Shamrock Stable, Washington
Sunday, February 2nd, 1:15 pm
January had felt like a wild and crazy month between the classes at Lincoln High, basketball, Community Theater, the at-risk group and puppy obedience. I’d missed my big red booger horse so after lunch, I headed for the barn and Nevada. He crunched down on carrots while I groomed him. I told him all about Marvella’s Spring Fling. “I’ve checked out their website and watched their trailers like a zillion times. We’re not doing the Roman riding, but I bet we can do some of their other tricks.”
Nevada nuzzled me and I stroked his blazed face. “I know what this affection really means.” I gave him another carrot. “You missed your treats.”
“I think he missed you too.” Dave stopped outside the stall. “Your mom told me about the Spring Fling. You’ll enjoy it.”
“Have you been to it?”
“Not this year. I went to one of their previous shows with an Animal Control officer from King County.”
“How was it?” I started untangling a humongous knot in Nevada’s thick flaxen mane, the kind that my grandfather said was a remnant of a leprechaun riding my horse in the night. “Marvella’s videos on the Internet are incredible.”
“You’ll enjoy the liberty work.” Dave rested his arms on the door and watched me fuss over my horse. “One handler with twenty horses, not a halter or lead in sight.”
“No way. Even the natural horsemanship trainers have halters on the horses.”
“Not these folks,” Dave said. “You’ll have to tell me what you think of them afterwards.”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll be talking about it for months.” My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out to check the text from Robin. “Hang on a sec, Dave. I have to gloat.”
He laughed. “I promised your mom I’d bring down Wyoming for class. Have fun.”
I warmed Nevada up in two classes. I kept him at a walk and trot since we hadn’t done much on Wednesday nights and I hadn’t ridden him the past two Saturdays. Once we finished class, I took him out on the trails for another hour of what I thought of as mud-surfing. Still, it wasn’t a rainy day ride. There were only a few muddy patches that Nevada slogged through, happily splashing in the puddles. He was ready to keep going, but not me. My legs felt like jelly when I led him into the barn.
Tom stood in the aisle. “Hey. I was up for a lesson so thought I’d come see you after I finished. You look wiped. Is everything okay?”
“Are you supposed to say I look exhausted? I thought if a guy liked you, he said you were gorgeous, no matter what. ”
“You are.”
I eyed him. “Okay, now I know you’re pulling my chain. You must be joking. Nevada may not be worn out, but I am. How can I be beautiful and exhausted at the same time?”
“I don’t know, but you manage just fine.”
“All right, enough malarkey as my grandma would say.” I led my horse into the stall. He nudged me and I dug out a carrot. “I need to ride more.”
“Let me know when you add another twenty-four hours to the day. I could use them too.”
I had to smile, especially when Tom came in to help me unsaddle Nevada. “So, tell me about your lesson. How’s Shiloh?”
“I fed her a couple carrots so she wouldn’t hate me. I rode Summertime. It was like, wow. I graduated from an old pickup to a sports car.”
“Tell me about it.”
He did. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard people rave about going from steady mounts to more responsive ones. This was different. Tom was so thrilled at the experience. He talked about barely touching Summertime and getting a trot. “I galloped for the first time. It was like flying. I almost forgot to turn him and Rocky said I had to focus or he’d run into a wall. Was she serious? Would he really?”
“Yeah, Summer is a former show horse and whoever trained him totally broke his will. He has no sense of self-preservation anymore.”
“How did they do that?”
I scratched Nevada’s red neck. “Probably with whips and spurs, lots of beatings, sleep deprivation, lack of food and water. You can torture an animal the same way you torture a person. It sucks and all we can do is pick up the pieces afterwards and try to rehab Summer.”
“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.”
“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.”