Chapter 8
Carter
T he kid definitely had a case of hero worship.
And probably a crush. That much was easy to see.
After Tommy had rambled about what he did on the ranch—and it was literally shit jobs as part of his tasks was shoveling manure—he started talking about how great Hawk was.
To the point that I wondered if part of Tommy’s job was to be Hawk’s hype-man.
“You’re so lucky to have this beautiful girl trained by Hawk,” Tommy was gushing now. “Really. She’ll be one of the best trained horses out there. All of Hawk’s horses are. He understands horses like no one I’ve ever met.”
He had to be no more than sixteen or seventeen, so that wasn’t saying much. How many people could he have met in his short life? I almost said it out loud but bit my tongue at the last minute. I didn’t want to be rude.
“Have you worked here long?” I asked in a desperate attempt to steer the conversation in another direction. I already knew Hawk Harrington was the best at what he did.
“Since my birthday, when the Harrington’s could hire me. So like, nine months?” He squinted one eye like he was thinking then shook his head. “But I practically grew up here. My dad used to bring me to work with him all the time.”
“Oh, your dad works here too?”
Tommy stumbled a step which made Ramona jerk her head. Tommy patted her neck as he kept walking. “He did. He, uh, died a couple of years ago. Accident.”
I really stuck my foot in it, but really, how was I supposed to know? I gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Tommy. My condolences.”
“Thanks,” he said quickly, as though he was ready to move on. He rubbed the back of his neck, and then held up the lead rope. “You ready to try?”
I eyed it warily for a moment then looked at my docile horse with her big brown eyes. Yeah, we could give this a go. I stepped closer, rubbed her neck, and then took the rope.
“So I…what? Just walk her like a dog?” I made my eyes wide, hoping the kid would understand I was joking.
Tommy barked out a laugh. “Kinda! You want to give her enough slack so she can move but not so much she thinks she’s in control instead of you. Yeah, that’s good. Click your tongue to get her moving.”
My first attempt at the noise I’d heard Hawk make was abysmal, and I swear Ramona gave me the side-eye. The second try was better and she gusted out a breath as she picked up her feet. So we walked side by side, down the fence rail of an empty paddock.
“See, you’ve got it. She’s a sweet girl.
We’ll do this for a little bit longer, and then I’ll show you how to groom her.
That’s the best part. That’s when you really get to bond with her.
” Tommy waggled his eyebrows which looked ridiculous but I laughed obligingly.
“Especially if you get a horse that has a favorite part. Like Shooter, he’s Crew’s gelding.
Have you met Crew? He’s the foreman and the second oldest. Anyway, his horse loves the curry comb.
Like loves it. Shooter will stand there all day and let you brush him, and when he sheds, it’s so satisfying… ”
I let his ramble wash over me as I walked, Ramona plodding along beside me. Really, my attention was on her. I’d done a good amount of reading in my limited downtime, and I still had more to do, but by all accounts, I really lucked out with her. Or maybe Hawk just knew how to pick them.
Ramona chose that moment to pause, bend down, and chomped on some grass. I looked to Tommy, wondering if I should make her stop, but the kid didn’t seem to care. He stopped too, and I let her graze.
After a minute or two, I realized that Tommy had finally wound down from whatever he’d been babbling about and I felt bad I hadn’t been paying attention. He probably went silent from my lack of engagement. I shot him an apologetic smile.
“I still can’t believe she’s mine,” I said, hoping that explained my inattention.
Tommy grinned, teeth flashing. “Yeah. It’s always special when you find the right horse.” He glanced up then focused back on me. “We should probably head back. We’ll give her a good groom. I’ll show you everything.”
I had to hand it to him. Tommy’s enthusiasm was infectious.
I mean, I wanted to groom my own horse, but I didn’t think I’d be looking forward to it.
It seemed like a lot of dirt and muck, to be honest. I would do it for her because it needed to be done, and not even be mad about it, but it hadn’t been at the top of my favorites list.
That all changed once we made it back to the barn and Tommy showed me how to clip Ramona into the crossties. He was practically bouncing on his toes, as though it was going to be great, and I definitely caught the excitement.
“Okay, we start with her feet. This is a hoof pick,” he said, holding up a tool that had a wicked looking hook on one side and a brush on the other.
“We gotta get all the rocks, dirt, sticks, whatever, out of her hooves. It can cause lameness in a second, right? If Ramona ever acts painful, check her feet first.”
“Sound advice.”
“Here, let me show you one and you can do the rest.” Tommy bent down and touched the bottom of Ramona’s right front foot.
She lifted it for him and he cradled it in his hand.
“Most horses who have any training are used to this, and they’ll usually pick their feet right up like that.
It looks pretty good, so we just clean it up. Make sure you get around the frog.”
I blinked. “The what?”
Tommy pointed to the raised part of her hoof. “Right here. Dirt and stuff likes to get caught around it. Now it’s all clean.” He set her foot down and handed over the tool. “You try.”
Okay, I could do this. Tommy bent down with me so he could see what I was doing. I took hold of her foot like Tommy had, but Ramona didn’t move. I didn’t know if I was supposed to pull or what. I glanced at him.
“Just a bit of pressure and she should…there we go.”
Just like that, I had her foot in my hand. It took a second to maneuver my palm the right way, and it was probably awkward as hell, but my girl didn’t seem to mind. I used the hook to clear some compacted dirt, then flipped it around to brush everything else away.
“Good. Let her go. You don’t want to take any longer than necessary.
Horses can balance fine on three feet, but they’re much happier on all four.
Next one.” He moved to the rear of the horse.
“Okay, this is important. You don’t want to stand directly behind the horse, okay?
One kick and you’re—” he made a “splat” noise.
I squinted at him. “I’ve heard that. But also I’ve seen you people around here, standing behind horses.”
Tommy’s laugh was bright and airy, and Ramona’s ears swiveled toward him. “True. This is one of those ‘do as we say, not as we do things’. Honestly, if you know your horse well, it’s a different story. But, you know, just don’t, okay?”
The last part was said with a dire earnestness, so I immediately nodded. “Sure.”
I took care of her back feet with ease, though honestly it was still awkward. I’d get better with practice. When I set her last foot down, I realized something. I spun to face Tommy.
“She’s not wearing shoes. Shouldn’t she have shoes on?”
Tommy shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe. Her hooves look good and she’s not lame. But you’d have to ask Hawk. Hawk says some horses need ‘em and some don’t, and if you force one way or the other it’s bad for the horse. He says it’s all about what the horse needs to stay sound.”
Hawk says. Yeah, Tommy definitely thought Hawk walked on water. I knew he was good, of course, and I trusted him. I made a mental note to have Marielle add info about horse shoeing dos and don’ts to my list of reading material, just so I could be prepared.
Hooves done, Tommy took back the hoof pick and pulled out another tool. It had a wooden handle and metal top made of two loops with wicked looking teeth.
“Curry comb. This gets all the loose hair, and dirt and dust off. Plus horses usually like a good scratch. Try this one, but some horses don’t like it. If Ramona doesn’t, we have a different kind here.” He held up a flat, round one that was all plastic teeth on one side and a handle on the other.
Ramona seemed to like it just fine. Apparently, I was too gentle at first, but when Tommy told me to use a little more force, Ramona stretched out her neck and yawned.
Which was apparently a good thing. It delighted Tommy at any rate, and when I was working on the top of her shoulders—withers, my mind supplied, and I was pleased I was learning horse anatomy—she turned her head and scratched me back.
“Don’t let her bite you,” Tommy said, but he was laughing so hard he almost didn’t get the words out. I couldn’t help grinning too and gave my girl some extra good scratches.
After the curry comb was a soft brush, and then some coat shine spray that made her gleam.
Tommy said her mane and tail were good, but I brushed them anyway, wanting to prolong the experience.
I’d seen horses with braids in their manes and tails, and I had no idea how to do that, but I could learn. There had to be tutorials online.
Once she was done and back in her stall, Tommy gave her a chunk of hay and filled her water bucket. I patted her a few more times, but she was done with me, more interested in the food. I slid her stall door shut.
“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Cahill. I’ve got other work to do. But man, you’ve got a good horse there. She’s something special.”
He waved and loped off, his gangly form more coordinated than I expected with those limbs. I stared after him for a few seconds, then watched my horse eat for at least fifteen more minutes, before I went in search of Hawk.