Into the Fire

As Hutch shod his second horse at Brady’s barn, it started to rain, proving the forecasters right.
“Man, I’m sick of this rain,” Rob Connors groaned.
“I’ve heard it rains a lot out here. The night I arrived it was pouring.”
“I’m from Arizona. This stuff drives me nuts. Last year it was pretty nice, even early on. Some of the local guys said this is more like what it’s really like.”
“We get all kinds of weather back east. One year on the first of March it was 83 degrees. The next week it was snowin’.”
“We’ll get rain once in awhile—kinda like the flash flood stuff. The rest of the time we got the sun, man.”
“So what brought you up here?”
“Well, I got a job with Brady a couple years ago when he came down to race in Arizona. He invited me to come up here with him so I did. He’s a good guy, and he pays good. At the time, I just broke up with my girlfriend and wanted to get outa there anyway. So I stayed on and went down to California with him. He didn’t go back to Arizona—he didn’t like it. Too hot for him. Too many bugs. I mean he really didn’t like it, and he said the purses weren’t good enough. I don’t blame him. You gotta like a place to stay there. This place is great when it’s not rainin’.”
“Why’d you break up with your girlfriend?”
“Ahh, well, she wasn’t a racetracker, and she was always after me to spend more time with her. When I had to run horses, she’d come down and watch ‘em run for awhile until the newness of it wore off. Then it just became a big problem eventually, so it was time to call it quits.”
“So the racetrack won out over your girlfriend?”
“Yeah. She didn’t respect what I did, you know? Hey, I worked other places. I was even asked to manage a small hardware store when I was only 21, but it wasn’t me. When I found the horses, I knew this is what I wanted to do. In another year or so, I’ll have a couple of my own to train. If I have to start out with them in Brady’s name, I will. He’s already assured me he’ll help me when I’m ready. Like I said, he’s a good guy.”
“So, how old are you, Rob?”
“I’m 24. At the end of this year, I’ll be 25. I’m learnin’ as fast as I can. Brady’s a good teacher. He’s got lots of patience, and he loves to tell people about this, that, and the other. If you show any interest in this stuff, he’ll pour it into you, you know? So he and I are a perfect fit.”
“Sounds like it.”
Hutch finished six head at Brady’s barn and headed out to his truck. As he put his tools away, a man drove up in a new red Dodge pickup with custom compartments built onto the bed.
“Name’s George Rogers. Brian said to introduce myself—that you’re okay.”
“Call me ‘Hutch’. Name’s Grady Hutchinson. Glad to meet you.”
“Look, I been shoein’ for a small stable. Deborah Pattison is the owner-trainer of almost all of them. She’s a wench, but she’s good pay. Very particular. It’s hard for me to get to her now cuz my bigger stables are fillin’ up with the meet just a month or so away from startin’. She’s in Barn 11. She’s no fun, but maybe she’ll give you some respect since you’re from back east—she’s like that. Anyway, if she likes you, she’ll treat you good.”
“Well, thanks, George. Appreciate it. She there now?”
“She’s there a lot. If she’s not there, Jipps’ll be there. He’s an older guy, does most of the work. I told her I was sendin’ someone down because I just couldn’t fit her in anymore.”
Hutch extended his hand to the shoer. “Thanks again.”
Hutch parked his truck and headed into Deborah’s shedrow ducking under the 2×4’s she had up around her area. Just as he got to the first tack room, she came out the door.
“Grady Hutchinson. George Rogers sent me down.”
Deborah sized him up without a smile. “Oh. Well, George has put me in a real bind. My good horse popped a gravel, and I need a good shoer.”
Hutch could tell this was a no-nonsense gal, so he responded appropriately. “Ma’am, I’ve been shoein’ horses on the east coast at the best tracks since I was 19 years old. I’m 30 now. I’ve been in most of the good barns for quite awhile. Quite frankly, the only reason I came out here is because my wife and I split up. It certainly wasn’t for lack of work. I’ll step out on a limb here by sayin’ you won’t find a better shoer or one more willing to work with a problem than me. It’s up to you.”
Deborah turned and as she started down the shedrow, she said, “Follow me.”
Hutch told her what he would do and why with her good horse and then proceeded accordingly with her permission. After him, he caught one more for her. She wanted to know all about the new material in the pads he had. She was impressed although she tried to hide it, but Hutch had worked with her type before. They never wanted you to think that you might actually know more than them about anything. That was fine. Whatever worked for them as long as they didn’t degrade you and paid you in full—they could think whatever they chose to think about your intelligence. Didn’t matter to him.

(cont. For His Glory; sequel to Hope Of Glory)