Immersion Therapy

My car crunched up the gravel driveway, and I spotted my new boss leading one saddled horse and two other horses out of the barn. We exchanged greetings, and she commented on my early arrival. I admitted my inability to sleep and my eagerness to get underway.

"Well, as long as you're here, why don't you help me get these guys exercised? It's hard to keep up with it all by myself. "

She led them back in and we saddled another horse for me, a tall, wise looking bay, although only 7 or 8. She asked if I was comfortable ponying another while we rode; I said sure, provided they were sensible sorts.

I put on my half chaps over my jeans, plunked my helmet on, split the leg on the back of my jeans climbing aboard the tall thoroughbred (I usually rode in breeches) and less than 8 minutes after my arrival we set off for a hack on the windy but bright late winter morning.

The horses I was responsible for were eager to walk out but well behaved. The horse my new boss was on was feeling giddy with the hint of spring in the air, and started acting a little bit the fool. Boss cursed under her breath as the mare wiggled and jigged and made things generally unpleasant.

"Dammnit. Do you mind leading this other guy? I can't deal with her while trying to hold him."

I soon found myself ponying a horse off either side as we hacked along. She described the neighboring landowners and area as we rode. I only listened with half an ear, more concerned about my own fresh, soft-mouthed mount and the leather leads sprouting out of my hands.

This woman is crazy. She doesn't even know me, knows I had no sleep, and yet has me ponying two horses in a strange place on a strange horse with wind up their tails. Everyone, please, please be good.

We arrived back at the barn unscathed, proof that guardian angels exist. We untacked and groomed the ridden horses. I ran firm fingers down either side of the bay's spine and felt him flinch. When I commented to boss, her reply was,"Oh, he's not that bad. You should see my advanced mare! I have a massage lady work on her sometimes."  
Uh, I got my horse a chiropractor 'cause he seemed sore, and he never flinched as bad as this guy. How bad is the "good mare"?

We reblanketed the horses, put them out in field or stalls, and she showed me my living quarters. They were less than desirable, which I know is typical of working student housing, but I'm sure there is a line somewhere.  There were worrying openings in the plaster, along with the off-hand comment about not too many mice, windows were painted shut, and the garden hose off the clawfoot tub took me a bit aback. There was an odd smell to the whole area that she said was from restaining the woodwork. During the brief time it took to unload my belongings into the room, I developed a headache from it all.

"You'll share the kitchen and the living room with the two other girls that live in the house. They work in town, they're not associated with us."

She and her significant other lived on the other side of the two family house.

"Oh, and if you hear strange noises or howling, that's just George; he lives in the basement." She took me down the ancient stairs and I saw a very unhappy canine whining and barking from a crate.

"So, are you ready to go in to town and see where stuff is? I have to pick up some things for my trip tomorrow." She was hauling down to the Carolinas the next day for some events with her Advanced mare, and I would be left to clean stalls, groom, feed and exercise the horses left behind.

What could I do but reply brightly that I would love to see town?

George approximation. Not the actual George.