Golden Filly Collection One (45 page)
Trish kept watch until the red taillights turned in the direction of town. Caesar whined at her feet. “Come on in.” She slapped her leg. “You can keep me company.”
The room seemed huge with everyone gone. She blew out one lamp and climbed back into her sleeping bag. The sofa would be more comfortable, but the bag was closer to the fire. Caesar stretched himself beside her, his head on the sleeping bag, assuring Trish she was not alone.
“I don’t know, old boy,” she whispered. “I just don’t know.”
All she could think was
Please, please, please take care of my dad.
As she finally drifted off to sleep, their theme song floated through her mind.
Ah, yes, eagle’s wings. You promised eagle’s wings. And my dad really needs them—right now.
David hadn’t returned by the time the alarm went off. Bleary-eyed, Trish poked the remaining coals with the iron log turner and laid a small chunk of wood on the resurging flames. Eyes closed, she drowsed in front of the open doors. When the wood started to snap, she laid on two large chunks and crawled back into her sleeping bag.
The chill had already seeped back into the room, so she shivered as she scrunched down and pulled the edge of the bag over her head. But the chill wasn’t just in the room. The
please, please
rampaged through her head.
The wind whistled and groaned around the corners of the house, pleading at the windows for entry. Caesar snuggled closer. It felt like forever before Trish fell asleep again.
“You let the fire go out!” David’s voice snatched away her sleepiness.
Trish sat up, but as soon as her nose felt the temperature of the room, she pulled her sleeping bag up with her. Daylight had lightened the room to gray. It was still early.
“How’s Dad?”
“They’re keeping him there.” David knelt in front of the fireplace, poking and prodding the logs in search of live coals. “He was able to breathe better as soon as they gave him a shot. There.” A small flame flared around the edges of the crumbling log. He added some kindling from the basket and a couple of small pieces of cedar.
Trish wrinkled her nose as a puff of wind blew smoke out into the room. “Did they say what was wrong?”
“They think bronchitis, maybe pneumonia again. Anyway, he’s better off there where he can stay warm and eat right. I take it the lights haven’t come back on?”
Trish shrugged. “The heat didn’t, so I guess not.”
“Well, let’s get going. I stopped for water so we can get the chores done. Then I’ve gotta get the new generator and see how badly we’re frozen up.” David leaned his forehead on his fist as he sat on the hearth. His shoulders slumped. When Caesar shoved his nose into the other hand, David stroked the dog’s head. It was an automatic reaction, but Trish could tell her brother was far away in his mind.
“David?” When there was no answer, Trish disengaged herself from the sleeping bag and reached up to touch his hand. “Is Dad worse than you’re telling me?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. He’s so sick again. It just doesn’t look good.” David swallowed and rubbed his eyes. He turned to poke the fire one more time. As the flames danced higher, they glinted on a tear at the corner of his eye. He pushed himself to his feet.
“Come on, Caesar, time for you to go outside. Hustle, Tee.” He let the dog out then headed down the hall to the bathroom.
Trish wrapped both arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees.
Dad’s gotta get better. Please, God, he’s gotta get well. I need my dad!
She stared into the flames, scenes from the last few days fast-forwarding through her mind. The Christmas Eve service, opening presents Christmas morning, her dad sick from the treatment, the sound of his fight to breathe.
“No! He’s going to get well again. Heavenly Father, please.” She rubbed her eyes hard with her fists. “This is no different than any other time he’s been in the hospital. All I have to do is keep on going.”
And keep on praying,
her little voice reminded her.
How are we ever gonna do it all?
Trish wondered as she pulled on her cold jeans and sweater. She’d slept in her long johns and wool socks to make dressing easier. When would she get to wash her hair again? she wondered. Or take a shower? When would they
finally
have electricity again?
She turned on the portable radio. “…still have power outages over much of North Portland and Clark County. Crews are working around the clock to restore power.”
“Tell me something I didn’t know.”
“Some schools are open for emergency housing for those that need assistance.” A list of schools followed.
“Well, at least I could go for a shower.” Trish tugged on her boots.
“But people are encouraged to stay off the roads. Only drive if it is an absolute necessity.”
“My hair is becoming a necessity.”
“How about filling the teakettle before you leave?” David strode through the living room and out the door.
“Do you mind if I go to the bathroom first?” Trish grumbled. “And maybe brush my teeth?”
Only the wind answered her, and its whine made her want to crawl back into the sleeping bag.
By the time the animals were fed and watered, Trish was more than ready to return to the house. Her nose felt about frozen off. She carefully checked the mare that was due to foal. They’d moved her into the big box stall when the weather turned bad. The mare attacked her feed and drank deeply when Trish filled the bucket.
“Good girl.” Trish stroked down the horse’s neck and over her belly. Right in front of the mare’s warm flank, Trish felt the foal kick. She held her hand firm but didn’t feel it again. “Impatient, aren’t you, little one?” She could feel the grin that creased her face. What a thrill to feel that yet-to-be-born life. “But you take your time, you hear? You’re not due for another ten days, so hang in there.” She patted the mare once more and left the stall.
She gave Miss Tee and her mother extra grain for a treat and hugged the little filly close. Miss Tee sniffed Trish’s face and whiskered her cheek. “I’ll be back to clean your stall.” Trish stroked the satiny nose and tickled the whiskery place on the filly’s muzzle. “You be good.”
Miss Tee nodded. Her tiny ears pricked forward as she watched Trish latch the stall door. A baby nicker followed Trish out the door. The nicker was much friendlier than the biting wind.
As soon as they had eaten their cereal, David left for Battle Ground to pick up a generator at the co-op. Just as Trish was getting into her coat, the phone rang.
“Hallelujah!” Trish bounded into the kitchen. “Runnin’ On Farm.”
“Hi, Trish.”
“Brad, what’s happening?…You too, huh? We figured that when you didn’t show up yesterday.”
“What’s going on there?”
Trish caught Brad up on the events of the previous day and night. “So how about I call you when David gets back. That is, if you’re sure you can come help.”
“I’ll be over in a few minutes. Except for no power, everything’s okay here.”
Trish hung up the phone, a warm, fuzzy feeling in her midsection. It sure was good to have friends who just volunteered when you needed help.
She had four horses clipped to the hot walker by the time Brad got down to the stable. “Shoulda just walked,” Brad said as he grabbed a pitchfork. “Almost ended up in the ditch turning into your driveway. I’ve never seen the roads like this.”
“Yeah, David said it was bad, and he has chains and weight in the back of the pickup.”
“You aren’t going to work any of them, are you?”
“No. Just the hot walker. If it warms up some, I think I’ll let them out in the pasture.” Trish pitched straw and manure out the stall door as she talked. Steam rose from the pungent pile.
Caesar’s barking drew her attention to the house. Two camper pickups were following David up the driveway. “Who do you suppose that is?”
C
uriosity may have killed the cat, but it made Trish stick her fork in the manure pile and trot up to the pump house, where all three vehicles had parked.
As David climbed from the cab of the farm pickup, four people slammed doors on theirs.
“We heard you needed help.” A burly man tipped his hat back and extended his hand.
“Mr. Benson, Fred.” David shook hands with the four guests. “How did you…I mean…why are…?”
“Don’t be surprised, son,” Frank Johnson said. “Pastor called and when he told me your situation, why, I figured you could use some extra hands. And places to heat water so we can thaw those pipes out.” He pointed to the campers. “You know your dad’s always been the first to help when needed, so we’d kinda like to pay him back.”
“You don’t mind, do you?” Benson asked.
“Why no, I…”
Trish could tell David was embarrassed as all get out. She blinked her eyes a couple of times. Who’d want frozen eyelashes?
“Good to see you, Trish.” Frank Johnson smiled at her. “Hear you’ve been doing real well riding the ponies. We’re real proud of you, you know. Just like one of our own kids, since we’ve known you all your growing-up years.”
“Thank you.” Trish could feel the blush staining her cheeks even redder than the cold had. “Well, uh, I’ve gotta get back to the barn. Thanks for coming.” She hesitated only to watch two men pull the new red generator off the truck bed and carry it over to the pump house. “Wow! Who’dve thought today’d be like this?”
Well, you asked for help, didn’t you?
her nagger chuckled gleefully in her ear.
All the stalls were clean and horses groomed when one of the men came down to the barn. “We’ve got lunch up at the house. You hungry?”
Trish and Brad looked at each other. “Sure,” she said.
“My wife figured you’d be about tired of hot dogs by now so she put a hot dish in the oven and salad in the fridge. Those campers come in handy when the power goes out.”
Trish heard the chuckle in her ear again.
The women had even sent over paper plates and plastic forks. With the fire roaring in the fireplace and seven people laughing and talking, the house seemed almost like normal. Trish passed around the cake someone had sent for dessert and refilled coffee cups from a thermos. They’d thought of everything.
“Did you pick up the sleeping bags and stuff?” she asked David under cover of someone’s joke.
“Yeah, when I came up to take care of the fire.”
“Good.” Trish breathed a sigh of relief. When she’d left the house the living room looked like a bunch of third graders had had a sleepover.
“Can you believe these guys? They’ve got the generator running and the pump thawed out. Now we’ve gotta find where the lines are frozen.”
David seemed like a different person than the one Trish had known early that morning. She was glad to see the load lifted off his shoulders for a while.
When all the men went back to work, Trish carried the phone into the living room and closed the kitchen door again to keep the heat in. Holding the receiver to her ear was like wearing an ice pack. She dialed the hospital and asked for Hal Evanston’s room.
“Where can they be?” she muttered after the third ring. “Come on, answer.” After the sixth ring, the operator broke in.
“There doesn’t seem to be any answer.”
How’d you ever guess?
Trish almost said aloud. Instead of screaming “Where’s my dad?” like she wanted to, she bit her lip and said politely, “That’s my father’s room. Do you have any idea where he might be?” Her stomach clenched like it did just before the starting gate opened.
“Not for sure, but he could be down in X-ray. Can I leave him a message?”
“Please tell him or my mom that Trish called. We have a phone again but no lights yet. I’ll call again later. Thank you.” Trish clunked the phone back on the cradle.
What is going on there? Is Dad worse? Where’s Mom?
Her thoughts still at the hospital, Trish went out to the back deck to bring in wood for the fireplace. She brought in three loads before brushing the bark and sawdust off her sweater. She was just closing the glass fireplace doors when the phone rang.
“Dad?” She clutched the receiver to her ear.
“No, silly. It’s Rhonda. What’s the matter?”
“Dad’s back in the hospital, and when I called they didn’t know where he was.” Trish slumped against the wall and slid to the floor.
