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Stream Lines

There is a hill and on that hill is some corn

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"New Stable Hands"

Pencil on 11" x 14" paper

The glistening bald top of an older man’s head caught their attention as they neared the middle of the stable. He was bent over picking out the back left hoof of a dapple-gray mare, grunting and huffing as he dug out the packed layer of mud and manure with a hoof pick. As the brothers approached, the mare looked back over her rump at the approaching strangers. She pinned her ears back, jerked her hoof out of the man’s grasp, and set it down on the ground.

“C’mon, gimme your damn hoof,” the man grumbled. He went to pick the hoof back up but paused as the brothers came to stand before him and the horse. He straightened up and looked the brothers over with a tired but hopeful glint in his gray eyes. The balding man sported short dark hair and a clean-shaven face. He was built like a draft horse, tall and stocky enough to make the mare standing beside him appear as if she were a pony. The man brushed off his gray long-sleeved shirt, brown pants, and blacksmith chinks, then grabbed the mare’s lead rope and turned her around to face the brothers.

“Anything I can help you with?” he asked, his booming baritone reverberating through the stable.

Charles nodded. “Yes, sir. My brother and I were looking for work.”

“You boys good with horses?”

“Good as any other man, I reckon. We grew up around them on the farm.”

“And where would that be? You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”

He shook his head. “No, sir. We’re from England.”

The burly man blinked. “What the hell are you doin’ here in Geneva?”

“Just looking for fortune in a new country, I reckon.”

“You got any family waitin’ for ya somewhere?”

Charles averted his gaze and cleared his throat. “No, sir,” he uttered past the sudden lump in his throat. He gestured to himself and his brother. “We’re all that’s left.”

The giant stable master bowed his head. “Sorry to hear that.”

A silence wedged itself between the three men. The dapple-gray mare sighed and swished her long tail.

The man cleared his throat loudly and held out his hand to Charles. “I’m Dave McCallister. Nice to meet you.”

He shook the stable master’s hand. “It’s a pleasure, sir. I’m Charles Conway.” He gestured to his brother and added, “This is Peter.”