BlackSmith

2

Nan wouldve turned in her grave if she had witnessed father and i doing the horses together. We were much more efficient, and soon i had learnt to examine every part of the hoof, and to rub ointments on horses who had mudfever. I learnt to check frogs for lumps and alert drivers if their horse was going lame. We picked, hosed and towel dried the hooves before i oiled them while father clipped any sharp nails.
Before long, father taught me how to rasp bare hooves, and we were called out to more barefoot horses. Even a few unbroken colts and foals who had developed mudfever i got to do with mere supervision. I began to keep a small rasp and a pot of oil, along with a hoofpick, and i walked to local yards where we had been called out during the earlier day, so i could stop off their on the way home from school. I took to school a pair of jeans and an old tshirts, though to my dismay, i had to wear the compulsory dresses, which i despised. The red and white checkered skirt sewn neatly to a white blouse, probably by Madame Victoria. For my 13th birthday, i got the kind of thick covers worn over jeans, which father had convinced Madame Victoria to make, saying it was for my cousin. They fit me like a glove, with Windmills logo patched on by the lower knee.
Though one thing that did distressed me was how my friends had drifted, i missed staying with Ella and Georgina and the rest of my class out of school. In fact, im pretty sure we hadnt gone out in a month or so. But i had made new friends in the horses i rasped and oiled, as well as fathers gelding, a thoroughbred father named Badger.
The barn was homely enough for any, and plenty enough for me.