The More Things Change…
By
Sabrina

(set two weeks after The Fight for Follyfoot)

Early morning sunlight sparkled on the dew as Dora trotted Copper along the ridge above the river. Long grass swished beneath his hooves and the chestnut horse shook his head in impatience, longing to stretch his legs on this beautiful spring morning.

For Dora, every day had been perfect since she and Steve had returned from their holiday at Scarborough. Steve had moved his meagre possessions from the loft room above the stables into Dora's room in the cottage, and they'd heaved the old double bed from the spare room across the hall.

Slugger had shaken his head. "Moving in together, she says. What would the Colonel think?"

"That I'm old enough to know my own mind and own heart, Slugs," panted Dora. "Can you help me move this end?"

Slugger put his mug of tea on the carpet and between the three of them the bed found its new home. "Wouldn't happen in my day," he grumbled, picking up his tea and muttering his way back downstairs. He left a parting shot. "Hope you know there are no sheets for that bed. It was only there for show."

Steve had seemed quiet and a little awkward about the new arrangements, but Dora put that down to embarrassment in front of Slugger and Ron, who teased both of them and called them The Young Couple.

For Dora life couldn't be rosier. Snuggling up in Steve's arms every night (in the crisp new sheets) and waking beside him every morning, watching him stir beside her, his hair rumpled and face twitching, was bliss. The long kisses they had shared beneath the Lightning Tree had become the long kisses and a lot more in their bedroom. Sex with Steve was everything Dora could have imagined, but even better. Slugger had more than once joked that the bed knocking against the wall woke him up, but Dora told him he was lying and the house was so well built he couldn't have heard a thing.

Now Dora let Copper have his head, and the horse dropped into an easy canter that soon became a gallop, his mane whipping in the breeze. She let him have his head until they reached the Squire's land, then she reined him in.

"What a wonderful morning!" she exclaimed to Copper, who snorted and pranced in reply. "I wish Steve had come out too." She gazed at the serene vista around her; green fields, grazing horses, gilded by the early sun, a little surprised that Steve had, in fact, declined her invitation.

Steve had elected to start mucking out instead. He hadn't the heart to tell Dora, but he needed a bit of time to himself. Being with her twenty four hours a day was a joy and more than he could ever have hoped for, but he needed his space too, which Dora didn't seem to need; she was happy to be in his company almost all the time, timing her tea breaks to coincide with his. And if that space meant forking dirty hay into a barrow, then so be it. He managed a bit of time alone by doing the run to the feed merchant and other chores. He'd have to make it clear to Dora soon that being in love and being together shouldn't compromise having your own time too, but had a hunch she'd take it the wrong way, Dora being Dora. They'd had some huge fights in the past and right now he didn't want another one.

Steve was too honest and genuine and too much in love to treat Dora with the same arrogant flippancy Ron treated his girlfriends. Ron would happily have two girls on a string at the same time, neither knowing about the other, or declare undying love to a girl and dump her the next day. He sidled in and out of his relationships without a scratch, the same way he did other things that were vaguely shady and never fully explained.

"Women," Steve sighed to the Weaver, who blew down his nostrils as if in agreement. "Right mate, you were the last one. Time for breakfast."

He heaved the barrow onto the muck heap, and whistling, went into the cottage. "What's for breakfast, Slugger?"

"Bacon and eggs," replied Slugger, as Steve knew he would. "Bacon is good for you, and so is eggs." Steve mouthed the words in unison behind Slugger's back. "Didn't you go out riding too, lad? Nice mornin' for it."

"Not today, I wanted to get a head start on the stables."

"Head start, he says. You done 'em all, I seen you, and now there'll be nothin' for Ron to do."

"He does nothing anyway. You know that! We need to restack the straw bales, the barn's a mess, so Ron can help me do that this morning." Steve made himself a cup of tea, watching Dora trot back into the yard, her face pink with the fresh air.

Ten minutes later she'd unsaddled Copper and rubbed him down, and was washing her hands at the kitchen sink. "You should have come, Steve. It was gorgeous. There were trout in the river, I could see them from the hill, clear as anything. And the birds!" She sipped her tea. "Magical." She dropped a light kiss on Steve's hair.

"No time this morning, I want to get Ron doing some work for a change when he comes in."

A loud clatter in the yard told them Ron had arrived. His motorbike gave a last backfire and fell mercifully silent. Rubbing his hands, Ron swaggered in. "Where's breakfast? Flippin' starvin' I am!"

"Where it always is," grumbled Slugger, who was eating his own. "On the stove. Help yourself."

"Always so polite, our Slugger. Hey, there's only burnt bits left!"

"Only burnt bits, he says. Should have got here on time then, shouldn't you?"

"Don't worry, Ron," said Dora. "They're all burnt bits." She crunched her bacon.

Slugger feinted a punch at her.

"What's on this mornin' then?" said Ron. "Only I'd like to fix me bike, it keeps backfirin'."

"We're cleaning up the barn, you and I," Steve said. "The straw needs restacking."

Ron pulled a face.

"I'd love to help but I'm going into town," grinned Dora. "Slugger's got a shopping list. We're almost out of eggs and bacon."

"There's a relief," said Ron, and didn't duck quickly enough at Slugger's punch, which landed on his shoulder. "Ouch!"

* * *

An hour later Steve and Ron were covered in straw, and the barn was half restacked, when a car with a horse trailer pulled up at the gate.

"I wonder who that is," Steve mused. "We're not expecting anyone."

The woman in a white trenchcoat and shapely jodhpured legs tucked into boots looked around the yard questioningly, so Steve dusted himself off the best he could and went to greet her.

"This is Follyfoot Farm?" she said. Up close she was in her forties, but with the benefits of the most expensive face creams and makeup money could buy below a longish mane of carefully bleached, streaky blonde hair that blew around her face artfully. Only her hands gave her away - weathered, genuine horsy hands. "And you take old horses?"

"That's right," Steve agreed. "How can we help?"

"I've had to sell up my riding stables as I have to move south to look after my mother, who's desperately ill and will be for quite a while. I've managed to sell most of my ponies but Ned is so old nobody will take him, and I couldn't send him to the knacker's." She pushed her hair out of her eyes with hand, shrugging her coat tighter about her with the other.

"Of course not." Steve pulled a face at the thought. They walked to the trailer, which had "Moorland Riding School" and the phone number neatly painted on the side.

The bright bay pony in the trailer looked at them enquiringly. Steve could see instantly he was on the wrong side of 25; his back was long and swayed and around his eyes and mouth was flecked with white. Why nobody would buy him was obvious, but he appeared to be in good health otherwise.

The woman – who said her name was Trish – backed Ned slowly out of the trailer. "You'll take him then?"

Steve ran his hands down the pony's legs and checked inside his mouth. "No health problems to speak of?"

"Oh no, he's fit. Just old. He's hardy – he's part Dartmoor pony and used to all weathers. And he's very quiet, a real beginner's horse." Trish patted the pony's neck briskly.

Steve took the leading rein. "We'll take him."

"Oh, thank you!" Trish shook Steve's hand and then flipped up the heavy trailer ramp before he had the chance to help her. Steve had a passing thought that he should ask Trish to help him with the barn – she seemed fitter and stronger than Ron!

Trish expertly turned the car and trailer, and rattled off down the track. Ned whinnied, and was answered by three of the Follyfoot horses, who were all looking over their stable doors with interest.

The pony walked happily beside Steve, his head up, sniffing.

"Not another old nag," groaned Ron. "What's Dora going to say?"

"She'll be fine," said Steve. "You know she's a soft touch and this poor old boy might have gone to the knacker's if we didn't take him." He rubbed the pony's face. "Now I just have to find a stable for him, although Trish did say he was used to being out. He could probably live in the field until winter."

For now, though, Steve tied the pony up to a rail and gave him an armful of hay to munch on. Dora could see him when she arrived home.

Dora, however, didn't react quite as Steve expected. She jumped out of the Land Rover with a frown and walked over to the pony. "Who's is this?"

"Our newest rescue," Steve said, brushing the pony's flanks with a body brush. "This is Ned. His owner is selling her riding school and moving south, but nobody will buy him. He's too old. It's us or the knacker's." He smiled at Dora. "I knew you'd understand."

"Steve," Dora said tightly, "Uncle Geoffrey left me in charge here. It's MY decision as to whether or not we take on new horses, and in this case, we don't have room. Every stable is full."

"Now hang on! Ned can live in the field, he's a hardy little fellow." Ned flattened his ears at the change of Steve's tone from friendly to tense.

"You should have made the owner wait until I arrived back."

"And would YOU have turned Ned away?"

"That's beside the point."

Steve put the body brush on the fence. "You're being unreasonable, Dora. This is a horse in need. If we have to, as he seems fit enough, we can possibly find him a permanent home with someone who wants to learn to ride. But for now, he needs us. He's got nowhere else. You're only saying he can't stay to prove a point, that you're in control."

"I AM in control. That's what Uncle wanted. And I want you to get in touch with his owner and say we don't have the space for him, because we don't."

"It's all very well that you've learned to make tough decisions on your own. That's part of growing up. But you're only making this one to prove a point. That you're the boss. You're not thinking of the horse, you're thinking of proving your own respect rather than respecting that other people can make decisions too. Well, you don't have my respect. Not if we give Ned back." Steve's eyes blazed with anger. "I won't ring the owner up. Your decision this time, Mistress of Follyfoot, is wrong."

They glared at each other until Dora's eyes broke away and she noticed the brass tag hanging off Ned's headcollar. "Moorland Riding Stables. I'll ring them myself." And she stalked off to the cottage.

Ten icy minutes later Dora had persuaded Trish to collect Ned. She hung up the phone to find Steve walking down the stairs with an armful of his clothing. "What are you doing?"

"Moving back over the stables. This isn't working, Dora. You don't trust my judgment. How can I be in such a close relationship with you when you obviously don't respect me? I know damn well if you'd been the one to see Ned arrive at the yard you've had taken him on, just as I did. There's more of your mother in you than I thought. I'm still just Steve the stable boy, aren't I? It's okay to sleep with the peasants, as long as you keep them in their place from time to time." He pushed past her.

"Steve! No! Listen, it's not like that!" Dora's eyes filled with tears. She grabbed at his sleeve, but he shook her off.

"Leave me alone. I need some space, anyway. That's another thing you don't respect," he flung over his shoulder.

Steve's anger was almost an aura around his body. Dora, stunned, watched him stalk out the door, away from her, before running up to their room – now her room again – and flinging herself on the bed, sobbing as if she wanted to spend every tear she had.

She'd lost him! Couldn't he see that someone had to make the major decisions about which horses could come to Follyfoot? That since she had been left in charge, she had to BE in charge when it counted?

Dora cried even harder. What hurt almost as much as hearing Steve's awful words was the knowledge that, in fact, she probably would have taken Ned on if the tables had been turned, and she'd been home and Steve out.

Finally she sobbed herself to sleep. She didn't hear Trish's car and trailer pull up, or Ned's plaintive whinny as he was loaded back in and driven away.

* * *

They weren't talking. Both stubborn people, neither Steve nor Dora was ready to apologise to the other and try and put things right.

Steve took his sandwich lunch sitting on the moors, feeling wretched and wondering just what he'd done. If he'd only kept his temper in check, the situation might be salvageable. But now it seemed Dora was further away than ever. Why did he say that stupid thing about her being like her mother, which he knew would cut her to the bone? And as for space….well, he could have broached that a lot more diplomatically!

Beside him Alex grazed, his spotty grey head occasionally nudging Steve's back as if comforting him.

Could he even stay at Follyfoot now? How could he face Dora every day? Steve's heart felt as if it were being ripped in two. Good sense told him to move on, get a new life; his soul told him to stay, that simply seeing Dora every day, painful though it might be, was infinitely better than not seeing her ever again.

Dora, for her part, was terrified Steve might leave. In the hours since he'd moved back to the loft she had formed an apology, had perfected it, but his mutinous face as he rode out the gate to the moors stopped her from saying it, and the words drained away as if she'd never thought of them.

"The path of true love never runs smooth, eh?" Ron grinned. "Don't worry about it, luv. He'll come around. We blokes always do. You were a bit harsh on him about Ned, though."

"Oh, don't you start, Ron!" Dora kicked one of the rubber stable buckets halfway across the yard. "He's not even talking to me. He's moved back to the loft."

"The more things change, the more they stay the same…" Ron lit a cigarette and went back to work on his bike. Dora didn't even bother telling him not to smoke when he was working on the engine. Right now she didn't care if she blew up into a million pieces.

That night Steve and Ron went out on Ron's bike to the pub. "Come on, mate," Dora heard Ron say, "Let's pick up some birds. I get first choice though!"

Dora's heart sank as, from her perch on Copper's feed bin, she heard Steve laugh in reply, "Toss you for them!" and his boots click on the cobbles as he followed Ron to the bike.

She lay in bed unsleeping until midnight, when the clatter of Ron's bike woke her, and from her dark window she watched Steve, without a glance in her direction, head to the barn and his old bed.

Next morning she discovered Steve had eaten breakfast early and was working in the stables. The surly set of his back as he pitched hay into the barrow stopped her from wishing him good morning and setting things right. He clearly didn't want to talk to her, so she went about the business of feeding the horses instead.

Ron, as usual, rode into the yard when mucking out was almost over, yawning like a cat as he dismounted his bike. His walk was even more of a swagger than usual. Dora said: "Good night last night then?"

Ron winked. "For some. Your lad didn't want to have much fun though. Spent the night with his head stuck in a pint. Got me a nice bird, but. Ain't love grand?" Ron stuck a bit of straw in his mouth and grinned.

Dora felt a wave of relief flow over her; so Steve hadn't been spending the evening with another girl! Not that it made any difference – he still wasn't talking to her!

By lunchtime they were using Slugger and Ron to talk to each other. "Slugger, can you tell Dora she gave Domino too many oats and now he's scouring?" "Ron, can you tell Steve lunch is ready, if he's going to join us?" "Ron, can you ask Dora to pass the salt?" "Slugs, can you ask Steve to pass it back?"

Ron thought it hilarious and made up messages when there weren't any. "Steve, Dora says you're to restack the barn as the bales aren't neat enough. They must be exactly on top of each other." "Dora, Steve says to ask you whether he's allowed have a cup of tea, because you're the boss and you say when he can have a cuppa."

Late in the day, when Steve had done the evening feeds and said – via Slugger – he'd be having dinner somewhere in the village, Dora leaned against the Lightning Tree, trying not to think of the many nights she and Steve had stood under its two green twigs and kissed.

"Oh Tree," she sighed. "I'm growing up wrongly, aren't I? You've got another chance at life, you've got your new branches, tiny as they are. I NEED another chance, a chance to put things right." She poured a bucket of water on its roots, believing, in a childlike way, the tree had the power to help her. "Help me get that chance. Help me grow up to make the right decisions, not the wrong ones." She caressed its rough bark, and trudged back to the cottage. It was going to be another long night.

The silence continued for days, so long that even Ron ran out of mock messages, and Steve had eaten at every pub for three villages rather than sit at the dinner table with Dora. It became harder and harder for either of them to say sorry; easier, almost, to continue like this.

In their spare time Steve and Dora went out riding – in opposite directions! Steve headed for the moors, far from anywhere, where the winds whipped at his hair and he could escape from all his thoughts, and watch buzzards soar in the sky. Dora rode through the woods near the river, occasionally crossing it at the stony causeway and riding up to the Squire's land, where there were fences and order and quiet grazing horses.

It was on one of her rides that she found Ned.

The pony had clearly been dumped, rather than taken back to the riding school. He was without a headcollar but Dora recognized the distinctive white circle of hair around each eye. His mane and tail were matted with brambles.

Worst of all, he was lame. One knee had swollen to double its size, and the pony could hardly move. He stood near the river, his head between his knees, looking as sorry as a pony could get.

Dora jumped off Copper, who began to nibble the lush grass that grew at the river's edge.

Slowly she approached Ned, who pricked his ears and sniffed her hands hopefully. "Poor lad!" she exclaimed, and knelt beside him, running expert hands down his injured foreleg. The knee was hot and puffy to the touch, and Ned walked a step backward even at Dora's gentle touch.

If anything reinforced what a bad decision she'd made turning him away, this was it. Tears sprang to her eyes. He was in pain, and it was her fault. If she'd have let him stay…

She had to get him back to Follyfoot and get a vet to him. He obviously didn't want to move and therefore wouldn't follow Copper without a lead rope, which she didn't have.

"I'll get help," Dora promised Ned, stroking his nose. "Don't you go anywhere, we'll soon get you home."

She pushed Copper as hard as she dared through the woods and across the open land, covering the couple of miles between the river and Follyfoot in record time, with Copper blowing and snorting. Trotting into the yard, she yelled, "Steve! Steve!"

"What?" said Steve sullenly, looking out over Alex's door. P> "It's Ned! He's near the river, and he's hurt!" She jumped off Copper. "We've got to go and get him."

"Not my problem," Steve said, hating himself for it. "You made the decision not to take him. We can't have him here, remember? You're the boss and that's what you said."

"Oh, don't be so bloody stubborn!" she shouted. "Okay, I was wrong. I admit it, I was wrong. And now he needs us!"

"But where can he go? We're all full up, remember?"

"Oh, you!" Dora stamped her foot, much like Copper, and Steve suppressed a grin. "We'll find somewhere. Just help me, Steve, will you? He's got a knee like a football and he can't walk."

"What about Ron? He could help you."

"Not like you. Steve, I need you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Dora gulped back tears and reached out a hand to touch Steve's arm. "Please? Can you forgive me? And will you help me?"

There was a pause that seemed to last an eternity as Steve's eyes were fixed on Dora's face. "I'll help," he said finally, "But we've got some talking to do, you and I."

Dora hadn't realised she'd been holding her breath and let it out in a long sigh. "Oh, thank you, Steve!" She almost hugged him, but felt it wasn't the right thing to do – not yet, anyway.

Steve resaddled a surprised Alex while Dora phoned the vet, then they rode out of the yard together.

"Would you look at that," said Slugger to nobody from the kitchen window. "They've seen sense."

Dora and Steve were too busy cantering through the woods to talk to each other, and when they found Ned, who hadn't moved, Steve gave a long, low whistle. "That looks dreadful."

If he'd told Dora then and there it was all her fault, she wouldn't have been surprised, but Steve was bigger than that and merely slipped a headcollar on the pony and led him forward a few steps. Ned lurched and limped, but he would probably make it back to Follyfoot okay if they went slowly.

Back on their horses, Steve said, "Dora, sometimes you have to let others make decisions when you're not there. That's what the Colonel did when he left you in charge, wasn't it?"

Dora nodded wordlessly. Whatever was coming, she probably deserved it, she thought miserably.

"I saw a horse in need and took him in, which is what you do. Tell me, if it had been you, not me, would Ned have stayed?"

"Yes," Dora said quietly.

"But because it wasn't you, it was the wrong decision, because you'd been left out of it?" Steve said gently.

"Yes," Dora said again, feeling small.

"Dora, if we're to make anything of our relationship – whatever it is right now – we have to have a degree of trust in each other. Belief. Faith. We're a team, and we have to work as a team. I know Follyfoot is business rather than relationship, but the two are blurred for us, we're both such a part of it. If you're not gonna trust me to do the right thing for Follyfoot or its horses for you when you're not there, then we can't go any further than we are right now, girl."

"Which is what, Steve?" Dora nudged Copper up beside him. "Do we have a relationship or not? You're sleeping over the loft again."

"Which is where stable boys sleep," Steve grinned.

Dora groaned. "You're not a stable boy. And I'm not my mother. I love you for who you are, not what you do."

"And it's lucky I love you for who you are and not what you do, too, isn't it?" Steve grinned. "'Cos you make bad decisions sometimes!"

"And I'm paying for it now. Poor Ned!" Dora said glumly.

"Don't worry too much, girl. I'm sure he'll be fine in a few days. He's keeping up with us okay anyway." Steve noticed Ned wasn't limping quite as badly, and hoped that by keeping moving the pony's leg would stay more mobile. "Wait till I find that Trish and give her a piece of my mind – dumping him like that!"

"Me too – on that we're agreed!"

Follyfoot was in sight, and Dora saw the vet's car waiting in the yard.

Ned stood patiently while the vet probed his leg gently. "He's given it a massive knock. Nothing broken that I can feel but I'd suggest an x-ray just in case he's chipped a bone. I'll send the truck and we'll take him back to the surgery. If there's no chip then it's a case of hosing it three times a day, and I'll give him some antibiotics for the swelling."

"And I'll send the bill to Trish," muttered Dora.

"If she's still there," agreed Steve. "I have a hunch Trish has scarpered."

In the cottage, Slugger was cooking stew. "Staying for dinner, Steve? Or are you off to the pub again?"

"What, and miss your stew, Slugger? No, I'm staying."

Slugger's face split into a huge grin. "See, I knew deep down you liked me cooking."

"No, it's just that I'm broke from eating out every night." Steve dodged Slugger's punch expertly.

* * *

Later, much later, when Ned was back from the vet's with the good news that his knee was only bruised, the moon was high and the yard and moors were drenched in silver light, and Dora and Steve sat on the fence under the Lightning Tree.

Their conversation had first been tentative and stilted, but gradually they relaxed with each other.

"That stuff about space," Dora said carefully. "What exactly did you mean?" She picked a non-existent bit of fluff off her jeans, not daring to look at his face.

Steve puffed out his cheeks and blew. What to say? He counted the stars in the sky for a few seconds and replied when he got to thirty. "Not having to spend all day every day doing everything together, I suppose. Still doing things you want to do on you own. Whether you fancy a ride by yourself, or going shopping for clothes with Callie. Or me. If I just wanted to go out into the moors for a bit for a walk. It's important to still be able to have time to yourself, even in a relationship. Understanding that is part of growing up. Something they probably didn't teach you at that posh finishing school."

"They didn't," Dora agreed. "But we did learn how to mix martinis and prepare cocktail gherkins, and when wearing diamonds is appropriate." She made light of Steve's comments as she realised she'd been rather crowding him lately, and not doing her usual independent things.

"Making the right decisions, and learning to trust others to make 'em when you're not there is all part of growing up too," said Steve gently, touching Dora's cheek. "Can you trust me?"

"Of course I can. I do. Are you going to give me a second chance?"

"Oh, yes." Steve stood up and pulled Dora to her feet, then encircled her with his arms. "You drive me mad sometimes, but I'd sooner be driven mad than be without you. These last few days have been the worst I've known. I was sure I'd lost you – sure you'd ask me to leave."

"I was frightened you WOULD leave," Dora whispered, putting her arms around his neck.

In answer, Steve kissed her, first tenderly, then more hungrily. Dora melted in his arms and lost all track of time, so relieved to have his lips on hers, and know he still loved her. She kissed him back, so close against him she could feel his heart thumping in his chest. For a moment she opened her eyes; above her, the Lightning Tree showed another green shoot, tiny but strong…but growing.

Then Steve picked her up and carried her towards the cottage. "You're not sleeping in the loft any more?" she teased gently.

"That's one decision I'm sure you won't disagree with," Steve said, nudging the door open with one knee.

"What about your clothes?"

"Oh, I won't need 'em tonight. I'll fetch 'em in the morning." Steve kicked the door shut and carried Dora up the stairs.

She felt the Lightning Tree had, after all, given her that precious second chance.

The end
© 2004 Sabrina Davis

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