Toby didn't know much else of the world apart from his father's farm. He only went to school to learn to read and write as Father saw no need in wasting money on any higher education. Besides, all that he really needed to know he would learn at the farm which he would one day inherit.
It was situated in a well-off rural area, yet even there, Father's farm was among the biggest. He was able to acquire it using the wealth he earned from his time as a merchant in the Cape Colony, and he would often tell Toby stories of the strange and terrifying things he encountered there. He would always end them insisting that Toby would not earn his right to the land before he served in the army, as he did before his merchant days.
"In this world you will never survive by being meek and no father can teach a boy toughness quite like a few years spent fighting the Zulus," in his words.
It would, however, be impossible for the two of them to take care of the farm by themselves, even if Toby's mother or younger siblings were to somehow help. And so, the land was worked and the animals were taken care of mostly by the numerous farm hands Father hired. This did not mean Toby was left idle. Father's second most important value was respect, and he sought to instill in Toby not only respect for his elders, chiefly Father himself, but the desire and duty to be respected by others around him. Especially those that work below him.
"You can't expect people to respect you just because you inherited a farm and some money. You have to do the work, have the skills, lead by example. In short, you have to show them you are the boss and that you earn your living by working like them, not by having your name on something."
Accordingly, Toby worked as a farm hand with no special privileges. Despite his youth he adapted quickly and was well liked among the rest. By the time his age reached a dozen, he was in complete tune with the farm life. This did not mean he was not allowed to spend time playing with the local children when his work was finished, but most of them were getting educated and didn't have to do nearly the amount of work he had to, so he preferred to spend time with Father's employes and their children, as well as, of course, the many animals he was tasked with tending to.
It is not surprising that Toby developed a strong fondness for animals. The multitude of cows, pigs, sheep, chickens, horses and others the farm housed he regarded as fellow creatures just as much as the people he worked with. Consequently, he was opposed to any cruelty that might have been done to them. This caused great annoyance to his father, who was always quick to reprimand him for any outburst of sympathy as he thought that the animals, unreasonable creatures as they were, could not be negotiated with or impressed like men could be, and so the only way to communicate with their base nature was force.
It was a sunny day in early spring, and Toby was cleaning the stables when he heard a carriage drawing closer. He was surprised, as nobody had told him they were having visitors, and especially since he would have to tend to the horse drawing the carriage.
He paused his work to investigate the unexpected happening. It was not a carriage, but a wagon, drawn by a single horse. It stopped in front of the house and waited as the farm hands rushed around loading produce into it.
Toby halted one of them asking: "Phil, what is going on?"
"Some private customer," shrugged the skinny roughly shaven young man, "he's paying good money to have the best goods delivered to him once a week, at least for the time being."
"Is there something I should do?" Toby questioned him further.
"No, not at all. It's just a short pick-up operation. You don't need to pay attention to it." Phil replied quickly and rushed off.
Toby was about to return to the stables, but before he did, he once again looked at the wagon, and his eyes stopped at the horse. Something about it was off, or rather, something about its harness was off. Positioned on both sides of its head at eye level were what looked like two straps of leather. Toby, stupefied by the sight, placed his hands close to his face in a way that mimicked the unknown tack. His view became very restricted, so much that the only thing he could see was the horse right in front of him. Their eyes met for a moment, but before Toby could get a good look at them, the wagon abruptly left.
He returned to his duties, but his thoughts remained occupied by the horse. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to have your vision blocked in such a manner presumably every day. Sure enough, the wagon returned the following week, and Toby decided to enquire further about the horse's predicament.
Soon after it arrived Toby rushed to the wagoner who was impatiently waiting for the goods to be loaded and asked: "Excuse me, what is that strange tack around your horse's eyes? I've never seen it before."
"What, you've never seen blinders before?" the wagoner asked, visibly annoyed at the pestering.
"Blinders?"
"Oh, Christ almighty," he sighed, "well it's pretty self-explanatory, isn't it? Every day I have to get to a number of places in a short amount of time. For that I need the animal to stay on the road and not waste time getting distracted. So, I put blinders on it and, well, now that it wears eye guards it can't even see places where it isn't supposed to go and I can do my job, now move kid I am not your father, I don't have patience for your nagging."
Toby moved in front of the wagon so that this time he could see the horse's eyes clearly. They were staring at him blankly, probably because it had grown so used to the blinders that it accepted that the only thing it may have the privilege of seeing was that which was in front of it. But somewhere behind the stare Toby could see a tinge of sadness. It was quiet, but it was undeniably present.
Toby raised his hand to pet it, but before he could do so, the wagoner shouted at him to move and they quickly left. All he could think of since then were those eyes. That same night he even had a nightmare.
He dreamt he was back in school learning how to count. He sat in the middle of the front row, looking straight forward at the teacher writing numbers on the chalkboard. However, his vision was obscured similarly to when he mimicked the blinders with his hands. He could hear the children around him talking, writing, joking, but he could not turn his head to see them. Weeks, even months went by, the teacher started writing mathematical problems: addition, subtraction, multiplication, division. Other children were presumably raising their hands before answering them, but Toby could still not see them. All he could see were the numbers on the chalkboard changing, until one of the children came forward to solve a problem on it. After he did so successfully, he turned around to return to his seat, but before he could his eyes met Toby's. Toby could feel himself giving the same look to the boy the horse gave to him. A subtle break from the monotony with a desperate message.
Help.
He woke up in a cold sweat. He had to do something; he couldn't let the horse live out the rest of its life in such conditions. He was aware that the blinders were most likely removed when it returned to its stable, but so what? His dream wouldn't be any less terrifying if he knew he would remove his blinders before returning home.
For the next month Toby was plotting ceaselessly. Every time the wagon arrived he carefully studied the movements of the wagoner and the farm hands, waiting for the opportune moment to put his plan into action. The opportunity presented itself when one of the farm hands accidentally slipped and spilled some vegetables, which caused the wagoner to go assess the damage and possible delay. As soon as he saw the back of him, Toby rushed into action and removed the eye guards.
The horse was static at first, before turning its head a few times. He tried to pet it again, but he was once again stopped as the horse became erratic trying to break the harness, causing Toby to stumble backwards and fall. Before the adults could do anything, the horse succeeded in its task and ran off into the countryside.
The wagoner looked on in despair before he noticed Toby sitting on the floor, which made his face purple with anger. Before he could lay a hand on him, however, Father rushed out of the house to investigate the commotion.
"What the hell are you idiots doing?!" he yelled at the crowd.
"This brat messed with my horse, and it ran off," the wagoner responded promptly, "I will be reporting everything to mister Withshire, and I can assure you if he isn't gone by nightfall the entire deal is over!"
Father looked at him and then Toby before slowly going up to the wagoner and getting in his face: "Firstly, my boy isn't going anywhere, and if either you or mister Withshire have a problem with him or how I decide to raise him and punish him you have a problem with me. Secondly, as is easy to guess, whether or not you come grocery shopping here once a week doesn't affect my business, so don't try to use that as a threat."
He stepped back before continuing: "Thirdly, one of my men will get you back where you need to be, and the rest, including Toby, will help me find your horse. I will pay compensation for all damage done. Any questions?"
Before the wagoner could answer, Father left, dragging Toby back on his feet and towards the stables.
"Bloody hell, Toby!" he started lecturing him when they were out of the crowd's earshot: "How many times have I told you? You put too much faith into beasts and allow them to make a mess. Why couldn't you just leave it alone? Now we have to waste God knows how long chasing it over the Midlands."
"I am sorry father." Toby managed to squeeze out before bursting into tears.
"Oh no, you know mistakes aren't righted by apologies and crying. Redemption is only achieved the same way shame is acquired. By action!" Father declared as they both mounted his prized Thoroughbred once it was ready for the journey.
Around half a dozen of Father's men soon joined them in the hunt. At first it was easy to follow the tracks in the mud and grass, but in time the terrain became rocky, which meant that the men had to split up as the tracks were no longer visible.
"God damn it." Father murmured when him and Toby separated from the others, "How far could it have gone? The horses had to be saddled, yes, but it seems we will not find the thing before nightfall." Toby noticed Father's knife bouncing on his hip in tandem with the Thoroughbred's galop as he spoke.
He was relieved at the possibility of the horse not being found. While that outcome might have meant a harsher beating or an extra meal less for Toby, he found solace in the possibility that he didn't anger his father and harm the farm for nothing.
"That doesn't mean we will be returning without it." Father said as if he was reading his mind.
"But what if it gets dark?" Toby asked.
"If we haven't found it by then, that means it ran for miles on rocky terrain. If that is the case, it would need to drink or at least rest. I know this land like the back of my hand Toby, I know every hill, river and plain that horse could have gotten to. We will find it."
"And what if somebody stole it?" Toby pressed further.
"Hm, then I doubt Withshire needs our help to find it. His connections are even greater than mine." Father replied.
They didn't speak any further. The sun was beginning to set when the sound of a whistle pierced the air. It was the signal; the horse had been found. Two of Father's men were sat on their horses on top of a small green hill. When Father and Toby got up to them, one of them gestured to the other side. The horse was lying on its side at the foot of the hill. Even from the top they could see its right front leg was badly injured.
"The dumb animal probably jumped while it was at the top and fell down hill. Its leg is broken; it won't be of much use to our customer any longer. Not to mention what it would actually take to get it back." said the other man.
Father didn't respond. Instead, after a short pause, he dismounted his horse and gestured for Toby to follow him. The two of them went down to the injured animal and when they got close, Father took his knife out of its sheath and handed it to Toby.
To his confused look Father replied: "Well go on then. You are the reason why it ended up like this in the first place. You wanted to help it? Help it now. Don't pretend I didn't teach you how."
Toby was horrified, but he knew he had no choice. He took the knife and slowly got up to the horse before kneeling over it. This was the worst possible outcome. He couldn't bear the fact that his actions, even though he had only the best intentions, were the reason the horse had to die. He started sobbing. All he wanted was to drop the knife. He wanted to take care of it, make it better by making its leg healthy again, but that was fantasy. The horse was in pain; he could see it. This was the only way to make it right.
"Toby! Get on with it!" Father shouted, pulling him out of his thoughts and allowing him to look the horse in the eyes again.
The animal was looking at him, seemingly knowing what was about to happen. The look in the horse's eyes had changed, however. There was no longer any trace of sadness in them, no plea. Toby suddenly noticed it was panting. Surely partly from pain, but also partly from running for so long. It got very far from the farm, and it must have not stopped until it fell. When was the last time it was able to run so freely, if it was ever able to do so? It must have at least felt happy in those few hours it got to taste such freedom, mustn't it?
"I'm sorry." Toby whispered, using the last opportunity he had to pet it.
But behind the horse's stare was that felt like another message. This time a lot more hopeful than the one he felt he had received from it while it was wearing eye guards and in his dream.
Don't be.
Toby wasn't sure if both of those messages were real or if he had imagined them, but he saw no use in thinking about it. With renewed confidence, he positioned the knife like Father had taught him, closed his eyes, and lowered it into the horse.
Afterwards they gathered the rest of the men and returned to the farm. Father didn't punish Toby any further as he felt he had learned his lesson.