Hi all! This is a piece that I'm working on and really do plan to get published in the not too distant future! If it appeals to you at all and you think it'd be good in hard copy, I'd love for you to consider voting for me at . – find my photo, ID number 3982 - it's an Australian based competition offering 10K for a particular dream. The top 100 are picked by the public. To vote simply click on a number (5/5 being the highest rating for the picture). And if you're from the land of Oz, consider submitting your own picture and caption!

1.

February 2001

Lise Hemmingway smiled to herself, studiously reading the available jobs listed on the sheet in front of her.

She silently thanked whichever genius had decided to start a company that focused solely on advertising jobs in the equine industry and lining up capable people to take on these jobs anywhere across the globe.

At nineteen years of age, the slim brunette already boasted a strong love of horses and had proven herself capable of handling and caring for excitable Thoroughbreds many a time.

Just recently, she had finished up a six-month stint at a large stud in the Hunter Valley, working with weanlings and previously foaling down mares. Now in February and barely scraping the surface of what 2001 had to offer her, she had traveled to South Australia with a friend, helping out with a few yearlings for the Magic Millions Adelaide Yearling Sale to earn a bit of extra money before moving on to Victoria.

Having given up on school at the age of sixteen Lise had quickly learnt what hard work was involved in working in the Thoroughbred field.

This was now especially true, with the equine industry quickly adopting the idea of employing those who had taken the time to learn the theory and gain the piece of paper.

Eager to improve herself though, she had delighted her past employers by asking lots of questions, often volunteering for tasks others shied away from and consistently turning up early or staying behind late. It was obvious to others that she was aware that working with horses wasn’t at all a nine to five job, but rather, a lifestyle.

Now, two and a half years later she had an attractive resume behind her and was ready to take on a more challenging role in Victoria. All she had to do was find the job, she reminded herself, moving out of the way of a colt that was prancing excitedly on the end of his lead.

“Your horse is about to slip that shoe,” she observed an older man telling the handler as they led the yearling up to the ring.

The handler paused, looked at the horse’s foot, shrugged and continued on their way.

“But hey, that's fine when the nail punctures his sole and an infection builds up and suddenly you don't have a viable racehorse. Moron,” he muttered, shaking his head in disgust before following the animal up to the pre-sale ring.

Curious, Lise followed the older male, placing herself casually beside him, her gaze also following the horse and handler around the ring.

The same colt, discovering a filly in front of him increased his pace, the handler oblivious of the horse in front of them. Squealing, the colt lunged forward, nearly gaining a kick from the filly.

He then jumped back in surprise, pulling the confused handler with him.

This exertion on the loose shoe half pulled it from the colt’s foot, leaving the shoe dangling and nails sticking up while the excited animal pranced on a tight lead, the handler now in control but in danger of the young animal piercing its foot.

The older male observing this at the ring sighed.

“I told him,” he muttered to himself, flicking a cigarette to the ground before stamping it out with his foot.

“People don’t always recognise a knowledgeable piece of information,” Lise responded, gaining his attention.

The male nodded.

“You’re telling me!”

“Farrier… or just particularly aware of how true the saying no foot, no horse is?” she queried, realising that the clinking noise that resounded every time the colt put weight on the foot with the loose shoe should clue in anyone who had been around shod horses awhile.

He nodded, pulling out his wallet and extracting a card, handing it to her.

“Guess it's not worth giving advice to people who don't ask. Stuart Hunter,” he introduced himself.

“Lise Hemmingway,” she smiled, shaking the hand he offered.

"When I land myself a job, I'll keep you in mind," she smiled.

"Looking for anything in particular?" he queried, lounging against the rail, his gaze drifting to the colt as its handler led it through to the inside sale ring.

"Find out who that guy works for… I'm sure his boss will be looking for another worker soon," he grinned.

Lise laughed.

"Wrong time of season, but I want to focus on foal care."

He cast his eye over her, taking in her small frame.

"Had much experience?" he questioned dubiously.

She smiled.

"I'm competent enough… don't let the young age fool you. I was up Hunter Valley way but actually want to be situated in Victoria."

"So why the Adelaide sales?"

"Just helping out a mate with a couple of horses."

He nodded, kicking the ground.

"Nirvana Park… I heard through the grapevine they're taking on a couple more stallions for the next breeding season and they usually have a lot of weaners. Probably could do with an extra pair of hands at this time… Barn C. The guy's name is Kinglsey… David Kingsley."

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks," she shook his hand again and strolled back to the barn where her friend's yearlings were stabled.

The young brunette smiled. The name rang a bell and although she knew little about the stud, she was aware of their reputation for turning out yearlings to a high standard and receiving good sales prices.

Topping up some water buckets, she glanced down the aisle at a television that was set up, showing each lot as it was taken through the ring.

Noting that her friend's first horse to go through, a chestnut filly by Rory's Jester, wasn't due to be in the ring for another hour or so, she finished filling the buckets, checked each horse had food and strolled out of the barn, heading toward where Nirvana Park was stabled.

***

Glancing out of the school window across the green oval the bored sixteen-year-old sighed, convincing herself it would be a lot more exhilarating racing her palomino gelding around the emerald surface than sitting in a stuffy room while their teacher marked the role.

Calling her name he gained her attention, marking her off before addressing the class.

“Morning everyone. Over the next fifteen minutes or so, I want you to have a think about what you’re going to do after year twelve.

“Because you’re in year eleven, I know most of you have already picked subjects that coincide with what you plan on studying in University. But, today I’d like you to have a think about what you want as a job after your studies and list five different possibilities for me. This year you’re going to do two bouts of work experience, so we will try and line these up with your preferences,” a balding fifty something pedagogue informed the general consensus of bored teens before him.

She smiled to herself, mentally correcting the teacher as she stared at the blank piece of paper in front of her. She didn’t want a job – she wanted a career.

And she wouldn’t spend fifteen minutes deciding on one either, she’d spent just short of fifteen years deciding on horses. Flicking through the University/TAFE guide before her she stopped on the letter E, her eyes scanning the page until she came across the word she was looking for.

Finding a list of seven or so careers, she mentally crossed out those that didn’t appeal to her, writing down the few that did before her attention returned to the green surface outside the classroom.

Replaying in her mind the conversation with her “Careers Teacher”, she smiled ruefully, more than aware of how she should have handled the conversation.

“Horses aren’t a career, dear. Every girl goes through a stage where she wants a pony; you’ll grow out of it. Aside from that, it’s too dangerous working with these unpredictable animals.”

It’ll be even more dangerous me working with them if I’m not initially trained to do so.

“Girls that want ponies do quickly grow out of it, generally by the time they’ve discovered the male population. I own a horse, have had this infatuation for the past ten or so years and don’t believe I’ll be growing out of it anytime soon. Though, if I am going to do so, surely I’d tire of the animals more quickly if I was put to work with them?”

Aware that this response from her could have turned the conversation either way, she was curious to know if it would have worked to her advantage.

Thankful she had a mother whom was insistent on her following her heart, there’d been no need for her to have a follow up conversation with the older male however, and it was all thanks to her mother’s “little conversation” with the man. She’d managed to convince the teacher to agree to let her daughter work with horses, at least for the first lot of work experience and that’s all that mattered to the teen.

Grinning, she scanned the list of horse properties in the phone book before her, highlighting those that were close enough for her to consider working at and therefore send a letter to.

***

Grinning excitedly, Lise exited Barn C, concluding she was up for a rather long drive if she was to start working at Nirvana Park come April. Hearing racing hooves meeting hard ground she glanced around, expecting to see a loose horse. Spying the culprit - a young colt racing backwards on the end of its lead while it's handler tried to keep up - she watched curiously, waiting for the inevitable.

Surprisingly the handler managed to hold on and she watched, impressed as he quietly talked to the colt, gaining some ground - and lead - as he came to stand beside the horse's shoulder, encouraging the young equine forward. The colt took a couple of prancing steps forward before dancing on his hind legs, his handler responding by lifting the lead high into the air so his charge wouldn't get his legs caught up in it.

Once the colt had calmed down, Lise cast an experienced eye over the bay animal, taking in his well-conformed body.

Curious, she made a note of the number on the handler's hip tag and looked the animal up in her catalog, glancing over the colt's pedigree. She grinned as she took in the name of the mare, recognising it to be one she had dealt with a few years earlier at the racetrack.

Small world. She always was a wranger of a horse… this boy must have inherited it.

Overhearing lot number 130 being called to the outdoor parade ring, she quickened her step with the realisation that her friend's filly would be going through in twenty lots. Time to get her ready.