Golden Filly Collection One

by Lauraine Snelling

  The wind slashed at their jackets and snapped at their faces all the way to the house. Trish caught herself when she slipped on the sidewalk. Sliding could be fun, but not now.

  “If that wind would just die down, I’d sprinkle some ashes on the sidewalk and steps,” David said. “You almost went down.”

  “I’m just glad I don’t have to go out again tonight.” Trish gave Caesar a pat. “Do you think we should bring him in?”

  “No. He’s got a good, warm doghouse. You’ll be fine, won’t you, boy?” David rubbed the dog’s ears and scratched the white ruff. Both he and Trish stamped the snow off their boots before they stepped inside.

  “Dad’s still in bed,” Marge said before Trish had a chance to ask. “But he did eat some chicken noodle soup.”

  Trish felt the sadness lift, just a bit.

  “Now how about ham sandwiches and chicken noodle soup for you two? It’s all ready. You look frozen. Get in front of the fire and I’ll bring it to you on trays.”

  Trish shivered when she took her jacket off, then sat down on the hearth with her back as close to the crackling logs as she dared.

  Marge handed her a steaming mug of soup. “Maybe this will help.”

  Trish felt much better when she was finally warm, had eaten, and checked on her father. Some color had returned to his cheeks and he was breathing more easily.

  Pulling her quilt up over her shoulders in her own bed, Trish waited for her body heat to warm the sheets, then said her prayers. It was easier to thank God when her dad looked better.

  When daylight came, she stuck her nose out of the covers. The room was cold even with the window closed. She glanced at her clock. It had stopped at two. No electricity! Trish threw back the quilt and sprinted to the window. The tree branches hung low to the ground, buckling under a blanket of ice. Even the cars were entombed.

  Trish’s world was frozen over.

  Chapter

  06

  Come on, Tee. I need help.” David tapped on her door.

  “What’s wrong?” David was down the hall before Trish could ask any more. “Besides no electricity, that is,” she muttered as she pulled on her long johns, then jeans. “Man, it’s cold in here!”

  “Where’s David?” Trish pulled a sweater over her head as she entered the living room.

  “He said to find him in the pump house. He’s trying to get the generator going.” Marge closed the glass doors on the roaring fire, then stood and rubbed her hands together. “At least we can heat part of the house.”

  “How’s Dad?”

  “He’s okay. I wanted to get it warm out here before he gets up.”

  Trish pulled on her jacket, a stocking cap, and gloves. She grabbed a flashlight and stepped out the sliding door. The wind caught her as she rounded the corner. She pulled her collar up as far as it would go and headed for the pump house that squatted on the rise halfway to the barns.

  “I’ve never seen so much ice,” she said as she bent down at the open door. David was kneeling inside, tinkering with the red gasoline generator. “Here’s another flashlight. What can I do to help?”

  “This blasted thing won’t start. Dad’s the one with the magic touch. If I don’t get it going pretty soon, the pump will freeze and we’ll really be in trouble.” David slammed a wrench onto the concrete. “I’m just not a good mechanic.” He tucked his bare hands under his armpits.

  “Didn’t you bring gloves?”

  “Sure, but I can’t work with them on.” His breath blew out in puffs, even inside the tiny building.

  Trish knew to keep her mouth shut. David’s anger wasn’t directed at her. It took a lot to get him angry, but when he did—

  “Hold that light so I can see over here.”

  Trish hunkered down and tried to direct the beam to where David indicated.

  “Trish, for pete’s sake, can’t you hold that thing still?”

  Trish swallowed a retort.

  “Hand me that screwdriver.”

  Trish looked through the array of tools in the toolbox and spread out on the floor. “Which one?”

  “The Phillips.”

  She passed him the first one she saw.

  “Not that one, the big one with the brown handle.”

  She passed it to him, but in doing so lowered the beam of light.

  “Thanks a lot. Now I can’t see anything. Can’t you at least keep the light in the right place?”

  Trish clamped her teeth together. You try to do both and see how you do, brother, she thought.

  “Okay, see the pull cord?”

  “Yes.”

  “It pulls hard so give it all you’ve got.”

  Trish set down the light, grasped the wooden grips, and jerked hard. She banged her head on the top of the door frame and sat down, thump, in the snow, the cord in her hand. “Ow-w-w!” She blinked back the tears that surged in response to the blow on the back of her head.

  “What happened? You okay, Trish?” David crawled from behind the generator and stuck his head out the door.

  Trish held up the cord with one hand and rubbed the spot on her head with the other. She was glad her mother wasn’t there to see their predicament.

  “What are we gonna do?”

  “I don’t know.” David crawled the rest of the way out and rose to his feet. He kicked the door closed and turned the knob. “Maybe Dad can come look at this thing. We better get that tank loaded on the truck and go get some water. All the animals need a drink and I know the water troughs must be frozen.

  “You go get the pickup and I’ll start the tractor.”

  Trish blinked against the pain in her head and handed David the broken cord. “Here, we better not lose this.” She extended a hand for him to pull her to her feet. “Wow, that was a shocker.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, great. I feel like my head is separated from my body, I’m freezing cold, and I love having you holler at me. Anything else? Sure, I feel great.”

  “Sorry, Tee. The keys are in the truck.”

  Trish rubbed her head again before stuffing her gloved hands into her pockets. What a miserable morning. And what a vacation!

  When she tried to open the truck door, it wouldn’t budge. She couldn’t push the button in. She tried again. Nothing. She slammed her hand against the door. Still nothing. Is it locked? No, the button is up.

  She went around to try the other door. Both of them were frozen shut.

  Then she heard the roar of the tractor coming to life. Well, at least something’s working around here. She carefully made her way down to the barn, watching the icy patches. She didn’t need another bruise.

  “The truck doors are frozen,” she announced.

  David slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “What more can go wrong?” He shut off the tractor and leaped to the ground. “Let’s hope Mom has some water heating in the fireplace.”

  Whinnies and nickers from behind the closed stall doors meant a plea for both light and morning feed.

  “Why don’t I take care of these guys while you go thaw out the truck door?” Trish nodded toward the stables. At David’s okay, Trish went down the line, opening doors on her way to the feed room. Horse heads popped out like jack-in-the-boxes, all of them eyeing Trish like they hadn’t been fed in days.

  Trish filled the two five-gallon feed buckets and set them in the wheelbarrow along with the remainder of a bale of hay. Each time she swung the lower half of a stall door open, she had to push by an eager horse to get to the manger.

  “Where are your manners this morning?” she complained as Spitfire snatched a mouthful of grain from the scoop. “What’s gotten into all of you?”

  She grabbed Gatesby’s halter with one hand, then poured his grain and tossed hay in the rack with the other. “Sorry, guy, I don’t feel like any new bruises today. I already got my share.” In each stall she checked the water buckets. Those that weren’t dry were chunks of ice.

  By the time she finished with
the outside stock and Miss Tee, she could feel her own stomach rumbling. Caesar didn’t seem to mind the cold wind as he danced beside her. “Sorry, no time to play,” she said when he crouched in front of her with nose on his front paws and plumy tail waving in the air.

  “What’s the holdup, David?” she called when she walked back into the house. Closed off from the living room, the kitchen was cold, but it sure beat the wind outside. Trish stamped the snow off her boots and stepped into the living room, where the fire blazed in the hearth. She pulled off her gloves and extended her hands to the warmth. The cast-iron teakettle rested on its metal frame to the side of the burning logs.

  “Morning, Tee,” Hal said from the comfort of his recliner. “You look about frozen.”

  “Hungry too, I’m sure,” Marge added.

  “Yeah, I am. Where’s David?” She tossed her jacket at the sofa.

  “He’s waiting for the water to heat so he can thaw out the truck doors.”

  David stepped into the room as Marge spooned instant cocoa powder into a mug.

  “And I’m going to see if I can’t get that blasted generator running,” Hal spoke over his mug of coffee.

  “Dad, you shouldn’t go out….” Trish’s comment faded away at the glare from her brother. Looks like they’ve already had a discussion about that. Her thoughts finished her sentence. You shouldn’t go out in that wind and cold. She wanted to tie her dad to the chair.

  “Why don’t you wait until I get back with the water tank so I can help you.” David shrugged into his jacket. “Trish can water the animals while we fix the generator.”

  “Heard anything from Brad?” Trish turned so her backside would warm up at the fire.

  “Can’t. The phone’s down too. They’ve probably got about the same situation we do. Thought I’d swing by there on the way into town in case I can fill the tank there.” David brought a half bucket of water from the bathtub and added water to it from the steaming teakettle. “Got a pitcher, Mom?”

  Marge spoke as she searched the cupboard for a larger pitcher. “Trish, get some cereal, and there’s juice in the fridge. Dad’s been toasting bread on the long forks, if you want some. Here you go, David. Anything else?”

  “Yeah, warmer weather.” He pulled on a hat and gloves and left with the bucket and pitcher.

  Trish got her breakfast and huddled on the raised hearth to keep warm while she ate. Her dad offered her some of the bread he’d toasted. “Mm-mm. Thanks, Dad. That’s really good. Sure beats toast done in the toaster.”

  “At least I’m good for something around here.”

  Trish caught the insinuation that her father felt helpless, even though he smiled when he spoke. She glanced at her mother and father, catching a look that passed between them. While Marge kept her opinions to herself, Trish knew her mother was really worried. And this time she had real reason to be.

  “How are things down at the barn?” Hal sounded raspy and short of breath.

  “Fine. The horses are frisky, wired. They don’t like having their stall doors closed.”

  “Too bad. How’s your head?”

  Trish felt for the bump. “Saw stars for a minute. Probably should have put some snow on it but I was already too cold. That wind is awful.”

  “The radio says more of the same, and colder tonight. They’re sanding the main roads, but you could help David put chains on the truck. With those and the four-wheel drive, he ought to be able to get to Orchards and back if he drives slowly.” Hal coughed carefully.

  The truck roared to life out in the driveway. “Well, that’s one problem solved.” Trish drank the last of her hot chocolate. “You need anything from the store, Mom?” she asked as she bundled into her gear.

  “No, thanks.” Marge rubbed her elbows as she stared out the front window. She turned and forced a smile. “Now you be careful.”

  How often have I heard those words? Trish thought as she slipped her way down the sidewalk. Right now, her father was the one who needed to be careful. He didn’t need all this cold and extra worry. And he certainly shouldn’t be out working on the generator. God, you’ve sure sent this crummy weather at a bad time. Do you have something against us?

  David had pushed the truck seat forward and was pulling the chains out when Trish reached him. He handed her a chain. “Here, just lay this out behind the back wheel and make sure everything is straight. Then we’ll back over the chains and hook ’em on.”

  Trish did as she was told and miraculously it worked. David only got angry once when one of the links refused to close. At least he had plenty of light to work with. Trish was about to tease him, but one look at his face told her to keep her comments to herself.

  “Okay,” he grunted as he pulled himself up by the rear bumper. “Now let’s get that tank loaded.”

  Within a few minutes they had strapped the tank to the bucket of the power lift on the front of the old red tractor and hoisted it above the pickup bed.

  “Now when I get it lowered in place, you release those straps,” David instructed. “Make sure you keep your hands and feet out of the way because that tank’ll roll.”

  You sound more like Mom every day. Worry, worry, worry, Trish grumbled to herself as she climbed up over the pickup bed. She leaned over and tugged on the strap catches.

  Nothing happened.

  “Get over here by the bucket. That’ll give you more leverage.”

  Trish squeezed by the head of the five-hundred-gallon tank and braced herself against the tractor bucket. She reached over, snagged the black webbing, and pulled.

  The strap released.

  Trish hung in the air for a fleeting moment. Her arms windmilled to try to catch her balance, but the ice on the fender sent her toppling to the ground.

  “Ooooff.”

  “I told you to be careful!” David leaped down from the tractor. “Are you all right?”

  Trish took a deep breath. And let it all out. This getting dumped on her butt was beginning to get to her. “I’m fine, David. Just fine.”

  He reached a hand down to pull her to her feet. “You sure you’re not hurt?”

  “No, at least the snow is good for cushioning.” She brushed the snow and ice off her backside. “How’s the water tank?”

  David climbed up and released the other strap so the tank could roll into place. “Do you think you can back the tractor up without getting into trouble?”

  Trish stuck her tongue out at him as she stepped aboard the tractor, released the gear on the hoist, and backed the bucket away from the truck. She shifted gears, drove the tractor back to the barn, and parked it in the center aisle just down from Miss Tee’s stall.

  She stopped a moment to rub the filly’s forehead. A few white hairs swirled a miniature star between the baby’s eyes. Trish kissed the soft muzzle. “No time to play today, but you be good.” She patted the mare. “I’ll bring you a drink pretty soon.”

  “Tri-ish!”

  “I’m coming.” She trotted out of the barn, being careful not to slip on the ice. She didn’t need another spill.

  The temperature seemed to be dropping by the time they got back with the load of water. David parked the truck at the stables and both of them filled buckets from the spigot on the bottom of the tank and poured water into all the horses’ water buckets.

  Then they drove out to the aluminum water troughs in the pastures. Since those all had automatic floats, the tanks were full—of solid ice. David leaned his head on his hands on the steering wheel. He took a deep breath.

  “I’ll go get the pickax.” Trish scooted out the door before he could even ask her.

  The ice was only about six inches thick, so chopping through it didn’t take as long as she’d feared. The mares and yearling stood in a semicircle watching the action until Trish brought them each a bucket of water while David chopped. The horses drank deeply.

  But the Hereford beef stock in the next pasture were too spooked to drink from the buckets. Their plaintive moos begged Dav
id to chop faster. When the water was clear, they pushed and shoved to get their turn.

  “We’ll empty both of these when they’re done and then water them again tonight. That way the troughs won’t freeze up.” David climbed back into the truck. “I’m going to take some of this up to the house and fill the bathtub again. So we’ll have water for the house.”

  Trish slammed the door after joining him. “You know, Davey boy, you’re pretty sharp.”

  He shot her a quizzical look.

  “The way you seem to know all the right stuff to do.”

  “I couldn’t get the generator going.”

  “No, but like dumping the troughs. I never would have thought of that.”

  “Just common sense.” David parked the truck as close to the house as he could. He smiled at her. “Thanks, Tee.”

  David and Hal were still struggling with the generator when Trish went down to the barn to feed and water the animals again. Darkness was falling when she got back up to the house.

  “Did you empty the hauling tank?” David asked.

  “No, I didn’t think of it.” Trish turned and went back outside. She opened the valve and watched as the water drained out on the ground, freezing as it formed a puddle. She wrapped both arms around herself to keep out the biting east wind that whipped down the gorge, bringing the cold from the Rockies. When the trickle stopped, she closed the handle and trudged back to the house.

  “No luck, huh?” she asked David after removing all her gear.

  “No.” David shook his head. “And when we called about renting a generator, they were all gone. Besides that, now we’ll have to thaw out the pump too. And who knows how many pipes are frozen.”

  “How’s Dad?”

  “Terrible.”

  Chapter

  07

  I told him he shouldn’t try to fix it.”

  “I know, David.” Marge spoke softly so as not to wake Hal, who slept soundly in the recliner. “I tried to tell him too, but you know how stubborn your father is. He was determined to fix that generator.”