Jake slowed and glanced at a wheelbarrow resting next to a mountainous pile of dirt mixed with old hay. When he got closer the aroma made him sneeze and he took a second look at the enormous pile that was at least a foot taller than he was.
“Is that poop?” Jake asked as he stumbled to a stop.
“Sure is,” Becky called back, “Hurry up, you can start mucking out the stalls while I get the feed ready.”
“Wait, what?” Jake asked, “What the hell does muck mean?”
Becky stopped and turned around to stare at him in exasperation.
“Take the wheelbarrow and the pitchfork… you do know what a pitchfork is?” Becky said sarcastically.
“Yea, I do,” Jake shot back.
“So take the wheelbarrow and pitchfork and start shoveling out all the old hay and horse apples from each stall,” Becky explained, “When the wheelbarrow starts to get full you come back here and shovel it out onto the pile.”
“Why don’t you shovel the crap?” Jake asked.
“Sure, you know where the tack room is?” Becky asked, “Granary is next to that, or how about how much oats to get for each horse, or if we need to sneak some medicine into a feedbag or two, or…”
“Ok, Ok, I get it,” Jake cut in, “I shovel the shit!
“This is going to be so fucking awesome for a summer break!”
Becky watched Jake grab the pitchfork out of the pile of hay and dung and lay it over the top of the wheelbarrow before pushing it along behind her. She watched for another moment and then turned back to lead the way to the barn.
“Hey, you’re the one who fucked up enough to be sent out here, Shorty,” Becky shot back over her shoulder, “I grew up here so imagine doing this your whole life without even fucking up.”
Jake followed along behind Becky until she reached the wide double doors and opened the left hand one for Jake to push the wheelbarrow inside.
“Sorry, I guess it would suck having to do this every day growing up,” Jake said apologetically as he slipped past her.
“Funny thing is, I enjoy it,” Becky replied and closed the door.
Horses snorted and nickered, a hoof slamming into a stall door making Jake jump a bit while he glanced around. The lights were dimmed until Becky flipped a switch and after a few flickers and half hearted attempts the overhead fluorescent set in bare metal hoods came to light.
Jake sneezed again at the thick, heavy scent of horses and dung, several horses sticking their head over the walls of their stalls and whickering at Becky who walked to the closest and petted its nose. She pulled a carrot out of her pocket and gave it to the chestnut horse who crunched on it noisily as she walked off.
“Start at the ones closest to the doors and work back,” Becky called and disappeared down a path between two stalls that Jake hadn’t even noticed.
He approached the first stall cautiously, peering over the wall and relaxing when he found it empty. When he opened the gate he found the hay littered with several large brown horse apples and wrinkled his nose.
“Great,” Jake mumbled, “Just fucking great.”
He took hold of the pitchfork and speared into the hay, his eyes starting to water at the sudden ammonia reek when he lifted it up to plop it into the barrow. For the next hour Jake worked steadily, Becky returning to let the horses out into the paddock after they had been fed. Jack had to shed his jacket, the barn growing hot and muggy while he worked until the last stall had been cleaned.