Daisy Clippenstock's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Daisy pressed her palm against the corral fence and watched the gray stallion pace the far edge. No other farrier in Gritstown would take this job. The horse had kicked through two gates and sent a ranch hand to the doctor with broken ribs. But Daisy's grandmother had taught her that emotions flow through fingertips like heat through iron, and she planned to prove it. This horse would be hers to gentle. She hauled the wooden feeding trough into position near the center of the corral. Apples and carrots filled the trough, their bright colors stark against the packed earth beneath. The stallion stopped pacing and flicked his ears toward her. She kept her movements slow and steady, then backed away ten feet. A wary animal needed space to let its guard down. The horse snorted and tossed his head, but his gaze stayed fixed on the food. Daisy settled onto the ground and waited. Her grandmother had gentled Widow-Maker the same way—patience first, then trust, then touch. The stallion took one step forward, then another. Daisy breathed out slow and felt the anger in her chest loosen into something calmer.