by Toni Mari
I held out my hand to take the lead, but she ignored me too. Why did she get me this stupid horse if she didn’t think I could handle it?
“That horse needs a guide dog with some sense, and a real horseman to handle it.”
My mouth fell open. “Really? Who asked you?” I sneered.
Kate gave me another stern look. “You’re right. I could use your help. We can turn him out with Jet and let Jet teach him some manners. I would really appreciate it. You would be my hero.” Kate flashed her dimples charmingly.
Who was this kid? He couldn’t be more than eighteen or nineteen, and Kate was speaking to him like he owned the place. And what did they mean, teach Windsong some manners? There wasn’t going to be any cowboy tricks used on my horse. “But Kate, he’s my horse. I don’t …”
“Shush. I’ll talk to you in a minute.” She put her hand on my arm and squeezed.
Cory stared at me for a minute. I felt like sticking my tongue out at him. Instead I stared back, trying to shoot lasers of hate out of my eyes.
Something must have come out because his eyebrows shot up and he laughed. “Fine. I’ll try to keep the princess from killing him.” He threw his leg over the back of the saddle and slid to the ground.
He was tall. His dark hair curled against his neck, and when he ducked his head down, I couldn’t see his face under the brim of his hat. Was he still laughing at me? I crossed my arms over my chest to keep from taking a swing at him. Clenching my teeth, I spun around to follow Kate and Windsong into the barn.
I got a bucket of hot water and Kate helped me rub the dried, icky sweat out of Windsong’s coat. I put Paddy’s warm, shapeless wool sheet over him. Kate wrapped his legs in soft fleece bandages for the night to prevent any swelling from his big run. I didn’t say a word the whole time as I handed her the bandages one by one. That kid, Cory, was untacking his horse on the next set of cross ties.
“You are going to have to be way more careful around this horse than you have to be around Paddy,” Kate said sternly. “If this even has a remote chance of working, you have to be more aware.”
Kate went on dressing me down. My face heated up. Thanks to my lovely light skin, it probably appeared beet red. Cory could hear everything she was saying. I stared at my feet. It was stupid to leave the door open, but it was a mistake. Usually, I had no problems. After I handed her the last bandage, I went in and closed the back door to Windsong’s stall. I kicked through the clean shavings, savoring that fresh, woodsy smell. Kate’s voice was a low hum. I walked more quietly so that I could hear them. They discussed the arrangements for his horse. I leaned my forehead against the stall wall and sighed. Why can’t he just go back to his own barn? I pushed off the wall when Kate led Windsong in and tried to smile at her.
“Don’t take him out of his stall without me for a while, okay? Don’t even go in with him until I am here or I say it is okay. Do you hear me?” she asked sternly.
“I hear you. I hear you.” Everyone heard you. Cory wasn’t clattering around his horse anymore, so I hoped he didn’t hear you.
But when I stepped out of the stall, he was still there, sliding the door to the next stall closed. He looked over at me, and then just turned away. “’Night, Kate.”
I stared at his back as he walked down the aisle toward the far end of the barn. I looked through the metal bars of the next stall. The little bay was nosing in the hay on the floor. I held my hand between the bars. He came to the door and pushed his soft, whiskery muzzle against it.
Kate tapped my shoulder. “Listen. It’s going to be okay. He just needs time. He is so hyper and sour that I’m worried he will hurt you. But he will settle down in a few days. You okay?”
“Yeah, just that Cory guy. He was kind of mean. Can’t we find a different horse to turn out with Windsong? I don’t really want that kid to handle my horse.”
“Actually, I was going to tell you, if I’m not around but Cory is, you should have him help you.”
“Come on, Kate! I hate him. I’m not asking some cowboy to help with Windsong. Windsong is really valuable. And what if that horse injures him?” I whined, pointing to the little bay.
“He won’t. I’ll see you tomorrow. And remember, wait for me,” Kate said and walked off to her office.
Shit. I moved over to Windsong’s stall and rested my chin on the ledge between the bars. He stopped chewing hay and glanced at me. I still had a few treats in my pocket, so I reached my hand through the bars. He continued to stare at me but didn’t step forward. “Will we ever be friends, big guy?” I whispered. Windsong didn’t resume eating until I walked away.
Chapter 4
Later that night, I laid on my stomach on my bed. I was supposed to be reading a chapter out of my science book, but instead I stared at the last dressage test that I did on Paddy. There weren’t a lot of comments in the blank squares next to each score. I remembered it was a smooth ride. Paddy was obedient and I didn’t make any big mistakes. Of the twenty-six separate movements in the fourth-level test, I got only two scores of seven on the ten-point scale. The rest were sixes. Six meant sufficient. “Could use more energy” was scribbled next to a couple movements. Twice the judge said simply, “More.” In the judge’s evaluation of us, rider and horse, overall, I got sevens for my position and aids, but Paddy got only sixes. I looked over at the poster hanging next to my bureau of Santos and Erica Flame, dressage superstars. “What do you think, Erica?” I mumbled.
Santos was a chestnut like my Paddy, but the resemblance stopped there. Santos was huge, 17.2 hands, and breathtaking to watch. My Paddy was 15.3 hands and sweet, but he didn’t have that charisma.
I rolled over. Windsong, he had the charisma. But did I? I knew better than to leave a stall door open. What was I thinking? And now I had that Cory kid to thank for saving Windsong from a really bad situation. Cocky, swaggering, obnoxious Cory. And why did I have to notice that he was beyond good looking while I was caught in my stupidest moment? I couldn’t let that happen again, the looking stupid part. And the noticing the hot cowboy part, for that matter. I looked over at Erica and made a promise to not let either happen again.
So the next day, when I walked into the barn and saw Cory coming out of Windsong’s stall, I stalked up to him and demanded, “What are you doing with my horse?”
“Don’t touch him, I’m going to get Kate.” He actually pointed his finger at me and walked off.
The hell with that. I reached for the door latch, but then stopped myself. Kate said not to go in on my own, and I sure didn’t want her any madder at me. I growled. I peeked in at Windsong, but same as yesterday, he stayed in the back of the stall. It couldn’t hurt to just open the door a little and offer him a treat. I jogged to my cabinet in the tack room halfway down the barn aisle, grabbed a bag of treats, and jogged back. I slid the door open about a foot. Jiggling the bag as I reached in, I grabbed a handful of treats. “Come here, Windsong. Wanna treat, buddy?”
He didn’t move. I pushed the door open a little more and took a step in. He still didn’t come toward me. I went all the way in, reaching out toward him. Windsong lifted his head and started to move away, but he couldn’t put one front hoof down, so he did this lurchy hop thing away from me.
“Oh geez. What’s wrong with you?” I tried to step closer but froze as he tried to take another one of those weird hops. “I’ve got to bring you out into the light so I can see what’s wrong.”
I stepped back through the stall door so that I could reach Windsong’s halter, which was hanging on the front of the stall.
“I told you not to touch him!” Cory commanded. “Kate’s coming. Stand back.” He snatched the halter out of my hand.
I watched Windsong turn his head toward Cory and actually push it into the halter. But when Cory gently urged him out of the stall, I bit my lip and winced. He wouldn’t put any weight on his right front hoof. When he finally came out into the light, I saw why. His metal shoe was half on, half off and twisted sideways. One of t
he metal clips that wrapped up around the outside of his hoof to hold the shoe on tightly jabbed the sensitive sole of his foot with every step.
“Wow. What if I try to pull it off while you hold him?” I asked. Sometimes one little nail was left holding the shoe on, and it wouldn’t be hard to yank the shoe all the way off.
“Don’t touch it!” Cory said again. “It needs a farrier. I already looked at it; it’s embedded in his sole.”
“What gives you the right to touch my horse?” I screeched.
Cory just looked at me.
Kate came down the aisle, closing her cell phone. “Mike’s coming down from the other barn to look at it. He’ll be here in five minutes.” She ran her hand over Windsong’s body as she approached him. He pushed his nose against her shoulder when she was within his reach. “Oh, Windsong. Look at that thing. He wasn’t like that when I put them out this morning.”
“He probably loosened it when he was running yesterday and then stepped on it out in the pen today,” Cory speculated, giving me an accusing look when he mentioned the run.
Mike strode into the barn, dirty leather chaps slapping on his legs. He was a big, burly guy who growled instead of talking. “Is this the one?” he asked Cory.
“Yep, over here.” Cory held the lead rope but walked beside Windsong to show Mike the shoe. Once again they all ignored me; I might as well have been invisible.
Windsong held his foot up, so it was easy for Mike to lift it. He tucked the hoof between his legs, resting it on the protective chaps he wore. He pulled some nippers out of a pouch in the side of his pants and started to clip the bent nails from the sides of Windsong’s hoof. “Yeah, this baby’s going to hurt when I yank it. Everybody stand back.”
He took the hoof from between his legs and rested it on his thigh. “Ready, Cory?” He gripped the shoe with the nippers and gave a hard yank. Windsong snatched his foot away, nearly knocking Mike off his feet as he hurled himself backward.
I lurched forward after him, but Kate grabbed my arm. “Let them work.”
Tears stung my eyes. “He needs me. Look he’s bleeding.” Every time Windsong’s hoof hit the cement, he left a smear of blood. I wanted to comfort him, I wanted to get him away from Cory before the cowboy snapped the lead or whacked Windsong for misbehaving.
“Let them finish, Jane.” Kate wouldn’t let go of my arm. I felt like punching someone and focused my anger on Cory. I wanted to spout off at someone and he made a great target. He had followed Windsong’s flight backward. I waited for him to do something rough as I glared at his back.
Halfway down the aisle, Windsong stopped. I heard Cory’s voice, saying something softly to Windsong. Then he stroked the horse’s tense neck, pulled a treat out of his pocket, and pushed it between Windsong’s lips. He patted him again, then turned and gently coaxed the limping horse back to where Mike stood.
“Bit of a firecracker, this one.” Mike lifted the foot again and examined the wound. “Not that bad. Soak it in iodine and water for a few days. Keep it wrapped and try to keep him in. I’ll leave the shoe off until the hole closes and he can walk on it.”
Cory clipped the cross ties to each side of Windsong’s halter. “I’ll take care of the foot, Kate. I know you were in the middle of a lesson. Go back.”
“I can do it. Cory can go do whatever it is he does.” I stepped toward Windsong who tried to hop backward a step. What was wrong with him? I moved more slowly, and he allowed me to stroke his shoulder.
“Do it together. Jane, get the supplies from the cabinet in the tack room. Cory, you know how to do it the way I like it? With a layer of cotton, then stretchy wrap, then duct tape?” Kate asked.
“Yep, I got it. Don’t worry about it. Go!” Cory waved his arms at her.
“And give him antibiotics in his feed, fourteen pills should do it,” Kate called over her shoulder as she headed back toward the indoor arena.
I pulled my hat down harder over my ears and rubbed my gloved hands together. Alone with him. If he was bossy and rude to me anymore, I would just walk out. I couldn’t walk out, Windsong was my horse, my responsibility.
“Go get the stuff. And don’t forget the scissors,” Cory said.
I gritted my teeth. “You know. I can do this. You can just be on your way.”
“Kate told me to do it so she knows it’s done right. So make sure you bring the antibiotic ointment, too,” Cory said over his shoulder. He was already lifting the hoof and poking his finger at the cut. “Hurry up.”
I marched down to the tack room and gathered the supplies. I had never actually wrapped a hoof before. I decided to watch closely so that I could do it myself after this.
Cory held the foot securely even while Windsong tried to yank it out of his hands at the sting of the antibiotic ointment. He pulled a hoof-sized piece off the roll of soft, white cotton and pressed that against the bottom of the hoof. Then he took the roll of stretchy, red bandage and pulled the end loose with a ripping noise. He held the end with the thumb of his left hand and used his right hand to stretch it in a complicated crisscrossing pattern, over and under and around the whole hoof. When he got to the end of the skinny roll, he pressed the tail against the wrapped part, where it stuck firmly. He tossed the empty little cardboard roll back toward me. Finally, he did the same with the duct tape, making it three or four layers thick. “Cut this tape right here,” he commanded.
“Please,” I said like I was reminding a two-year-old asking for a lollipop.
He gave me a funny look and nodded toward the tape he held awkwardly near Windsong’s hoof. I leaned in, lined up the scissors with his finger, and looked at him for an okay. Those vivid blue eyes were even more powerful up close. He nodded and I quickly snipped and stood back.
The little flutter in my stomach flat lined when he said, “Maybe he’ll survive the next two weeks if you don’t do any more dumb shit.”
I snatched the roll of duct tape out of his hands and stomped off to put the supplies away. I glanced back and Cory was grinning. Oooh!
I was still fuming as I tipped the big bottle of antibiotic pills. I counted out the fourteen I needed, and then set them in a plastic cup of water to dissolve. I scooped up some pelleted feed and dropped it in a bucket. It only took a minute for the pills to dissolve. I dumped them over the feed and mixed it with a screwdriver. Cory had put Windsong in his stall. I snapped the bucket of medicated feed to the screw eye in Windsong’s stall, checked that his water bucket was full, and slid the door closed securely. Only after I was out of the stall did Windsong step up to the feed bucket. I rested my chin between the bars and watched to make sure he ate the medicine.
My eyes roamed over his body. His coat was so dark and shiny. Even standing still, he had an elegance that caught your eye. What a crappy twenty-four hours. He must think he had arrived in hell. He still didn’t rest any weight on that foot. I imagined how it must be pulsing with pain. I looked at his beautiful face, and my heart melted as a tear slipped down my cheek. I reached up to dash it away and jumped at the voice behind me.
“Really? In over your head, Princess?”
“Shut up. Just because I messed up, doesn’t mean I can’t do it. I feel bad for him, hurting and no friends. What would you know anyway, cowboy?” I glared at Cory.
“Hell of a lot more than you.” Cory raised his eyebrows at me. How did he convey a wagonload of scorn when those two little hairy things moved? I swung away, glancing at his back as he sauntered down the aisle of the barn. Stupid cowboy boots. Stupid cowboy hat. Stupid good-looking jerk.
Chapter 5
“Shit!” I danced backward, avoiding the water sloshing out of the pan I had set underneath Windsong. He held his injured foot up, not even trying to set it down since I had put the pan right under him. I guessed the antiseptic in the water must sting his cut. When I took the wrap off, the wound oozed gooey white stuff. I tried to push down on his leg to get the foot into the water, but Windsong snatched it away and then slammed it down, catch
ing the edge of the pan as he stepped sideways. More water sloshed over my boots forming a puddle in the shavings on the stall floor.
I had Windsong tied to the stall bars with the stall door closed. I pulled the nearly empty floppy rubber pan from under his belly and picked it up. The sides collapsed and more water poured down my jacket. “Shit!” I repeated. I didn’t think a quick dip in the water counted as the soaking that had been recommended. I slid the stall door open with my foot, trying not to spill the rest of the medicated water. The door stuck, but I started through it anyway. The pan banged against the sides of the small opening, tipped up, and poured water all over me. “Ugh!”
“Need some help?” Cory asked from less than a foot away.
I jumped and banged my elbow against the wall. “Shit!” I said again.
Cory reached to catch the pan. I tried to snatch it back, but my foot snagged on the door jamb and I wound up tripping into him. He caught me in his arms. “Shit!” I said again except this time it was muffled in his shirt.
I felt him grinning. To his credit, he didn’t laugh out loud, but I knew he wanted to. I shoved away from him, still hanging on to the empty pan. “I’m fine,” I said angrily.
“You don’t look fine.” He stared at my dripping coat.
I couldn’t see his face under his hat brim when he tipped his head down. I wanted to knock that cowboy hat right off his head. “I am fine,” I insisted. “Just getting a refill.”
He tipped his head up and I gazed at blue eyes bright with amusement and a heart-stopping grin. “Glad to help a damsel in distress. But the point is to soak the horse’s foot, not you.” He pulled the tub out of my hands and headed off to the water spigot. This time I could hear him laughing.
