by Becky Norman
“Well, I’ll tell you...I’m beginning to think anything’s possible at this stage. From what I’ve observed, the domesticated cats I’ve been in contact with seem to be...helping, for lack of a better word...their human partners. There’s been proof for many years now that cats help lower blood pressure in humans because the feel of their fur and the stroking motion of petting them settle people’s heart rates down. If we take that to a higher level, maybe they’re helping us in other ways we’re just too blind to see.”
Lori paused to let that sink in then said quietly into the receiver. “Noel, it’s scaring me. I can’t handle it if someone else dies.”
He was quiet for a moment, too, but then said with a profound gentleness, “Lori, it will be okay. Whatever happens...you’re strong enough to endure it. I may not have known you very long, but your ability to survive is plain to see. No matter what...you’ll be okay.”
She bit her lip, looking furtively around the room as though some unknown attacker was lurking in the corners.
“I wish you guys were here,” she said plaintively.
“Listen, they might just be trying to comfort you. There’s no sense in worrying about the unknown – it won’t do any good. I’ll call Lynta tonight and make sure she’s okay, too, and then first thing tomorrow morning, I’ll give you another ring and we can make sure everybody’s alright. How does that sound?”
“Okay, I guess. I still wish you were here.”
“I wish I was, too. Do me a favour and write down what they’re doing tonight, okay? You have that journal I told you to start?”
“Yes – it’s by my nightstand. I write in it every night before bed – even if it’s just to say everything’s normal.”
“Okay. Put down how they’re acting and I’ll call you early tomorrow, alright?”
“Alright.”
When Lori replaced the receiver she felt as though a last, remaining lifeline was being snapped out of her hands.
**********
Noel’s warm, fuzzy, morning voice came to her through the phone as the sun was rising the next morning and Lori closed her eyes with profound gratitude.
“Hey, you,” she said, trying to hug him with words.
“Good morning, Starshine,” he said with a chuckle. “Well, we all made it through the night – I’ve just talked to Lynta, as well.”
“Oh, good. And nothing out of the ordinary with any of you?”
“No,” he answered. “Which has me a little worried.”
“What? Why?”
He sighed softly. “You be careful today, Lori. Alright? Are you training horses this afternoon?”
“Yes, of course. There’s no rest for the wicked, you know.”
His voice got a little firmer as he ignored her teasing. “Take your cell phone with you and don’t do anything silly. Don’t put yourself at risk. You’re all alone out there, you know.”
She sobered at the reminder. “Yes, I know. I’ll be careful.”
“Okay. I should get going – I’m helping Jeret at the zoo today. I’ll call you again tonight and see how everything’s going, if you want me to?”
“Yes, please.” She hesitated, drawing breath but not sure how to say what needed to be said. “Noel...in case something does happen today...I just want you to know I really like you guys a lot. I feel like we’ve all known each other for years and...you’ve become super important to me.”
“I feel the same – we all do.” She heard the awkward catch in his voice but then he gave a small laugh. “Okay, we’re getting maudlin here. Let’s get on with our day – we’ll be alright.”
**********
The roundpenning with the two horses from auction worked like textbook cases and Lori had them turning into her within a matter of minutes; she worked with each for an hour and felt so confident after desensitizing both that she decided to tackle Curtis Fanshaw’s psycho colt after grabbing a quick drink.
She turned the rangy chestnut stallion loose in the roundpen and prepared for a battle, but was pleasantly surprised to get his cooperation almost immediately.
“You mean you actually remember something from yesterday?” she asked with sarcasm as the big colt cantered the circle around her. He flicked an ear her way in acknowledgement then dug in deep with his hindquarters, running for the sheer pleasure of running.
“Let’s see if you’re ready for this then,” she said, as she stopped walking a circle around him and instead stood in the center of the ring, completely motionless.
Her intention was to eventually have the colt read her cues so well that he continued with the last direction he was given until she gave another one. Most horses stopped at first, confused by her lack of driving pressure in the form of walking and pointing, and came in to her. The stallion was no different than the others and when she stood still, with her head lowered, she heard him turn off the fence, break his gait and come trotting in towards her.
“Ah-ah,” she corrected, standing up straight, pointing in the direction she wanted him to continue and swinging the stick in a big circle.
The stallion knew that cue all too well and snorted in surprise as he veered off and continued to canter around her once again. Lori resumed her stationary position in the center of the roundpen and the colt continued cantering until he got around behind her. Then his uncertainty caught up to him once again and he turned off the fence, again trying to trot up to her. She corrected him a second time and he headed out to the perimeter, picking up the three-beat gait with ease.
The third time he got it and continued cantering around her as she remained immobile in the center, her head down and leg cocked. She let him go fully around her twice, then stepped back, drew him off the fence with body language and sent him off in the opposite direction. By then, he comprehended what she wanted and stayed in a canter until she did call him into the circle by catching his eye, turning away from him, and waggling her finger at him from behind her back.
He came trotting up, huffing and puffing from the exercise and she rubbed him all over his face in reward. Lori haltered him up again and did some desensitizing with the leadrope, stick and string on both sides; she noted that he was still fairly ticklish around his back legs – she would have to concentrate on that in the coming weeks. When she noticed he was still trying to catch his breath after that had all been finished, she took advantage of his desire to stand still by tying him to a specially designed ring that would slowly release him if he pulled back.
They were a great invention, teaching the horse to stand still when frightened. Tie rings worked because they allowed the horse to move away from the fence, where they felt trapped under normal circumstances. Unlike traditional cross-ties or hitching posts, tie rings paid out the leadrope gradually so the horse never “hit” the end of the rope harshly, creating more of a fight as they tried to escape. Eventually they learned that scary things could be easily avoided by taking a step or two back; when Lori deliberately tried to scare them while standing tied they soon realized it was easier to just stand still and relax while the crazy human ran at them.
As she had anticipated, Curtis’ colt was highly over-reactive and pulled back dramatically the first time she ran up to him with hands waving. He backed away from her about ten feet while she stood near the fence, flapping her arms, then stopped and lowered his head when he realized she wasn’t going to kill him. When he did stand still and relax, she immediately stopped her active body language and went to passive, walking casually up to him, caressing his face and murmuring that he was a good boy.
She led him back up to the fence again, drew in the rope that he had pulled out through the ring, and walked away. The second time she ran up to him with arms waving, he only pulled back about five feet.
Again and again Lori tried to scare him, until eventually she was the one huffing and puffing from running, jumping and leaping towards the horse and he was the one standing still and looking bored.
She praised him up and down, took him off the tie ring and led him out of the roundpen.
It all happened so fast that afterwards, Lori still couldn’t articulate fully what went wrong. She remembered hearing the roundpen gate clang loudly behind them as they were leaving and the colt spooking at the sound by running forwards, pulling the leadrope out of her grasp. He took off across the indoor arena, bucking and kicking as the 14-foot rope started to wrap around his churning legs and soon one hind hoof had gotten tightly caught in a knot created by his tornado-like movements.
Effectively unwittingly hobbling himself, the colt crashed to the ground like a tranquilized rhino and Lori ran towards him without a thought to her own safety.
“Oh, no!” she cried as the stallion slid along the arena floor, feet flailing, then hit his head hard on the ground with a grunt, and went still. Lori panicked, terrible thoughts filling her mind of having to tell Curtis Fanshaw his horse had died at her barn.
She ran towards the colt, dropping to his side with a sob as the horse remained motionless in the dirt of the arena. She slid a hand down his exposed front leg, making sure he hadn’t broken a bone then looked to his rear leg and saw the knot wrapped tightly around the fetlock. The rope was stretched taut from his halter to his hind foot. Instinctively, Lori leaned over the colt to free his leg and had worked the rope almost completely loose when the colt regained his senses and starting thrashing.
Lori tripped as she tried to push away from his heaving bulk and fell headlong across the horse’s belly. She got her hands under her a second time and was trying to pull the rope free and get away at the same time. She felt a brief moment of impact, where the chestnut’s churning feet and her hands collided, and then she snaked the rope down and away from the rear hoof and the colt was free.
He stood up immediately, shaking in shock, and she came up to him, cautiously.
Easy, boy,” she murmured. “Easy.” She smoothed her hands tenderly over his face then down his neck, feeling for any signs of swelling, cuts or heat. He was breathing hard but that was to be expected after his ordeal; Lori didn’t think he’d injured himself too badly.
She was shaking, too, as she ran her hands down his neck, then shoulders and front legs. There was a slight aching in her right hand that seemed to be getting worse as her adrenaline wore off but she ignored it and kept going with her inspection. When she attempted to lift the colt’s foot, though, and check for any bruising on the hoof, there was a sharp, stabbing pain on the side of her hand and she dropped the colt’s leg with a gasp.
Lori looked down at her right hand and was startled to see her pinkie finger sticking out at a strange angle. She sucked in her breath, fearing that the colt had dislocated it when he was kicking. Lori bit her lip hard, pushing past the pain, as she felt down the length of the right hand with her left one, trying to figure out a way to push the finger back into place. She couldn’t seem to do it, though, and the pain wasn’t going away. She decided to ignore it for the present and get the colt stabilized first.
“Cowboy up, Pate,” she said to herself and grabbed the colt’s leg again. This time she was prepared for the pain and cradled the hoof gently with her left hand instead. She checked all four feet and continued rubbing on the colt while she walked with him until they both settled down.
When she took the colt back to the outdoor ring so that he could get some turn-out time, Lori reached up to untie his rope halter and another searing streak of agony pierced her right hand.
“Ahh!” she exclaimed in surprised hurt. She looked down at the hand again and saw that her finger was starting to turn blue and the hand was swelling. He had really done a number on it; she would probably have to go to the hospital and have a doctor put it back into place for her.
It took all her courage to reach up again and force the tail end of the rope out through the knot. The resistance of the stiff rope was agony on her tender hand; she clenched her teeth and with exaggerated care pulled the halter off the horse. He trotted off to roll, obviously no worse for wear.
Lori gingerly set the halter back on its hook outside of the arena; it was there that the events and pain of her hand caught up with her and she knelt down in the grass and let a few tears escape. It hurt – a lot – and there was no hope of it improving on its own. She didn’t want to go to the doctor, but she was having difficulty bending the hand now and she knew if they didn’t put the finger back in place she wouldn’t be able to do chores tomorrow morning.
A brief wave of helplessness washed over Lori and she remained in the grass, debating whether or not she should succumb to the self-pitying tears that were threatening to fall or not. While she was there, she heard Bear meowing to her and looked over to see him making his way across the backyard. He came up to her, respecting her injured hand and placed one paw on her knee. He looked directly into her eyes and cocked his head, looking for all the world as though he were examining her.
She laughed shakily at his expression and sniffed away the tears. “Yeah, I’m okay,” she said defiantly. “Just let me be a sucky-baby for one minute, will you?”
Bear hopped down from her knee and slid his body along her good hand in comfort and reassurance. She absent-mindedly stroked him with her left hand and thought about what to do. She’d have to take the Outback – there wasn’t enough gas in the truck to make it to the hospital – and that was a manual transmission car. Lori grimaced as she thought about driving a stick shift with her hand in the condition it was.
The horses were okay to stay out for awhile – they could graze on the late fall grass until she got back tonight – and the kittens had a steady supply of kibble so she didn’t need to feed anyone. She’d have to wrap the hand, though – each little movement was starting to jar it, causing it to throb.
She gave Bear a final pat in farewell and stood up, heading straight for the house and medicine cabinet. The kittens were all over her again as soon as she went inside the door and Lori shook her head in irony.
“Is that what you were trying to tell me last night?” she demanded.
The two skittered across the ceramic floor, heading for the bathroom in escort.
Lori grabbed a tensor bandage and a couple of safety pins, awkwardly wrapping her dominant hand to the best of her abilities and sticking the pins in at haphazard angles. Her hand felt immediately better with the support and protection of the bandage and she straightened up and took a look at herself in the mirror.
She had a streak of dirt down one cheek that she tried to wipe away with a washcloth in her ungainly left hand; and her silver-patched hair was a mess so she tried to flatten that down but gave it up and opted for a cowboy hat instead. She grabbed her purse, stuffed her cell phone into her pocket, switched her cowboy boots for runners and then got in the Outback.
It took eons to put the car in reverse with her injured hand but Lori eventually got the car out on the road and breathed a sigh of relief when she finally reached fifth gear and didn’t have to shift anymore.
She made her way to Simcoe, the nearest town with a hospital, groaning with every stoplight she hit. When she finally got to emergency, she parked and switched the engine off with relief. She’d made it.
**********
The outright fear didn’t set in until the doctor showed her the x-ray. The finger was not dislocated, as she had first thought. Instead, her hand was broken. Apparently, the colt’s hoof had collided with the side of her hand, causing a break that had since been forced open further with all of her movements, thereby pushing her pinkie finger out at an awkward angle.
She heard him, with a hollow panic that soon switched to nausea, say that he’d have to inject the hand with a freezing agent and then reset the bone. Her hand was broken? And he had to pull it into place to set it? Lori had heard enough horror stories about this kind of thing to feel weak in the knees – she was dubious about her abilities to handle it well.
She swallowed thickly and
sat back down on the examining table in the emergency room. She badly wanted somebody there to distract her – why hadn’t she thought to call Shannon before she drove away?
Cursing herself silently, she watched the series of attendants come in with the doctor, readying a syringe, bandages and implements with a cold business-like quality that unnerved her even more.
“Okay – needle going in now,” one of them cautioned as they shot her hand full of a local anaesthesia.
Lori looked away and concentrated on her breathing as she felt the syringe go in, but then there was a moment’s respite as the numbness started.
“I’ll be back in a bit to reset it,” the doctor told her. “I’m just going to let that get good and numb.”
Lori nodded and lay back on the table mutely.
In fact, she didn’t feel anything when he reset it and wrapped the hand in a plaster cast. She was blissfully pain-free for several hours actually, but the weight of the cast was tremendous and it extended so far down her hand that only her fingertips were showing. Lori sighed impatiently; the cast was going to present a problem while driving – she’d have to call Shannon and ask for help.
“Hey, lady,” she greeted her. “Could I ask a big favour of you?”
“Shoot,” Shannon answered readily.
“I need you to come to Simcoe and bring me home from the hospital.”
“What?!”
“Yeah,” Lori sighed. “Curtis’ colt broke my hand this afternoon. I’m okay, but I can’t drive my Outback home – I’ve got a big, bulky cast on from my fingers to my elbow and I can’t shift gears. Could Mark maybe drop you off and then pick you up at my place when we get home?”
“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” Shannon promised.
**********
It was late by the time they got home and Shannon insisted on helping Lori retrieve the horses from the pasture in the dark. It soon became obvious to Lori that she was going to have difficulty – she couldn’t use her right hand at all and the plaster cast weighed a ton, so the most she could do was lead the gentler horses back to their stalls after Shannon had caught them and got them haltered.