"You must in all Airs follow the strength, spirit and disposition of the horse, and do nothing against nature; for art is but to set nature in order, and nothing else." – William Cavendish, 1st Duke of Newcastle

I’ve been taking care of the farm for six days by myself while my trainers are on vacation. They are gone for two weeks, so I have a way to go yet. 

Today isn’t much different. I changed turnout in the same order and clean the barn in the same order of stalls.

It has been a nice day. I’ve gotten some extra chores done.

Their German shepherd has given up on following me and lays in the middle of the yard. Every once in a while he raises his head to watch me walk by but for the most part, he is sleeping in the sunshine. 

When turning in I leave the school horse to come inside last. 

She has a quiet temperament and isn’t usually bothered waiting for me. 

I hear her snorting while I bring her friend inside. 

“I’ll be back,” I tell her. 

On my way back up to her paddock, a herd of four deer run by. They cross behind her paddock and disappear into the woods. 

She raises her tail and gallops a lap. She snorts loudly. 

I calmly unhook her wire. 

Ridiculous. 

“You’ve seen deer before.” 

“PSSHHH!” She snorts and tranters another lap, not quite cantering, not quite trotting. 

Her chain is caught on the no-climb fence that is nailed between the boards. 

I tug on it. 

No give. I reach around the other side of the fence and twist it. The clip is hooked on a piece of wire. 

She starts making faster laps. 

She runs up to the gate. I wave an arm at her while I look at the clip. She shies away and gallops towards the far corner. 

“PSSHHH!” 

I take off my gloves and finally, I get it unhooked. I pull the gate a foot open, still pulling the chain out from the fence. 

How did it get so stu-

“OOF!” 

I wasn’t looking. She had galloped back when she heard the gate open and body checked me. 

I land on my back. She bolts out. 

Ugh. 

The sky is a nice blue today. 

The dog is on top of me. He whines anxiously and starts licking my face. I suck in some air. 

He is big, and heavy. His paws are on my chest and belly. 

“Get off me,” I wheeze out. 

He whines louder and his cold nose finds my neck. 

I try rolling over but am trapped under him. 

“Vic! Get off me!” He must weigh almost as much as I do. I push my arms into him as I try and squirm out. 

“OFF!” He finally moves over and I sit up. His tongue is in my face again. 

Yuck. I push myself to stand and collapse forward onto my knees.

This one hurt. 

 I take a moment to look at the dog as I push his neck back so he isn’t in my face. 

Poor buddy, he is just worried. I pat his head. 

“I’m okay. Thanks for checking.” 

The school horse is nowhere in sight. 

“Let’s go catch a horse.” 

I stand and gimp to the barn. My body doesn’t feel good. The dog is close on my heels. 

I grab a lead rope and a couple of carrots. I follow her dig marks through the yard towards the back pastures. 

Ah, there she is. 

She is on the far side of the farm, galloping up and down a fence line snapping and biting at one of the young geldings over the fence. 

My trainers are going to kill me if their forty-thousand dollar school horse is hurt on my watch. 

“Would you quit being a problem!” I yell at her as I approach. She spins when she sees me then goes back to trying to bite the gelding.

He is having a great time. He is arching his neck and galloping his side of the fence just out of her reach. 

I walk up to his gate and bite one of the carrots. 

His neck snaps around as his ears trace the sound to me. He trots over. He is fancy and excited. I feed him a carrot over the fence. The school horse stops galloping and watches us. She snakes her neck and trots down to me. I feed him another carrot. When she is within reach I hand her a carrot while I clip her halter with my lead. 

Asshole. 

“Good girl,” I say sweetly.

I walk her back to the barn. She is breathing heavily. She lost her left front shoe somewhere.

I crosstie her in the wash stall.

The dog is anxious and tries to follow us in. 

“Out,” I point to the aisle. He droops his head and obediently stands in the aisle.

I check her over her body, no scrapes or missing hair. I crouch and carefully examine each of her legs with my fingers. I keep my thumb pulled back so my own racing pulse doesn’t interfere with finding a pulse on her.

No bounding pulse. No swelling or heat. 

I stand up and take a bite out of another carrot and hand her the rest. 

“We got lucky,” I tell them both.