My mother called him up and he gave permission for me to come to work there.
Jack worked with race horses. He had some horses in the races at Tampa Bay Downs, and he had a training barn and track for his "green" horses in Plant City.
Jack was an old man to me, wrinkled like leather and tough as nails but in that strangely lovable way. I only saw him ride a few times, I think it bothered his joints to ride too often, but the man was amazing. I asked him his history once and he told me how he had grown up with horses and had work in a steel mill till a horrible accident happened. There was a time that there weren't so many safety guards in place and one day Jacks hands had gotten caught in one of the giant presses at the factory. The machine had cut off and cauterized most of his figures and the tips of his thumbs. Yet, it didn't slow Jack down, in fact he could still repair most saddles faster and quicker that I could, all my fingers intact.
I mostly worked at the training barn. My work started early in the morning, feeding grain, mucking stalls and tacking up the spirited animals for the training jockeys. I was very eager to learn to ride and for some time there was no way Jack would let me on one of the green horses. He had an old retired bay gelding named Rocket that I could take out every day after chores were done. I enjoyed my time with Rocket a lot but I still craved the opportunity to be a trainer... Poor Jack. He always said to me that he didn't usually like children very much and it impressed my mother one day when he told her that I often acted more mature and responsible than many of the 40 year olds in his barn. My nagging finally got through...
One day the usual training jockey was out sick. Jack was really upset because if the horses didn't get worked they would get stiff. I begged him to let me ride. And he did.
There was a sweet little mare in the barn that I absolutely loved. Her name was Ginger and she had a beautiful chestnut color and feminine eyes. In the stall she was sweet and gentle, accept for the occasion playful nip, but the training jockey had warned me before that under the saddle she became a different horse. She liked to buck. Jack would let me take her on the track so we settled on jogging her around the paddock behind the barn. And it was rough. I got thrown about 3 times that afternoon but it was the most fun I could remember.
Then he put me on another one, this time on the track. He gave me instructions to only take the horse the left way around the track and to trot, no galloping or else the horse would get way from me... Three times around, then stop and turn toward the barn. I was happy as a dog, everything was going fine until I slipped a stirrup. Posting (a stand up, sit down motion) at a trot is hard work and requires good balance in the saddle. I couldn't risk tightening my knees to post or the horse would speed up. As I struggled to get my foot back in the stirrup I leaned forward and the horse thought I meant "go." And he was headed for the gate that led from the track to the barn, gaining speed, 25, 30 MPH and I couldn't get the stirrup. I was holding on for dear life as he rounded the gate. At that moment I saw that the gate to the pasture across from the track was open. I steered the horse that way and the realized my dilemma. There was a tree and the horse was headed so close to it I knew I would get knocked off. My only alternative was to bail early but we were crossing a concrete road.
At that moment I was overwhelmed and didn't get to decide. I blacked out.
I came to on the side of the road. The ranch hand that mended the fences and mowed the tall pasture grasses was bent over me, asking how many fingers he had up. I told him that was such a stupid question and asked where the horse was. He told me the horse has run into the pasture and would be fine. I struggled to stand up and started walking back to the barn. I was so embarrassed. I was scared. Jack was never going to let me ride again, I was sure of it. I hated that I now looked like a failure. And I didn't want to admit that my body was hurting. I still don't know how fast the horse was going or how exactly I landed on the road, but it HURT.
The ranch hand kept trying to help but it only made me more angry, and I shouldn't have but I yelled at him to leave me alone. Jack had been in the barn but could see what happened well enough. He drove out the golf cart to meet me on the road and asked me to get in. I said I didn't want to. I was determined to walk back to the barn, to show I wasn't hurt that bad and I didn't want to disappoint Jack. He asked me what was wrong and I couldn't keep up the act anymore. I started crying and told him I was afraid he would never let me ride again. Good ol' Jack: "You bet I'm making you ride again, you're getting back on that horse as soon as we catch 'im. The last thing I want is for you to be afraid to never ride again." And so it was, I got back in the saddle and walked that horse a few more times around the paddock. But I really was hurt and couldn't take anymore. We lunged the rest of the horses and finished our chores.
The next day when I woke up I couldn't move. It hurt so bad I screamed at the pain in my back and shoulders. My mother asked if we should go to the doctor but I refused, afraid she wouldn't let me ride again either. It was probably stupid. Stupid too that I still wanted to ride soo bad. But that's horse fever for ya'll...
After I recovered I continued to work with Jack for some time until once again, life's circumstances changed. Mom lost her job and couldn't afford to drive me out anymore. It was tough saying goodbye to them.
