I closed the door and took a moment to think. First, I needed to look at the backyard to see if Mrs. Penn was right about it being suitable for a horse. I hunted for the door to the back, then walked outside to check the yard. Sure enough, although the area wasn’t laid out for a horse, it looked like the backyard would work temporarily. The grounds were full of tall weeds and an overgrown lawn that Frey would quickly restore to the right length.
I found the gate out to the front and whistled. Frey came running, slipping right through the opening, not fazed by the way he was trotting into an enclosed area. Once Frey was inside, I secured the gate, checking that the latch was adequate.
Frey nickered and nuzzled me for a moment, but then he looked around and seemed to like what he saw. For Frey, anywhere there was ample grazing was okay with him. He nosed about for a moment, then returned for a pat. “It’s okay, boy,” I told him. “We’re going to stay here a bit.”
Frey was loose and saddleless, so there was nothing I needed to do, except find a bucket for water. The fact that Frey didn’t have his saddle on reminded me that I needed to get my tack back from the buggy seat. I’d ask the officer about that after his stint at bathing the boys was finished.
I found a flat porcelain bowl that looked like it had once been used for face washing or shaving. It would serve my purpose after a good cleaning.
I set to work right off, “It only takes soap, hand grease, and good intent,” Mrs. Stevens used to direct me when I was cleaning her floors. Luckily this bowl was a lot smaller than Mrs. Steven’s floors.