Long Shot

by D. Jackson Leigh

  Bridgette didn’t answer at first. She waited until Tory stood and walked to the door. “Any time you need a friend, or just someone to hold you, please know you’re welcome here.”

  Tory heard the door close softly behind her as she turned toward the stairway. When she didn’t hear the door’s locks slide into place, she started to go back. But something stopped her. She smiled. It was just like Bridgette to leave the door unlocked for her.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The next two weeks went by quickly for Leah. She and Gram drove to Greyson Estates almost every day, taking some of Gram’s personal things and lunching with MG. She shook her head at the way MG stood by smiling and giving in to every suggestion Gram had for rearranging her residence to become their home.

  MG was patient when Gram lapsed into the past and skillful at bringing her back to the present. She had talked with Gram’s doctors and consulted several specialists about adjusting her medications. Amazingly, Gram seemed to improve. There was no cure, MG reminded Leah, but doctors were always discovering new ways to slow down the progress of the disease.

  Leah also was able to leave Gram with MG for entire days while she took care of the business of selling the farm, sorting through the house to determine what would go with Gram, what would go to charity, and what few items she might want to store for safekeeping. Jimmy agreed to retire the horses at his place, and Leah set up a monthly stipend to pay him for the work involved and finance the horses’ expenses.

  She finally moved Gram in with MG so she could catch a plane from Richmond to D.C. and meet with the Associated Press editor who had called with a job offer. The position wasn’t exactly as an investigative reporter in Washington. It was on the staff in the Wisconsin bureau. But it was a job. She would work her way up again if she had to. She boarded the plane back to Cherokee Falls with a month to move to Madison.

  The Montgomery mojo was working again. Everything was falling neatly into place.

  So why wasn’t she happy? Why couldn’t she stop feeling like she wanted to pick up the phone and share her success with Tory? Why couldn’t she stop hoping to see Tory’s truck every time she drove Gram out to Greyson Estates? Why was she so disappointed when she went to Tory’s clinic to have the horses’ records transferred into Jimmy’s name, and Tory wasn’t there?

  She sat at the kitchen table, staring at the sofa where she had sat with Gram and Tory to look over Gram’s old photographs. The farm house seemed so empty now.

  Damn it. She just needed to get over it. She’d managed to forget other women in her past, hadn’t she? Hell, she could hardly remember what the lover she left in Texas even looked like. She just needed time. Time to forget that night in Chincoteague and those green bedroom eyes. She’d started several times to remove Tory’s picture from her laptop, but when her finger hovered over the Delete key, she couldn’t do it.

  *

  The night Tory spent with Bridgette had temporarily eased the emptiness in her chest, but in the weeks that followed she steadily declined into a sulking depression. Joyce told Tory that Leah had dropped by the clinic and asked about her. Leah had her cell number. Why hadn’t she phoned? Would she call before she left town permanently?

  Tory sulked over Leah’s silence as she ate lunch with her family after dutifully taking her mother to Mass on Sunday. She shoved her food around her plate while her brother went on and on about the stupid video game he was designing. He was really getting on her nerves.

  “When do you plan to stop playing video games and start selling them?” she finally growled.

  “What do you care?” David reached for another helping of mashed potatoes. “I’ve been keeping your stupid grass cut and the clinic barn clean.”

  She glowered at him. “I care because you need to grow up and quit mooching off our parents. Who’s going to take care of them when you’ve eaten up their retirement savings? Have you offered them any of the money I’ve paid you to help with the groceries you’ve been consuming around here, you pig?”

  “Tory, for heaven’s sake, you haven’t said one civil word all morning,” Alma said. “Whatever you’re sulking about isn’t David’s fault.”

  She glared at her mother. “I’m not sulking.”

  “Maybe she’s PMSing,” David taunted.

  “I am not, you lazy little shit.”

  “Victoria Greyson. You will not use profanity at my table.”

  “Yeah,” David chimed in. “And on Sunday, too.”

  “Especially on Sunday,” Alma confirmed.

  Tory stood up. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m not very good company today.” She kissed her mother on the cheek before turning to leave. “Thanks for lunch.”

  *

  Tory didn’t really want to go home. She’d been holed up there all weekend, staring at the dishes in the sink and laundry piled on the floor. She didn’t have the energy for chores.

  She thought about visiting MG, but decided against it. What if she ran into Leah there? She also considered going to the clinic to sift through paperwork. In the end, she turned her truck toward the equestrian center. Even though she didn’t want to see Leah, she still longed for some type of contact, and that connection was Long Shot.

  She parked her truck at Creek Barn and headed out into the pasture to find the mare. The summer heat had already begun to abate, giving way to the milder temperatures of Indian summer. Normally Tory loved this time of year. But today, she resented the brightly shining sun that clashed with her dark mood.

  The pasture spread across ten acres, with a line of trees clustered along a creek that subdivided it. Tory had to hike down to the trees to find the small group of five horses making use of the sunny slope on the other side for an afternoon snooze. Despite her mood, she had to chuckle at the scene before her.

  Even in the safest of settings, one horse instinctively stands watch while the others stretch out on the ground for a nap. Comically, the small, but hugely pregnant Long Shot was guarding four very tall Hanoverians and Thoroughbreds. Another of life’s confusing contradictions?

  Why did nature bless Long Shot with the coloring that should have ensured her a place in the wild herd of Chincoteague, only to spoil it with a club-foot gene?

  Why did Tory want to be with Leah so badly, when she could easily have had Bridgette as a lover?

  Why did Skyler do everything wrong in her life, but still find her ultimate happiness with Jessica? Tory did everything right—ran a good business, took her mother to Mass every Sunday, was always a steadfast, forgiving friend. So where was her reward?

  She sighed as she rested her eyes on Long Shot. Seeing the mare brought back the weekend at Chincoteague like it was only hours ago. She could feel Leah’s arms holding her while the ocean breeze whipped around them. She could see Leah’s delight at the ponies churning up the surf just before they plunged into the channel. And despite her gloom, she had to smile at the memory of sliding her fingers into the back pockets of Leah’s jeans and bracing herself as a counterbalance when Leah stretched out over the water from the ferry’s railing to photograph the ponies as they swam.

  “Hey, Tor, I’ve been looking for you.”

  Tory jumped slightly at Skyler’s voice behind her. “Christ. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

  Skyler looked at Tory oddly, as if gauging her grumpy mood. “Checking on Long Shot?”

  At the sound of their voices, the horses woke and rose to their feet. They associated Skyler with feeding time and began to head over. Long Shot hung back, then plodded after the others when Kate’s big mare, Summer, paused and looked for her as though beckoning.

  Tory shrugged. “I haven’t been by in a while, so I thought I should.” She started toward the mare, but Long Shot shied away and moved to put Summer between her and Tory. “Stubborn little ass. I don’t know why I bother with you.” Tory gave up on her and turned back to Skyler.

  “Leah’s been by several times. The mare seems to like her. Follows her around like a puppy.
I think they’ve really bonded.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Leah’s leaving soon.”

  “Leaving?”

  “Yeah. Her grandmother’s moving out to MG’s place, and Leah has a buyer for the farm. She’s got a job offer, too. In D.C., I think.”

  “Sorry to hear that. You’re kind of hung up on her, aren’t you?”

  “Jesus. No,” Tory lied. “I’m just kind of pissed that because of her, I’m stuck with this horse that doesn’t even like me.”

  “Well, shit. Women. You just have to learn to stand up to them, buddy.”

  Tory snorted. She was glad to turn the conversation away from herself. “Yeah, like you don’t do everything Jess tells you.”

  “I don’t.” Skyler punched Tory playfully on the arm.

  “I seem to remember you bitching last month because she persuaded you to get up in front of that women’s club to talk about your equestrian program. I know how much you like speaking in front of a bunch of people.”

  “Oh, that.”

  “Yeah, that. I’m betting you’d have stood up there naked if Jess begged you to.”

  Skyler laughed. “You’re probably right. I don’t have much defense when it comes to her.”

  “So, why were you looking for me?”

  “Huh?”

  “You said you were looking for me.”

  “Oh, yeah. I was wondering if you could give the chestnut a ride while I watch. It’s hard to judge his form if I’m riding. I need to see what he looks like from the ground.”

  “Sure, why not.” Tory was relieved. This was just what she needed. At a time when she felt like her life had taken a very wrong turn, she welcomed a few hours when she was back in control, putting the young stallion through his paces.

  They had been working in the outdoor arena for almost an hour when she noticed Jessica waving from the house. It took a moment for her to realize it was her, not Skyler, Jessica was beckoning. She cantered the chestnut the length of the arena and trotted to a stop.

  “You need to go over to the Montgomery farm right now,” Jessica said, without preamble.

  Tory’s stomach tightened. “Is Leah okay?” Christ, what was she thinking? Leah could take care of herself. “Is Mrs. Montgomery missing again? I’ll need to call MG.”

  Jessica waved off her questions. “It’s Nighty. Leah said you aren’t answering your pager.”

  “My pager’s at home because I’m not on call this weekend. Rob is. The answering service should have told her that.”

  “She doesn’t want Rob, she wants you.”

  Should she ride to Leah’s rescue once again? She wanted to, very badly. But seeing Leah would be like rubbing salt in an open wound. She really needed to stay away from her.

  Skyler was looking at Tory expectantly. “You want me to tag along?”

  Tory shook her head. “No. I better go by myself.”

  “Then I’ll take care of cooling him down. You head on out.”

  Tory nodded and dismounted. “Thanks. I’ll see you guys later.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Tory barely had time to put the truck in park before Leah was at her door, opening it for her to get out.

  “Thank God you’re here,” she said, the fear evident on her face. “I didn’t know what to do. I can’t get him up. You’ve got to hurry. I was afraid to leave him in case it’s colic. He could roll and twist an intestine.”

  Tory grasped Leah’s shoulders and held her firmly. It worried her that Leah was pale and trembling. “Calm down and start from the beginning.”

  Leah took a deep breath. “He was gone when I went out to feed him this morning. I don’t know how he did it, but a couple of the old boards on his stall were pushed out. I looked everywhere and finally found him on the other side of the pasture. I didn’t see him before because he’s lying down. He’s all sweated like he may be trying to colic. I tried to make him stand so I could lead him back to the barn and call you, but I can’t.”

  “Is he in a place where I can get the truck close? It’ll be better if I can drive my equipment down there where he is.”

  Leah nodded. “It’s just open pasture.”

  Tory glanced up toward the house. Depending on the problem, they could be in the pasture for hours. “Where’s your grandmother?”

  “She’s all moved in with MG.”

  “Okay, good. Open the gate for me, then hop in and show me where he is.”

  Leah closed the gate after Tory drove through, then ran to the passenger side and climbed into the truck. She pointed toward a large hill to their left. “On the other side of that rise.”

  The pasture was freshly mowed, but Tory drove cautiously in case the grass was hiding a deep trench or sinkhole. When they topped the hill, she could see Nighty lying on his side and pulled the truck within a few feet. She didn’t have to get out to see the streaks of sweat dampening his dark hide. He was in considerable pain.

  Leah rushed to where the pony lay, while Tory opened the back of her truck and quickly filled a syringe with painkiller. This would help, no matter what was wrong with him.

  Leah was stroking Nighty’s wet neck, murmuring softly to him. “It’ll be okay, boy. Tory’s here. She’ll make you feel better.” She watched Tory inject the medicine in his neck. “What’s that?”

  “Banamine. It’ll help him feel better while I figure out what’s wrong.” Colic could produce painful bloating that could cause a horse’s bowel to twist or stomach to burst. The mild cases could be treated with fluids and mineral oils to loosen any impaction. The serious cases could require surgery. Sometimes, colic could be swift and deadly.

  His gums were pale, indicating he could be going into shock. Tory checked his temperature and used her stethoscope to listen to his bowel sounds. This didn’t feel like a colic case. She ran her hands down his legs, feeling the heat of inflammation when she reached the fetlocks. Nighty grunted and made a weak attempt to pull away when she touched the soft bottom of his right hoof. When she ran her hand under his left hoof, it came away bloody. She looked up into Leah’s stricken eyes and shook her head.

  Leah pressed her lips together before choking out her last hope. “Does he have something stuck in his foot?”

  Tory shook her head again, steeling herself against the pain she knew her diagnosis was about to inflict. “The coffin bones in both feet have rotated down so far I don’t need an X-ray to diagnose the problem. The left one has already broken through the bottom of his foot. That’s what’s bleeding.”

  “What…what can we do?”

  Tory stood and looked at Nighty’s blood covering her hand, thinking she should get a cloth from the truck to wipe it off. “He’s in a lot of pain, Leah. He won’t get better. I need to put him down.”

  “Oh, Tory, no!”

  Tory walked to the back of the truck and measured out the dosages she would need. The first injection would be an anesthetic to slip him into a deep slumber. The second would stop his heart. It was never easy to deliver this kind of message, but having to tell Leah produced a searing pain she thought would stop her own heart.

  Leah was on her knees, bent over Nighty and sobbing into his neck.

  Tory knelt beside her. “He’s suffering, sweetheart. You don’t want him to suffer, do you?”

  Leah sat back and shook her head, still sobbing.

  “We have to do this for him,” Tory said gently.

  Leah nodded.

  Tory explained the injections, and Leah moved aside to give her access to the large neck vein. She moved to Nighty’s head and gently kissed his face as Tory pushed the plunger on the anesthetic. Nighty’s body relaxed as his pain drained away, then Tory switched syringes and injected the drug that stopped Dark Night’s noble heart.

  Tory listened for a moment with her stethoscope to be sure, then stood and helped Leah to her feet. “Come on, baby, he’s gone,” she said softly, taking Leah in her arms. Silent tears trickled down Tory’s cheeks as Leah clung to her and sobbed like her
heart would break. When her sobs slowed to hitching sniffles, Tory guided her into the truck and handed her a box of tissues. She pulled a large tarp from the backseat and covered Nighty’s body, then climbed into the truck and drove slowly back to the house.

  She parked the truck and walked around to open Leah’s door, led her to the front porch, and seated her in one of the rocking chairs. “I’ll be right back.”

  When Leah started to protest, Tory pressed her back down into the chair. “I need to make a call, and then I’ll get us a beer.”

  “Grab something stronger out of the cabinet over the stove,” Leah said, her voice dull.

  Tory called a local contractor to send someone immediately with a backhoe to dig a hole large enough to bury the pony. Then she rummaged in the liquor stash and pulled out a half-full bottle of tequila and some shot glasses. She found a tray and loaded it with the liquor, some lime slices from the refrigerator, a shaker of salt, and a couple of cold beers for a chaser.

  When she returned to the porch, she opened a beer and handed it to Leah. Then she poured two shots of tequila. She reached for Leah’s hand that wasn’t holding the beer, lifted it to her mouth, and licked it, drawing a surprised gasp. Smiling, she sprinkled a trail of salt on the spot dampened by her tongue and handed Leah a tequila shot. After she prepared her own hand in the same fashion, she held her tequila aloft. “To Nighty, the best pony a kid could ever have.”

  Leah choked back a sob before following Tory’s lead. They each licked the salt, tossed back the shots, and grabbed a lime slice to suck on.

  Tory took a long swig of her beer and indicated for Leah to do the same, then she spoke. “We’re here to celebrate the life of a dear friend. We’re going to drink and cry and laugh while you tell me everything about Nighty. Start with how you met, tell me your favorite moments with him, and even the things he did to piss you off.”

  Leah laughed through her tears. “You’re crazy, you know.”

  “Not really. The day I buried the terrier I’d had at my side for sixteen years, Skyler brought over the tequila and made me talk through it. It really does help.”