I have Thor’s back leg bent and tucked between my knees. In order to keep it there, I have to bend forward, brace my stance, and squeeze with everything I have just to keep his hoof in place.
“Because this is easier, believe it or not,” Rory says with a chuckle. “The stand gives us better leverage when we trim and shape the hoof, but when we’re cleaning around the frog and checking the center, this angle works better.”
“Easier,” I repeat.
“Yes.”
“You and I define that word very differently.”
Rory grins. “Luckily, he isn’t fighting you. If he was, you’d be in for the fight of your life cleaning that thing.”
Thor may not be fighting me. I’ll give him that.
He’s keeping his leg between mine and allowing me to work, which I understand is a great show of trust.
But he’s also not helping me hold it up.
At all.
The massive beast has apparently decided I need to prove my core strength in front of the two ladies watching me with rapt attention.
Amelia stands a few feet away with her arms crossed, trying very hard not to smile.
Olivia is beside her, clipboard in hand, looking entirely too serious for someone who is clearly enjoying my suffering.
“Bend your knees more,” she calls.
I glance up at her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. That’s part of your grade.”
“Of course it is.”
Thor shifts the slightest bit, and every muscle in my body locks.
Rory places a steady hand against the horse’s hip. “Easy, big guy.”
Amelia steps closer, her voice softening instantly. “You’re okay, Thor. No one’s hurting you.”
The horse settles at the sound of her.
So do I, though I choose not to examine that too closely.
“Now,” Rory says, pointing toward the hoof pick in my hand, “run it along that groove there. Firm, but careful. You’re clearing out dirt and checking for stones or anything that could cause pressure.”
I do as instructed.
The smell of hay, dust, and horse fills my lungs. Sweat gathers beneath the collar of my shirt, and my back is already beginning to protest.
“This is what you do every day?” I ask.
“Not shoes every day,” Rory says. “But hoof checks? Cleaning? Grooming? Feeding? Medical care? Yeah. There’s always something.”
My gaze flicks toward Amelia.
Her hands are tucked beneath her opposite arms again, like she’s trying to warm her fingers without drawing attention to them.
Thor’s leg grows heavier against my thighs, and I force my focus back where it belongs.
