Joe's Old Clothes

Joe had not been a sight. When Admiral Twiss took Kissy to him, he was lying peacefuly in the grass. Kizzy held the Admiral's hand.

Nat came out, took Kizzy's other hand, and together the three of them stood looking at the big still body, at Joe's head with the white blaze on his nose, his eyelashes -- Nat had closed his eyes -- his great legs and mighty hooves that were split and grey -- it was a long while since he had worn shoes. His bay coat still shone. Nat had given it many a rubbing. Joe seemed as if he were asleep, but a deep, deep sleep.

Kizzy went nearer. "Careful," said Nat. "He's getting stiff."

"Will -- will the knacker, the hounds, get him now?"

"They can't," said Admiral Twiss.

"Can't?" Kizzy's head came up.

"Joe's safe," said the Admiral, "because this isn't Joe. He's not here."

Kizzy broke from him and put her hand to Joe's nose, not touching. "He doesn't huff," she said.

"Of course not. He isn't there."

Kizzy looked at the Admiral as if weighing what he had said and put her hand again to Joe. "The warm is gone."

"Yes." Admiral Twiss came to her and gently touched Joe's body. "This is just his old clothes, Kiz. He doesn't need them any more."

"Where is he?"

Mrs. Blount might have said, "In the horse's heaven," but Admiral Twiss was plainer. "We don't know. Nobody knows, but I believe we shall find out."

"When we're dead?"

"Perhaps. It seems to make sense, doesn't it?" said the Admiral. "If Joe isn't here, he must be somewhere. Come. We'll leave his body to Nat."

Rumer Godden, The Diddakoi