"Hello, this is Guilford Riding School, Jill speaking," said a welcoming woman's voice.

"Hi, my name is Cara. I was just wondering if you offered lessons that  I could work for?" I replied shyly. I had been looking for a chance to horseback ride since I was six. My parents wanted me to try other sports. However, my obsession with horses grew, leaving me desperate to find a place to ride. I called all the local barns searching for a barn where I could work for what I love.  

That same day my car bumped down a gravel driveway leading to a big, gray barn. Out front a maroon and white sign said "Guilford Riding School." Inside, the stall aisles contained about eight horses on each side. As I walked down the aisles, curious heads popped up expecting to be given a treat. Whinnies and neighs were passed between the horses to inform each other of the possible chance for an extra snack. The heads returned to mow at the hay by their feet as the horses realized they were not receiving anything. An elderly woman stepped out from the small office. "Hi, you must be Cara! My name is Jill, I am the owner of the barn, and I will be your instructor!" I nodded excitedly and followed the woman to the water pump to start my day’s work.
As we walked to the water pump, I was introduced to a girl about my age named Maeve. She had been riding for years and knew everything there was to know about horses. Maeve was in charge of teaching me how to make feed, top off water buckets, groom and tack the horses, and help out in lessons, if needed.
For one of my first tasks, I watched intensely as Maeve wrapped a polo around the horse’s leg. A polo is a long piece of fleece fabric that is carefully wrapped around the fetlock, or ankle, to help support the horse’s leg and prevent a horse from getting scars. Maeve wrapped the fabric, starting closer to the horse’s hoofs, moving up. Her hands moved in a quick, methodical pattern, finishing the task within minutes. Maeve instructed me to stand next to the horse’s leg. Anxious that the horse would kick me, I began to move closer to the giant animal. Maeve watched as my shaking hands, wrapped the fabric around the horse’s leg and corrected my mistakes. I attempted the task multiple times before Maeve deemed it of decent quality.
Once my five hour work day was complete, I followed Jill to the tack room to grab a helmet. All geared up with a borrowed, scratched up helmet, my tattered jeans, and tall rain boots I was led to another stall, which housed a fat, chestnut stallion named Colonel. I anxiously took the reins in my hands as I restlessly stood next to Colonel, who was focused on the hay under his water trough. His curious head lifted from the floor to get a good look at me.
I would soon be working with these animals, once a week for five hours. Even though, there are risks to working with such powerful animals, the ride is worth it. Without the courage I built up to call the barn, I would have never gained the courage I had to climb onto this amazing creature.