Golden Filly Collection One (47 page)

When they walked into the house, the warmth hit their faces, and Trish could hear the familiar hum of the refrigerator.

“No hot dogs tonight!” Trish shouted, whirling down the hall to her bedroom. “And I get to sleep in my own bed!” She flopped back across it. “Fantastic!”

She could hear David in the kitchen listening to the answering machine.

“Call Rhonda,” he told her when she entered the living room. “Maybe she’d like to work horses with you tomorrow.”

“And maybe we’ll have time to go skating. The ice won’t melt that fast.” Trish and Rhonda talked for half an hour.

“ ’Bout time.” David shook his head when she finally hung up the receiver. “Who ya calling now?”

“Brad. To remind him to bring his skates. We’re going to have some fun for a change.”

It was noon before the temperature rose above freezing, but not for lack of effort by the sun. The world glittered everywhere.

Trish hooked Gatesby to the hot walker while she rode Final Command. As Brad and David worked their way down the stalls, the piles of manure and straw grew, flavoring the air. Trish could hear them teasing each other as she walked the gelding back from the track.

“Who’s next?”

“Let’s do Gatesby. I want to enjoy the afternoon.”

“Sorry I’m late.” Rhonda trotted down the rise. “Dad’s coming home tonight, so Mom had all kinds of extra stuff for me to do. D’you think he ever notices that all the furniture has
just
been polished? Or that the shower was scrubbed? All he cares about is Mom’s home cookin’.”

“So she’s doing some baking?”

“Yep. And I brought you all some.” Rhonda pulled a packet of caramel rolls from inside her jacket. “I even kept them warm for you.”

Trish pushed her horse’s nose away when he tried to take a bite of her roll. “No way. This is for me.”

“Tell your mom thanks.” David wiped his mouth. “That was great.”

“Sure.” Rhonda smiled. “Okay, who we doing next?”

“You take Firefly and I’ll do Gatesby. Then we can finish with Spitfire and Dan’l.” Trish talked while she stripped the saddle off Final Command and slung it over the door. She ran a hand over his chest and down his front leg. “He’s not even warm.” She patted the sorrel neck. “Are you, fella? If only that next joker were as easy as you.”

Gatesby rolled his eyes when she unclipped him from the hot walker. “Just be cool!” Trish ordered with a snap of the lead. She led him back to the stall and cross-tied him for good measure. Even so, she was quick on the sidestep when his ears went back and his bared teeth reached for her shoulder.

When she had him saddled and bridled, she unsnapped the leads and led him out by the reins, her hand clamped right beneath his chin.

“Watch him.” She let David take her place at the head. Brad cupped his hands to boost her up. Just as she started to spring up, the horse scrambled to the side. Trish floundered for her footing.

“You—” She couldn’t think of a name to call him.

Gatesby perked his ears and looked around at her as if he wondered what could be the matter.

“Now stand still. You know better than that.” This time when Brad boosted her, Trish landed in the saddle. She gathered her reins and settled her feet in the stirrups.

“Okay?” Brad looked up at her, concern in his eyes. “Maybe you should ride Dan’l and lead this clown.”

“No. We’ll be fine. He just needs a good workout. You ready, Rhonda?”

“Thanks, David.” After the leg up, Rhonda settled her helmet in place and picked up her reins. “Maybe Brad’s right.”

For an answer, Trish nudged Gatesby forward. He walked flat-footed toward the track. “See, he’s already gotten rid of all his meanness.”

Trish kept a close eye on Gatesby’s ears as they walked halfway around the track and then slow-jogged two more laps. Both horses snorted at the snow a couple of times.

Once Firefly crowhopped. Rhonda clamped her knees and laughed as she pulled the filly back down. “Thought you’d get away with something, didn’t you?”

Gatesby twitched his ears and shook his head.

“How’s your dad?” Rhonda kept Firefly even with Trish’s mount.

“Mom says he’s better but I can’t tell. He can hardly talk on the phone.” Trish glanced over at Rhonda. “Let’s gallop but keep it slow.”

Gatesby tugged at the bit but settled into a steady pace at Trish’s command. The two horses matched stride for stride.

Trish let him out a bit and glanced over her shoulder at Rhonda.

With a loud whoosh, snow cascaded off a nearby fir tree and thumped to the ground.

Gatesby exploded. He leaped forward; his front feet slid in a patch of snowy mud. As he went down to his knees, Trish felt herself flying through the air.

A loud crack shattered the stillness as the top fence board crashed beneath her weight.

Chapter

10

T
rish struggled to her feet.

“Are you all right?” Rhonda leaped off Firefly and, dragging the filly behind her, ran to her fallen friend. “Trish, are you hurt?”

Trish shook her head and blinked her eyes. “Just the breath knocked out of me, I think.”

“There’s blood on your face. You’ve been cut.”

“I’m okay.” Trish felt like she was talking through a tunnel. “How’s Gatesby?” She leaned against the fence post she’d just missed in her flight.

Rhonda looked around. “He must have gone back to the barn. You want me to get David?”

“No! I’m okay. I’ll—” Trish took one step and the pain blasted from her arm to her brain. “Yeah, you better get David. Tell him to bring the truck.” Rhonda was on Firefly and off before Trish knew what was happening.

Trish blinked against the shock. She looked down. Her right arm dangled at her side. She could feel warm liquid oozing down her wrist. When she tried to raise the arm, she bit back the scream that ripped clear up from her toes. A deep breath to clear her mind knifed another pain through her side and chest.

She tried to concentrate on the ground in front of her. The sun that had been so welcome now blinded her, reflecting off the snow and ice.

You’re not going to faint!
she commanded herself. She shifted her feet. Agony thundered through her body and left her breathless.
Take a deep breath.
The side pain struck again.
Dumb idea!

Brad leaped out of the truck before it stopped moving. “Trish! Trish! Oh no!”

She tried to smile around her gritted teeth. “It’s both my arm and my side. You better get me to the hospital—quick.”

“Call 911,” David told Brad, trying to remain calm. “Trish, there’s blood soaking your sleeve.”

Brad jumped back in the truck and gunned it. Mud and slush sprayed up from the back wheels.

“I know. Remember where the upper arm pressure point is?” She swallowed the bitter taste at the back of her throat. “We’re going to put our first-aid class to work.” She spoke each word slowly, separately, as if hearing herself from a distance.

“Remember? Right above the elbow.” She ground her teeth against the pain when David touched her arm. “Careful!”

“I can’t, Trish!”

“Yes, you can. Just pinch it hard.” She felt her knees begin to sag. She clutched the post with her left arm. “Can you feel the pulse?”

“Yes.” David clamped his fingers around her upper arm. He wrapped his other arm around her so she could lean against him. “Would you be better off sitting down?”

Trish shook her head. “Is Rhonda taking care of the horses?”

“Yes.”

Trish leaned her head on David’s chest. Between his arms and the fence she felt secure.

“Maybe we could just go in ourselves. Do you think we could make it?”

“Tri-ish. How would I get you into the pickup?”

“Just toss me in.” The fog seemed to be rolling in—everything looked hazy. “You know, like a bale of hay or a sack of feed.”

The truck plowed to a stop in front of them and Brad leaped out. “Here, I grabbed some blankets and a sleeping bag. If she goes into shock, we’re in real trouble.”

“We’re in…real…trouble…now,” Trish murmured.

“Lay that sleeping bag out and then help me get her down,” David instructed. “I can’t let go of her arm.”

Trish could hear David talking ever so faintly. The fog rolled in and out. “No-o-o!” She moaned as Brad lifted her as carefully as possible and, with David bracing her arm, laid her on the sleeping bag and covered her with the other blankets.

The siren wailed in the distance.

“Rhonda’ll show ’em where we are,” she heard Brad say.

“Mom’s…really…gonna be mad.” The pain wasn’t so bad if she didn’t move.

David knelt beside his sister, his fingers locked on the pressure point. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Mm-mmm.”

They cut the siren and the ambulance pulled up beside the threesome. Trish could hear doors slamming and then a woman’s smiling face was close to hers.

“Decided to take a tumble, eh?” The voice matched the smile.

“Okay, son.” A man’s voice carried the same degree of comfort. “You can let go of her arm now.”

“My ribs too—I think.” Trish barely lifted her head to see what they were doing.

“Just take it easy, Trish. I’m going to cut this sleeve off so we can look at that arm.” The pain changed from pulsing to piercing. “Compound fracture of the right radial,” he spoke to the woman jotting down the diagnosis. “Bleeding is slowing, we’ll splint and bandage.”

“Here.” The woman slipped a length of tubing around Trish’s head and adjusted the prongs in her nose. “A little oxygen is going to make this next part a bit easier for you.”

Trish gritted her teeth so hard she thought her jaw would break. She wasn’t sure whether it was tears or perspiration running into her ear.

When the arm was stabilized the medic said to her, “Now, you mentioned your ribs. Right side?”

Trish nodded. The lightest touch made her clench up again.

“Okay, let’s get you on a board and brace your neck.”

“Why? That doesn’t hurt.” Trish was puzzled.

“You’ve had what is called an ejection trauma. There could be spinal damage. We’ve got to take precautions. You don’t mind, do you?”

Trish nodded.

With efficiency and precision the two picked up the corners of the sleeping bag and hoisted her onto a wheeled gurney.

“I’ll follow you in the truck,” David told her.

“Sorry we can’t go skating,” Trish said when Rhonda leaned over the gurney.

Rhonda bit her lip. “Just take it easy, buddy. We’ll go skating another time.” She patted Trish’s good hand. “See you there.”

“Rhonda,” Trish called just above a whisper. “How’s Gatesby?”

“Ornery as ever, and my shoulder will be fine after a week or two.”

Trish smiled at her. “Thanks.”

“Ready?” the woman asked.

Trish nodded and they slid the whole contraption into the ambulance.

“Okay,” the woman spoke again. “I’m going to start an IV before we get rolling, so you’ll feel another prick.” She tied a rubber strap around Trish’s left arm. “How about a fist now? There, you’re an easy one.” She taped the needle and tubing in place and started the drip. “Okay, let’s roll.”

No matter how carefully they drove, every movement vibrated in Trish’s arm. The bumps in the road, slowing at intersections, then rolling the stretcher out at the hospital. Trish nearly fainted when they transferred her to an examining table in the emergency room.

She kept her eyes half closed to fade out the bright lights overhead.

“I’m going to get the rest of your clothes off,” a nurse spoke as she began removing Trish’s jeans before she could respond.

“It’s a bad break, isn’t it?” Trish forced herself to ask.

“Yeah, honey, you did it up royal this time.” The nurse smiled down at her. “But don’t you worry, we’re gonna fix you up just fine.”

Trish smiled back at the friendly dark face.

“Your mom’s here.” The nurse stepped back as Marge entered the room.

“I always knew I’d find you in the emergency ward someday.” Marge kissed Trish on the forehead. She looked at the nurse. “How bad is she?”

A man brusquely entered the room. “Once we take care of that arm, she’ll be fine. I’m Dr. Burnaby, and we’ve called in an orthopedic surgeon. We’ll get some X-rays, then as soon as we get the operating room ready, we’ll be on our way.” He stepped to the head of the gurney and spoke to Trish, “How’s that sound to you, young lady?”

Trish tried to smile around her tears.

With Trish flat on her back, the hospital took on a strange appearance for her. All she could really see were the ceiling tiles as they pushed the gurney through the halls.

When they entered another brightly lit room, they transferred her to another hard surface.

A man dressed in baggy green clothes took her hand. “I’m Dr. Johanson, your anesthesiologist. We’re going to put you to sleep for a while, Trish. And when you wake up, your mother will be right here, okay?”

Trish nodded.
Do I have a choice?