Golden Filly Collection One (9 page)

Rhonda snapped her fingers in front of Trish’s eyes. “Hey, Trish, come back. What do you want for lunch?”

“Uh-h, tuna salad, milk, and an apple.” She spotted Doug waving at her from a table in the back. She made a face at Rhonda, paid for her lunch, and carried her tray to the seat Doug had saved for her.

“Hi.” Her smile felt like it was stuck on with Elmer’s Glue.

“Hi, yourself.” He pushed his books out of the way to make room for her.

“Doug, I’d love to go to the party with you, but I can’t,” she blurted.

“I need every minute to train for the Meadows, and staying out late—well, you know how it is.”

“Sounds like your coach is as tough as mine.”

“Tougher. We have a lot of money tied up in these races.”

“Yeah, I know.” Doug nodded. “Maybe some other time?”

“Sure. After the season. It ends in April.” Trish drained her milk. “I gotta rewrite this paper. Thanks for asking me.” She stuffed the apple in her purse and rose to take her tray back.

Doug put his hand on her arm. “I’ll do that.” He looked up at her, his smile wide as the skies. “See you in the winner’s circle. We’ll all be there to watch your race.”

Trish swallowed another lump that clogged her throat.
He is so cool.

“Thanks.”

Trish found a bench outside in the sun and began the rewrite. She corrected a couple of sentences, trying to keep her handwriting legible but still writing as fast as possible. Generally she liked writing. She’d even thought about getting on the school paper staff, but as usual there was no time.

The bell rang, but she only had one more side to copy.

“There’ll be a quiz tomorrow,” the chemistry teacher announced just as the bell rang. “So be prepared. Remember, quizzes total twentyfive percent of your final grade.” The groans from thirty students would have done justice to an announcement of thirty days’ hard labor, Trish’s included. That was all she needed.

Brad was waiting for her as she came out of her last class. “You want a ride?”

Trish nodded. “Thanks. Let me get my stuff out of my locker.”

“How’d it go?” Rhonda asked as Trish opened the car door two minutes later.

“How’d what go?”

“With Doug.” Rhonda’s look suggested Trish had lost her marbles.

“He understood. Just told him I couldn’t break training.” Trish slammed the door as she settled herself in the front seat.

“Good thinking.” Rhonda leaned forward and patted Trish on the shoulder. “Hey, you need any help this afternoon?”

“Probably. Who knows how much David got done.”

“We’ll be right over then, won’t we, Brad?”

“Yup. Maybe today I’ll get promoted to exercise boy on a permanent basis.” Brad grinned at Trish. “Rhonda can muck out the stalls.”

“Thanks, buddy,” came from the backseat. “I’m not the one who needs bigger biceps.”

Warm from the laughter of her friends, Trish didn’t mind the empty house quite as much. Besides, David’s car in the driveway assured her someone was home. The phone rang just as she was heading out the door to the stables, peanut butter and jelly sandwich in hand.

A stranger’s voice answered her business-like response. “May I speak to Hal Evanston, please.”

“I’m sorry, he’s not here right now,” Trish answered. “Can I help you?”

“This is John Carter. I have two Thoroughbreds and a quarterhorse I want trained and conditioned for the track. I know I’m late getting started, but I just purchased the one. A couple of people at The Meadows recommended Hal. Could you have him get back to me?”

“Sure will,” Trish answered. “What’s your number, Mr. Carter?”

Dollar signs played tag in her head as Trish ran down to the barn. She found David and Caesar out with the mares. “David,” she called as she reached the gate, “guess what?”

“Get me another lead shank, will you?” He was leading the brood mare who’d been coughing the afternoon before.

“She’s worse?”

“I think so. We’ll take ’em all up and check temps. That’s the only way to be sure.”

Where are we gonna put more sick horses?
Trish’s mind raced as fast as her feet.
Guess we better clean out the old barn. They’d be isolated over there all right.

Brad and Rhonda met them at the barn. Trish had one mare and David the two others. One of them coughed again.

“Looks like you need help for sure.” Brad took the lead ropes. “Where do you want them tied?”

“Bradshaw said we have to keep them isolated, so how about the old barn?” Trish looked at David for confirmation. At his nod, she continued.

“Rhonda, grab the wheelbarrow and throw in a couple of forks. We’ll have to clean those old stalls out. Brad, tie those two to the outside rings and I’ll get some straw after I take this one down.” She rubbed the coughing mare’s nose. “Pregnant as you are, you don’t need to be sick too.”

“When’s she due?” Brad asked as they led the animals out.

“Around the twentieth, I think.” Trish rubbed the mare’s neck as they walked. “I keep telling Dad that if she foals on my birthday, the foal should be mine.”

“Sounds good to me,” Brad agreed.

They tied the animals up. While David checked temperatures, Trish helped Rhonda with the cleaning gear.

“We better call Bradshaw,” David said when he came into the dim barn. “One temp with those three, and I think another of the yearlings is coming down with it. He wasn’t kidding when he said it was contagious.”

How do we keep the racing stock safe?
Trish thought as she dog-trotted back up to the house to call the vet.
We’ve got to be able to move Spitfire and the others to the track next week.

Chapter

09

T
he phone was ringing as Trish came through the door.

“Runnin’ On Farm,” she panted. “Trish speaking.” She paused and smiled at the response. “Hi, Mom. No, David’s down at the barn. We’ve got a couple more sick ones. I just came up to call the vet. How’s Dad?”

“He’s in the recovery room,” her mother answered. “They did the bronchoscopy about an hour ago. How about you and David meeting me here at the hospital for dinner and then you can visit with your dad for a while?”

“I don’t know.” Trish felt caught in a trap. “I told you the mare is sick, and so is another yearling. Even with Rhonda and Brad helping, it’ll take several hours to prep stalls.”

“Where are you putting them?”

“Down in the old barn.” At the silence in her ear, Trish swallowed. “We’re doing everything we can and…”

“Yes, I know.” Marge bit off each word. “The horses always come first. But not if your presence here could help make your father feel better.”

“Tell Dad I’ll call him later…when we know more.” The line went dead without a good-bye. Why couldn’t David have been the one to talk with her?
He always manages to make things better,
Trish thought.
I just make it worse.

She called the vet and left a message for Dr. Bradshaw to come as soon as possible. Her chemistry book stared up at her accusingly from where she’d dropped it on the counter. She gave it a push.
Somewhere I’ll find the time to study.
Her feet dragged on the way back to the stable. She hadn’t told David about the Carter phone call. Fat chance they had of taking on any more horses now.

“I left a message on his machine.” Trish found David bringing up the other two yearlings. “And Mom wants you to call her. She asked us to come in for dinner. I told her what’s going on.”

“And…”

“She wasn’t very happy. Don’t blame her. I’m not either.”

David tied the two colts to the outside rings. “Why don’t you go work Anderson’s two. The three of us will get this place in shape. Dad said to put Brad on the payroll again so we can count on the extra help.”

“How’s the filly?”

“About the same. At least she’s drinking.”

“I’ll call when I need a leg up. Those four been out on the hot walker today?” She nodded toward the horses they’d been training.

“Yup. Be careful with that hellion.”

“What’d he do now?” Trish knew immediately that Dave meant the Anderson colt, Gatesby.

“He sure spooks easy.”

“I know.”

“Be careful.”

“Yes, mother hen.” Trish laughed as she evaded her brother’s swat.

Always one to get the worst out of the way first, Trish cross-tied Gatesby in his stall, brushed him down, then bridled and saddled him.

He stood, docile for a change, with only his ears responding to her soft monologue. Trish knew he behaved better for her than anyone, but he sure was a handful. And today they should be training him at the starting gate. Time was running out on getting him ready for the first part of the season.

Brad gave her a leg up when she called for help. The colt just stood there until Trish was settled and she clucked him off. He set out for the track in a flat-footed walk, looking around him with only mild interest.

Trish waved her thanks and concentrated on the warm-up. The entire session, even to walking him around the gates, only drew some snorting and eye-rolling on the colt’s part. She patted his neck and smoothed his mane down as they stood a few feet from the starting gates.
That metal monster would be enough to scare anyone,
she thought.
Wait till he’s boxed in with gates closed in behind and in front of him.
She rubbed the horse’s neck again and turned him toward the stable.

“We’ll work you with Dan’l tomorrow,” she said as he twitched his ears. “All of us will be at the gate at once. That should make things easier.”

The sun had set by the time she finished working Anderson’s three-year-old. He’d already raced one season and was being reconditioned after an injury during the summer program in Spokane. He was a willing animal, without the contrariness of Gatesby. Trish breezed him twice around the track for the pure joy of running.

She scraped him down and rinsed the sweat off with warm water. Brad had taken care of Gatesby, so with both animals snapped to the hot walker to cool off, Trish spent a moment with old Dan’l.

“Tomorrow you get to train the kids.” She rubbed his head, right behind his ears, a favorite place. “Hope they watch you and learn fast.” Dan’l rubbed his nose against her chest and blew softly in her face.

For a moment Trish could pretend everything was all right. Her father was working in one of the other stalls; the exerciser sang its creaky song, and all the animals were healthy. Her mom was up baking cookies and soon dinner would be on the table.

“Where do you have the sick ones now, Trish?” Dr. Bradshaw’s question broke her reverie.

She swallowed as she turned away from Dan’l and her dream. “Down at the old barn. I’ll show you.”

The mercury yardlight had come on before they had all the sick animals in separate clean stalls and the racing stock exercised. Training had been minimal, compared to what Trish knew needed to be done.

“How’s your dad?” Rhonda asked as they trudged up the rise to the cars.

“Not coming home right away,” Trish sighed.

“Are you going in to the hospital tonight?”

“No, it’s too late.” Trish kicked a small rock ahead of her, the action slowing her steps so David and Brad pulled ahead.

“That why your mom’s mad?” Rhonda stopped beside her friend.

“Yup. She can’t understand why I haven’t gone to visit my dad.”

“Well, why haven’t you?”

“I don’t know.” Trish searched for words to explain her feelings. “I just can’t go in there. It’s like…well…if I go there…”

Rhonda waited out the silence.

Trish shook her head. “Rhonda, I’m so scared. I’m just so scared.” She kicked another rock, viciously this time. “What if he dies?” Tears spilled over. She dashed a hand across her eyes and shook her head again. “I just can’t go to the hospital. Dad
has
to come home.”

By the time Trish opened her chemistry book that night, she was so tired she could hardly read the print. She took her book into the living room. “David, can you help me with this stuff?”

David was sound asleep on the sofa; his half-eaten sandwich on a plate on the floor. Trish. Threw the afghan over him and went back to her desk.

An hour later Marge found her daughter, head on her chemistry book, fast asleep. “Trish.” She shook her gently. “You better get to bed.”