Golden Filly Collection One

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Mom?”

  “Trish, oh, I’m so glad we have a phone again. What about the electricity?”

  “Not yet. How’s Dad?”

  “Sleeping. We just got back from X-ray. And they’ve been giving him alcohol rubs to cool him off. We don’t know a lot yet.”

  “Oh.” Trish paused. “How did Pastor Ron know we needed help?”

  “I called him this morning to have us put on the prayer chain again. Why?”

  “Some men showed up to help. They even brought hot lunch in their campers. I couldn’t believe it when I saw them drive in.”

  Trish could tell from the sniff she heard over the line that her mother had teared up. All of them seemed to be on the verge of bawling most of the time lately.

  Marge blew her nose. “Tell them thank-you from Dad and me. And Trish, call back this evening. I’m so worried about you two.”

  “You better worry more about Dad. We’re okay. Brad is helping me, and David expects to have water pretty soon. Love you.” This time Trish set the phone down gently. The hospital seemed so far away.

  As she stood up, she heard water running. She dashed into the bathroom. The toilet tank was filling. She checked the faucet. Water!

  Then the kitchen. Not yet.

  “No water in the kitchen,” she hollered out the door. “But the bathroom works.”

  By the time she and Brad had finished the chores, the men had left. They had running water all the way to the barn, and the house lines were clear. Thawing out the kitchen pipes had been the most difficult, she’d heard.

  When Trish and Brad turned over the water tanks in the pastures after the cows and horses had a good drink, Trish said, “Maybe we can go skating tomorrow. Bet the pond is frozen solid by now.”

  Brad reached down and scratched Caesar’s ruff. “I’ll bring my skates. You need help with the chores in the morning?”

  “Maybe. Ask David.”

  Trish didn’t get a chance to talk to her dad before she crawled into her sleeping bag that night. He was sound asleep when she called. Her mother would stay the night in the hospital next to her husband.

  David was snoring long before Trish could shut her mind off enough to even think about sleep. When she turned over and scrunched her pillow behind her head, she felt the bruise she’d gotten at the pump house. And her tailbone still hurt from the fall off the pickup. But worst of all, her dad wasn’t better. Some vacation.

  The dim light of morning made the living room seem even colder. This time David had let the fire nearly go out. Trish turned her head. On the sofa David looked like a huge blue slug buried in his sleeping bag.

  Trish stood up, keeping her bag around her. She sat on the hearth to poke the coals. When she saw a bit of red, she balled up newspaper and added it with a few small pieces of kindling. Finally she leaned forward and blew on it, trying to get a flame started.

  “Come on, you,” she both begged and ordered. When flames licked the wood, she added larger pieces and finally two small chunks. Trish watched as the fire grew, huddled in her sleeping bag and wishing for something hot for breakfast. Like her mother’s fresh cinnamon rolls, or scrambled eggs or—

  She waddled back to her mattress of quilts and lay down again. Maybe they could at least go out for lunch.

  The phone woke them both sometime later.

  David beat her to answer it. “Dad’s a bit better,” David said across the receiver. “Temperature’s down.” He listened again. “Mom wants to know if you want to come and shower there and stay for lunch.”

  Trish rolled her eyes heavenward. “Thank you, God, for small favors.”

  David smiled. “I think she said yes.”

  When Trish stepped outside, she could hardly believe her eyes. The sun had finally woken up and turned the ice to diamonds that dazzled everywhere—dangling from tree branches, icicles, and fence posts. The “gems” glittered on bushes and sparkled off the pump house roof.

  While the thermometer read only sixteen degrees, the sun would warm things up a bit. And better yet, the wind had died. Trish whistled, a sharp sound that brought an answer from the barn.

  Trish skated her way down, deliberately choosing the icy patches to slide across. Arms waving, she almost took a tumble but righted herself. “No sense adding to my bruises,” she informed a yipping Caesar. Spitfire progressed from a nicker to a full-blown whinny.

  “All right, you guys, knock it off.” Trish opened the top halves of stall doors as she made her way to the feed room. “You’d think I hadn’t been down here in a week.”

  “Trish, come here!” David hollered from beyond the barn where he’d taken the truck to deliver water to the field stock.

  “Now what?” She dropped the handles of the wheelbarrow and dashed around the corner. At the cow tank, David waved her on.

  “Oh wow!” Trish stopped at the fence. A fountain of ice hid the trough, turning a fir tree into a free-form statue. A broken waterpipe had shot water into the freezing air, sculpting the glistening work of art.

  “Well, at least I know where this pipe’s frozen.” David shook his head. “Better drag another trough down here. Why don’t you go up and get the camera. Dad’ll enjoy seeing this.”

  After the chores were done, Trish packed clean clothes and shampoo into her sports bag.

  “You better bring towels too,” David reminded her. “I don’t think the hospital is planning on us.”

  Once they reached Fourth Plain Boulevard, the road was clear.

  “I shoulda taken the chains off.” David grimaced at the clacketyclack in the wheel wells. “When we get there, you go on up and I’ll take them off.”

  Trish didn’t mind being the first to shower, but the old panic tried to strangle her as she inhaled the hospital odor at the front door. She swallowed hard and took the elevator to the third floor.

  Hal was asleep when she tiptoed into the room. Marge put down her knitting and rose to give Trish a hug. “You look as bright as that sun out there.” She hugged Trish again. “Hal, wake up. The kids are here.”

  Trish picked up her father’s hand. “Dad, can you hear me?”

  Hal’s eyes fluttered open. He squeezed Trish’s hand lightly, a good sign. “Hi, Tee.” His voice seemed lost in the beep and whistle of the tubes and machines surrounding him. A slight lift of one side of his mouth could have been a smile.

  Trish wheeled on her mother and mouthed the words, “Is he going to die?”

  Chapter

  09

  No, Trish. Actually he’s better.”

  “He doesn’t look it.” Trish stroked the back of her father’s hand with her thumb.

  “I know. But he could be a lot worse.” Marge rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. “Where’s David?”

  “He decided to take the chains off.” Trish could hardly get the words past the lump in her throat. She wanted to fling herself across her father’s chest and plead with him to wake up. To smile at her and tell her everything would be all right. To get up out of that bed and go home.

  She tried to hold it back, but one tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. Come on, Dad. Wake up! See, I’m here to take a shower. You have no idea how bad I need a shower.

  Hal squeezed her hand faintly, but Trish felt it. Clear to her bones she felt the love in that small squeeze.

  “Guess I’ll hit the shower before David gets up here.” She stuck her head back out the bathroom door. “You sure they don’t mind? About us using the shower, I mean.”

  Marge shook her head. “No. They all know how many are still without power and water.”

  When Trish stepped under the stinging hot spray, she felt the worries of the last few days slither off her shoulders and flow down the drain with the soapy water. She shampooed once and then lathered up again. The water beating down on her head and shoulders felt heavenly. Finally she turned her back to the spray and let it pound on her upper back.

  A knock sounded on the door. “You gonna take all day?” David soun
ded more than just a bit grumpy.

  Trish turned to let the water stream over her face again, then shut off the spray. She wrapped one towel around her hair and dried off quickly with another. She looked with distaste at her clean long johns but put them on anyway. It would be time for chores when they got home and getting colder again.

  Dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans, with a towel still around her head, she popped out the door. “Your turn, Davey boy.” She grinned at him. “And take your time.”

  “Feel better?” The rasp in her father’s voice told of the effort it took for him to speak.

  Trish dropped her boots by the chair and whirled to his bedside. “Now I do.” Her grin brightened the entire room. “Amazing how good a shower can feel. I’ll never take hot water for granted again.”

  Hal’s smile made it to his eyes this time.

  “Everything’s pretty good at home.” By the time she’d told him about the ice sculpture, his eyes had drifted closed again. But his hand still clenched hers.

  When she felt his hand relax, Trish dropped into the chair to pull on her boots. She rubbed most of the moisture out of her hair, then brushed and combed it into some semblance of style. After stretching both arms above her head, she dropped them to the floor and finally wrapped them behind her legs and pulled so her forehead rested on her knees.

  “Oh, to be able to do that again,” Marge said.

  Trish stood upright and shook out her shoulders. “I haven’t taken the time to stretch lately. I’m really tight.”

  “Couldn’t be because you’ve had anything else to do, could it?”

  “Yeah, we’ve just been sittin’ around.” Trish wrapped both arms around her shoulders and pulled, rounding the kinks out of her upper back. “David gonna take forever? I’m starved.”

  “Look who’s talking.”

  Trish heard the blow dryer in the bathroom. It wouldn’t be long now.

  A short time later they filed through the hospital cafeteria line. Trish felt like having one of everything. From the looks of David’s tray, she was sure he had. “You gonna eat all that?” She stared at him in mock surprise.

  “Just watch me.”

  God, let there be lights, she pleaded as they neared the farm drive a while later. But when Trish opened the sliding glass door, it didn’t take a genius to know that her prayer hadn’t been answered yet. Even the living room was cold because the fire had gone out. Back to the real world. She sighed at the mess scattered about: sleeping bags, blankets, clothes, dishes. Well, at least we have running water. Even if it is cold.

  While David started the fire again, Trish picked things up and put them away. She stacked the bedding by the sofa. “How come this house feels so empty when Mom and Dad aren’t here?”

  David shrugged. “Beats me.”

  Another night without lights. The next morning the battery-operated radio promised a warming by the afternoon. And the weather delivered. A chinook wind followed the sun, and soon everything was dripping. The eaves, the trees, the frozen layer on top of the snow dribbled away. By the time the sun fell and took the temperature with it, Trish felt like spring had come.

  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 fly
ing through the air.

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

  Chapter

  10

  Trish 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.