in awe of the fact that I was actually getting to ride a horse. Now. Anytime I was near someone who knew what they were doing around horses, I watched them as intently and discreetly as possible to learn all I could.
So I was actually pretty confident through the process all the way to the point where I needed to clean her hooves. That one was trickier than it looked and her hoof was so heavy, it was a struggle to hold it in one hand. I sincerely hoped my assurance to Aaron that it would get easier with time was true. Once I struck what I thought was an okay position, it hit me that I had no clue just what I was supposed to be cleaning out of her foot and I didn't want to hurt her with my ineptitude.
Ethan must have picked up on my quandary because he came and knelt beside me, placing his hand over mine and guiding my movements as he explained just what and how to scrape out the horse's hoof. I swallowed hard and did my best to concentrate on the task at hand.
“Dig in hard here; move up with a clean steady stroke…. Now back down here.” The cadence emerged, with him kneeling beside me at each leg and taking me through the process again, his breath soft and warm on my neck as he leaned over me. I was a nervous wreck by the fourth hoof.
It was amazing to me that I could stand when we were done. Even more amazing, I didn't need all that much help as I finished the process of tacking up the horse. Some, but not too much.
I couldn't shake the warmth that still radiated through me from his touch. Every time Ethan came to stand behind me, looking over my shoulder to check a cinch or adjust a stirrup, the warmth flared anew. Somehow I made it all the way through the process, and I found myself on the back of a big, beautiful gray mare.
The night was crisp and cool. The stars were brilliant. They never ceased to amaze me. Surely they weren't the same stars I had gazed upon back in the city. Riding alongside Ethan down the little dirt lane, my smile must have been nearly as brilliant as the stars. I was riding a horse, and pretty darn well, if I did say so myself.
“Well lookee there, you're a natural,” he declared.
“I am.” I couldn't help being a little surprised. “But I don't remember it being this bumpy.”
“That's the Fox Trotter gait. You either love it or hate it. And you'll hurt in places you didn't know you had tomorrow.”
“Now you tell me.” I didn't care at that particular moment. I was on a horse!
“So what do you think of the Fox Trotter experience?”
“I think I like a good old quarter horse,” I admitted.
“Yeah, me too,” he confessed sheepishly. “Mac here is a mustang. I'll never own anything else.”
“Tumbleweed's a mustang too, isn't he?” It dawned on me why he seemed to move differently than the other foals on the farm that were his age. He was a different breed.
“Yep, I picked his mama up from a government auction last year. I was hoping to use her to start my own place.” He absentmindedly fiddled with Mac's mane.
“I'm sorry,” I whispered. What could I say that didn't fall short? The loss of the horse had been a double whammy.
“Can't change what's done,” he shrugged it off. “Boy that kid of yours is doing well with Tumbleweed, though. You should poke your head out of the office long enough to watch him in action.”
“I'll do that,” I promised and then paused. “I haven't been ignoring Aaron, have I? I mean—this place, this job means so much to me, to us, that I don't want to mess things up. I do seem to have trouble tearing myself away at the end of the day, though.”
“That's pretty normal on a place like this. It's not a job; it's a way of life. We all struggle to find the balance.”
“That's not limited to farm life,” I muttered, thinking of my family in St. Louis. They were always headed somewhere, always busy. I couldn't remember the last time we all just sat around and watched the sun set in St. Louis. Here was different, though.
So I was actually pretty confident through the process all the way to the point where I needed to clean her hooves. That one was trickier than it looked and her hoof was so heavy, it was a struggle to hold it in one hand. I sincerely hoped my assurance to Aaron that it would get easier with time was true. Once I struck what I thought was an okay position, it hit me that I had no clue just what I was supposed to be cleaning out of her foot and I didn't want to hurt her with my ineptitude.
Ethan must have picked up on my quandary because he came and knelt beside me, placing his hand over mine and guiding my movements as he explained just what and how to scrape out the horse's hoof. I swallowed hard and did my best to concentrate on the task at hand.
“Dig in hard here; move up with a clean steady stroke…. Now back down here.” The cadence emerged, with him kneeling beside me at each leg and taking me through the process again, his breath soft and warm on my neck as he leaned over me. I was a nervous wreck by the fourth hoof.
It was amazing to me that I could stand when we were done. Even more amazing, I didn't need all that much help as I finished the process of tacking up the horse. Some, but not too much.
I couldn't shake the warmth that still radiated through me from his touch. Every time Ethan came to stand behind me, looking over my shoulder to check a cinch or adjust a stirrup, the warmth flared anew. Somehow I made it all the way through the process, and I found myself on the back of a big, beautiful gray mare.
The night was crisp and cool. The stars were brilliant. They never ceased to amaze me. Surely they weren't the same stars I had gazed upon back in the city. Riding alongside Ethan down the little dirt lane, my smile must have been nearly as brilliant as the stars. I was riding a horse, and pretty darn well, if I did say so myself.
“Well lookee there, you're a natural,” he declared.
“I am.” I couldn't help being a little surprised. “But I don't remember it being this bumpy.”
“That's the Fox Trotter gait. You either love it or hate it. And you'll hurt in places you didn't know you had tomorrow.”
“Now you tell me.” I didn't care at that particular moment. I was on a horse!
“So what do you think of the Fox Trotter experience?”
“I think I like a good old quarter horse,” I admitted.
“Yeah, me too,” he confessed sheepishly. “Mac here is a mustang. I'll never own anything else.”
“Tumbleweed's a mustang too, isn't he?” It dawned on me why he seemed to move differently than the other foals on the farm that were his age. He was a different breed.
“Yep, I picked his mama up from a government auction last year. I was hoping to use her to start my own place.” He absentmindedly fiddled with Mac's mane.
“I'm sorry,” I whispered. What could I say that didn't fall short? The loss of the horse had been a double whammy.
“Can't change what's done,” he shrugged it off. “Boy that kid of yours is doing well with Tumbleweed, though. You should poke your head out of the office long enough to watch him in action.”
“I'll do that,” I promised and then paused. “I haven't been ignoring Aaron, have I? I mean—this place, this job means so much to me, to us, that I don't want to mess things up. I do seem to have trouble tearing myself away at the end of the day, though.”
“That's pretty normal on a place like this. It's not a job; it's a way of life. We all struggle to find the balance.”
“That's not limited to farm life,” I muttered, thinking of my family in St. Louis. They were always headed somewhere, always busy. I couldn't remember the last time we all just sat around and watched the sun set in St. Louis. Here was different, though.
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