Golden Filly Collection One

by Lauraine Snelling

  “When’s she due?” Brad asked as they led the animals out.

  “Around the twentieth, I think.” Trish rubbed the mare’s neck as they walked. “I keep telling Dad that if she foals on my birthday, the foal should be mine.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Brad agreed.

  They tied the animals up. While David checked temperatures, Trish helped Rhonda with the cleaning gear.

  “We better call Bradshaw,” David said when he came into the dim barn. “One temp with those three, and I think another of the yearlings is coming down with it. He wasn’t kidding when he said it was contagious.”

  How do we keep the racing stock safe? Trish thought as she dog-trotted back up to the house to call the vet. We’ve got to be able to move Spitfire and the others to the track next week.

  Chapter

  09

  The phone was ringing as Trish came through the door.

  “Runnin’ On Farm,” she panted. “Trish speaking.” She paused and smiled at the response. “Hi, Mom. No, David’s down at the barn. We’ve got a couple more sick ones. I just came up to call the vet. How’s Dad?”

  “He’s in the recovery room,” her mother answered. “They did the bronchoscopy about an hour ago. How about you and David meeting me here at the hospital for dinner and then you can visit with your dad for a while?”

  “I don’t know.” Trish felt caught in a trap. “I told you the mare is sick, and so is another yearling. Even with Rhonda and Brad helping, it’ll take several hours to prep stalls.”

  “Where are you putting them?”

  “Down in the old barn.” At the silence in her ear, Trish swallowed. “We’re doing everything we can and…”

  “Yes, I know.” Marge bit off each word. “The horses always come first. But not if your presence here could help make your father feel better.”

  “Tell Dad I’ll call him later…when we know more.” The line went dead without a good-bye. Why couldn’t David have been the one to talk with her? He always manages to make things better, Trish thought. I just make it worse.

  She called the vet and left a message for Dr. Bradshaw to come as soon as possible. Her chemistry book stared up at her accusingly from where she’d dropped it on the counter. She gave it a push. Somewhere I’ll find the time to study. Her feet dragged on the way back to the stable. She hadn’t told David about the Carter phone call. Fat chance they had of taking on any more horses now.

  “I left a message on his machine.” Trish found David bringing up the other two yearlings. “And Mom wants you to call her. She asked us to come in for dinner. I told her what’s going on.”

  “And…”

  “She wasn’t very happy. Don’t blame her. I’m not either.”

  David tied the two colts to the outside rings. “Why don’t you go work Anderson’s two. The three of us will get this place in shape. Dad said to put Brad on the payroll again so we can count on the extra help.”

  “How’s the filly?”

  “About the same. At least she’s drinking.”

  “I’ll call when I need a leg up. Those four been out on the hot walker today?” She nodded toward the horses they’d been training.

  “Yup. Be careful with that hellion.”

  “What’d he do now?” Trish knew immediately that Dave meant the Anderson colt, Gatesby.

  “He sure spooks easy.”

  “I know.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Yes, mother hen.” Trish laughed as she evaded her brother’s swat.

  Always one to get the worst out of the way first, Trish cross-tied Gatesby in his stall, brushed him down, then bridled and saddled him.

  He stood, docile for a change, with only his ears responding to her soft monologue. Trish knew he behaved better for her than anyone, but he sure was a handful. And today they should be training him at the starting gate. Time was running out on getting him ready for the first part of the season.

  Brad gave her a leg up when she called for help. The colt just stood there until Trish was settled and she clucked him off. He set out for the track in a flat-footed walk, looking around him with only mild interest.

  Trish waved her thanks and concentrated on the warm-up. The entire session, even to walking him around the gates, only drew some snorting and eye-rolling on the colt’s part. She patted his neck and smoothed his mane down as they stood a few feet from the starting gates. That metal monster would be enough to scare anyone, she thought. Wait till he’s boxed in with gates closed in behind and in front of him. She rubbed the horse’s neck again and turned him toward the stable.

  “We’ll work you with Dan’l tomorrow,” she said as he twitched his ears. “All of us will be at the gate at once. That should make things easier.”

  The sun had set by the time she finished working Anderson’s three-year-old. He’d already raced one season and was being reconditioned after an injury during the summer program in Spokane. He was a willing animal, without the contrariness of Gatesby. Trish breezed him twice around the track for the pure joy of running.

  She scraped him down and rinsed the sweat off with warm water. Brad had taken care of Gatesby, so with both animals snapped to the hot walker to cool off, Trish spent a moment with old Dan’l.

  “Tomorrow you get to train the kids.” She rubbed his head, right behind his ears, a favorite place. “Hope they watch you and learn fast.” Dan’l rubbed his nose against her chest and blew softly in her face.

  For a moment Trish could pretend everything was all right. Her father was working in one of the other stalls; the exerciser sang its creaky song, and all the animals were healthy. Her mom was up baking cookies and soon dinner would be on the table.

  “Where do you have the sick ones now, Trish?” Dr. Bradshaw’s question broke her reverie.

  She swallowed as she turned away from Dan’l and her dream. “Down at the old barn. I’ll show you.”

  The mercury yardlight had come on before they had all the sick animals in separate clean stalls and the racing stock exercised. Training had been minimal, compared to what Trish knew needed to be done.

  “How’s your dad?” Rhonda asked as they trudged up the rise to the cars.

  “Not coming home right away,” Trish sighed.

  “Are you going in to the hospital tonight?”

  “No, it’s too late.” Trish kicked a small rock ahead of her, the action slowing her steps so David and Brad pulled ahead.

  “That why your mom’s mad?” Rhonda stopped beside her friend.

  “Yup. She can’t understand why I haven’t gone to visit my dad.”

  “Well, why haven’t you?”

  “I don’t know.” Trish searched for words to explain her feelings. “I just can’t go in there. It’s like…well…if I go there…”

  Rhonda waited out the silence.

  Trish shook her head. “Rhonda, I’m so scared. I’m just so scared.” She kicked another rock, viciously this time. “What if he dies?” Tears spilled over. She dashed a hand across her eyes and shook her head again. “I just can’t go to the hospital. Dad has to come home.”

  By the time Trish opened her chemistry book that night, she was so tired she could hardly read the print. She took her book into the living room. “David, can you help me with this stuff?”

  David was sound asleep on the sofa; his half-eaten sandwich on a plate on the floor. Trish. Threw the afghan over him and went back to her desk.

  An hour later Marge found her daughter, head on her chemistry book, fast asleep. “Trish.” She shook her gently. “You better get to bed.”

  Trish felt like she was crawling up out of a deep hole. “Hi, Mom.”

  She blinked and turned in her chair. “How’s Dad?”

  “We have some good news. After his radiation treatment tomorrow, I may be able to bring him home. They started with chemotherapy today, so it depends on how he’s feeling.”

  Trish spoke out of her fog. “He’s better then?”

  “Well, we just
have to pray the treatments help. We’ll know more in a couple of weeks. Tonight he was pretty sleepy from the anesthetic and the medication.”

  And you didn’t even call him, Trish’s conscience scolded. What kind of daughter am I? she thought. Maybe Mom was right about wondering how much I love Dad. She swallowed against the lump that seemed to be making itself at home right behind her tonsils.

  “You better get to bed.” Marge rubbed Trish’s tight shoulders.

  “I have a quiz tomorrow. Gotta study some more.” Trish stared at the sparsely filled paper glaring up at her. Three problems done out of ten. Big deal. And she had one more assignment after that. And review for a quiz. None of the stuff made any sense anyway.

  “Let David take care of things in the morning. You sleep in,” her mother suggested.

  “Maybe.” Trish picked up her pencil. Why not have David do my chemistry and I’ll work the horses? she thought. Made a lot more sense. Oh sure, and he could take the quiz too, her nagging inner voice jumped back into the act. Trish looked longingly at her bed. Just one more hour. Surely she could study one more hour.

  She flunked her chemistry quiz. The score stood one out of ten. Trish stared at the paper in her hand. She’d never flunked anything before. What if her mother asked how the quiz went? She stuffed the paper into her folder and tried to pay attention to the lecture. All those symbols, how would she ever get them all memorized?

  Trish had a hard time paying attention all day. Good thing it was Friday. She’d be able to catch up over the weekend. When the last bell rang, she bolted for Brad’s car. Give her the horses and track any day.

  “Where’s Rhonda?” she asked as she slid into the front seat.

  “Her mom picked her up so they could leave early for the show this weekend.” Brad backed out of his parking place.

  “Sure wish I could be there for her. Those are nearly professional jumping classes she’s entered. She’s up against the big time.”

  “Be nice if we could all be there.” Brad patted her knee. “But don’t worry, Rhonda understands.”

  “I know.” Trish sighed. I just wish I understood, she thought. Everything is so messed up. Maybe… her thoughts brightened. Just maybe Dad will be there when I get home.

  He wasn’t. No one was. A scrawled note from David said he’d gone to the hospital to see Dad. He’d be back around four.

  “Well, that’s great,” Trish muttered as she changed her clothes. “You could at least have told me what needs to be done.” She gathered up a load of dirty jeans and stuffed them into the washing machine. “No one ever tells me anything around here.” She poured a glass of milk, stared longingly at the empty cookie jar, and grabbed an apple. Slamming the sliding glass door took skill, but she managed.

  Clouds covered the sun, the gray light matching her mood. Even the horses seemed subdued as she and Caesar approached the barn. Spitfire only nickered. She missed the sound of his hoof slamming the wall.

  What if they’re all coming down with the virus? She stalked from stall to stall, checking each of the horses in training. They all seemed fine, just dozing. Relief, like water from a hose, washed over her.

  She hugged Dan’l, comfort stealing into her bones as he nibbled at her hair. “You guys are all just lazy.” She rubbed his ears and smoothed the coarse gray mane. “Wish I had time to ride you today. But you can play teacher with Brad or David to our trainees. How about showing them all you know?”

  By the time she had Dan’l and Spitfire groomed and saddled, David and Brad drove up one after the other. Trish left the two animals crosstied and began on Anderson’s three-year-old. Gatesby would have to wait for her. She patted his nose as she went by, only to get a wall-eyed snort in response.

  “On second thought.” She grabbed a lead rope and snapped it to his halter. “I’ll let you work off some of that orneriness on the hot walker.”

  “Good idea.” Brad watched with her a moment as the colt struck out at imaginary shadows with his forefeet, shaking his head at the confining rope.

  “How’s Dad?” Trish asked as David loped up. “Is he coming home today?”

  David shook his head. “Maybe tomorrow. He was sleeping when I left.”

  “I’ll call him as soon as we get back to the house.”

  David stared at her. “I told Mom I’d bring you in for a visit tonight.”

  “Well, you should have checked with me before you made any promises.” Trish chewed her bottom lip. “I have too much to do.”

  “I don’t understand you.” David shook his head. His jawline matched his mother’s now. “Well, let’s get these guys going. I mucked out and brushed them all down this morning.”

  “How are the sickies?” Tricia asked as David boosted her into the saddle on Spitfire.

  David left the stirrups long on Dan’l’s saddle. “Here, Brad, boost me up and then you take Dan’l,” he said, settling himself on his horse before answering Tricia’s question. “I think they’re better. At least no worse, and the filly is eating again.” Together they trotted toward the track. “Dad said to give these guys a good workout first, before we try the gate. We may put blinders on Gatesby and maybe even Spitfire.”

  Trish felt her low mood blowing away with the breeze in her face. Nothing gave her the high that working the Thoroughbreds did. And if working them was this good, what would an actual race be like? Anticipation shivered down her spine.

  “I can’t believe it.” Trish patted Spitfire’s steaming black neck. “Good boy, you’re fantastic.” She felt like hugging the horse who had just walked flat-footed through the open starting gate. It was like playing Follow the Leader. Whatever Dan’l did, so did the others. They walked the horses through a couple more times before Brad dismounted and tied Dan’l to the track rail.

  David gave him instructions as Trish brought Spitfire back to stop in the open gates. The colt rolled his eyes and tossed his head but remained standing as her comforting voice rippled past his ears.

  When horse and rider entered the stall again, Brad had closed the front gate. Spitfire walked into the open-air stall and snorted at David’s mount beside him.

  “Okay,” David said. “Let’s put these two away and bring out the others. Brad, how about if you wash ’em down while Trish and I work Firefly and Gatesby? Then we’ll use Dan’l again to teach them their lessons.”

  Trish felt an unfamiliar gnawing in her stomach at the thought of working Gatesby. He wasn’t just unpredictable; sometimes he seemed deliberately mean. She shrugged it off as Brad boosted her into the saddle.

  “Now, you be careful with him.” Brad kept a secure hand on the bridle. He walked them to the track. For a change, Gatesby seemed more interested in a workout than causing mischief.

  Trish let the animal pick up his pace as he settled into the routine. Trot around once, then the long, conditioning slow gallop. “If you just do this well at the gate, we’ll call it a great day,” Trish spoke into the twitching ears. After breezing him once around, she reined him into the center field beside Dan’l.

  Gatesby didn’t mind the gate. He rolled his eyes and tossed his head at the close enclosure but followed Dan’l on through. Firefly came right after him.

  “Thank you, God,” Trish murmured, grateful the tension she felt in her stomach hadn’t made it through the reins to her mount. When Brad took hold of the bridle, she rubbed the bay’s neck under his sweaty mane. “Good boy. You were super.” She shook her head, beaming at Brad. “I can’t believe it. Did you see that?”

  “I know. That’s the way I dreamed of it going, but I can’t believe it either.”

  “Let’s put ’em away while we’re ahead.” David walked his filly toward the track. “Tomorrow I’ll move the starting gates out on the track. Since it’s Saturday, we can take more time. If it goes like today, we’ll be in great shape.”

  “I can’t wait to tell Dad.” Trish kicked her boots out of the stirrups and slid off the steaming horse. He should have been here, she thought
as she unbuckled her saddle. Heavenly Father, when are you going to bring him back to me?

  Trish felt like someone had socked her in the stomach after her call to the hospital. Her father could hardly talk. Once he’d had to throw up while she waited. There were no jokes, and very little interest expressed in the horses.

  “I’m sorry, Tee,” his voice rasped just above a whisper. “You’re doing a good job. I’ll see you later.”

  “Right. Get well quick,” Trish spoke into the dial tone after the receiver had bumped into its cradle.

  What are they doing to him? She grabbed two TV dinners from the freezer and tossed them into the oven. And they think I’m going in there—when he can’t even talk on the phone? She leaned over the sink, her stiff elbows supporting the crushing weight. Dear God, what’s happening to us? Where are you?

  Chapter

  10

  I said I’m not going back to school. Not right now.”

  “Oh, David.” Marge poured herself a cup of coffee.

  Tricia stared at her brother. Why’d he want to ruin a Saturday morning by bringing up something like that? He knew Mom would lay into him, especially when she was still upset about last night. Trish could tell by the way her mother had avoided her.

  Marge brought her coffee mug to the table and sat down. She rubbed her fingers across her forehead, as if to erase the lines gathering there.

  “I was afraid you’d decide that.” She shook her head. “But I hate for you to have to postpone your education.”

  “I know. But, Mom, it isn’t forever. Maybe Dad’ll be back on his feet in time for me to go back after Christmas. I’ll be missing only one semester.”

  “Maybe.” Marge ran her forefinger around the edge of her coffee mug.

  “Besides, what else can we do? Those horses support us.”

  Trish felt like crying for David. She knew how much he had been looking forward to school again. His dream of veterinary medicine just got put on hold—for who knew how long—and he was talking about it so calmly. Mom was too. Amazing.