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Insistent wind snaked through the craggy outline of the towering mountains and into the urban settlements nestled in the lush valley. It was the same wind that awoke the listless strands of hair and swirled them into Chase’s face, that curled the chunks in the mane of the resting mare, that rustled the leaves on the old willow tree. And it was the same wind that filled the lungs of the newborn foal that lay huddled into his mother’s side on the far side of the pasture.
From her precarious perch on the pasture fence, Chase watched the two. The foal was long anticipated, she knew how much it meant to her father. If it lived up to its expectations, it would be nothing short of a god. She flicked her head slightly, spitting out wisps of hair as she did, hopped down from the wooden rail, and kicked one of the bent posts into place. We should probably fix that, she thought vaguely but dismissed it as she crossed the field.
Her father already had a name for his would-be champion, Rhapsidion Wildfire, which Chase approved of immensely. She had decided to call him Fire for short. She knew her father was expecting too much and so was she, but she hardly cared. They needed him badly and if Rhapsidion Wildfire knew any other name it would be hope. That’s what he was to the small broken family that owned a couple of acres and an old barn.
Her hands clenched into fists as she looked around at the pitiful spit of sorry land that passed for a pasture. Even the grass refused to grow here, why would Fire be any different? What was stopping him from growing up weak, ugly, and ragged as everything else they had? Her father? She laughed, her father was losing his mind.
The wave of depressing reality was broken by the sight of the foal. Cautiously, Chase checked the conformation. He was a big colt with a nice head, not jug headed and not too small. From what she could see, he didn’t look scrawny or malnourished and his muscle structure was impressive. His legs were graceful and sleek but not skinny. She could tell that he got his coloring from his sire, vibrant chestnut with an usual deep chocolate black mane. Her hopes were beginning to rise when she noticed his hind leg. The hoof was deformed, flat and broken-looking.
She swore and kicked the ground, knowing that they didn’t have money for a vet. Surely the foal couldn’t move like this? It didn’t look like the kind of thing that could be cured by the pills that her father kept in his office, she had no idea how to cure it at all.
“What did we do to deserve this one, Roxy old girl?” she asked the old mare, who snorted as if to voice her annoyance. Then she stood up and nuzzled her foal. For a second Chase felt like kicking the foal for its imperfection, but regained control quickly.
“Chase!”
Chase jumped at the sound of her father’s hopeful voice. He knew the foal was here. She turned reluctantly and watched him leap out of the pickup truck, hop the fence, and jog towards her. He was excited. Great. Chase hoped he knew a cure.
He was beside her in a second, his rough hand on her shoulder, “So how’s our future champion?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, “My but he’s got purdy colorin, doesn’t he? Nice little body too, powerful legs…Oh. Hmm. What happened to his leg?”
This time he waited for an answer, but Chase didn’t give one.
“Well no big deal I suppose, we’ll just have the vet over here to fix him up right quick. Meanwhile, why don’t you help him nurse. I don’t think he could stand up too easily.”
And with that, her father was gone. She knew he was more disappointed than he let on but he sounded sure when he said that the vet could fix him. Now she turned her attention to the little foal who was kicking to get up, she watched him for a second. First, he pushed up on his front legs and then pulled his head back and attempted to propel himself to a standing position with his hind legs. Unfortunately, each time, his hoof gave to the pressure and he ended up in a furry heap on the ground.
Chase had heard once that if you helped a baby bird out of its shell it would die because it needed to do it itself in order to develop neck muscles. She wondered if there might be something similar with horses and hesitated a moment before stepping forward. The next time the foal attempted to stand up, Chase placed her hands under his belly and supported enough of his weight to let him stand up.
She cheered up slightly when the spirited little foal eagerly thrust his head under his mother and began suckling greedily. He had some spunk, if that was all. Looking at the beautiful little colt and his pathetic hoof, Chase found it hard to believe that he might someday be a racehorse. No, it was just another of her father’s half-beaten plans.
It didn’t take long for her father to return with the vet, he lived just down the road a ways. Chase took off for the barn when he arrived, leaving her father to deal with an unraveling dream. She climbed up into the hay loft and lay down on her homemade perch. It was just a couple boards laid perpendicular to the roof beams and attached with nails. She had built it as a place to go when she couldn’t stand to talk to anyone, but of course she could only get up there when the hay bales were stocked up high unless she felt like climbing the side of the barn.
It had gotten bigger over time, covering more ground, and she had brought a couple things up with her, like an old blanket and a wristwatch that she wedged in a hole to tell time easily. She had gotten that idea after getting in trouble a couple of times. She also brought up some rope and bailing twine, because both came in handy often.
Chase twirled a piece of hay in her fingers, then stuck it in her mouth and started breaking it into segments with her teeth. She wondered how horses liked the stuff at all, it didn’t seem like it would fill anyone up. She wondered if that was what horses thought about people food, but then they were always stealing whatever Chase had so she figured not.
In the back of her mind, she knew she was struggling to distract herself with these random unimportant thoughts, but she didn’t care. If it worked, it worked.
A small questioning meow came from about eyelevel in front of Chase, she reached out and stroked the barn cat, Smoky. He rubbed his hand against her and purred, making her laugh. He was always purring, Chase wondered if that was what it would be like to be happy all the time. She guessed she wouldn’t find out anytime soon, as it seemed impossible for humans.
“Animals are lucky,” Chase spit out the straw, “You don’t have any life dreams.”
Smoky stopped rubbing and turned his big green eyes toward her, staring.
“Or do you? What kind of things would you want? Humans are greedy, we want wealth and power. Cats are sweet, so what do you want? Mice?”
Smoky mrrowed and rubbed his chin against her cheek. She laughed, “So mice it is then? Well I guess you’ll just have to catch one.”
She touched her nose to his and sat up, staring at the open door. Through it she could see two figures she assumed were her father and the vet at the far end of the field. She glanced down at the small square room around her and crawled to the edge of the plank, deciding she might as well see what was going on. She took hold of a small beam and swung herself down into the hay, descending the pile as quickly as possible.
Straw fell from her leonine figure with each step as Chase made her way back to the foal.
“…looks like it got crushed inside somehow…” the vet was saying as she walked up. Her father placed a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m fairly sure it can be fixed, it would be a long term treatment though.”
“How long term are we talking?” she felt her father’s hand tense on her shoulder, “And how expensive?”
“At the most, maybe a year? Not too bad, I’d say. And it wouldn’t be expensive at all, it’s a more holistic treatment. You got lucky.”
Chase could count on one hand how many times anyone had said that to her father. She looked up and read the shocked look of excitement on his face, “So what do we have to do?”
“Well, all you have to do is use a special splint, the kind they use on some racehorses, and change that once every month. You’ll need to get him to stand up on his own, strengthen it, then exercise him once a day, walking mostly. You also will need to massage in small circles above his tendon here twice a day.
The most important part is that he gets lots of practice standing and walking. In order to walk him, you’re going to need two people. One to lead him and keep his head, and the other to be by the side to watch the hoof and help him if needed. Be sure you exercise him every day until he looks like he can walk by himself.”
“Thanks,” her father said, and paid the vet. It was always funny to watch her father give up money, because his fingers sometimes had a hard time letting go.
The vet tipped his hat and strode back to his pick-up.
“We-ell whadduyu think o’ that, huh? It wasn’t as bad as you were thinking after all right?”
Chase shrugged.
Her father nudged her with his elbow, “What’s eatin’ you Chase?”
“It’s nothin dad, just thinking.”
“Well don’t you hurt yourself hear?”
Chase laughed, “I’ll try. Hey dad?”
“Yeah?”
“How are we gonna take care of our little foal when you have to leave for work trips?” Her father worked as a tour guide for the local campsites. At least once a month he had to leave to lead some group on a trip where they ‘roughed it’ for a week.
“I was wondering the same thing, and then sometimes I have to stay at the office all day. Think we could hire some help?”
Chase shrugged, she wasn’t too keen on the idea, “I guess.”
He put an arm around her shoulders, “Well I guess I’ll start looking then.”
Chase nodded.
“And since you’re so set on the idea, I better head to town and do that now. You got dinner under control?”
“Sure.”
“Save some for me if it’s any good.”
“No guarantees.”
He smiled and then he was off in a cloud of dust, people seemed to do that a lot around here. Chase turned and headed for the house, kicking up as much dust as possible on the way.
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