Flaxmead

CHAPTER FOUR

  Winston Blake enjoyed the fresh meadow air of Ireland as his taxi headed for Kildare South West of Dublin. He left his window open and his grey hair blew in the wind, the saggy jowls of his ageing face wobbled in the breeze scented by acres of daisy, clover and dandelion flowers. The taxi slowed and turned into a driveway rough from years of neglect.

  The taxi driver's keen Dublin accent bellowed around the car as he shouted to be heard above the wind of the open window. "Are you sure this is the right address, doesn't look like a horse stud to me."

  "He's a farmer with a few horses for sale. Dabbles in the practice don't think he's a leading horse stud or alike. Believe me he sounded a genuine man on the phone." shouted Blake.

  The taxi delivered Blake to a ramshackle yard with several outbuildings on top of a hill. The main house was made of solid stone with an iron roof aged but well kept and tracks lead down the hill from the yard in all directions with no real metered layout. An array of dogs meet Blake as he paid the taxi driver and they jumped and barked making Blake smile as he patted and stroked them. His tailored trousers became soiled from the dog's paws and Blake bent down attempting to brush it away with his hands as the cab drove away. A strong squeaky Irish voice came from nowhere.

  "You would be Winston Blake would you not?" Blake stood back up to find a short thin middle aged man holding out his hand.

  Blake shock the man's hand, he had a firm grip for a small man. "Yes, I'm Winston Blake you must be Bill."

  "To be sure to be sure I am. Forgive my short self but I'm not a leprechaun just an old jockey turned farmer. You were looking for a stayer were you not?"

  "I'm not really sure but I'll know when I see the horse."

  "A man who knows what he's looking for, come this way." Bill walked to a land rover under a car port near the front of the homestead. The dogs jumped onto the back tray and Blake found it easy to get in the passengers seat as the dull grey come rusty vehicle had no doors. Bill turned the key smiling at Blake the ancient land rover coughed into life with a cloud of smoke. They rambled down a hill heading south from the homestead passing open fields, Blake studied a black foal playing with children under some trees about a hundred yards from the fenced track. As they got closer he could hear the children laughing as the foal chased them around bucking and whinnying galloping from under the trees and heading for them. "Stop please stop," shouted Blake. The land rover came to an abrupt stop Bill looking at Blake with curiosity. Blake climbed from the vehicle and stood by the fence. The black foal ran straight up to him rearing up crying out and stamping its front hooves. Bill joined him.

  "This foal is yours"

  "Yes, the children play with it. As a race horse it has a few problems."

  "Looks like a magnificent animal to me."

  "A pretty horse it is but he will be too big. Long thin legs with a big body he will carry a lot of weigh, could be coordination problems with legs like that, you wouldn't know till it was to late and money wasted. I got him from a local leading stud they didn't want him, to much of a risk; he has a mind of his own as well. Cant do anything with him but he loves the children."

  "I'm a novice horse buyer and racer but there's something about him. He's black as the night with perfect white markings. He seems to be taunting me to challenge him, the qualities of a champion."

  Bill dropped the corners of his mouth in a deep pout and shook his head. "I've never looked at things that way. I see obvious traits proven over a long time and this little fella has none of them." Blake climbed through the fence towards the foal. "Don't go near him sir hell have a go at you," shouted Bill. Blake payed him no mind and the foal allowed Blake to touch his forehead running his fingers over the perfect white diamond between his eyes. Bill was astonished. "That's the first time he's been touched by a man, he usually tries to be giving you a kicking." Bill climbed through the fence and the foal took flight back to the children. Blake watched it thunder away and run around with the laughing children.

  "You're children," he asked.

  "I."

  "Is this horse for sale?"

  "I never thought anyone would want him, he has another problem with his paperwork. The stud that breed him don't know who the father is. There was a fire in part of the stud's stables and the horses had to be quickly moved out into holding yards from the fire. By the time they had the fire under control three stallions had got into the same corral as the mare while she was on heat but they don't know which one got to her first." Only one man knows but he won't tell them."

  "Test DNA and match the samples."

  "They are not interested, poor little fella was written off destined for the abattoir, to much risk on investment. I felt sorry for him and brought him here I often take horses they don't want any more especially the older ones."

  "Will you sell him to me?"

  "If you want him why not, the kids have plenty of horses to play with."

  "How much?"

  "A hundred pounds."

  "A hundred pounds!"

  "If that's too much then fifty quid will do."

  Blake drew a gold plated pen from his top pocket and fumbled in his suit chest pocket for his check book. He calmly placed it on the tray of the land rover briskly writing on a check whilst the dogs licked his face. He tore the check out and handed it to Bill. "William McPherson as far as I remember, is that right."

  "It is." Blake finished tore out the check and handed it to Bill. He took the check with a wide smile his face changed to that of revelation when he read it. "Sir this check is for five thousand pounds."

  "Spend it wisely Bill as I just did and look after your wife and children. This horse will one day win the Melbourne Cup."

  "The Melbourne Cup, how."

  "Look at him, you won't stop him doing anything he wants. I spent my life making decisions on gut feelings all for someone else and was never wrong. Today I made a decision for myself."

  "Well I never, the little fella has already given me something way beyond my dreams. I can pay all my debts with this. Thank you very much sir."

  "Winston, call me Winston Bill."

  "That I will and what will you be calling the little fella."

  "This little fella will become a fire breathing monster, we just need to manage his energy in the right direction and he will do the rest. I have travelled between a place called Flax Bourton and Broadmead in Bristol for the last forty four years working for the day I could retire. Both places have been my life now this horse will be my life. His name will bear the name of these places, Flaxmead."