Horsepeople

Chapter Ten

In the Smithy, Jo looked down at the ill-kept feet of one of the rescued horses. In the three weeks that they had been there, the rescues had put on substantial weight. They now appeared healthy, if slim, and she had even spied them playing once or twice. Half of them, however, were suffering from various complications from their ordeal.

Finding herself under one such gelding, which was coming up lame, Jo inspected his feet. The gelding seemed to be well broke and Jo wondered how long he had been at the feedlot. She considered it a shame when good horses like him ended up there. Sighing, she picked up a front foot to see what could be done. It had been so dry during the summer and fall that his black feet were cracked and papery, coming apart in flakes under the curved blade of her hoof knife.

Ah, she thought, that's the problem. Between the gelding's white sole and his hoof wall was a yellowish layer that crumbled under her knife. Seedy toe, an infection of the hoof's white line, was common in horses that weren't getting proper nutrition or hoof care, both of which applied to this gelding. With proper treatment, however, Jo was optimistic that this moderate case would clear up quickly.

As she set the foot down and patted the gelding on the shoulder, a familiar figure appeared in the Smithy's doorway, silhouetted against the brightness outside.

Jo's breathe caught in her chest, squeezing her heart.

Lean and athletic, his unimposing height allowed light to stream through the doorway around him. He had narrow hips and slim shoulders, and a slight bow-leggedness common to horse riders. On his head was a battered cowboy hat, his wranglers and canvas jacket worn ragged as well. For a second her heart seized as she thought her grandfather stood before her. Jo wanted to sink to her knees with relief that he was here, to help her again and lift some of the burden from her shoulders.

"Hello?" the man said, "Is Joe here?" It was not her grandfather's weathered voice. With a thumping heart, Jo collected herself as quietly as she could.

"Hi," Jo said, walking out from behind the big gelding after a second, "what can I do for you?"

She hoped her voice sounded normal, even though she could her the strain in it. As her eyes adjusted and she came closer to the young man, she could see he had the tanned skin and black hair of Piikani, even if his features were softer. His eyes, though, were piercing amber.

"Hi, yeah, I'm looking for the farrier Joe," he said, smiling. He had a calm, soft voice. "An old lady pointed me down here. I was hoping he could help my horse, is he around?" He gestured to a stout, creamy gelding tied out front.

Holding out her hand, Jo introduced herself as he shook it, "Joanna King, everyone calls me Jo. I can have a look at him." Even through his brown skin Jo saw the stranger flush with embarrassment.

"Oh—I, hell—sorry—Will, I'm Will," he said, the blush spreading to his collar, "And Whitey's pretty lame, I had to ride him pretty hard to get down here and well..." He untied the gelding and pulled the unwilling creature forward. The gelding hobbled, trying not to weight its front feet. Will scratched the horse's forehead in apology and tied him back up.

"That's pretty bad," Jo said, "mind if I take a look?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," he stammered, and then said, "Hell, I bet he's got some abscesses coming and those can be tricky." Jo was surprised he seemed to know something of horses. "Hey, I thought there was an older farrier-guy around? Isn't there an older farrier-guy around?"

Jo's eyebrows shot up and, still nettled from disappointment, she replied before stopping herself, "A little older or a little more guy?"