by J A Whiting
But the two women back there, the bride and her mother, were both leaning forward on their seats and trying to soothe the man lying on the floor, while the groom sat down there with him and kept him still. Both women seemed to be calm enough, considering, and both were talking quietly and steadily to their father and husband.
"How is he doing?" called Mae, but none of them even seemed to hear her except for the groom's father.
"He's still with us," the man said to her, glancing up from the rear-facing seat. "He needs that ambulance, though."
"It's here," said Mae, watching as it pulled up to the curb and stopped. "They're coming out to us."
"Okay, good." With that, everyone in the carriage went back to trying to take care of bride's father.
A few of the people from the clubhouse came running out to see what had happened. They spoke to the passengers and then ran back again to meet the ambulance.
At last Mae turned to look at her horse. The night air was cool with a good breeze blowing, but poor Fireball was dripping with sweat after trotting a long way with a heavy carriage and being scared half to death at the same time. His breathing came hard and fast and he stood with his head down while Ross held his bridle.
"He's blowing like a steam engine," Mae said to Ross. "I should get the cooler on him and get him walking right away."
Ross nodded. "Should. But they've got to get the man out of the carriage first."
The lights continued to flash on the parked ambulance as the paramedics opened it up. They seemed to be taking their time unloading their equipment, pulling out a wheeled stretcher, and getting everything ready to go.
"I know we can't move the carriage," said Mae. "But can we block the wheels and get this horse taken care of?"
"We can."
Mae knew that leaving a hot, sweating, exhausted horse to stand in the cold wind could very quickly lead to several different kinds of health problems for the unfortunate animal.
"Okay," said Mae. "I'll block the wheels. Then we can get him unharnessed."
In a moment, she had hopped down to the ground, pulled out the set of wedge-shaped wooden blocks from one of the storage boxes at the back of the carriage and set them at the front and back of one of the large rear wheels.
"Okay. Let's get this horse unhooked," she said, hurrying back to Ross.
It only took a few seconds, and then the two of them were leading Fireball back to the trailer out in the parking lot, giving the ambulance with its flashing lights and loudly running diesel generator a wide berth.
Fireball didn't even seem to notice the noisy contraption. He just wanted to get back home, or at least to the trailer. It didn't take long for them to get the harness off, though Mae had to brush off the pink flower petals and green leaves and bits of broken twigs from where he had jumped forward right under one of the trees. It looked like there was still a whole lot of tree stuck to his neck and back and damp, tangled mane.
Mae also noticed that the horse seemed to flinch when she went to slide the heavy collar up over his head and take it off.
"Maybe he's already feeling sore from all that," she said. "It was a long way with a heavy carriage. I don't think he's ever done that before."
"Could be," said Ross. "You can put some liniment on him tomorrow."
"I will," said Mae. "But for right now, it's this cooler and a lot of walking. Can't take him home in that trailer while he’s still hot and sweating." She threw the cooler up over him. It was really just a big rectangular woolen blanket that covered a horse from ears to tail and kept the wind off of him while he cooled down. She reached up to adjust it on his neck.
"Come down here, Fireball. You're so tall, I can hardly reach…."
But again the horse flinched and pulled away when she tried to touch his neck. "Must be from the collar," she said, shaking her head. "Don't know what else it would be."
"He's probably just muscle sore and maybe a little strained," said Ross. "But he may very well have saved a man's life from that effort."
"I know," said Mae. "A sore neck is worth it for that. I'll make sure this horse gets all the liniment he needs and a nice massage to go with it."
As Mae began leading Fireball around the parking lot at a slow walk, the paramedics finally took the stretcher over to the carriage.
"I hope that man will be all right," she said. "And I have to admit, I also hope they aren't too upset over the wild ride."
"Doubt it," said Ross. "Would have taken forever to get that man out of the carriage and into a cart. And no cart would cover ground as fast as that horse did."
"I think so, too," said Mae. "But you never know. I'm afraid the bride's dress did get wet. If that goes on social media, this might be the last driving job I ever have."
"Hope not," said Ross. "Your board bill for all your horses is coming due." But then he glanced up towards the ambulance again. "You might find out something now. Here comes the groom's father. And I think he wants to talk to you."
13
"Mrs. Monahan?"
"Yes, sir," Mae said, walking Fireball closer to the groom's father. She hoped her passengers weren't too shaken up, whether they actually posted negative reviews about Tipperary Carriage Company online or not. "I'm sorry about the wild ride. How is the bride's father?"
The man smiled. "Thanks to your wild ride, he's hanging in there. The medics are working on him now and they'll get him to the hospital shortly."
"Oh, good. I’m so glad to hear that. We were sure the horse would be faster than a golf cart, and he was. I am sorry about the bride's dress, though. I think it got wet from the sprinklers."
"I don't think she's worried about that. They took hundreds of pictures beforehand. And a wedding dress can be cleaned. Her dad can't be replaced."
"That's certainly true."
"Well, we just wanted to thank you for not only giving our bride and groom such a lovely time at their wedding, but for getting a very sick man to the medics in record time. If the carriage business ever gets slow, maybe you can start your own ambulance service."
Mae laughed. "I probably won't. But I do know that in earlier times, horses like Fireball would be counted on to go for the doctor whenever someone was sick or injured, go get him and bring him back to the farm, or wherever he was needed."
"All of you did a wonderful job tonight. Thank you again."
"Thank you. And please have someone let us know how the man is doing."
"We will." With that he turned and left, walking quickly over to the wheeled stretcher which was finally bringing the bride's father out of the carriage and over to the ambulance.
Mae resumed walking her horse.
"Glad they saw it your way," said Ross from beside her.
"I am, too. I think they understood that this is not what we usually do. I'm just glad the man seems to be doing all right." She reached up and patted Fireball on his neck as they walked along, noticing that he raised his head up as soon as she did.
I'd better let him rest tomorrow. Get some liniment on him, like Ross said. And I think I may need some, too, after all that high-speed driving with a high-powered horse.
"I have to admit, though," Mae said, "that after this, I'm feeling a little hesitant about using this horse at a funeral."
"Oh?" said Ross. "Why?"
Mae shook her head. "He's very, very strong. I mean, once he starts, he just keeps going."
"You can work with him on that. Lots of speeding up and slowing down until he's a little more responsive. Sounds like the place that had him before just used him for jogging around the farm. You're asking more of him than that, so you'll have to help him a little more."
"I see what you mean. That does make sense. I can certainly do some more schooling at home."
"And he did all right, considering how crazy everything was. He calmed down pretty quickly after the sprinklers went off."
"He did," said Mae. "Plenty of horses would never get over that."
"When he shied out ther
e by the trees, anything could have done that. A big bug might have smacked into him. Or a roosting bird. Or a falling twig." Ross shrugged. "Just one of those odd things. We'll never really know."
"I know you're right. It's just that … he really did feel out of control there for a minute," said Mae. "There towards the end when I couldn't get him to turn. That's what concerns me."
Ross glanced back towards the clubhouse, watching the crowd of people and medics behind the brightly flashing ambulance. "You're right. You don't want to see any horse just flat-out refuse to do what you ask."
Mae glanced at Ross and nodded.
"This horse is very new to all this. And he was pretty spooked. But he did change his mind pretty quick once the whip cracks woke him up."
Mae grinned. "I can hardly blame him for being confused. Any horse will run for home when things go wrong. I hardly knew what to do myself. But you have to admit, he got that man to the ambulance in record time."
"He did. Probably saved a life. And came back under control as soon as we made it clear what he had to do. Can't ask for more than that."
"Not bad for a horse with the heart of a bunny," said Mae. "He’s just like Falling Star. With a little leadership, as you always say, he did step up when it really counted."
"And you haven't even owned him a week yet."
"That's right. I haven't. Give us a month and we'll conquer the whole city."
"Maybe so. That was some good driving you did."
"Oh… well, thanks." Mae knew that Ross did not give such compliments lightly.
"But next time something like that comes up, let me do it."
Mae stopped and the horse nearly bumped into her. "Wait, what? I thought you said it was some good driving."
"It was. Looked like fun. Next time, let me take a turn."
And with that Mae burst out laughing. "Sure thing. Maybe I will."
Ross glanced at the horse and ran one hand under the wool cooler at the horse's chest, checking to see how hot and damp he was.
Fireball was beginning to return to a normal state of breathing and was not so overheated as before, but his coat was still damp with sweat and the night was very cool.
"I'll get the towels. We can start drying him off."
"Good idea." Mae watched him walk to the trailer and then turned back to her horse. The dark green cooler was sliding down his neck, so she again tried to pull it back up. It almost seemed to be caught on something. Maybe it was sticking to his long thick mane, or even to his damp coat– so she gave it a good tug to move it back up where it belonged.
Once again, the horse flinched and tried to duck away from her. He actually seemed to be in pain and not merely sore from the long fast trot with a heavy carriage.
Mae frowned. This was strange. He was acting like something was really hurting him. "Come here, buddy. Under this light. Let's take a closer look."
She led him under one of the tall glaring lights in the parking lot and looked closely at the left side of his neck. Fireball raised his head a little but didn't object.
"Okay… " Then Mae stepped around to his right side and did the same thing, running her hands along his neck and into his thick black mane.
And just as he threw his head to the side, Mae jerked her hand back. It felt as though she'd touched something sticking up from Fireball's neck. Then, under the light, she saw that there was a dark wet spot on the green cooler.
It looked like blood, welling up from a small wound.
When she finally tried to pull the cooler down to expose the horse's neck, it again seemed to catch on something.
The horse was clearly upset by this, flinching and ducking violently. At last Mae managed to work the fabric free and fold it down, and could hardly believe what she was seeing. "By all the saints in Ireland," she whispered. "What … is that?"
Mae took a step back, keeping one hand on Fireball's neck to steady him and keep him from swinging his head. But the big black horse just stood frozen, with his neck stretched out and held away from Mae, as if he did not want to move or be touched again.
And she could see why. Stuck firmly into Fireball's neck, and shining in the bright street light, was what looked like a long silvery pushpin. It had a piece of red bell-shaped plastic on the end and really did look like a long pin or a long, thin thumbtack.
But what on earth was it doing stuck in her horse's neck?
"Ross," she called, trying to keep calm, and glanced back as he walked over. "Do you– do you see this?"
Ross stood still, frowning. Then he moved a step towards the horse and took a closer look. "You just now find that?"
"Yes. What is it, and how in the world did it end up in Fireball's neck?"
He started to reach out and touch it, but then lowered his hand again. "Looks like somebody tried to shoot him with a dart."
"Tried to? I'd say they did. But what kind of gun shoots darts like that? It looks like a giant pin. And it's clearly hurting him."
Fireball was actually trembling where he stood. "Got to get that out," said Ross. "You hold him. I'll try."
Mae took a deep breath and held Fireball firmly by the halter, moving his head back and forth just a little to distract him from what Ross was doing. She kept her gaze fixed on the horse's large and glittering brown eyes, not wanting to see what was happening with the dart.
Fireball flinched again and threw his head hard to one side, away from Ross and Mae.
"Can't get it out," said Ross. "I don't want to pull too hard. Might have barbs on the end of it."
Mae gasped. "Good lord," she whispered. "Like a fishhook?"
"Something like that."
"But how?"
"I don't know what it is or how it got there. Maybe some kind of modified toy. Maybe some bored teenagers were doing a little target practice out at the golf course. Could be a lot of things."
"It wasn't there when we harnessed up," said Mae. "I'm certain of that. You put the collar on him this time, didn't you?"
"I did. Would have seen something like that. Just bad luck that thing is sticking out of the horse right now instead of that big collar."
"And I always look everything over before getting into the vehicle," said Mae. "Just to be sure."
"That's right. You look like a pilot doing a pre-flight every time you drive. If that dart had been there before we drove off, you would have seen it. "
Ross thought for a moment. "I know you thought you saw something in the trees when we were driving down there with the bride, but the horse didn't spook or jump. Not then."
"That's right. You were holding him during the ceremony, down by the lake. Did you notice anything then?"
"No. But I was on his left side. This thing is on the right."
"Which means," said Mae, suddenly remembering something, "that it must have happened when we were racing back up here."
"You're right. He did spook on the way back," said Ross. "Right under a tree. Jumped, really. "
"Which is why he had leaves all over his neck just now." Mae pulled herself together and turned to Ross. "We should get him home. I'll get hold of the university vet service and have them send somebody out. There's always someone on call."
"Probably best," Ross agreed.
"They can get it out if it does have barbs on it," said Mae. "And Fireball won't feel a thing. Okay. Let's load up. I'll call as soon as we hit the road."
"You call the university vets," said Ross, reaching for Fireball's lead shank. "I'll call the sheriff."
14
An hour later, Mae sat in a white plastic chair in the barn aisle sipping a cup of hot coffee with cream. She was right across from Fireball's stall so she could keep an eye on him while waiting for the veterinarians on call to arrive.
They said ninety minutes when I called. That means another twenty or thirty minutes from now, assuming they aren't delayed. It's a long way out here from Ohio State University.
Abruptly all the horses began whinnying and looking towards the f
ar end of the barn. Mae glanced up to see Ross coming in from the darkness with a wheelbarrow. Right alongside him were Mick and Mack, their white markings standing out against the night.
Mack, the male, stayed with Ross while Mick, the female, went over and lay down beside Mae's chair with what looked like a happy smile.
Mae reached down and ruffled the dog's thick soft coat, watching as Ross began the feeding. The wheelbarrow was filled with an assortment of coffee cans and plastic buckets in all sizes and colors, with no two being alike.
Each one held whatever concoction had been prepared for each individual horse, just the right amount of crushed oats, vitamin and mineral supplements, and sometimes beet pulp pellets. The containers were labeled with each horse's name, but Ross never had to look at the labels. He knew which horse got what simply by the size and color of the container, as well as by what was in it.
The horses were especially eager for their evening meal tonight, since she and Ross had run a little late at the wedding. It made for a long day for Ross, she knew, as she watched him slide open each stall door one by one and pour the feed into the waiting rubber tubs.
"This is at least partly my fault, feeding so late," said Mae, as the horses continued clamoring. "You started going with me to so many driving engagements, even with this whole barn-full to take care of."
"Oh, it's all right. They won't starve."
"No, they won't.”
The man pushed the wheelbarrow down the aisle to the next stall. “Stanley was busy this evening, otherwise, he would have handled the feeding. He’s a good friend, dependable. I’m glad he’s here.” Ross opened the sliding door to Cupcake's stall and served the little bay mare her ration of oats and supplements.
Stanley had parked his camper trailer near the hay barn. He lived at the farm full-time, kept an eye on things, and took care of the horses and dogs when Ross had to be away."
"I never asked, does Stanley like driving?"
"He likes horses. Doesn't want to ride or drive. He's getting older, near eighty, now. Just wants a place where he can relax and watch things and not even have to leave the property. Kind of like these old horses that stay here."
