The Phantom's Daughter

Chapter Fifteen

I didn’t get an assignment from Erik this time around and he practically shoved me out the door so I figured his use for me was done, and something about that made me want to cry. It made me feel so dirty being used by adults and then just left out in the cold when it no longer suited them. And I had to stop letting it happen. At least this time he paid me for it and was somewhat decent to me.

But I hated the fact that he remarked on my branding scar. It was a horrid reminder of where I had come from. It was an accident from one of M. Meshaw’s children playing with the still hot iron, but even the same. M. Meshaw had no remorse for it. He had laughed and said that it now made me identifiable. It was a square symbol interrupted by four lines going out of it and meeting in the middle that formed another smaller square with a star in the middle of that. I tried my best to keep it hidden and often wrapped a small scarf around my wrist to hide it so I wouldn’t have to look at it. How dare that man ask about it. I didn’t ask about how he got his face.

I went to the stables, to do my work there and then go see Sweet Demon. It was drudging work to get that stallion to trust me, but I saw it was worth it. It just took patience, lots of time, and love. I’d spend long hours of the day, in his paddock, hanging out, working on him to trust me, rewarding him with treats and pats. I had finally managed to halter him and comb out his mane and tail entirely. He was gaining weight, moved amazingly, and held his head in tall and proud and often tucked, as if trying to show off.

But now things needed to get a little more serious. I had made a deal with the Opera managers and the stable manager that I could get Sweet Demon manageable enough to be in a play if he was going to stay. If not, he would be sold, and usually horses that were unmanageable went to bad homes, where men weren’t kind and patient with them and would beat them until they were bloodied, their spirits crushed.

I know because that’s exactly what M. Meshaw did to me and his horses.

That’s why I had to run away finally, and free all the horses too.

Both Miss. Eleanor and the Orphanage tried to do the same too.

Now I lived hating people, not knowing what it was like for other children to go home to a warm bed, a nice filling meal, and loving parents. I would see those school children run from the bell, back to their homes, to go play with their friends and have folks to hug and kiss them at night and to love and support them. Perhaps I would never get that life but I’d be damned if I was going to let that happen to Sweet Demon.

I had finally gotten him brushed and haltered, and now I was teaching him to lead and lunge. Sweet Demon would act like he was getting it for a minute or two but then would buck away, spook, or flat out not let me touch him, raising his head high so that I couldn’t reach the little rope I had put, dangling on his halter.

“You’re letting that horse walk all over you.” a voice behind me said, making me nearly jump out of my skin. I spun around to see him standing there, dressed in all black, with a full thick cape and a scarf wrapping up from his neck to the bottom half of his face. Completed with a black hat with a wide brim, he gave the impression that he had a ghostly white face under the scarf and hat.

“Why don’t you just dress like that in order to go out in public instead of spending all your time in the cellars?” I asked. Sweet Demon stood besides me, head proudly arched, turned to look at this new stranger with suspicion. But even more strangely is he didn’t act as unsettled as he would when the other stable hands were around—even though most of them were decent around me except for Lloyd.

He stared at me unblinking. Normally, a person would find this unsettling, but I just stared back in a challenging, defiant stare. “This look only works for so long before people get suspicion one, and two, it’s extremely impractical in the summertime. Now back to what I was saying, you’re letting that animal walk all over you. It’s good that you want to be his friend and earn his trust, but you also need to establish a boundary with him that you are his superior.”

“He’s been abused, Erik, any harsh treatment is going to shut him down again and ruin all the work.” I responded, petting my horse. He put his head down to me as if to thank me for standing up for him and I went to grab his halter.

“I never said anything about being harsh with him. Do not talk to me like I don’t know what abuse does to a person or an animal. I’ve been around far longer than you have little mademoiselle, and I’ve seen a whole lot more too. You don’t have to be harsh with him, but be firm and commanding, and then reward him when he responds with respect.” he said.

As if on cue, the moment I had grabbed Sweet Demon’s rope to pull him into a walk, the horse launched forward, knocking me to the ground, his big knee catching me in the back. He was respectful enough to watch that his hooves didn’t touch me, but the ground was unforgiving, punishing my lip, splitting it, the hot blood welling up and crawling down my chin. My back ached in protest from being bruised and that mean horse that I’d been slaving after simply pranced over, high stepping along the paddock fence line and over to Maggie, the little fleabitten white mare. She had just been let out her stall; some of the stable hands thought it’d help to have her school my Sweet Demon, and school him she did, pinning her ears against her head and showing her teeth to him.

Sweet Demon arched his head proudly, turning his head away from her, and skipping along the fence line trying to impress her. And there was Erik standing there, with a look of ‘I told you so.’