The earl sold me to a man who owned something called a livery stable.
My new home was far away, which meant I had to travel there by train.
That was a frightening day.
I was used to seeing trains, of course, and never got scared when one rushed past.
But climbing onto one and feeling it roar and tremble all around me was a different matter.
For the first few minutes, I trembled as much as the train did.
After a while, though, I realized there was nothing to fear.
I rode the rest of the way quietly. But I was very glad to get off!
At the end of my journey, I was taken to the livery stable.
It wasn't as airy and pleasant as my previous homes, but it wasn't too bad.
The owner and his grooms were kind and experienced.
My new master took a close look at my scarred knees but didn't seem to mind what he saw.
I soon found out what being a livery horse meant.
The master owned lots of horses and many carriages and carts of all different types.
He hired them out to people who didn't have their own.
The first few times I was hired, my master or one of his men drove me.
That wasn't too bad. In fact, it wasn't much different from what I was used to.
Once the master saw how steady and reliable I was, he started hiring me out to people who preferred to drive themselves.
Now that was something different!
Until then I'd only been driven by good drivers.
Even when James was learning, he'd always had John there to help him.
Many of the people who hired me now were not good drivers.
Some liked to keep a very tight hold on the reins at all times.
They never relaxed their pull or allowed me a chance to relax.
Other drivers were just the opposite.
They let the reins lie loose on my back, hardly touching them at all.
That meant they had no control if I should suddenly rear or stumble.
I wasn't the type of horse to do that, so I had little objection to this type of driver.
Still I sometimes missed the steadying hand of my driver, especially while going downhill.
Besides, the loose-rein drivers were often careless about everything.
I once went a good distance with a stone in my foot before a passing farmer noticed and stopped to help me.
My own driver never even realized anything was wrong!
Then there were the customers who cared about nothing but speed.
They seemed to think we horses were just like trains that could go as far and as fast as they pleased.
This type of driving wore me out quicker than any other.
So my work at the livery stable differed from day to day.
Sometimes it was pleasant, and other times it was not.
I got to know the other horses there, especially a mare named Peggy.
Peggy was often paired with me when someone wanted to hire a team.
She was a pretty horse with a sweet temper.
The first time we went out together, I noticed she had an odd walk.
It was neither trot nor canter, but a combination of the two.
Every few strides she would add a little jump forward.
It was very confusing since I had to match my stride to hers.
I finally asked her what made her go in such an odd way.
"I know my gaits are bad," she said, seeming troubled.
"But it's not really my fault. It's because my legs are short.
That means my stride is short, and I have trouble keeping up with longer-legged horses like you!"
Luckily for Peggy, two women liked her so much that they decided to buy her.
After that I saw Peggy several times out in the street.
She was always pulling her mistresses at a good, steady pace and looking very happy.
I shouldn't make it sound as if I had nothing but poor drivers at the livery stable.
Sometimes I was hired by good horsemen.
One such gentleman liked me so much that he wanted to see what I would be like to ride as well.
After riding me several times, he asked my master if he would be willing to sell me.
"My friend is looking for a good, safe horse," the man said.
"I think this fellow would be perfect."
"This horse is one of the most reliable in my stable."
My master stroked his chin.
"But I suppose I'd be willing to part with him for the right price."
A deal was struck, and it was settled. I'd been sold again.