“Hey, name’s Grady Hutchinson. Know anyone who needs a good shoer?” Hutch asked, extending his hand to the veterinarian outside his truck.
“Pete Keppler, Grady. You look familiar. You ever shoe in the Midwest or upstate New York?”
“Well, both places, actually. I’m sorry, you don’t look familiar to me. And my friends call me ‘Hutch’.”
“I think somebody pointed you out to me once is why I remember you. We’ve never met or anything. If I remember right, it was Ernestine Palmer in upstate New York. Said you were the best shoer around, bar none.”
“Wow. Small world. Ernie was a client of mine for several years. She’d even fly me in to shoe for her when I left the area. Great gal.”
“Yeah. Lots of money. Were you sleepin’ with her?”
Hutch stammered a little. “Uh, no. Purely professional.”
Pete laughed. “I didn’t know you could be ‘purely’ anything with Ernie.”
Hutch smiled. “Well, it wasn’t easy.”
“Yeah, she had me in no time flat. We were hot for awhile. She dumped me just as fast as she took up with me, too,” he chuckled. “But it was a good ride for awhile. Anyway, I’ll tell you who you might check with is Mick Webster over in Barn 17. He always wants to be in on the latest in everything. This would be a perfect time, too, because his shoer is in and out right now. He’ll probably use both of you guys, but it’s a good place to start. Pay’s good, too.”
“Well, thank you, Pete. I owe you one.”
“I’ll let you buy me a beer sometime if you get the job.”
“Fair enough. I’ll see you around then.”
Hutch got back in his royal blue custom painted Ford F250 4x4 pickup with a matching custom canopy and drove the short distance to Barn 17.
“Hi,” he said, introducing himself to the foreman. “Is Mick around?”
“He’ll be back in a few minutes. Can I help you?”
“Well, I know you folks have a shoer, but I thought maybe I could be of some assistance. If you need references, Pete Keppler can vouch for my reputation. I worked mostly back east and in the Midwest. I’m up on all the latest shoes and methods. Don’t like to be behind on anything that’ll help a horse.”
Mick Webster’s foreman Nelson Scarston was a pretty good judge of character. He was a man of few words—his reputation spoke for itself. He’d earned it, and he figured a reputation was pretty much all you had at the track. Most people’s weren’t so good, so for Nelson a good reputation said it all.
“You got names?”
“Benny Hilyard, Richard Jamison, Cedric Halls, Jeffrey Karston, Libby Sensten—”
“Whoa, not bad. What’re you doin’ out here, for cryin’ out loud?”
“The truth?”
“Preferably.”
“Divorce.”
“Messy?”
“I don’t know how messy. Just not what I had in mind when I got married, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I do. Been divorced myself. Wife said I was married to these horses. Turns out she was right. Married to a racetrack woman?”
“Yeah.”
“She shoulda known. Don’t blame yourself.”
Just then Mick walked up.
“Mick, Grady Hutchinson. Highly recommended horseshoer from back east. Knows all the latest shoes and techniques. Needs a job.”
Mick extended his hand. “Mick Webster. That right? Well, I’m sure Nelson told you we have a shoer, but we have a full barn and definitely have a few problem feet. Yeah, well, if you’ve got time, let’s put him to work on The Senator. He’s due, and he’s got the worst feet in the barn. If you can help him, you’re hired, but I’ll probably keep Bob, too.”
“I’m not trying to undermine your guy. Somebody said you might need a second shoer and that you wanted to keep up on all the latest stuff, and that’s what I do, so, yeah, I definitely have time. Bring him out.”
Nelson and Hutch formed an instant rapport. They knew a lot of the same people even though Nelson had been out here for several years. Hutch got him caught up on all the current information about people he hadn’t seen for years. Most of the stories were typical. So and so was sleepin’ with so and so. So and so divorced so and so and married so and so. So and so got caught sleepin’ with so and so and caused so and so to get a divorce. So and so was suspended for using some kind of illegal drugs on his horses. So and so was into so and so for so many thousands of dollars. Etc., etc.
“So, how long you been divorced?” Nelson asked.
“I signed the papers before I left. Whenever.”
“Well, technically, you don’t know when or even if you’ll be divorced. She could backpedal.”
“Not her.”
Nelson paused and then asked, “So who’d you sleep with?”
“I didn’t sleep with her,” he replied, tapping a nail into the foot he was shoeing with sharp, abrupt moves of his hammer.
“Hard time convincing the wife of that? Musta had somethin’ goin’ on then.”
“Not on my part. She was a client. She kept calling me at home. Wanted me at her barn all the time. I doubt if you knew her—she’s just been around in the last couple years. Came out of the show crowd. Name’s Marilyn Chambers.”
“Nope. Never heard of her.”
“She was some kind of wealthy. Had all the looks to go with it. The other trainers were tryin’ to take up with her—heck, there wasn’t a guy on the backstretch or in the office, for that matter, that didn’t want to get it on with Mare. I have no idea why she elected to give me a run, but she made no bones about it. I guess it was the fact that she wanted the best for her horses, and she wasn’t afraid to try the latest thing. Made my life very difficult in the end. To tell you the truth, I didn’t see it comin’. You know what it’s like around the track. Everybody always tryin’ to get it on with someone else. Some people couldn’t care less who’s married and who’s not. I thought my wife understood that I didn’t want anything to go on with this woman, but I think Marilyn musta been settin’ her up because I had an appointment to shoe one for her on an off day in the afternoon. She’d given her help the afternoon off, and she was the only one at the barn when I got there. She told me to come down to her office because she wanted to write me out a check when I was done. So I put away my tools and walked down there. I opened the door and she’s standing there in her underwear leaving next to nothing to the imagination.
“I froze. I wanted to run, but I just froze. She says to me, ‘Here’s your check, and I’d like to give you a little bonus for all your expert work.’ Man, my feet were like cement. So she walks over to me and puts her arms around my neck with the check in her hand. I finally started to wake up and reached up to remove her hands and push her away when my wife pokes her head in the door. I look over, see it’s her and can’t get out of there fast enough. She won’t even turn around when I call her. She wouldn’t even let me talk to her for two days, and then she wouldn’t believe me when I told her the truth. And that was pretty much it. Five years down the tubes.”
“Over one woman? C’mon, there’s gotta be more.”
“When we got together, I had a reputation for being a ladies’ man. She knew that. But she hooked me. I mean, when we got serious, she was the only one I wanted. Still is. But I blew it. I didn’t know how to reassure her. You know, I probably wanted Marilyn’s attention. I know I didn’t want her, but she fed my ego because all the other men were droolin’ over her, and she wanted me. Told me I was the best she’d ever seen, and the fact was she’d worked with the best in the field. So it was a lot my fault. I guess I didn’t get how much it was hurtin’ my wife, and I didn’t really give her any solid reason to trust me.”
Hutch stood up. “Walk him off, Nelson.”
The Senator walked off with no hesitation.
“Hey, Hutch. He has never walked off without a few gingerly steps after being shod. Never. I’ll tell Mick. His feet look great. What kind of pad is that?”
“Brand new material I bought just before I came out here. We’ll let The Senator be our guinea pig, okay., big boy?” he answered, patting the horse’s neck. “Anything else for me today?”
“Not today, Hutch. But I guarantee I’ll have some for you at 10 o’clock tomorrow morning. Alright?”
“Great. I’ll be here. Nelson, thanks for listenin’,” Hutch said a little sheepishly, reaching out to shake Nelson’s hand.
“Hey, I been where you are now. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”
Hutch picked up his equipment and walked out to his truck. It felt good to do some work. As he was about to get in, a man introduced himself by the name of Brady York.
“Look, my shoer stayed down south this year. I just talked to Pete Keppler and he said to give you a try. I’ve got a barn full all near ready or overdue. You got time to shoe a few for me?”
“All the time in the world, Mr. York.”
“Call me Brady, and follow me.”
“Call me ‘Hutch’, and lead the way.”
By the time Hutch was done at Brady York’s barn, he had shod 10 head all with his new pads. He dreaded going back to his motel and determined he would find an apartment or a small house to rent in the next few days. Maybe Nelson would know of some place. Another night to stare at the ceiling and toss and turn. For a moment he felt the tears want to come, but he quickly drove out the front gate introducing himself to the late afternoon guard before he left.
It wasn’t late but he saw no reason not to eat dinner now rather than going back to the motel and then heading out again. Since he was sweaty from working, he spotted a hamburger joint and drove up to the window placing his order for a double bacon cheeseburger, a large order of fries, and a giant size coke. Then he drove to his motel to clean up, eat, watch some TV and turn in early. Now the fatigue was beginning to hit him. He’d driven nearly all the way across the country as quickly as he could with as few stops as he could safely manage. The 3 hour time difference was just starting to catch up with him, and since he hadn’t worked in a week, he could tell his body was objecting to the 11 head he’d demanded of it today. Maybe now he could finally sleep. Tomorrow was going to be another full day. He knew he’d have plenty to shoe in both of his new barns. Plus he had to find time to meet some of the other shoers, check out where the best place was to get supplies, and he knew if these new pads caught on like it looked like they were going to, he’d better call in his order to be shipped out to him right away. He’d brought a lot with him, but at this rate, he didn’t have enough to last even a month.
Taken from For His Glory (2002-?; written by Nicole Petrino-Salter)