Lauraine Snelling (10 page)

Demerits might mean no parole.

“Get up, get your back end out of bed—now!” She spoke to herself like a CO to one of the inmates caught fighting.

“Maggie?” A rap on the door. “You all right?”

Go away, Kool Kat. I didn’t ask you to become my watcher
. “I will be.” With both feet on the floor she pulled her clothes on and grabbed her towel, washcloth, and toothbrush. Perhaps she could scrub it all away.

“You look like death on a rampage.”

“Thanks.” She started through the door and turned to grab her key. Not that she had that much in her room, but if it was left unlocked, it was her own fault if something came up missing.

“You got ten minutes.”

Maggie nodded. She managed to get washed without having to talk with anyone else. But when she made the mistake of looking in the mirror, the tears burned anew. Her throat burned, draining salt tears bleeding it raw.

She picked at her breakfast; eating took too much energy.

On the bus over to the barns, she stared out the window, her shoulders hunched forward as if protecting her heart. The looks shot her way glanced off the shield she’d erected.

“You all right?” Mr. James asked when she left the bus.

The concern in his voice nearly undid her. Without looking at him, she half shrugged, half shook her head and kept on going, hands rammed in her pockets. Going about the business of caring for Breaking Free could be done by rote. He nickered as soon as he saw her. She tossed the flakes of hay in the rack and crumbled into the corner, burying the sound of her sobs in her arm.

Breaking Free stopped in front of her, head down, nuzzling her hair. He wuffled in her ear and when she didn’t respond, nudged her crossed arms.

“Go ’way.” She sniffed and dried her eyes with the hem of her shirt. When he licked her hand, she started to cry again, but this time the tears were silent, slipping down her face like raindrops down a windowpane. As she raised her hand toward him, he dropped his head to make her rubbing easier, breathing horse breath into her face. When she sighed at long last and pushed herself to her feet, he backed up and returned to pulling mouthfuls of hay from the rack. Maggie leaned against his shoulder, her knees weak and her head reeling. Who would have thought this horse who wanted to seriously wound her less than two weeks ago was now doing everything in his power to comfort her?

She took the bucket out of the frame and headed to the faucet to wash it out and refill it with clean water. DC bumped into her, sloshing water down her pant leg, but today she was too sad to care. Until she heard the whispered words, “Just wait. I’ll get you.” One more thing. How could DC always get away with so much?
If only I dared to report her
.

“You ready to help me work with him?” Mr. James asked, tilting his head toward Breaking Free’s stall. He was either too male or too kind to mention that her eyes looked like boiled tomatoes.

“What do you want me to do?”

“We’ll work in the pen. I’ll come in while you lunge him and just wait by the gate until he settles down again. Then we’ll push him a bit at a time to realize I won’t do him any harm.”

While waiting for Breaking Free, Mr. James conducted a round pen session for another of the women who wanted to try it. Maggie could hear the chatter but stayed in the stall and wrapped Breaking Free’s legs. The swelling was going down; the joint didn’t feel hot for a change. She applied the MSM liniment before wrapping and when she finished took out the brushes to groom him.

“You know, you’re looking better every day.”

His ears swiveled to keep track of her. “Wait until the warden sees you. He’ll have to eat his words, ya know? Of course, you’re going to have to let Mr. James come to you and realize he won’t hurt you, not at all.”

“You think he understand you?” Kool Kat filled the stall doorway.

Maggie started. What if it had been DC? She was letting her guard down too much. She took in a deep breath and answered, “He understands the tone. I know horses, or rather knew some, who had a pretty good vocabulary. Dogs can learn voice commands and so can horses. People call them dumb animals but that just shows who’s the dumb one.” Maggie ignored the desire to tell someone about Breaking Free comforting her.
How will I be able to leave him behind when I get out? Or let someone adopt him?
The thoughts, one on the tail of the other, nearly sent her to her knees again.
Don’t think, don’t feel, just get through. Brush the horse, clean the stall. Just get through. You have less than two and a half months to go
.

“Mr. James say to tell you he be ready when you are.”

“Okay, we’ll be right out. Are you taking Dancer out to graze?”

“Yeah. Hard to believe he the same horse came in.”

“I know.”
Oh, how well I know
.

When the other women had cleared away from the pen, Maggie slipped the halter over Breaking Free’s nose and buckled it, then snapped on the lead shank and led him out of the stall to the round pen. Once inside he followed her around the perimeter, letting her lead him from either side, stopping and starting, just like playing follow the leader. A children’s song danced in her mind. When he saw Mr. James, Breaking Free snorted and stopped.

“Just look him over, he’s not coming near you.” She let him stand in one spot until he relaxed and then led him forward again. Reminded of her instructions, when he tensed she stopped and let him become accustomed again. When he pulled back, she turned and walked him in a tight circle. “Come on, get your mind off him. He’s not bothering you.”

“Okay, that’s enough for now. He did well.” Mr. James let himself out of the pen and leaned on the rail. “We’ll do it again this afternoon. I have the vet coming this afternoon to check those legs and examine a couple of other horses. Good thing we have a lady vet.”

“He needs to be reshod.”

“The farrier is a man. You ever pulled shoes and trimmed feet before?”

“On a pony, in another lifetime.”

“You use the clippers to cut off the crimp on the nail, then just pull them off.”

“One’s pretty loose.”

“You use the nippers to pull them loose.”

While they talked, Breaking Free finally dropped his head and scratched his nose against his knee.

“I’ve watched it done plenty of times. I can pick his feet with no problem now.”

“Have you let anyone else hold him yet?”

“No, I don’t think anyone wants to touch him and besides, the rules made him off limits.”

“Ask either Kool Kat or JJ.” He walked off, and Breaking Free watched him go.

Maggie got one front shoe off that morning before putting everything away to get back for roll call. Her back ached from bending over, his foot clamped between her knees. If she’d worked out in the weight room like some of the others, perhaps she wouldn’t be in such a fix now.

“You walkin’ like an old woman.” Kool Kat fell into step beside her.

“Yeah, well, you pull the next one.” Maggie thought she saw DC veer off. Had she been coming to stab in another threat?

“Hey, I got work to do.”

“Right, holding that horse so I can pull another shoe.”

“Vet’s comin’. I gets to hold Dancer and the others. She gonna check ’em all.”

Maggie stiffened up even more during lunch, and by the time she got on the bus, she was wishing for some aspirin or the equivalent. But she’d have had to go to the infirmary for that and there just wasn’t time. Besides, she’d never gone voluntarily in all the years she’d been locked up, other than at intake. Not even the time she’d been beat up.

“The vet will be here in half an hour,” Mr. James announced as they reached the farm. He read off the list of horses that she would be checking. “If I called your horse’s name, make sure you are ready with him haltered and either cross-tied or in a stall. Any questions?” He stepped to the ground and watched them file off the bus.

Maggie could feel him staring at her, but she refused to acknowledge any sympathy.

“You sure you can pull another?”

“I’ll get the two front ones today. Surely the second one will be easier. I at least have a better idea what I’m doing now.” She took borrowed leather gloves from a back jeans pocket and headed for the tack room to retrieve her bucket of tools. As soon as she pulled this shoe, she’d trim and rasp both front hooves. Having the vet here would give her someone to ask for advice.

When she entered the stall, Breaking Free lifted his nose from the water bucket and came to her, dripping water on her shirt. “You still like me at least, even if it took me an hour to get one shoe off.”

She set the bucket down and cross-tied him in the stall. Next door Kool Kat was grooming her horse to show off for the vet. DC didn’t usually come around Kool Kat so Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. Slipping her hands into the leather gloves, she pulled the nippers from the bucket, picked up his left front leg, and with her rear facing his head brought the foot up between her legs to clamp with her thighs and knees. One by one she cut off the bent-over shoeing nails, the crunch loud in the silent stall. With that finished, she set his foot down again and straightened her back, as if it would ever straighten again.

“How do farriers manage?” Even her grumble sounded pained.

“They build up their muscles over time.” Dr. Harris leaned on the lower door.

Maggie turned with a greeting, wincing at even that motion. “Sorry.”

“I hear this is the boy that came in ready to kill everyone in sight.”

“True.” Maggie took off her gloves and stuck them back in her pocket. “Come on in. Since you’re female, he shouldn’t mind.”

“Unless he’s had a bad experience with a vet and remembers the smell.” Harris, who looked too slight to wrestle a cat down, opened the stall door and entered, keeping her attention on the horse whose ears had gone back. He raised his head as high as the cross ties would allow, nostrils flared.

“Hey, fella, easy, she’s not going to hurt you.” Maggie tugged on his halter to get his attention. She stroked his neck and scratched his cheek. As soon as he loosened up, nodded to the vet.

“You know I’d be able to see his legs better if we were outside.”

“I know, I just thought the fewer distractions the better. I never know how he is going to respond.”

“Okay. Inside it is. I read his history, and Trenton says he is responding well to the treatment.” She stroked the horse’s shoulder and along his back. When he didn’t shift, she patted his rump and ran her hand down his leg. “Easy boy. You wrap him every day? Alternating hot packs and ice?”

“And I use the MSM.”

“How’s he on letting you pick up his feet?”

“Easy on the front, a bit touchy on the back.”

“Hang on to him. I’d just as soon not end up in a pile back in that corner.” She picked up his hoof. He took it away and set it down. She picked it up again, he pushed against her, she shifted to regain her balance, he set it down. “Okay, fella, let’s quit playing games here,” she said firmly. She picked up his foot again and tapped around the inside wall of the hoof. “Sound. I was afraid of thrush or rot.” She probed the fetlock and up the pastern.

“It’s not as swollen, and he can walk without limping but not for very long.” Maggie watched everything the vet did while at the same time hanging on to Freebee’s halter, one hand stroking his neck and cheek to keep him calm.

“Rest and what you are doing are the best treatment. What are you feeding him?”

Maggie told her, then asked, “How long will it take for the Equipoise to leave his system?”

“Any idea how long since he raced?”

“He’s been here for a couple of weeks, and he’d been injured some time before they gave up and brought him here. Mr. James figured they gave up on him sooner because he was so difficult to handle. When we realized it was men he hated, not everyone, things began to improve. We left him in the stall by himself for several days.” She didn’t mention she’d been banged up by him at first.

“The rule of thumb is two months, but it depends on many things. I’d say you’re getting close to that. We could test him, but I see no reason for that. Especially if he is settling down like you say.”

Maggie nodded. That’s about what she had figured too.

“Is he a biter?”

“Can be.”

“Well, it’s hard to believe this is the same horse I read about. He’s a beauty, isn’t he?”

“Grooming him helps a lot.”

“Keep on with what you are doing, and you should be able to let him out in a small pen in a week or two. Don’t give him enough space to really run or he may injure it again.”

Maggie waited. Go ahead and ask. “You think he’ll be one of those we can retrain for a pleasure horse?”

“Don’t know why not. I doubt he would hold up for jumping or eventing, but regular riding shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Good.”

“You’re doing well with him, Maggie. I know Trenton is really proud of what you’ve done.”

“Really?”

“He doesn’t say a lot to all of you most likely, but he brags about what’s going on here.”

“That’s good to know. Thanks.”

Dr. Harris stroked Breaking Free’s shoulder and neck again and left the stall, on to the next one.

“Did you hear that, Freebee, he brags about us and our work here.” She huffed out a sigh and brought back the tool bucket. “All right, let’s get this shoe off and your toenails trimmed.”

“You can trim more,” Harris said when she checked back on her way out.

“I know, but I’m afraid of going too deep.”

“Use the rasp then, with both hands. Across the hoof like this.” She demonstrated how to hold the big-toothed file.

“I’ll try again.”

“Just takes practice. You’re doing fine.”

“Better me than having to put a twitch on his nose for the farrier.”

“So true.”

Maggie finished up both front hooves and contemplated starting the back ones when Mr. Creston called the time left.

“Tomorrow.” She sat against the wall, pushing her back into the wood, pulling the kinks out of neck and shoulders.

“You ready to go into business, shoein’ horses? Mr. James say the pay is real good.” Kool Kat gave her one of those half-sided looks that meant she was teasing.