The horse rolled over, stumbling to its feet. It was a large beast, tall and strong, like the ones Jack used on the farm. It was a beauty, but a bold one. Unlike most other farm horses, it was sharp, wild eyed, and moved with surprising speed.

As the horse stood, the rider wiggled about under him. Hands clasped as his stomach, the rider squirmed about uncomfortably, as if convulsing in pain.

My stomach burned as I watched him. What had I done? The horse had rolled over him, no doubt crushing his ribs. I could hear the sharp crack of his ribs or the crunch of cartilage squeezing past bone, pinching flesh. What if I had killed him?

"Easy, girl," I kept my voice low, edging nearer the horse. If I could only grab it's reins- I raised my hand, slowly, steadily, "whoa, steady on."

The horse met my eyes with surprising awareness. She glanced at my soul, saw what it could not abide by, and flipped her head. She went to go up again, her hooves clattering on the road. I raised my hands once more, repeating my feeble words like a lullaby or a chant. The horses hooves hardly miss the man on the floor, one missing his head by inches.

As the horse rose up fully, I launched forward and grasped the reins. She came down, a little heavily, and tried to pull away. Again, she narrowly missed the man. I spun her away, pulling her towards myself.

I struggled to hold onto the horse, but led her to the grass verge in the hope that the grass would calm her. It did little, and she refused to so much as glance at the grass. She kept all eyes on me, and I resorted to tying her to the fence. When I retreated, she put her head down and began eating.

I returned to the man on the floor, and crouched down by his convulsing form. I leaned over, a little afraid.

"Are you alright?" I asked, my voice moving, "I'm so sorry..."

"You should be," he hissed. His eyes met mine, and I saw nothing but pure hatred.

"It's your fault really," I retorted, "riding down the road like that! You were moving so fast I didn't have time to move- and taking up the whole of the road!"

He looked at me, hard, and then tipped his head back and laughed.

His laugh was hearty and deep, and of the most genuine kind. He laughed and laughed until he hit a particularly loud chuckle, and gasped.

"You've definitely killed me," he said, not completely serious, "I've probably broken every bone in my body."

"Well, your jaw is completely fine," I said, trying to hide my smile, "here, I'll help you up."

He took my hand and stumbled to his feet with less grace than his horse. His face contorted, and I could see the pain in his eyes, but we both knew he was lucky to be able to stand after such a fall.

He was only a little taller than me, perhaps by a few inches, and his tawny head was hardly higher than mine. He was handsome too, even when pulling that face, and he had the most brilliant green eyes. A face, young but weathered from the sun, and permanently stained with dust.

"I'm usually a better rider than that," he joked, "but you caught me by surprise."

I didn't respond. I felt a little awkward in my role of the culprit. I had seriously hurt someone, purely because I had been absorbed in my own silly life and my longing for Nick. How could I be so oblivious? I was ridiculous.

"You alright?"

"I should be asking you that- my grandmother's place is just over there. She's incapacitated but I'm sure my mother and father would be happy to let you rest for a while if you can't ride home straight away."

"Lucky for you," he said, "I live just over there, look," he pointed over the stone wall to a small cottage and a row of stables. It was homely, well kept, and brightened by wild flowers that spread across the lawn and up the side of the buildings.

"I run a stable yard," he said, "with my pa, but out of town for a few days. I was just taking Duchess for some exercise when we, um, bumped into you."

"Oh," I said, "is she your's?"

"Unfortunately," he grinned, "we ought to be heading off. Once I get her settled I suppose I'll call for the doctor."

"Are you sure you don't want my help? I can unsaddle her."

"I don't trust her with a pretty girl like you," he winked, and turned and left.

I stood in his wake for a moment, a little shell-shocked, before I remembered that I hadn't asked for his name.

A few days passed, and I had not seen the man out walking since. I wondered if he had made it inside safely, and managed to call the doctor before keeling over.

It was mid-day when I set out to the stables. It was not far down the road, so I was hardly out of breath by the time I arrived. I glanced over the gate, and saw a desolate yard.

"Hello?" I called out, unlatching the gate, "anyone there?"

I made my way up the path towards the stables, and rounded the corner to glance down the portion of the yard that was out of sight. It revealed a row of stabled on each side, each housing a large, fine horse. Except for one stable towards the end, where the door was ajar.

The occupant was stood in the yard, golden in the light. Her red hues rippled in the light with a sense of familiarity. It was the horse from the previous day.

I felt a little faint at the sight. If Duchess was loose, where was her rider? It looked as if the person tending to her had simply vanished.

"Hello?" I called out again. There was no reply, and I continued my search. I glanced into each stable, working my way down each side. My search was fruitless.

I ran up and down the yard, my heart pounding with exertion. With each breath, I grew faint. Where was he?

I at last went to the cottage door, at first knocking gently, then pounding. I kept hammering at the door, the noise falling on deaf ears. Had he staggered inside, too agonised to tend to his horse? Had he then fallen just inside the door, or become incapacitated at the phone before managing to call the doctor?

At last, I heard a clatter of hooves heading down the yard. I peered around, and there, stood in the middle, was the mysterious man on an ebony horse. I nearly wept with the relief.

He seemed a little startled, "don't you just show up like a bad penny?"

I tried to smile, "why is Duchess loose?"

"She's a nightmare for escaping," he said, "she does what she wants- like most women, I suppose."

"You'd be right with that assumption," I grinned earnestly, "I'm going to help you whether you want me to or not."

"Why? The doc said I'm lucky and got away with a few bruised ribs," he said, "besides, these horses are too strong for a girl."

"Oh, that's foolish," I snapped, "I can handle a horse just as well as any man- and I could at least help clean out the stables or fill the troughs. I'd just do the heavy stuff."

"As if you could-"

"I haul hay twice as quick as my beau. And I ride as well as my father. I'm not afraid of a little hard work."

"Alright," he laughed, "but I don't even know who you are."

"I'm Josephine Dawson," I stretched my hand up towards him, "and you are..."

"Peter, Peter White," he shook my hand, "and this is Fly."

"Fly?" I asked, looking down at the horse, "is he your's?"

"He was the son of my father's mare, back when he used to breed hunting horses. He was the last- my ma raised him before she passed." He gave a small smile, "he's something, isn't he?"

"He's gorgeous- but why the name?"

"We used to call him Frank, but it's not an elegant name, is it? And he sure did fly on the hunt field, so I stuck."

I laughed, "that makes sense- but do you own all of these horses? I thought you ran a livery yard?"

"Only Fly, Duchess, and Michael," he pointed across the yard, "are ours. The rest the owners pay us to keep fit for them when they fancy a ride."

"And you get to ride these fine horses?" I asked. He nodded, and I smiled, "I can see the appeal."

We talked about the horses and he dismounted and tended to the horses. At last, he turned to me once more, "how come you want to help?"

"I feel bad about nearly killing you, and there's not much to do at my grandmother's... she's a little harsh," I admitted.

"You're homesick?" He said, a little stiffly.

"I just miss everyone back home... miss the farm, too."

He nodded and smiled, and we never spoke about it again.

After we had tended to the horses, I noticed that he was saddling Fly back up, "where are you going?"

"You're riding this one," he said, grinning, "and I'll take Duchess- come on, you've worked hard. And you said you can ride."

"I can," I said, but I thought you said a girl wouldn't be able to handle such strong horses? And aren't you hurt?"

"Well, I was wrong about you not being able to do the farm labour, so I guess your the exception. And I'm completely fine. Come on, let's go."

We mounted, and I found myself comfortable on the great beast. He was sleeker and more sensitive than Duchess. He was less headstrong and moved nicely.

"You've trained him well," I told Peter, "you've done a great job."

"I know," he said, a little smugly.

We reached an open field, and sent the horses into a gallop. They ran without limitation, as if they wanted to outrun their own shadows. We ran so fast I felt as if we could bounce off of the ground and glide.

The low sun bathed my face with its last tendrils for the day. I tipped my head back, spread my arms, and shut my eyes.

So this was freedom. Joy. Bliss.

"Whoooo!" I hollered, grinning so hard my face ached. With miles of open meadow in front of us, the possibilities felt limitless.

I turned to the handsome boy next to me and grinned, "God, we're really flying, aren't we?"

I got home after sundown. I had not realised how late it was until I stumbled into the house, or how I had forgotten to tell anyone where I was going. I felt sick with the worry of the stress I had caused mamma and Jack, or how they would react.

Jack was sitting at the foot of the stairs, his face grave. The smile fell from my face, and I looked at him in concern, "Jack, what is it?"

"Why did you disappear without telling us where you went?" He scolded, his voice serious. I recalled the last time he was that angry, and I remembered how upset he had been when I had nearly drowned.

"I messed up," I said, "I'm really sorry. I didn't tell you where I went because I forgot and I went for this walk. It was beautiful out, and I sort of fell asleep. Jack, I'm so sorry, it won't happen again."

"This can't happen again, Josie, not at a time like this. Do you understand?"

"Yes, dad," I said, trying to use my privileges as his daughter. His expression softened.

As he opened his mouth, the maid came waking in, "Sir? Somebody sent a telegram from the station. Their initial is "N", and they claim to know miss Josephine, Sir."