Rowan blinks as they pull up at the stables by the park. His new owner is dressed in 19th Century livery -
he's one of those horse-hansom cab drivers who take tourists around the park. Rowan's going to pull a carriage
loaded with people? WTF? Some nice home!
"Here, Rowan, my old horse Chestnut loved carrots. Have a carrot? Come along now, we need to get you hitched
to the cab. The tourists descend on the park starting about 4 PM. They want their carriage rides just before
or just after dining at the fancy restaurants around the park. We'll make better tips later in the evening,
especially if our fares have been drinking," he explained proffering a carrot in front of Rowan's nose.
The carrot smelled good, and even though Rowan knew better, he followed the carrot. It smelled so good. Soon
he was standing in between the rails of the hansom cab chomping on the carrot as he was harnessed to the
carriage. The blinders were disconcerting, and the bit didn't fit at all.
"Oh, that damn Chinaman, I should've known. I'll have to get a vet to pull those teeth so the bit will fit
properly. You've got a good temperament, Rowan, but I can see you've never been ridden or pulled a load in
your life," the cabbie said with a disgusted sigh. "Oh, well, at least the price was right. Chestnut was only
good for the glue factory and they paid me by the pound. Hopefully, you'll last more than five years."
What! The previous cabbie's horse was sold to glue factory after only five years in harness. No, no, no. This
cannot be. He adjusted the bit, it cut into Rowan's gums, but the driver made it fit. He climbed into the
driver's seat and shook the reins. Rowan just stood their defiantly. The whip cracked on his rump. He leapt
forward and found himself trotting down the path with the carriage in tow.
He heard the driver mutter something, and tug on the reins.