Nothing But Horses

by Shannon Kennedy

  “Lots of treats,” Tom said, “I’ll make sure to give him lots of treats. No wonder you have lists of people you want to Gibbs slap.” He handed Nevada another carrot. “Nobody ever did that with this guy, did they?”

  “We raised him from a baby and no one even tried. The heck with the horse, beware of his owner. If you think I’m fierce about him, my mother started his training when he was foaled. She may act mellow, but don’t believe it.”

  “I never would. She raised you, didn’t she? And I’m sure you stomped around like Autumn and bossed everyone.”

  “Don’t tell the kid, but I was much bossier.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you were.”

  I flicked him another glance, but he wasn’t trying to be obnoxious. He sounded respectful, awe-struck even. “It doesn’t bother you. Why not?”

  “I admire strong women,” Tom said, slowly. “I wasn’t raised by one. It’s just that if some guy told your mom that she had to choose him over her kids, she’d throw his sorry backside out on the street. I can see you doing the same thing. It’s impressive.”

  I nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. And you’ve given me something to think about.”

  “I have? What?”

  “I never realized before that when my stepdads left, my mom probably sent them.”

  Tom didn’t say anything about that. He just hauled my saddle and pads off to the tack-room while I started grooming Nevada. A few minutes later, Tom returned. He picked up a brush and began brushing the right side. He didn’t rush off when we finished with my horse. Instead, he stayed to help with evening chores. Some girls might not be thrilled with a guy who willing to clean stalls and dump muck tubs, but what did they know? It meant that I finished up my barn in less than two hours. I still had enough energy to play fetch with Charlie, a tail-wagging good time.

  It surprised me that Tom didn’t try to kiss me when I walked him to his car after dinner. He tugged on my braid and promised to see me at school. Then, he was gone. I wondered what I should do. Was I supposed to make a move on him? When or how? It didn’t feel comfortable, not after we’d spent so much time pitching horse poop.

  I decided to let it wait. I’d give him another week. If he still didn’t kiss me, I’d talk to my friends. I couldn’t bring it up with my mother, not after telling her for ages that I never planned to date anyone. Of course, I hadn’t connected with Tom before. And I knew he liked me. He really liked me or he wouldn’t want to take me to the Spring Fling in a couple weeks.

  * * * *

  Shamrock Stable, Washington

  Wednesday, February 5th, 2:45 pm

  Our basketball practices had been intense for the last two days. We were definitely going to be ready when Centennial Mid-High arrived tomorrow afternoon. The last bell rang. I snagged my sports bag and backpack, heading from the choir room toward the gym.

  Halfway down the hall, Robin caught up with me. She grabbed my arm. “You’ve got to come home with me. Now!”

  “What? Why?”

  “Twaziem colicked. Dr. Larry is out of town at a conference. My dad will be here in five minutes. Come on!”

  “Time out.” I made a “T” with my hands. “How do you know?”

  “My mom just called. She’s walking him. He’s in major stress.”

  Robin pulled me in the direction of the main doors. “I need you. Come on!”

  “Hold up. I’ve got to tell Coach.” I wrenched free. “Call Dr. Cathy Tiernan. See if you can get her or one of the other veterinarians from the Pine Ridge clinic. Then, call your dad back. Tell him to stop by the nearest pharmacy. I need applesauce and gas reliever tablets. Generic simethicone, not another drug. I’m going to crush some pills and mix them with the applesauce. If you don’t have a big plastic syringe for me to paste Twaz with it, tell your dad to buy one.”

  “Okay.” Robin took a deep breath, pulled out her cell phone. “Mom always keeps mineral oil on hand. She says she’s dosed him with the muscle relaxants that Dr. Larry left, but it’s not working. Twaz is down and she’s desperate.”

  “Banamine may not work on gas colic,” I said. “Or she may need to give it more time. Call and tell her not to let him roll. We won’t know what’s happening until we’re in the barn. You make like ET in that old movie and “phone home.” I’ll be right back.”

  Leaving Robin in the hall, I hurried to the gym. I spotted Coach Norris pulling equipment out of the storage closet. “Coach, I can’t practice today.”

  “What are you saying? We have a big game tomorrow.”

  “I know and I’ll be here for it.” I stopped, remembering that colic was a number one horse killer and it could last anywhere from two to seventy-two hours. “Okay, let me rephrase. I will do my best to be here. Robin’s horse has colic and I have to go.”

  “Oh, are you a doctor now?”

  “No, I’m a horse trainer and I don’t have time to placate you or do the stupid game where I make you think this is all your idea.” I planted my fists on my hips and met him glare for glare. “You want that girly crap, get it from someone else. Here’s the deal. Robin’s rescue horse is dying. I can save him. That’s what I do. When stuff happens, I step up.”

  “Yeah, well you’re a kid. Leave it to the adults.”

  “What adults?” I demanded. “The ones coming to get Robin because their veterinarian is out of town? The ones thinking they can depend on me because I’ve been helping rehab this horse for months? The ones who trust me when you don’t and never will?”

  I didn’t have any more time to fight with him. Either he got it, or he didn’t. Since this was life and death, I had to go. I ran for the door, ignoring him when he called my name. Olivia was about to enter the locker room. She swung around when she heard my footsteps. “I have to go. Robin’s horse colicked. He’s down and the Gibsons are desperate.”

  “Okay. You go. I’ll bring up a crew to walk him after practice. Call and let us know if he rallies and you don’t need us. If you lose him, we’ll help dig the grave.”

  “Thanks.” Before Olivia stepped away, I hugged her. Then, I bolted for the front doors of the school. Robin paced back and forth while she talked. I saw Jack coming from the far side of the school, Bill right behind him, Harry a not too distant third. Obviously, Jack had arranged to miss his basketball practice to help save his sister’s horse and his friends intended to help too.

  Tears burned, but I didn’t let them fall. Why did Jack get to have a human being for a coach? Why couldn’t I?

  Tom saw me. He waved, then jogged across the parking lot. He put an arm around my shoulders. “Jack brought me up to speed. I called my boss and he said that I could have tonight off and work Saturday night instead. What do you want me to do? How can I help?”

  “Stop by your place. Grab some jeans and your boots. We’re probably going to be walking this horse for hours,” I said. “That’s what it takes with him.”

  “You got it.” Tom dropped a kiss on my forehead. “You’re a class act, Sierra McElroy. Not many girls would drop everything to help their friend.”

  “Hey, if it was Nevada, Robin would be there for me,” I said.

  She ended her call and I turned to face her. “I’m heading for your place right now. Make sure your dad has what I need and I’ll see you there. Okay?”

  “You’re the best. Thanks, Sierra.”

  “No worries. This is what I do.” I headed for my Subaru.

  * * * *

  When I arrived at their home, I found Robin’s mother, Maura Gibson in the indoor arena. She struggled to lead Twaziem forward. A golden bay gelding, he’d gained almost four hundred pounds since Robin saved him last September. He stopped, dragged back on the rope. Maura wiped the sweat off her face and tried again.

  I walked into the ring, took the lead line from her. “My turn. Did Felicia leave any of her dressage whips here?”

  “In the tack-room.” Maura lifted her chin. “I don’t believe in hitting horses, especially sick ones.”

&nb
sp; “I don’t either in normal circumstances. However, if we let him go down and roll, he’ll twist his intestines until they rupture. Go get me a whip. I won’t use it unless it’s absolutely required.”

  While she was gone, I stepped up next to Twaziem’s left side. I clicked my tongue, tugged gently on the rope, my version of asking him nicely to walk beside me. He balked.

  “Not a good choice,” I told him in a low voice. “When I’ve had a crapacious day, I don’t recommend messing with me. Nevada will tell you it never works. Now, walk on!”

  He backed up. His knees buckled. Maura wasn’t in sight, so before he dropped onto the ground and tried to roll, I whacked him with the end of the lead. He tossed his head, snorted, and then trotted three steps.

  “A much better choice.” I petted his brown neck. “Let’s start walking, bubba. We’ll trot again in a few minutes.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Marysville, Washington

  Wednesday, February 5th, 3:30 pm

  By the time that Robin arrived with her dad and the rest of the troops, I’d sent Maura to the house to mix up mineral oil, molasses and water. I told Jack and Bill to tack up Jack’s horse so I could pony Twaziem. Robin was on a turd counting mission in Twaz’s stall. I assigned Robin’s dad, John to call my mom and learn everything he could about the training session Twaziem had with her this morning. I didn’t think it was stress induced colic. My mother usually did low-impact, natural training and horses normally didn’t have adverse reactions. This guy tended to bolt his food most of the time and that could cause indigestion.

  “My turn to keep him moving.” Vicky walked beside us. “I’ve been teaching him to longe. I’ll get the line and do that while you go mix up simethicone and applesauce.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” I glanced at Tom while she headed off to the tack-room. “Okay, do you want to walk him until she gets back?”

  “Sure, but what’s going on with him? Why is colic such an emergency in horses?”

  Once upon a time, I probably would have yelled at him for being stupid, but he wasn’t. He actually didn’t know why this horse was in such dire straits. Yet, Tom rearranged his schedule and showed up to help.

  “Okay, first things first,” I said and kept walking Twaziem. “Because of their body structure, horses can’t throw up. You can look up pictures on the Internet that show their internal organs, but that’s a scientific fact. So, whatever they eat has to pass through their digestive system. And they eat constantly because they’re so big and their stomachs are so small. When things go wrong, the food may cause a blockage and they can’t poop.”

  “Can’t you clear that out?”

  “Yes, I can. But, a vet does it better. One should be on the way from the other local clinic. If she doesn’t arrive soon, I’ll get a plastic bread sack and shortening from Maura. I’ll stick my arm up his backside and clean him out.”

  “No way.” Tom stared at me as if I had just landed from a space-ship. “You can do that?”

  “Yes.” I felt heat warm my face. Luckily or unluckily, Twaziem tugged on the rope and started to go down. “He’s cramping.” I hauled on the lead. “Come on. Tom, help me. Pull.”

  His hands closed on the line next to mine and we hauled on Twaziem’s head in a weird game of tug of war. Between the two of us, we got Twaziem walking again. I handed the line to Tom when John approached. “See if you can get him to trot beside you. It will bounce his gut and he may fart. That’s good too, especially since I think we’re dealing with gas colic.”

  “You got it.” Tom went off with the horse, circling the ring. Twaziem trotted sluggishly beside the big, blond guy.

  “What did my mom say?” I kept part of my attention on the horse, glancing sideways at John. “Did he seem off during the session this morning?”

  “No. She groomed him, saddled up and did long line driving. He worked at a walk and trot and learned to keep going forward instead of stopping to poop. She said that Maura had her look at the hay we bought from a new dealer. It’s a good alfalfa and timothy mix. The grass was really nice, no toxic weeds and the alfalfa smelled fresh, not musty.”

  “He undoubtedly ate too fast again,” I said. “That can happen when an animal has been starved. He thinks if he doesn’t rush through his food, he’ll lose out. Some human will steal the food or another animal will.”

  “Any suggestions?” John stood next to me and we watched Twaziem jog around the arena. “What if we divide up his meals? Jack could give him a flake of hay for breakfast, then Robin could slide down here right before we leave for town and give him the second one. We could do the same thing for lunch and supper, spread out his meals so he has food in the manger all the time.”

  “That may work, but don’t count on it as a guaranty. Remember, he colicked several times right after Robin brought him home. Still I’d definitely try it.” I smiled at Robin when she came back to us. “Okay, what’s the poop report?”

  She told me, describing not only the number of turds, but the consistency. Hey, who said horse people didn’t have exciting lives? I helped get Vicky started on longeing Twaziem and then went up to the house to mix up the gas reliever tablets and applesauce.

  When I walked in, Maura was on the land line. “Rocky, I don’t know what we’d do without Sierra. Now, maybe she doesn’t have the world’s greatest bedside manner, but she’s a kid. Mine aren’t afraid to say what they think. And believe me, if this horse lives, I will have time tomorrow to deal with that stupid teacher. If we lose Twaziem, I’ll call Coach Norris and tell him to bring his own shovel and help us bury him along with Robin’s heart.”

  My mother must have had something to say because Maura waved at me and listened, receiver to her ear. Then she said, “Okay, I’ll keep you posted. If we need reinforcements tonight, I’ll call.”

  Once she hung up, Maura turned to me. “I would have been down sooner with the mineral oil cocktail, but your mom needed to talk to me.”

  “We’re fine. Vicky’s longeing Twaz.” I held up the paper sack from the pharmacy. “Let me show you how to do this. Do you have a hammer and cutting board? I need wax paper and applesauce.”

  I showed Maura how to read the label and guess-timate how much to give a horse using the dosage chart on the box. If a grown man could have one or two pills, then we multiplied to figure out how much to give Twaziem who weighed almost a thousand pounds now. I folded six tablets into the wax paper and beat them into pink powder with the hammer. “You can also dissolve the tablets in boiling water, but Rocky and I decided not to nuke them in the microwave because we worried that might do something to the chemical make-up.”

  “How do you know this works?” Maura asked. “I’ve never seen anyone feed gas reliever to a horse.”

  “We used it on Luchenbach, Nevada’s mom when she colicked three years ago and darn near died on us. Believe me when she goes down, it’s like trying to get a mountain up on her hooves and we didn’t want to dig a pit for a Belgian cross. It’d be different if we had a backhoe or a bulldozer, but we can’t dig with the garden tractor. It would have meant digging forever with shovels. Dr. Larry said that simethicone couldn’t hurt Luchenbach. We mixed it in applesauce and water so I could get it in the syringe and paste her with it.”

  Maura pried the lid off the jar of homemade applesauce. “What did Rocky do while you pasted Luke?”

  “Held her head still so Luke couldn’t spit like a llama. That horse has some major issues when it comes to deworming and any kind of oral meds. Luckily she thinks that Rocky is bigger than she is.”

  Maura didn’t laugh, but she managed to smile. I’d have to work a bit harder on my delivery. Like Grandma always said, we needed to do psychological first-aid on the owners at the same time that we helped the horses. Otherwise, we had more than a four-legged patient.

  Carrying the mineral oil cocktail, Maura walked beside me toward the barn. “I appreciate you coming so quickly, Sierra. I never intended to mess up your basketball prac
tice.”

  “It’s a game,” I said. “This is a life or death situation. I couldn’t live with myself if Twaziem died while I bounced a silly ball around a gym. I’m glad you called for help.”

  “I meant what I told your mom. Once Twaziem is back to horsy normal, I’ll help you.”

  A tear slipped down my cheek and I bit my lip hard. “I appreciate it, Maura, but there’s nothing anyone can do. I yelled at Coach and ran out of practice. He has to kick me off the squad, although he may let me off with a warning and bench me for the next game.” Another tear and I wiped impatiently at my leaky eyes. “It’s worth it as long as we save Twaz.”

  “And you.” She put an arm around my shoulders. “We’re saving you too. If adults like me and John can ask for help when we need it, you can too. I’m not weak and neither are you. Do you want me and John to run interference?”

  She made all kinds of sense and I nodded. “Yes, please. Asking for help is new to me. I’ve never done it before.”

  “Don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt as much as when your horse steps on your foot, or kicks you, or bucks you off into a barbed wire fence, or gives you flying lessons to the moon.” Maura grinned at me and opened the barn door.

  During the next three hours, Dr. Cathy called three or four times and checked in with us. She was dealing with another colicked horse on the far side of Pine Ridge and didn’t know how long it was going to take to save the day and the horse there. Her partner had gone to Pullman for the same veterinary conference that Dr. Larry had.

  We managed to get most of the mineral oil down Twaziem’s throat. He’d had one dose of simethicone and applesauce. We still didn’t have any gut sounds and that meant he had a major impaction blocking his digestive system.

  Finally, I put a plastic bread sack over my hand, coated it with shortening and stuck my arm up Twaziem’s rear end. I cleaned out clumps of manure while John and Tom held him still. After that, I told Robin her horse needed a massage and went to the tack-room to bring back a groom kit. Before I came back out, I heard Harry and Tom in the barn aisle.