to the man's shed, but stopped in a shadow as he saw the groom coming towards it himself, from the direction of the far pasture. Once the man was out of sight, Frank walked in the direction the man had come from. There were fresh horse tracks which he followed beyond the pasture and to the Run. As Frank walked through the opening he heard the galloping hooves before he saw the stallion at full run.
Jazira sat bare back astride Al-Hattal, in her desert robes. They trailed behind her like the light from a shooting star. She was one with the stallion. Her body contoured to the horse's back and flexible with the leaping strides. She looked as if she were flying. Frank was enchanted. She was in a world of her own, she was free. He squatted on the ground in the shadows and watched enthralled. No one belonged on that horse, but her, she was the stallion. Al-Hattal had to belong to her again, and Frank decided he would just have to find a way to make that happen.
