I had become good friends with Jerry's other horse, Captain.
The noble, old war horse was good company, and I never imagined that he would leave us.
And I suppose he wouldn't have, if not for the accident.
I wasn't there, so I only know what I heard.
It seemed that Jerry and Captain had just dropped off a customer when they heard a terrible commotion nearby.
"Clear the way!" someone yelled. "Runaway cart!"
Jerry and Captain turned to see something terrible.
A cart pulled by a team of large, panicky draft horses was out of control and racing toward them!
It all happened so fast that Jerry and Captain couldn't move out of the way in time.
The cart crashed into them, knocking over both cab and horse.
Jerry was thrown free and escaped with only bumps and bruises.
Poor Captain wasn't so lucky.
It was a sad sight to see him limp into the stable, sore and bleeding from numerous cuts and gashes.
Jerry and the vet did all they could for him, and for a while he seemed to be getting better.
But Captain was a very old horse, and Jerry soon realized he would never be fit for cab work again.
"He might recover well enough for you to sell him," the vet said.
"He could bring a few pounds at the horse sale from someone who needs a cart horse."
"Absolutely not!" Jerry said firmly.
"I won't sell a good old friend into hard work and misery.
It's much kinder to put him down here at home.
That way I'll know he won't suffer anymore."
The next day Jerry's son, Harry, took me to the blacksmith for some new shoes.
When I returned, Captain was gone.
I missed the old fellow a lot, and I know Jerry and his family did too.
But the cab had been fixed by then, and there was work to do, so Jerry began the search for a new horse.
He ran into a young man from a nobleman's stables.
That young man told him about a certain horse in his care.
This horse was young and well-bred, but he'd run away with the carriage and caused an accident.
This left him too blemished for a gentleman's stables so the young man had to sell him.
"He's not the typical cab horse," the friend warned Jerry.
"He's young and quite spirited."
"I can deal with high spirits as long as the horse isn't nasty," Jerry said.
"He's not nasty or vicious at all," the young man said.
"In my opinion, the accident wasn't his fault.
It was a cool day, and the horse hadn't had enough exercise that week.
The checkrein was very tight, and the bit rather harsh.
I think the combination made the horse lose his mind."
"That makes sense to me," Jerry said.
"Perhaps all he needs is some fair treatment and an honest day's work to settle him down.
I'll come see him tomorrow."
The next day the horse came home with Jerry. His name was Hotspur.
He was only five years old and very handsome.
I greeted him as he looked around the stable.
He answered politely, but seemed distracted.
"It can't be true!" he said. "Am I really reduced to being a humble cab horse?"
"It's not a bad life," I told him. "Yes, the work can be hard.
But Jerry and his family are the kindest masters you could have."
Hotspur snorted and didn't answer.
He seemed disgusted, and spent most of that first night moving around so restlessly that I couldn't sleep.
But after five or six hours of pulling the cab the following day, he returned to the stable seeming much quieter and more sensible.
Jerry spent a lot of time with him that first week, and before long they understood each other almost as well as Jerry and I did.
"See?" Jerry told his son, Harry, one day.
"With an easy bit in his mouth and plenty of work, our Hotspur will soon be as gentle as a lamb.
That nobleman's loss is our gain.
Now we have a fine, strong young horse with many good years ahead of him."
Even Hotspur himself seemed to agree.
"I suppose I could have ended up in a worse place," he said that evening after we'd finished our grain.
"At least here I don't have to wear that horrible checkrein.
And the bit is much softer than my old one. That makes up for a lot."
I agreed with that, of course.
Before long Hotspur had settled in so well that it was hard to remember what things were like without him.