Chap­ter 25: Reuben Smith opens with the intro­duc­tion of a man wide­ly respect­ed for his deep under­stand­ing of hors­es and his calm, capa­ble demeanor. Reuben, placed in charge dur­ing York’s brief leave, quick­ly earns the trust of the estate with his blend of hands-on knowl­edge and a gen­tle approach. His his­to­ry includes time spent with a vet­eri­nary sur­geon, where he picked up valu­able insights into equine health. He dri­ves all sorts of teams with skill—whether a four-in-hand or a tandem—and car­ries him­self with a lik­able ease. Hors­es seem to trust him, and his peers often praise his quick instincts and care. In every sense, he fits the mold of the ide­al horse­man. Yet, beneath this pol­ished sur­face lies a weak­ness that threat­ens every­thing he builds. Reuben has a known ten­den­cy to drink, and while not con­stant, these episodes cre­ate dan­ger­ous unpre­dictabil­i­ty.

This flaw over­shad­ows his oth­er­wise com­mend­able ser­vice. Dur­ing his low points, Reuben los­es his abil­i­ty to man­age both ani­mals and him­self. A past inci­dent involv­ing a drunk­en out­ing caused such alarm that he was dis­missed despite his tal­ents. His fam­i­ly suf­fered, and the trust oth­ers placed in him van­ished overnight. But York, rec­og­niz­ing Reuben’s rare skill and believ­ing in sec­ond chances, advo­cat­ed for his return—on the con­di­tion he give up drink­ing entire­ly. For a time, Reuben held to this promise. He worked with renewed focus, rebuild­ing the faith of those around him. His rein­state­ment was a qui­et tri­umph, and York’s deci­sion seemed jus­ti­fied. When York had to trav­el to Lon­don, Reuben was once again entrust­ed with responsibility—this time with Black Beau­ty in his care. Every­one hoped the past was behind him.

The crit­i­cal test came when Reuben was asked to dri­ve Colonel Blan­tyre to the sta­tion. He han­dled the jour­ney with his usu­al con­fi­dence, treat­ing Beau­ty with care and insist­ing the horse not be rushed unnec­es­sar­i­ly. His atten­tion to the horse’s wel­fare earned him fur­ther approval. But after see­ing the Colonel off, Reuben made a fate­ful deci­sion. He delayed his return, intend­ing only a brief stop to vis­it old friends. What began as a friend­ly reunion led him back to old habits. By the time he left, Reuben had been drink­ing, and the con­se­quences of this lapse began to unfold. Ear­li­er in the day, he had noticed one of Black Beauty’s shoes was loose but had cho­sen to ignore it. In his altered state, that detail was for­got­ten.

As the day wore on and the roads emp­tied, Reuben pressed Beau­ty hard­er than usu­al. The route home had recent­ly been resur­faced with sharp stones, and the pace he chose was both unnec­es­sary and dan­ger­ous. Black Beau­ty, though strong, strug­gled with the unsta­ble shoe and rough ground. But Reuben, dulled by alco­hol and rush­ing to make up for lost time, didn’t adjust. The pain in Beauty’s hoof grew with every stride, yet no sig­nal reached his dri­ver. The risk to both man and horse increased with each mile. It wasn’t long before dis­as­ter struck, though the exact moment of the fall is not wit­nessed in this chap­ter.

This chap­ter serves as a sober­ing reflec­tion on human flaws, espe­cial­ly when left unchecked. Reuben was not a cru­el man, nor was he with­out knowl­edge or affec­tion for ani­mals. But his fail­ure to con­trol a per­son­al vice led to a chain of poor choic­es with seri­ous con­se­quences. Anna Sewell does not por­tray Reuben as a vil­lain, but rather as a man torn between good inten­tions and deep-seat­ed habits. His relapse does­n’t erase his ear­li­er care for Beau­ty, but it does under­score how even one mis­step, when respon­si­ble for anoth­er life, can undo years of trust. Beau­ty, ever obser­vant and for­giv­ing, feels the effects not of mal­ice but of neglect and mis­placed con­fi­dence. The tragedy of Reuben’s sto­ry is that tal­ent alone isn’t enough; char­ac­ter, con­sis­ten­cy, and self-aware­ness mat­ter just as much—especially when oth­ers rely on you.