by Ann Hunter
Promenade headed into his stall, straight for his feed bucket. Alex unclipped the leadline from his halter, shaking her head. “You just ate, you big gorilla.”
He lifted his head and snorted at her. She smirked and playfully shoved his head away. “I’ll come back after dinner,” Alex promised.
She closed the stall door, and headed down the aisle toward Morning Glory to check in with her and Brooke. When she reached the stall, her chest tightened. Morning Glory lay flat on her side.
Alex made a little kissy noise to her. “Hey Maggie. Whatchya doin’?”
Morning Glory didn’t budge. She just let out an uncomfortable groan. Brooke was nowhere to be seen.
“You gonna come say hi to your pal here?” Alex asked, trying to coax her up with her voice.
The filly’s legs spasm’d, like she wanted to get up. Alex’s heart plummeted. Without hesitation, she bolted into the daylight, asking the first person she came across if they had seen Brooke. The stablehand mentioned the foaling barn, and Alex was on the run again.
She rounded the corner so hard, she had to grab onto the door just to stay on her feet. Brooke stood near Venus Galaxies’s stall with her arms folded, and head bowed. She frowned at Alex.
“I didn’t get to see him born,” Brooke said softly. “I wanted to meet him.”
Alex looked into the stall, her breath instantly sweeping away from her chest like the wave before a tsunami.
“No, no, no, no,” Hillary chanted in a panic. “Stay with me,” she begged as she worked hurriedly over the foal’s body.
Venus Galaxies paced anxiously behind her, constantly trying to nuzzle her colt. She whinnied, knocking into Hillary. She looked desperately at the girls. “Will one of you please get in here.”
Alex rubbed her hands on her clothes, wishing she had washed before rushing off. And suddenly a dark pang hit her. The way she moved her hands on her shirt. The way she had when there was still blood on them almost three years ago. Watching the life slip from the foal crushed her with insurmountable guilt. She’d brought this on him.
She shut her eyes as the world began to spiral. She had to shut out the anxiety sweeping toward her. She squeezed her eyelids tighter, aware of her heart drumming like a heavy metal song. This wasn’t her fault. They couldn’t have known when Promenade came home looking so healthy.
When Alex had her breathing under control again, she opened her eyes to the sight of Hillary on her knees, face in her hands, trying to hold it together. Brooke pushed Venus Galaxies up against the wall so the mare wouldn’t run Hillary over in the need to see her lifeless colt.
Hillary composed herself, laying a gentle hand on the foal’s side for a moment, saying her goodbyes. She moved to the stall door, and nodded to Brooke to let Venus Galaxies go.
Hillary wiped at the corners of her eyes, sniffling. She straightened next to Alex. “Forgive me. You’ll understand if I have a soft spot for mares and foals.”
Alex knew. Hillary had lost a baby of her own before Alex showed up in her life. It wasn’t a soft spot. It was an open wound.
“I guess this isn’t a good time to tell you Mags can’t get up.”
Hillary winced, cursing under her breath.
“She’s going to get worse before she gets better.”
“Should we tell Brooke?” Alex asked.
“I’ll call Ben to watch over these two,” Hillary answered hoarsely, referring to mare and foal. “We have to get Mags up if we can. Brooke should face the music with us.”
Brooke let herself out from the stall. “What are you two talking about?”
Alex bit her lip. “Mags.”
Hillary squeezed Brooke’s shoulder. “Wash up. We’re going to need every hand we can get.”
Brooke looked between them as realization slowly set in. She broke away and sprinted for the quarantine barn.
Alex had to sleep with her pillow over her head to drown out Venus Galaxies calling for her baby far into the night. Losing a foal was always a hit to the farm; all that potential, gone. She took solace in Promenade over the next few days.
Chauncey still wasn’t looking like he was showing any improvement. She hoped he had a case more like Pro’s where he could still get up and down on his own to drink and eat when he needed to. Sometimes he watched her. Alex felt sorry that he didn’t have a person who loved him as much as she and Brooke loved their horses. Just his groom, who came once or twice a day to check on him and report back to Hillary.
One night, Alex overheard talking from Morning Glory’s stall. She ambled in the direction, listening.
Laura said, “I know I always feel better after a pedicure.”
“It’s a neurological disease, not a common cold,” Brooke replied glumly.
“So you’re just resigned to letting her go. We can’t have that.”
“I saw what this virus can do. Wouldn’t it be better to just accept the inevitable rather than fight it?”
Alex peered into the stall. Morning Glory stretched out on her side with Laura and Brooke huddled around her legs. “What in the world are you two doing?” Alex asked.
“What does it look like?” Laura shot back playfully.
Alex watched them brush on long strokes of vibrant pink polish. One hoof was already finished, topcoated with shiny, gold, and purple confetti-ish dots.
Brooke applied another coat of pink to a hoof. “Y’know, so if she dies, at least she looks fabulous.”
Laura slapped Brooke’s arm. “Don’t talk like that.”
Laura leaned forward, planting a light kiss on Morning Glory’s cheek. “You didn’t hear that, honey. We’re doing this all for you.”
“You guys are crazy,” Alex said, glad that Laura had heeded her words from dinner the other night.
“Hey.” Laura’s gaze bored into her. “It’s the crazy ones who survive.”
Alex rocked back on her heels, taking in the words. She looked over her shoulder when Promenade whinnied to her.
“I’m sorry if I sound selfish,” Brooke said, “but it seems unfair if he lives and Mags dies.”
Alex understood, but she didn’t want to be on that side of Brooke’s humor ever again. They were allies, not rivals. “Don’t think like that, Stick. We’re both going to make it through this. We have to.”
***
Alex made her daily round of the quarantine barn to say hello to Promenade and Morning Glory. Out of habit, she looked in on Chauncey.
He leaned against the wall, his knees quaking. Alex clucked to him. Instead of turning his head, he craned it to one side like he had a kink in his neck. The mucous running from his nose was thick and crusty. He needed help.
Alex grabbed the first communication device she could and paged Hillary. She couldn’t even think straight. “I need Doctor Showman at the quarantine barn immediately. Repeat, quarantine barn, S.T.A.T.”
White noise came back raspily, followed by Hillary’s voice. “What’s up?”
Alex pressed the button on the walkie talkie. “Chauncey’s real bad. He’s leaning on the wall, and looks like he’ll fall any minute.”
“Meet me down there. I’ll gather some of the stronger workers.”
Alex put the device back where she found it and hurried back to the barn. “Don’t worry, boy,” she assured Chauncey. “Help’s on the way.”
Hillary raised a hand to Chauncey’s face, moving it closer, then further away from his line of sight. She appeared to be looking for something. The gelding didn’t even blink.
She pressed his throat for a moment, listening with her stethoscope, then went along his back with a dull pointed pen. Alex hadn’t seen Hillary do any of these tests before. It was like lights were on, but nobody home. Not even that, but lights were flickering, and no one had paid the power bill.
Chauncey stood, robotically, his head hung low and cockeyed.
Hillary grimaced. She ducked around to the back of him, grasping his tail. One pull, and he skittered across the stall, almost falling
over. She shook her head. “Not good.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He should’ve resisted and reacted to the force. I’m fearing the worst.” Hillary looked at Alex. “The EHV has gotten to his brain. It’s affecting his nervous system.” She pulled out her cell phone. “I’ve got to call North.”
Alex listened to Hillary’s side of the conversation. What would happen to Chauncey? Promenade had gotten better. Surely Chauncey could too. He couldn’t be too far gone yet.
“He’s non-responsive. What do you want done with him?” Hillary asked North. Her face drew. “I see. I’ll get it done.”
“What are you going to do?” Alex asked when Hillary put away her phone.
“North wants me to put him down.”
“What do you mean put him down? He doesn’t even get a second chance?”
“If we let him stay like this, he’ll be dead in a matter of days. It’s not fair to him to suffer through that. Plus, keeping him alive heightens the risk of further illness in Morning Glory and Promenade.” Hillary turned to the other workers and asked them to bring a trailer around, along with a rescue glide mat.
“Don’t let North do this,” Alex said.
“A dead racehorse is more valuable than one with no use of his legs,” Hillary snapped.
Alex took a step backwards, swallowing. Hillary was strained enough without her pushing it with North and second chances.
Hillary ran a hand through her hair, breathing deeply. “I don’t like it any more than you do. We have to be fair to Chauncey, and the other horses on the farm. Now, please…” She leveled her gaze on Alex. “Help me send him off with dignity.”
It took four men, along with Hillary and Alex, to guide Chauncey from his stall. The first stride he took, he crossed his legs and nearly tripped. They got him straightened out. He walked drunkenly. A small amount of urine squirted from his sheath.
“It could be his bladder ruptured,” Hillary said.
Like things could get worse.
With two sets of men on either side of the gelding, it sort of felt like pall bearers. Alex bit her lip. All she could think was dead man walking.
Chauncey leaned heavily on her. She shoved back against him to keep him straight. Each step, his painful last. And he didn’t even know it.
Would he be able to make it to the trailer?
They guided him to the rescue mat slowly.
“Hold him,” Hillary said firmly. She came around to Chauncey’s front and rubbed the soft expanse between his eyes. She spoke quietly to him before stepping to his side, grasping his halter, and inserting the needle into his jugular.
He flinched.
Hillary withdrew the syringe, patting his neck. She took a step back as the chestnut gelding’s knees buckled, and he went down on the mat. She approached him with another needle, but waited until he was asleep.
Alex watched as Hillary slid her hand over the gelding’s eyes, and dealt the final blow; the lethal dose of barbiturate anesthetic that would shut down his heart.
Even though she was right beside Chauncey, it didn’t feel like it was happening at all. Alex was in a haze. Stuck in a bizarre disconnect where the birds didn’t chirp, and no breeze stirred the bluegrass. The world was silent for just one moment.
The stablehands that had assisted in getting the gelding to his resting place covered and bound him, then attached the chains on the mat to a winch that dragged Chauncey’s body into the trailer.
“Do you understand now?” Hillary took off her gloves, pointing to Chauncey’s body in the trailer. “That is what is at stake.”
The message was clear. Alex couldn’t bear to picture Promenade in Chauncey’s place.
Hillary moved on. “Excuse me.”
Alex walked, dazed, back to the quarantine barn, ignoring the noise of the truck rumbling to life and hauling the body away. Promenade whinnied softly across the aisle to his lost companion.
DYING TO LIVE
Chauncey’s passing seemed like a bad dream over time. It helped Alex to keep her mind forward-thinking to Promenade’s ten day checkup. She didn’t want to miss it. It was the half-way point of getting out of quarantine and finally back to racing.
Hillary listened to his lungs and heart, smiling. “He sounds good.”
Alex beamed. “There’s still enough days left to make the Derby.”
Hillary chuckled. “I dunno about getting him ready in time. You’d have to talk to Joe.”
Alex’s smile turned into a grimace. The old man was still stuck at Oaklawn with his own fleet. She noogie’d Promenade’s blaze. Maybe she could appeal to Joe’s better nature. They both wanted the same thing for the colt; roses on the first Saturday in May.
Hillary finished up the exam. “Believe me, I’m just as excited as you are about Pro’s progress, but we have to stay realistic. He hasn’t been worked hard. You have to take that into account.”
Alex’s shoulders slumped.
“But the Preakness…” Hillary suggested.
Not exactly roses and glory, Alex thought, but Black Eyed Susans had their own sunny promise.
They gave Promenade his breakfast, and Alex headed out. It was already a beautiful morning, with a stark blue sky going on forever above her. She couldn’t wait to tell Carol how Pro was doing when she saw her on the bus to school.
Alex filed through her locker, looking for the books and folders she needed for class.
“Hey, uh…” Katie tucked her hair behind her ear shyly. “Are you…” she cleared her throat. “Are you going to the dance on Friday?”
Alex hadn’t really thought about it since Promenade was on the mend. It might be fun to go with Dejado and Carol now that things had changed.
“I dunno.”
“I was thinking maybe we could go together,” Katie said quickly.
Alex glanced at her. Were her ears pink?
Katie looked away, acting like it was no big thing. “It could be fun.”
Alex shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Is that a yes?”
Alex couldn’t tell if Katie was optimistic or terrified. She smirked. “It’s a maybe.”
Katie’s hand grabbed hers suddenly. Alex looked down at their fingers, then back up.
Katie blushed, releasing just as fast as she had caught her. “Think about it.”
Alex opened her mouth to talk, but Katie disappeared before she could get a word out.
Alex stared at her hand all through class. She leaned against her elbow, turning at the wrist like she’d never seen fingers before. Her palm kind of burned… tingled? It hadn’t done this since Carol held it the day Alex beat up Brad in front of the school.
She wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it. Did Katie just… ask her out?
To a dance?
Alex laid her hand down on her desk, chewing on her pencil. No, no. It had to be one of those girls go in pairs things. Right? She could probably even invite Carol, and it would be one of those girls nights out that Laura raved about.
“Alexandra,” the teacher called. “Name a resource.”
Alex shook her head, swearing she heard racehorse. “Citation.”
Her teacher scrunched his face quizzically, like he was about as sure of what she said, as Alex was of Katie’s question. Utter confusion. He cleared his throat, cheerfully continuing. “Yes, citation is a resource!”
Alex dropped her head in her hands. What the flip was happening? You have no idea how grateful she was when the bell broke her chain of thought.
The only place Alex was sure she could sort out her thoughts was in Promenade’s company. She saved an apple from lunch at school and headed straight to his stall as soon as she got off the bus. She’d eaten half of it, intending to share, when she arrived at the barn.
“Hey, Pro,” she crooned.
When she saw him, the apple dropped from her hand and rolled out of existence.
Promenade leaned against the wall like Chauncey had. He tried to come to he
r, but his hooves dragged on the floor. Alex threw open the stall door and went to him. He was raging hot again, and wobbled when she hugged him.
“No, no. This isn’t happening. You’re healthy.”
Promenade went down with a crash.
Hillary’s words drifted to Alex in a haze. It was like when the teacher talked in Charlie Brown, and all you heard was “Wuh-wuh-wuh”. Alex didn’t care what the disease was called anymore, she just wanted Promenade to be well.
She fought back tears. Her throat tightened. “Make him better!” she choked in desperation.
Hillary’s face drew. “I don’t know that I can.”
“Can’t you give him a shot or something? Don’t they have vaccines and stuff?”
“Antibiotics don’t work on viruses. If he can’t get up on his own, we may have to…” Hillary’s expression looked just as pained as Alex felt. “I’m sorry.”
“What? Just say it.”
“Euthanize him.”
Alex shook her head, biting her lip, refusing to believe it.
“There’s nothing more I can do,” Hillary said. “He’s in God’s hands now. This is Pro’s race to run.”
Alex let tears slip down her cheeks. Hillary hugged her, whispering, “I’m praying for him. I really am.”
Alex wrapped her arms around Hillary’s, because it was the only thing left to hang on to with Promenade slipping away.
Alex wasn’t sure whether to smile or grimace when Dejado showed up to keep her company by Promenade’s side. Hillary agreed to let her spend the evenings with the colt on the weekend. He lay, stretched out before her now. As far as Alex could tell, he wasn’t getting better. How long would it take for him to turn this thing around?
Dejado slid down beside her, offering the same blanket he’d brought before. Having a friend who seemed to care about Promenade as much as she did was nice, but it wasn’t the miracle she was hoping for. Feeling a little defeated, Alex scooted closer to Dejado. Was there really a point to being stubborn over a blanket?
