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He glanced over his shoulder again, but it still didn’t seem to be a setup. “Sure.”
“They all know to stay away from the back of the horse, right, kids?”
“Yes, Miss Marlene!” they answered.
“Still, keep an eye on them, and remind them to be careful of the horse’s blind spots. Otherwise, just show them how to groom the horse. Hooves and hide. They may not be able to do all of the currying and brushing, but this is about building a relationship with the horse. Learning responsibility. It’s not about a perfect job.”
“Sure. Got it.”
He headed over to the next group of kids.
“Say hi to Mr. Walker,” Marlene called.
“Hi, Mr. Walker!” they shouted. Luckily, the horse’s ears barely twitched. Walker couldn’t help smiling at their eager little faces.
“Not so loud around the horse hooves, kids.”
They giggled and the girl with the currycomb went back to carefully stroking the horse. “You can be a little firmer, darlin’. He has a lot of hair and you’ve got to get the dust out.”
“Yes, Mr. Walker,” she whispered.
Christ, this girl was adorable. She was tiny and delicate and missing both her legs from just above the knee, but she put her whole body into the effort while Walker held his breath and hoped she didn’t fall out of the chair. That helmet looked as if it might make up half her body weight and could pull her over at any moment. Her little blond braids swung with the effort she put into the work.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Jessica.”
“Okay, Jessica, let’s try a dandy brush now, and I’ll show you the direction he likes to be brushed the best.” Walker curled his hand carefully over her tiny one and showed her how to do it. She beamed and ignored Walker to pat the horse with her free hand.
“He’s so sweet.”
“He’s very sweet,” Walker agreed. The horse looked to be somewhere in his late teens, so he might be more tired than sweet, but he certainly tolerated the children well.
Walker glanced over at Marlene to see that she had one kid currying and brushing while she showed the other two how to pick hooves. He knelt next to the foreleg and ran his hand down the horse’s leg. “Boys, the first thing you do is ask the horse for its hoof.”
They both giggled.
“I’m serious. You don’t want to be rude, do you?”
They giggled again and shook their heads. Walker noticed that one of the boys had wild curls sticking out from beneath his helmet. “My word,” Walker said, taking off his hat. “I thought I had a lot of hair. How’d you even get that helmet on, kid? Did it take three stable hands to wrestle it down?”
The boy collapsed into his chair, snorting with laughter while Walker shook his head.
“All right. Now see how I run my hand down the horse’s leg?” He repeated the movement, then wrapped his hand around the gelding’s cannon. “That lets him know you’re here. When I press back a little, he’ll lift his hoof.”
He showed them the brush pick and explained why it was important to keep the hooves clean. “And what do you think this part is called?” he asked, pointing to the center of the hoof.
The horse sighed as if it had heard this joke a million times before.
Both boys shrugged.
“Here. Press it, but be gentle.”
The closest boy tentatively put his finger to the hoof.
“Ribbit,” Walker croaked.
The kids tried hard to keep their laughter muffled, but a few squeals escaped.
