Heading into the stables, I smiled as my horses came trotting up to the pen to greet me. ‘Hello,’ I smiled, giving them a stroke as they nuzzled their heads into me.
I’d ridden horses for as long as I could remember – it wasn’t just a hobby, it was a passion.
Getting the horses saddled up and ready, I led them towards the waiting lorry.
My mum Fran, 59, had come with me back in August last year, and we were planning to drive the horses over to another yard for a lesson, meeting the trainer there.
‘Beautiful morning for it,’ Mum smiled. ‘The boys will love it out there today.’
‘They definitely will,’ I said.
I’d grown up with my horses, and they really were my pride and joy.
But as I went to lead the first horse up into the back of the lorry, he became agitated.
Something’s spooked him, I thought, frowning.
But before I could process it, he shot
