“So?”
“We’ll need extra hands to do that. Let’s just take him up to the gate.” Trish studied the colt, now pacing placidly around the ring. “That will give him a chance to look it over.”
“Okay, boss lady. Let’s go.”
Within minutes they had the two animals saddled and ready. The bay colt stood calmly until Brad boosted Trish into the flat racing saddle. Before she could finish gathering the reins, the bay exploded. He reared, then pounded both front feet into the shavings. As Brad grabbed for the bridle, the colt lunged away from him.
Trish clamped her legs and tangled her fists in the colt’s mane. “Whoa!” she commanded as she tried to tighten both reins, remain in the saddle, and get control of the plunging animal.
“You crazy idiot!” Brad muttered as he leaped again. “Calm down!” This time he clamped his fist around one of the reins where it clipped to the bit. He jerked savagely. With a last snort, the bay stood still, his eyes rolling white.
“Would you lead him to the track?” Trish whispered as she fought to stop the trembling in her hands.
“You’re as crazy as he is,” Brad growled. “Put him away for now.”
“No.” Trish was adamant. “He’s got to learn he can’t act like this. He can’t develop bad habits.”
“Trish!”
“No, I’m okay. Lead us out there, then come with the filly. We’ll trot a couple of laps, gallop a few more, and then take them to the gates. Maybe he’ll get the idea when he sees how easily the filly handles the gates.”
Brad glared up at her. “Come on, then, stubborn.” He pulled on the bridle.
“You talking to me or the horse?”
“Take your pick,” Brad said without turning as he left them on the dirt track, then added, “Trish, be careful.”
Willingly, as though he’d never caused a ruckus in his life, the colt struck out in a smart walk.
After both horses had cantered the track several times, Trish pulled the colt back to a walk, waiting for Brad to catch up. “Let’s go round once together at a good clip, then breeze ’em once. Okay?”
“Fine with me,” Brad replied, his grumpiness gone with the feel of obedient horseflesh beneath him. “Do you want me to push her?”
“Yeah. Let’s give this colt a run for his money.” She slapped her mount lightly on the shoulder.
At the marker, Trish gave the bay his head. “Come on, fella. You wanted to run so bad, so here goes.” With a lunge he lengthened his stride, then settled into the rhythm. His pace quickened steadily as he heard the filly coming up on the inside. Trish tightened the reins, allowing the filly to pull even at the shoulders, then the nose.
The bay tugged at the bit, begging for a looser rein. “Okay, boy. Let’s see what you can do.” Trish let him have his head.
Slowly the bay inched ahead of the filly. First by a nose, then a neck.
As the filly dropped behind them, Trish tightened the reins, slowing the animal’s driving pace. Within a few strides, both animals were back to a slow gallop.
“Pretty good, wouldn’t you say?” Trish shouted, riding high in the saddle.
“Mighty fine.”
They slowed both animals to a walk. “Let’s go work the gates while this guy is too pooped to fight.” As they reached the entrance into the center field of the oval track, Trish heard a car horn. “We’ll do this another time.” She trotted back toward the gate, Brad beside her. David came up to meet them.
“How’s Dad?” Trish slid to the ground.
“They’re still at the hospital.” David’s voice caught in his throat.
“Trish, it’s bad.”
“How bad?” She couldn’t speak above a whisper as she rubbed the bay’s nose.
Chapter
05
It can’t be bad, Trish thought as she stared at David with unseeing eyes. I’ve been praying—praying for this mess to be healed right away. Or at least for there to be some medicine to take care of it. Dad says God can take care of anything. Now Dad’s the one that’s sick. None of this makes any sense. She shook her head. Her fingers automatically smoothed the horse’s silky hide as she leaned against the colt’s shoulder.
“Trish?” David spoke softly at first.
“Um-m-m.”
“Listen to me.” This time he shook her arm.
“I’m listening.” Trish glared at him. “You’re not saying anything.”
“You were a zillion miles away.”
“Well, I’m here now, so tell me what you’ve found out.”
“Here, Trish,” Brad interrupted. “Let me take your horse with mine and get them cooled out.”
“No. I’ll come.” She led the colt toward the stables. “Come on, David. We can walk and talk at the same time.”
“Dad has cancer.”
“Cancer!”
“In his lungs. That’s why he’s been coughing all this time.”
“But people die from cancer!” Trish grabbed her brother’s arm. “David, you’re crazy. That can’t be. I prayed—”
“Trish,” David interrupted her frantic words. “Let me finish.”
“No, David! Dad’s not going to die. We’ve got too much to do here.
The horses to train; the season’s about to open. This is our year to win.
No! He can’t have cancer. No! No way!”
As Trish’s voice raised to a shout, the colt’s ears flattened. The whites of his eyes flashed.
“Trish!”
“No!” Unaware of anything but the pain crushing her heart, Trish jerked the reins.
Slashing black forelegs parted the air as the angry colt blasted his resentment at her thoughtless treatment. He reared, pounded the ground with furious hooves, and reared again.
When he came down the second time, David leaped to seize the bridle. Trish tightened her hold on the one rein; the other flapped in the fracas. Together they brought the quivering colt to a standstill. As one they calmed him, their words running soothingly together.
“I’m sorry, fella,” Trish mumbled as she stroked the flaring nostrils.
“I forgot all about you. I know you can’t understand, but things are really bad for us right now. Easy, I won’t ignore you again.”
Gatesby stamped one foreleg and blew—hard.
“You’re okay now.” David stroked the steaming neck on the off side.
“Boy, that was close.” Brad dismounted to walk with them.
Keeping a wary eye on the horse, Trish asked, “David, are you sure the doctors said it was cancer?”
“Yeah.” David bent his head. “I’m sure.” Silently they each contemplated the horror until David blew his nose. “They’re doing a biopsy tomorrow, but the X-rays show a growth in both lungs. I saw them.” He stopped the horse to face Trish. His red-rimmed eyes pleaded for her understanding to be quick. “They’re huge. They said it’s a miracle he’s kept on so long.”
“But when Aunty Bee had cancer, they just operated and took it all out.”
“I know. I…well, you go talk to them tonight. Dad is expecting you.
We’ll go in as soon as the chores are done.”
Trish shook her head. “I can’t,” she whispered.
“What did you say?”
Trish and the colt walked faster.
“Trish!”
“No, David. I just don’t have time. I have a pile of homework, entry forms have to be filled out, I have to…” As they reached the barn, Trish snapped the two-way ties on to the colt’s bridle. She filled a bucket with warm water and reached for the sponge and scraper. She wiped a hand across her eyes to clear the blurring. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I just can’t.”
David shook his head. “Don’t be stupid, Tee. Of course you can.” He picked up a scraper and the two guys copied her actions as they worked with the filly. Steam rose in a fluffy cloud when they rinsed the sweat off both horses. Off to the side, Caesar watched patiently, his dark brown eyes tracking Tricia as she swift
ly groomed the colt.
On the hot walker, Spitfire nickered for attention.
Trish didn’t see or hear any of it. Think about it later, one side of her brain cautioned.
Now, God! Heal my dad now! the other side screamed back. Her hands slowed as the war in her mind raged on. I should have made him go to a doctor when his cough first started…. Why didn’t Mom do something?…Why…oh, God…WHY?
“Trish?” David touched her shoulder.
“What!”
“Brad and I’ll feed. You go get the horses off the walker.”
“Okay.”
By the time the feeding was finished and the two Anderson horses were clipped to the hot walker, Trish had calmed the battle in her head. Instead of screaming, she felt numb, like a jaw full of novocaine.
“Does Dad have a phone in his room?” she asked as the three of them walked up to the house.
“Sure, but you can talk to him when we—”
Trish ignored him. “I’ve got to ask him about a mare that’s coughing, and the gray filly is droopy.”
“Trish, we’ll—”
“No, David. You don’t understand.” She turned as they reached the steps. Pain clouded her green eyes. “I can’t go there…to that—that place.
At least not tonight.” She shook her head. “Not now.”
“But…but Mom said…” David stuttered in his disbelief. “Trish, Dad needs you.”
“I’ll talk to him on the phone.” The sound of the opening door punctuated her sentence. “Brad, you coming in for cookies and a Coke?”
Brad glanced at his watch. “No, think I’ll pass for tonight. You gonna need help in the morning?”
“What do you think, David?” Trish stroked Caesar’s golden muzzle.
The dog whined, low in his throat, always sensitive to her moods. Then he glued his haunches to her leg.
“We’ll try to handle it tomorrow. If we can’t get all the chores done, we’ll call you. Okay?”
“Okay. But you know I’m available for whatever you need. Besides, I haven’t gotten to do much riding for a long time. I’m sure Rhonda will pitch in too.”
“Somehow…” Trish pledged, “somehow we’ll get those horses ready.
This is our year to win.”
“Catch you later.” Brad trotted off to his parked car, then turned.
“Hey, David. When do you leave for school?”
Trish and David stared at each other.
“Oh my gosh,” he muttered. “I’d forgotten all about that.”
“Next weekend,” Trish whispered. “You’re supposed to leave next Sunday.”
“What’d you say?” Brad leaned across the shiny roof of his car.
“It was next weekend,” David called back. “But now? Who knows?”
Groaning, Trish threw herself down on the padded lounge chair.
Caesar laid his head on her knee, brown eyes pleading for her to cheer up.
“What are we gonna do, old man?” she whispered, scratching his ears. “We just can’t make it all alone. There’s so much to be done around here.” Her jaw tightened. “Well, we can if we have to. That’s what Dad always says. God gives you the time and energy to do what you have to do. Right, David?”
Trish looked up from the dog to see her brother’s stocky form propped against the house, his gaze staring across the pastures.
“Yeah, I guess so,” he replied absently. David blew his nose again, dug in his pocket, pulled out a nail clipper, and began clipping his nails.
Trish knew nail-clipping was David’s way of buying time. Often she teased him about having the best manicure in Clark county. Today was not the time to mention that. Trish leaned over and rested her cheek on Caesar’s warm head. His tongue flicked the tip of her nose. Before she got a full face cleaning, Trish turned away. Caesar thumped his feathery tail and dug his muzzle under her chin.
“Good old dog.” She gently pulled his ears. “Always gotta get the last lick in.”
Caesar put both front paws on her knees. As he stood looking her right in the eye, Trish laughed. “Get down, you big horse. What do you think you are, a lap dog?” The collie dropped to the deck, his nose and forepaws down, haunches and waving tail in the air.
“Can’t play now.” With one leap she reached the door. “Gotta get the phone.” Caesar stopped patiently at the door. “It’s for you,” she called back to David.
Trish ignored her brother on the phone as she opened a large can of chicken noodle soup, poured it into two bowls, added water, and popped them into the microwave.
“What was that all about?” she asked as she punched the timer.
“Getting rides back to Pullman.”
“Sounded like a girl to me. I thought your rider’s name was Danny.”
“Yeah, short for Danielle. She’s nice—blond hair, an education major. I’ve gone out with her a couple times. Anything else, nosy?”
“Yup. How come you haven’t invited her out here to meet us?” Trish leaned against the kitchen counter.
David shook his head. “She’s just a friend, for pete’s sake.”
“Oh sure, just a friend,” Trish mimicked his tone. The timer rang. “Ah, saved by the bell. Get the bread out while you’re standing there. And the peanut butter.” After setting the steaming bowls on the table, Trish returned to the fridge for milk and the raspberry jam. “Want anything else?”
“No, this is enough.” David hooked the chair out with one foot.
Trish blew on her soup as she spread peanut butter and jam on her whole wheat bread. “So, what did you tell her?”
“Who?”
“The awesome blond, Danielle.” She licked a drip of jam off her finger.
“Knock it off! I said I’d get back to her, but she better look around for another ride, just in case.” David slurped a spoonful of soup.
“Just in case what?” Trish stopped chewing and stared directly at David.
“In case I don’t go back.”
“But, David…”
“I mean for right now. You need me here. Mom needs someone with her. And how can I leave Dad? I can make it up later, no big deal.”
“But what about your scholarship?”
“They’ll have to hold it for later, I guess. Trish, none of that is important now.” David shrugged. “It’ll all work out, somehow.”
“Mom’s gonna be mad. Your college comes first with her.”
“Not now it won’t. All she needs to think about is Dad.” David took a deep breath. “Besides, what else can we do?”
Trish went back to eating her soup. “I’m just glad it’s not me telling her.”
“Not to change the subject or anything, but hustle. We’ve gotta get to the hospital.”
Trish choked on the mouthful of soup. “But I told you, I’m not going.”
“Trish!”
“No! I’ll call Dad as soon as I finish the horses.” She shoved her chair back from the table. Stuffing the last of her sandwich in her mouth, she ran out the door, ignoring David’s demands. Caesar bounded across the lawn after her.
Dusk was deepening into dark by the time Trish had returned all the horses to their stalls, wiped down and put away the tack, and headed out to check on the coughing mare. She seemed well enough, so her next stop was the young stock pasture.
“Come on, Caesar,” she called as he sniffed around a Scotch broom bush. “Leave the rabbits alone and let’s find the filly.”
As she climbed the board fence into the yearling pasture, the two colts raced up and skidded to a stop. Both tossed their heads and nosed her for a treat.
“No treats.” Trish pushed them away. “You haven’t done anything to earn one.” Both horses turned and followed her across the field, her flashlight playing out in front, searching for the missing animal.
Tricia crisscrossed the pasture from one end to the other. She checked the fences in case boards were down. The filly lay in the farthest corner. If it hadn’t been for Caesar, Trish m
ight have overlooked the animal. Her shivering body blended into the shadows of the slight hollow.
Trish dropped to one knee beside the animal’s head. “Oh no,” she whispered.
The gray head bobbed with a wrenching cough. Another shiver spasm rippled down the heaving sides. Trish searched her pockets. Not even a lead rope. Nothing.
Chapter
06
With a groan, Trish leaped to her feet. Her mind raced as fast as her pumping legs. First, get the filly up and walk her to the barn. No. First get a lead rope. Do we have an empty stall away from the other animals? Yeah, I’ll fork some straw in after I get her there. Then take her temperature and call the vet. Oh, if only Dad were here. I don’t want to make these decisions. What if the filly dies? Oh, God, no—no! I won’t think of dying. Please, God, you said you’d help…all the time. Why are you so far away when I need you?
When she reached the stable, Trish flipped on the light. Nickers and rustlings in the stalls told her she had surprised the sleeping animals.
The thud of hooves on a wall warned her that Spitfire didn’t take kindly to the interruption.
“Easy, fella,” she called as she grabbed a lead rope off the nail and dashed back to the pasture. Caesar raced beside her.
“Dear God,” she pleaded between harsh breaths. “Help me get her up and into the stall.”
The filly still lay shivering in the hollow. When Trish petted the gray neck, her hand came away wet.
“Dew or sweat?” she muttered. “I’m not sure. My feet are soaked enough to make me think it could be dew. Let’s hope so.”
All the while her soft murmurings seemed to calm the shivering horse. With the lead rope snapped in place, Trish stood and leaned against it. The gray shook her head but made no effort to regain her feet.
“God, please.” Trish wiped a hand across her forehead and wrapped the lead rope around her fist. “Come on, girl.” The command rang across the hollow. “Get up!” Once more she leaned against the rope, her heels digging into the wet turf.
Caesar barked. The command sharpened when he nipped the filly on the rump.
The horse scrambled to her feet.
Golden Filly Collection One Page 4
