They walked one on each side of Fiel for a few steps, let him rest, and then moved him on down the aisle. The pain the poor horse suffered was evident as he pawed and tossed his head as if that might bring him relief, and frequently tried to bite at his sides. When he started to bend his knees to lie down, they would pull him forward to walk again.
It seemed forever, but was probably only fifteen to twenty minutes before they heard Dr. Patterson drive up. The veterinarian walked into the barn and observed the horse as River and Manuel led him down the aisle and then into the wash stall. “How has he been lately?” he asked.
“Fine,” River answered through the lump in his throat. “Sierra rode him today on the trail in his usual work. She always cools him out thoroughly.”
“I’m sure she does,” Dr. Patterson said and then asked many more questions while he conducted his examination.
River answered all his questions in the negative: no, there had been no change in feed, work schedule, turn out, no unusual stresses, no new horses in the barn for two weeks, no change in the consistency or amount of stool cleaned out of his stall each morning.
“Definitely colic,” Dr. Patterson said after he had checked vital signs, listened with his stethoscope over Fiel’s heart and then his belly, and lifted his upper lip to press his finger against his gums. “Heart rate is up, I don’t hear any peristalsis, and he exhibits all the symptoms.”
“But you don’t think he’s twisted his intestines, do you?” River asked hopefully.
“I certainly hope not. Manuel, you stay with him here. River, you come with me and help me bring back supplies. Where is Sierra?”
“I didn’t want to call her until you came,” River answered as they went out to the vet’s van.
“I think she would want to be here, don’t you?” Dr. Patterson asked as he handed River a stainless steel bucket with rubber tubing and some other equipment stowed inside. He took some other supplies out of a storage chest and they returned to the wash stall.
“I’ll call her now.” River set down the bucket and pulled out his phone to press Sierra’s number. He swallowed hard when he heard her voice answer. Then not knowing how to say it in any easy or gentle way, said, “Sierra, I’m sorry. Fiel has colic. Dr. Patterson is here now.”
He could hear the tremor and fear in her tone as she asked, “How bad?”
“He’s just starting to work on him. I don’t know.”
“I’m on my way.” She disconnected.
Dr. Patterson gave Fiel an injection in his neck. “It will reduce the pain and relax the abdominal muscles,” he explained. Then with River and Manuel holding the halter to assist, the vet inserted the rubber tubing through a nostril and into Fiel’s stomach. He aspirated with a large syringe. “No food in the stomach at least, so the blockage is farther along the tract. Then he sucked up in succession from a large bottle of mineral oil and one of a milky substance into two very large syringes. He injected their contents through the tubing into Fiel’s stomach. “Now, we walk him and wait.”
Manuel and River took turns leading Fiel slowly in the stable yard, letting him stop and rest frequently, but moving him forward if he showed signs of wanting to lie down. River had the lead rope when Pam drove up in her car and Sierra jumped out. She rushed over to her horse and River’s chest tightened at the ashen, anguished expression on her face. Pam followed close behind.
“Oh, Fiel.” Sierra touched his neck and looked into his suffering eye. “How is he?” she asked, looking from River to Dr. Patterson.
“He’s not trying to bite at his sides now,” the vet answered. “He seems willing enough to walk and he’s not trying to lie down.”
“Is that good?”
They stopped to allow Fiel to rest while Dr. Patterson explained to Sierra and her mother Fiel’s symptoms and the current treatment plan. “I have given him a dose of mineral oil and a laxative. The walking will help encourage stimulation of the intestines. I hope before too long we will see results.”
“What if it doesn’t work?” Sierra asked desperately.
“The worst case scenario is he will need surgery if the intestine has twisted and is strangulated, or he simply cannot pass the blockage.” Dr. Patterson was never one to hold back information. “But I don’t see symptoms drastic enough for that yet.”
For three more hours River and Sierra took turns walking Fiel. As the temperature dropped, they covered him with a horse blanket to keep him warm. Several times Dr. Patterson listened with his stethoscope over his abdomen. Finally, around midnight he announced, “I hear some rumblings, and something should happen soon!” Everyone felt as if heaviness in the air lifted a bit with his news.
River encouraged Manuel to go home and sleep. Manuel left but came back with Rosa, who brought a basket with cookies and fruit, made a pot of coffee in the lounge and brought out mugs of coffee or tea to those who wanted it. Then the couple went back to their trailer; Manuel promising to return in a few hours.
“Mom, you might as well go home too,” Sierra said. “I know you have school tomorrow and there isn’t anything you can do here.” Pam refused to leave but did agree to go lay down on the sofa in the lounge. Dr. Patterson repeated the doses of mineral oil and laxative, and then he reclined in the front seat of his van and dozed, warning Sierra and River to notify him immediately of any change for the better or worse.
Shortly after three a.m., the blockage broke loose. With an explosion of gas, Fiel produced the first few plops of stool. He let out a long sigh, snorted, and tugged at the lead that Sierra held, stretching his nose toward the grass at the side of the stable yard.
Sierra hugged him and burst into tears.
Her sobbing woke River, who had been dozing on a bench in front of the stable, where he and Sierra had been resting in between their turns walking Fiel. He jumped up with his heart racing, fearing the worst. When he arrived at Sierra’s side, she pointed to the three green balls on the pavement and smiled through her tears. He took the lead rope from her and she fell against his chest as he pulled her into his arms.
“He’s going to be okay,” she cried, hugging River tight around his chest. “He’s okay!” They broke apart and grinned broadly at each other.
Dr. Patterson awoke, hearing their voices, and came over to examine Fiel. As he did, Fiel produced another small pile of droppings, and the veterinarian grinned broadly in satisfaction.
“Excellent!” he exclaimed. “Don’t let him eat,” he instructed, noting Fiel pulling at his lead toward the grass. “Offer him some water now; he can have all the water he wants. Then continue the walking with breaks for another hour and if he continues to produce stool, then I think we’re out of the woods.”
“River, you take him, I’m going to tell my mom,” Sierra said.
After another hour and several more piles of droppings produced by Fiel, Dr. Patterson decided it was safe for him to leave. “There is an extraordinary amount of grain in the stool,” he commented. “How much grain do you feed him?”
“Fiel’s an easy keeper,” River answered. “He only gets a half scoop morning and night.” He furrowed his brow as he also noted how much grain appeared in the droppings.
“Hmm…well, continue the walking for about another hour or so, and if he continues to stool and looks this comfortable, then I would just turn him out in a paddock with plenty of water but no food. Mid-morning, you can give him a bran mash. Keep an eye on him throughout the day and call me if any symptoms return. I’ll swing by to check on him this afternoon and advise when and what to resume feeding.”
“You should come home now, Sweetie, you’re exhausted,” Pam advised after Sierra and River determined it was safe to leave Fiel in a paddock.
Just then Tess drove up; very early for her to arrive since it was just after six in the morning. She had called River once last night and when he told her what was happening, determined all was being done that could be done and she didn’t need to come to the stable.
“
How is he?” she asked.
River gave her the news.
“Good, I’m very relieved.” She studied Sierra and River, noting Sierra’s tear-streaked face and the deep shadows beneath both kids’ eyes. “You two go home; take the day off from work. I’ll call Katrina to see if she can clean stalls this morning with Manuel.”
“I’m afraid to leave him,” Sierra stated.
“All of us will check on him. You can come back, but at least get a few hours of sleep.”
“Come on, Sierra,” Pam said, and took her daughter by the shoulder. “I need to get home and shower right away. River, can I give you a ride home?”
“Yeah, thanks.” He followed Pam as she shuffled Sierra to the car.
River asked Pam to drop him off at the intersection to his driveway. He felt embarrassed for them to see the condition of the house where he lived. “I guess I’ll see you later this afternoon,” he said to Sierra. “I doubt if I’ll sleep more than a few hours.”
“Me either,” Sierra replied. “River, thanks so much.”
He nodded and waved and watched their car pull away before he turned to walk up his driveway.
He was half way to the house when he remembered, Laila!
*****
19 Season Ends
It is not sufficiently appreciated that artistic horsemanship is not the ability to make horses perform particularly difficult movements; it is purely the attainment of complete accord between rider and horse, and it is by the measure of this accord that every performance has to be judged. – Brigadier General Kurt Albrecht
*****
Storm trotted up to River as he came into the yard. She spoke to him in her canine language, a range of low howls and whines, asking, ‘where have you been?’ She was used to River leaving her during the day when he went to school, but he had never left her all night long.
River bent down to hug her, ruffle her fur, pat her sides, and allowed her to lick his face. “Hey, I missed you too,” he said. He felt grateful for her health, and the health of Cory, Diva, and all the other horses…so thankful that Fiel was going to be okay.
Then he noticed Laila’s car parked next to Warren’s Camaro. Still here? He hurried into the barn and up the stairs to his room, but slowed before pushing through the door in case she was sleeping. He was met by his empty mattress. Not here.
He went back outside, wondering where she could be. At the sight of her car side-by-side with Warren’s, it hit him like a rock in the chest – no, she wouldn’t!
Inside the house, he took the stairs with weighted feet. He stopped outside of Warren’s closed bedroom door. Do I really want to know? He hesitated a minute, then turned the knob silently, and opened the door enough to peer in. He stared. He should just turn and go. He stood there and stared, swallowing down the angry scream that rose to his throat.
“River?” Laila said, her voice croaky with sleep. She lifted her head from the pillow where she lay next to sleeping Warren.
He violently pulled the door closed and fled to the bathroom, slamming that door shut as well and locking it. He braced over the sink, gulping in deep breaths, feeling a violent rage bubbling up from his core into his brain and turning the atmosphere around him black. How could she? How could she? How could..?
“River, open the door,” Laila called to him, rattling the knob. “Open. The. Door,” she insisted. “We need to talk.” She rattled the knob again. “If you don’t open up, I’ll have Warren break this door down.”
He reached over and unlocked the door.
She pulled it open and stood in the doorway, wearing only Warren’s camouflage shirt wrapped around her.
He turned and leaned back against the sink; arms folded tightly, and glowered at her.
“Where were you?” she accused. “We had a date, remember?”
He should have called her; but in his worry over Fiel he had totally forgotten Laila. Some of his anger shifted into guilt. He did not like to feel guilty, and that made him angrier; both at her and himself.
“Well?”
“I was with a sick horse. Didn’t Warren tell you?”
“He only said he dropped you off at the stable…that’s all.”
It was true he had not told Warren why he wanted to be dropped off at Pegasus. “I’ve been up all night walking a horse dying from colic while you were here…” His tongue tied up in his painful rage until he ineffectually accused, “You and Warren!”
“How was I to know that? Did I receive a phone call?” She cocked her head, her mussed hair falling around her face, and the morning light glinting off her eyebrow stud. She looked how he had seen her so many times in the morning. And standing in that camouflage shirt…she looked so sexy. He felt himself responding to her in spite of his exhaustion and his anger.
Her eyes dropped to look down at him and the hint of a smile crossed her face. He noticed it even though she looked back up to meet his eyes with a very serious expression. “Now you listen here, River Girard. I am not your girlfriend. You know that. I waited for you until after midnight. Warren and I talked and talked and I like him. I like you. What happened tonight is no secret. I do what I want. Do you have a problem with that?”
He did have a problem with that, but what could he say? “Do you…are you Warren’s girlfriend?” he asked lamely, and regretted it the moment the words left his mouth.
“Of course not; how many times do I have to tell you I am no one’s girlfriend? You can accept that fact or not. We can be friends or not…your choice.”
He looked down at his feet, not knowing what he wanted or what to say. His anger had drained away; replaced by confusion and a feeling of betrayal and hurt. “I’m tired. I’ll talk to you later.” He pushed past her and started down the hall to the stairs.
“Your choice…” Laila called after him.
He fled to his room and collapsed on top of his mattress. He buried his face in the pillow and thumped with his fists next to his head, trying to pound away the heaviness in his heart. He felt Storm nose at the nape of his neck, whining. Relaxing his hands, he allowed her to crawl next to him, and with a hand clutched in her fur, fell into an exhausted sleep.
*****
Fiel acted like his normal, healthy self when River returned to the stable late in the afternoon. Sierra was already there, just hanging out with Fiel in the paddock, brushing him from time to time, and talking to him. They had given him a bran mash and celebrated when he produced stool within a half hour of consuming the feed. Dr. Patterson returned and pronounced him cured.
“I would like to know what caused this, however,” he said, as he studied Fiel standing in the wash stall crossties, looking alert and hungry.
“We don’t feed him that much grain,” River said. “Do you think it’s just been sitting and accumulating in his intestines?”
“That would be rather unusual…maybe he’s not drinking enough water.”
“It seems like he drinks as much as the other horses. The trough in his paddock is always down a level when I bring him in,” Sierra said.
“It is strange…well, grass hay only and half ration for the next few days; no grain at all. I’ll come by in two days and check on him again. Turn him out every day but I would recommend no work for a few days and then begin again gradually.”
Dr. Patterson left and Sierra and River began helping Manuel bring the other horses in for the night.
“Reever, I talk wid you,” Manuel said after the horses had all been fed. River said goodnight to Sierra, and followed Manuel into the feed room. Manuel closed the door behind them, and spoke to River in Spanish.
“Some strange things,” Manuel began. “Last night after we feed, there was enough oats in the bin to fill half of the buckets for this morning’s feed. When I feed this morning, the oat bin was almost empty. Where did the oats go?”
River’s stomach lurched as suspicions of what might have happened entered his mind.
“Last night I went to the trailer and Rosa and I, we
have our supper. After that, I come back to fix the loose board. I see a car leaving the driveway as I come up. I recognize the car. I have seen a friend of Crystal’s come here in that car before. I think it is strange because that girl never comes here except for her lessons. Why is she here now? But, nothing wrong with that, I don’t think. I go fix the fence. And I have already told you what I hear when I come back near the stable.”
“Crystal!” River said through clenched teeth.
“That one has a mean spirit,” Manuel said, shaking his head.
“Thank you, Manuel, for telling me.”
“You tell Tess; I don’t have good enough English to explain to her.”
“Yes, I will.”
They left the feed room and locked up the stable. River sat down on the bench outside. He shivered, in spite of the summer warmth of the early evening, and pressed Tess’s number on his phone. “I need to talk to you now,” he said when she answered.
“Go ahead,” Tess said.
“In person,” River insisted.
“River, I am having dinner; tell me what is so important.”
“Finish your dinner, but I am waiting for you here.”
He heard her sigh over the phone. “All right, I’ll come in a few minutes.”
A half hour later, Tess drove up and parked, and then she and River went into her office.
“Crystal tried to kill Fiel,” River stated.
Tess’s face creased into a frown, but River noted she didn’t immediately refute his accusation. “Why do you think so?” she asked.
He related to her all that Manuel had told him. Again, Tess showed no signs of doubting his story.
“What are you going to do?” he asked in a tight voice.
Tess closed her eyes and took in a deep breath that she let out on a long sigh. With her shoulders slumped, she opened her eyes to look back at River with an expression of regret. She leaned her arms on the desk and hunched forward toward him, looking down at a stack of papers. “River, let me explain to you my situation. I half own Pegasus because Walt wanted to give his daughter the best facility for her horse, the best instructor, and every opportunity that she could want. This partnership with him only exists because of Crystal. I cannot survive financially without his backing. Unfortunately, that forces me to deal with Crystal very delicately. This business is my life and I am not going to do anything to jeopardize it.”
The Boy Who Loves Horses (Pegasus Equestrian Center Series) Page 20