When 4 o'clock rolled around, Tony knew it by the return of Liz to the track. He trotted up to her, beaming.
"Well, coach, how'd I do?"
Liz smiled, ruffling his mane.
"You did great. How's your stamina?"
Tony shifted his weight on his hooves a moment, pondering.
"My legs will probably be a bit sore tomorrow, but nowhere near what my upper body was this morning. Then again, I've been working them more consistently, even before I became a pony. Even so, I think I could probably push myself a bit more next time."
Liz nodded along.
"We'll work our way up. Don't worry, you'll be cursing me for giving you jello legs before you know it."
They laughed together at that, already becoming friends.
"Come on, Tony, the new horse will be here soon, you can help us unload him."
Tony grinned with delight and nodded enthusiastically. As he and Liz made their way around to the yard, a thought occurred to him.
[...I've smiled more since moving into the barn than I have in years. I think this may be the first time I've ever been truly happy...]
Liz looked distant for a moment.
"Tony, while we're walking, I want to explain a bit about the competitors you'll face at the Yearling meet..."
They discussed what Liz had told Max, and what Max had told Liz, as they walked.
Just as they entered the yard, they saw the truck with the horse trailer pulling up to the far gate. Roger, Max, and Bob were already there waiting, and as the truck pulled up the whole team set about getting the new horse out. Max and Liz discussed things with the delivery team, while Bob, Roger, and Tony opened the trailer.
"Now, horses are generally really calm around ponyboys, so y'all take point," Bob said, opening the door.
Tony and Roger nodded, and clambered into the trailer. Tony gasped.
Falchion was the most beautiful Andalusian gray that Tony had ever seen, a testimony to the ancient breed's pride of place as princes of the equine world. As he stepped forward and the beast came to meet him, nuzzling at Tony just as if he had known him for ages, Tony was over come with the romance of the situation - this was a horse of kings, the pride of Europe's horse culture for half a millineum. Roger, also, was in awe, stroking the great beast's flank as Tony stroked its muzzle. His reverie was perhaps less deep than Tony's - Tony had become somewhat infected with Max's passionate love of horses over the years, both in the original timeline and apparently in this one. But in truth they were both deeply entranced by the creature before them - so much so it took them both a moment to realize that Falchion appeared equally entranced by them.
[Is this what Max was talking about, the theorized natural empathy between ponyboys and horses?] Tony wondered.
A polite cough caused Tony and Roger to snap back to attention, turning to face it. Bob chuckled.
"You two are naturals. Look at him, he's one of the most relaxed horses I've ever seen without medication. Come on, let's get him stalled."
Tony and Roger nodded, and began helping to lead Falchion safely down the ramp and out of the trailer.
Roger glanced over at Bob as they walked the horse in.
"He's beautiful, but he's a bit big for racing, isn't he?"
"For flat racing like Tony, yeah, but Max's plan is to have him run steeplechase. The Andalusian is one of the best for that, since they were bred as warhorses centuries ago - all that muscle that adds weight in a flat race gives jumping power in the steeplechase."
Roger nodded, understanding. Tony nodded, but more slowly. He was still digesting the situation with his own competition.
[Natural Horse racing is a lot more civilized than Pony racing, though; sure, if I were a horse I'd be overly bulky, but as a pony my build may make all the difference...I don't want to hurt anyone, but if it's me or them, can I...?]
He was still lost in thought as the whole team returned to the barn, the horse trailer driving off. Max had stopped gazing up at Falchion with that same adoring look and had asked him a question, but Tony couldn't recall it.
"Crap, I'm sorry, Max, I was off in my head. What'd you say?"
Max looked momentarily worried, but shrugged.
"I said, where do you think we should put him?"
Tony looked up at Falchion, and smiled.
"Next to us. Pride of place; I'm first pony, but he's first horse. Besides, we smell of horse, it'll help him feel at home."
Roger nodded in agreement, and Max smiled warmly. He and Bob put Falchion in the stall right next to Tony and Roger. Bob cleared his throat.
"Ahem. Speaking of smelling of horse, though - which of you is first for bath and grooming?"
Max waved Bob off.
"Nah, we'll get them both. You bathe Roger, I'll get Tony."
Bob nodded, tipped his hat to Max, and began leading Roger off. Liz saluted as well, explaining she was clocking out for the day, asking Bob and Max what they'd like delivered for supper; Bob and Liz had, as part of their compensation, received rooms in the mansion, which was far too big for Max alone. Max and Bob settled on Chinese, and Liz headed off to order it.
A few moments later, and Tony was being hosed down by his brother.
"YEEP! COLD!"
"You'll come to appreciate that once Liz really starts busting your ass. Come on, it's good for you."
Max set about scrubbing his brother head to hoof, Mane N Tail shampoo and conditioner for his hide and a dental chew to clean his teeth. As Tony gnawed, he turned to his brother.
"Couldn't I just brush my teeth?"
"Well, of course, and lots of volunteer ponies do - I know Bob gets the teeth out of the way early, and I saw Roger with a toothbrush in his mouth while I was getting the grooming kit. But this is the way we do horses, and I figured you'd prefer that."
"Aww, you're so thoughtful, master."
He shifted, suddnely.
"Max, I gotta go."
Max grunted. The one thing he had refused to let Tony do, as far as transformations go, was neural resequencing to make him lose bowel and bladder control like a real horse. It was standard for penal ponies, but a mixed bag for volunteers. Max's reasoning had partly been that, but mostly the rather straightforward reason that ponies who could use a toilet made less mess. He sighed, however. It was so hard to say no when Tony wanted to be treated like a "normal" pony.
"If I let you go here, am I going to need the shovel?"
Tony's eyes lit up.
"No, I just need to pee. You mean - "
"Go ahead, pony. I'd still rather you didn't piss in your stall, and I insist you shit in the toilet whenever possible, but...Yes, you can urinate like a regular horse."
Tony lunged as if to hug his brother, but Max backed away.
"Hey hey hey! I know you're happy but you're also sopping wet and covered in suds."
Tony chuckled, then settled back into his grooming, releasing as he did so a stream of equine urine. He sighed in contentment as he did so, feeling yet more equine.
"Just glad I didn't wash your hooves yet..." Max sighed, before resuming grooming Tony.
Max wondered how far he would let his brother go without reeling him in. Tony, he was sure now, would never readily retire from being a pony. When he left racing he'd become a breeder, and if he got too old for that he'd probably still be content to pull sulkies all his days. Max was in no danger of forgetting this was his brother; quite the contrary, he loved him every bit as much as he'd always done, maybe more, having grown closer in the last month. But the role of 'pet' was increasingly...not eclipsing the role of brother, but growing equal to it. Max wasn't sure how he felt about that - he wasn't categorically opposed to it like his father, far from it, but he had a firm moral compass, and he wasn't sure where this fell on it. He was sure he had an obligation to help Tony enjoy ponyhood safely, which meant letting him be more equine sometimes and forcing him to be more hominid at others, but he wasn't sure where the line was. Tony was, by his own admission, no longer in any way human, but Max was certain in his bones that his brother was still a *person*, human or not - as indeed he was sure about all ponies. But what did it mean to be a person, and not a human?
[Well, I've got years to figure it out.]
After he had Tony washed and dried and groomed, he patted the pony's flank affectionately. He had a lot to think about, and an idea dawned on him.
"Come on, let's get you in and fed with Roger and Falchion. I'll go in and eat with Bob and Liz too, but when you're done, put Falchion up for the night and go into the tack room. Get out the pony saddle."
Tony raised an eyebrow. There were in fact pony saddles, but as ponies were bipedal they were shaped little like that of their equine brethren, being more like platforms allowing ponies to carry riders on their shoulders. Tony had never worn one yet, but he'd been interested to try one.
"We're going for a ride?"
"No, boy. I'm going for a ride - you *are* the ride," Max said with a smirk. Tony grinned.
"Yes sir!"