The horse truck pulled up in the driveway, then backed up to the gateway that led to the yard. Cole watched Tom Gaisford get out of the driver’s side and go around to the back.

He put the bucket in the stall and then went over to the gate to help.

“Cole, unlatch that side and help me lower the back.” Milly’s father reached up and undid the bolt on his side. The hydraulics on the back of the horse truck slowly lowered it until it became a ramp.

Milly had been away for three days now. He hadn’t heard from her, but then they hadn’t got around to giving each other their numbers.

He could see the back end of Hunter and the huge raised area on his gaskin where the cut had been stitched. The bandage on his foreleg glowed white in the dim light.

“Should I lead him out?” Cole asked.

Milly’s father nodded. “Take it slowly. We sedated him for the trip and he might still be groggy. We don’t want him stumbling and making anything worse.”

Cole climbed up and went to the horse. Hunter seemed to recognise him and whickered softly when he moved to the head end. He knew about the cut and the sprained foreleg, but he wasn’t prepared for how swollen Hunter’s face would be. He must really have been thrown around in the float when they crashed.

“You get hurt, boy?” Cole gently stroked above the horse’s eyes. It looked like the only part of the horse he could safely touch. Hunter turned his head stiffly and nuzzled Cole’s shoulder. Well, the horse recognised him. Hunter might even trust him enough to lead him out.

Cole untied the halter rope and opened the side gate so the horse wouldn’t have to back up. Didn’t want him bumping into anything accidentally. At least in a horse truck this big there was plenty of room for one horse to manoeuvre.

Hunter moved slowly and awkwardly as he followed Cole to the back of the truck and down the ramp.

In the bright sunlight Hunter looked a mess. Cole gently touched the uninjured spot on Hunter’s forehead again. Something oozed out of the cut and matted his coat. He did this to this horse.

“Is the box ready?” Milly’s father stood back and hands on hips studied Hunter.

Cole nodded. Hunter nuzzled at him again, like he forgave him.

His boss shook his head. “I’m still not sure this is the right decision. Even if the physical damage heals, we don’t know if he’ll want to jump again.”

“He didn’t get hurt jumping.” Cole didn’t disagree with the boss very often but there was no way he could stand back and let anyone decide to put Hunter down now he’d got this far.

“You might be right, but it’s going to take a lot of work caring for him over the next few weeks. That wound is going to need clearing off daily if he’s going to avoid infection, and his stall cleaned out a couple of times each day to stop flies hanging around.”

“I can do it.” Cole gently encouraged Hunter to walk towards the loose box he’d spent the last few hours preparing. “The holidays start in two days, so I can be here all the time. I can fit looking after Hunter around my other work.”

Milly’s father fell into step. “Okay, Cole. Hunter is your responsibility then.”

When they got to the stall Fred pushed the door wider, so Hunter could go in without bumping into anything. He must have heard the end of the conversation.

“I can help the boy, boss,” he said. “And show him what to do.”

Tom Gaisford nodded. “Clean out the truck and move it out of the way when you’ve got Hunter settled. The vet will be here to check those stitches every couple of days. If he doesn’t tear them and there’s no infection, they should be able to come out after ten days or so.” He looked over at Fred. “Can you take over from here?” Milly’s father looked ready to move on.

“Yeah. We’re fine,” said Fred.

Cole guessed Milly’s dad had dozens of racehorses to look after and couldn’t afford to waste too much time on one eventer he had been thinking of replacing and was probably washed up now anyway.

He looked at the poor damaged horse. Now it was his job to make him right again for Milly.

He led Hunter into the box and then looked over at Fred, leaning against the half door.

“What do I do first?” Cole asked.

Fred straightened up and stretched. “I’ll show you how to keep the wound clean, then we’ll put the flysheet over him and rub some insect repellent on his legs.” He grabbed the flysheet and a bucket off the shelf and came into the stall. He handed Cole the bucket. “Your first job is to fill this with hot water and get some soap and some rags. Then when we’ve done with Hunter you can help me clean out the horse truck. Then I’ll give you a driving lesson. That will give this poor old fella time to settle in.”

Cole got the water, soap and rags and Fred showed him how to care for the cut.

“You will need to clean off the plasma a couple of times a day.” Fred carefully wiped the oozing liquid away from the cut. “If it’s left it will damage the hair and skin and attract flies.” Even though Fred did it carefully, Cole could see Hunter trembling. He held the halter and rubbed the horse on the forehead to soothe him.

“Why not bandage it or put a sticking plaster on it?”

“It’s better left open to the air.” He rinsed the rag and went back to bathing around the wound. “The aim, when you are caring for him is to keep the cut as dry as possible and to keep flies away from it. We don’t want it infected or blown.”

“Okay.”

“You do it now.” Fred handed the rag over and Cole copied what he’d been doing.

Fred watched him. “That’s good. Hunter won’t want to move much because he’s so sore, but if he doesn’t move at all he’ll lose fitness quickly, so in a couple of days you’ll need to start taking him out for short walks. Once the cut has knitted you’ll be able to work up to gentle trotting.”

Cole rinsed the cloth and bathed away the rest of the crust that had formed while Hunter travelled in the horse truck. It looked like a fruitless activity. More plasma oozed out as he wiped.

“Do you think he’ll be good by the time Milly gets back?’

Fred shook his head. “No, this is going to take time. Every few days he’ll get better, but it could be a couple of months before he’s completely right. And that’s only if you do your job properly and there’s no secondary infection or tendon damage. Okay, time to get this flysheet on.”

When they had finished with Hunter they went over to the horse truck. Most of the other employees had gone. The horses were all bedded down.

Fred patted Cole on the shoulder.

“You’ve got your work cut out for you, boy. Hunter might not come right.”

Cole nodded. “Yeah. I know.” But he’d do everything he could to make sure the horse did get better.

By the second week of caring for Hunter, Cole could see the cut had knitted up and no longer secreted fluid. He had managed to avoid getting it infected.

The vet came to take the stitches out. It was his third visit and each time he’d been positive.

“It’s looking good,” said Ivan after all the stitches were removed. “Still only gentle walking for him though. We don’t want it opening up again.”

“What about his foreleg?” Cole held the halter rope and could see Hunter still favouring the damaged leg.

The vet moved forward and lifted it.

“There’s no swelling but he is still lame. If it doesn’t come right in the next few days we might have to do a scan to see if there is any damage we missed. For now, keep doing what you’re doing. When does Milly get home?”

“Her dad says on Sunday.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to Tom and see what he wants to do.”

Cole watched the vet get into his ute. Milly would be back in four days and he hadn’t managed to cure her horse. She still wouldn’t be able to ride it when she got home. He looked better. All the swelling around his face had gone down. But the welt on his hind leg from the cut still looked bad and he still limped when he walked. She wouldn’t be able to trot Hunter, let alone gallop and jump him.

His plan hadn’t worked.