Golden Filly Collection One (42 page)
David stood over her, arms crossed, trying to either keep or regain a straight face. “Do you think you could come help me before dark, at least?”
Trish scooped a handful of snow and tossed it at him. When another caught Caesar full in the face, she crossed both arms above her head to protect herself, both from her brother and the dog.
David reached down and hauled her to her feet. “Come on, snow bunny, we’ve got work to do.”
“Want to make angels?” Trish punched him in the side. “Or are you too grown up for snow angels?”
Old gray Dan’l stretched his neck out as far as the closed stall door would allow. He nickered, a plea for attention impossible to ignore.
“Nope, but explain the wait to your friends there.”
Trish dug pieces of carrot out of her pocket and gave each horse both a treat and a pat as she went down the line. “Be right back,” she promised before she headed across to the old barn.
Miss Tee plowed to a stop when her hooves hit the snow. She bent to sniff, then tossed her head when the cold touched her muzzle.
“Come on, silly,” Trish called as she led the mare out to the paddock. Miss Tee raised each foot high, trying to step over the cold powder. She leaped but still found herself up to her knees when she came down. Then the filly discovered the best way was to follow her mother’s trail.
Trish gave her baby an extra pat as the filly finally tiptoed through the gate. The mare immediately buckled her knees and rolled back and forth, grunting in pleasure.
Miss Tee stood stock still. If horses could talk, her look said it all; she was sure her mother had lost her mind.
Trish laughed her way back to the row of stalls where the racing string waited. One by one, she led them out to the board-fenced pasture. And just like the mare, each of them rolled and scratched, then shook all over upon standing up.
They snorted and blew, tossed their heads, and charged across the snowy field, just like a group of kids let loose from school on a snow day. Trish leaned on the fence, enjoying their antics.
If only you could see them, Dad
, she thought.
You need a good laugh too.
You can be thankful he’s alive,
her nagging little voice said as if perched on the snow-capped fence post beside her.
You know he…
“Oh, shut up.” Trish spun on her heel and headed up to the barns. “Mucking out stalls is better than listening to you.” Caesar cocked an ear. “No, I’m not talking to you.” She tugged his ruff. “And I’m not going crazy either.”
Snowflakes began drifting down again by the time they had all the stalls clean and the animals back in and fed. The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree in the front window beckoned them back to the warmth. The aroma of baked ham met them at the door, along with their mother’s voice.
“Dinner in about fifteen minutes. I’ve made spiced cider to warm you up.”
Trish hung her jacket in the closet and laid her gloves and hat on the warm air vent to dry. She glanced in the living room. Her father’s chair was empty. “Where’s Dad?”
“Sleeping. He’ll be up in a few minutes.”
“Sure smells good in here.” David pulled off his boots at the jack by the door. “Here, Tee, hang up my jacket too.”
“Did you ever hear the word please?” She stood with her hands on her hips.
David dumped the denim coat over her head. “Please. And thank you. In advance.”
Trish pulled the thing off her head, muttering around the grin she tried to keep hidden. “Muck the stalls, hang up my coat; you don’t want a sister, you want a slave.”
“Oh, and could you pour me a mug of that cider?”
David sidestepped her punch and laughed his way down the hall to his room.
That night, after spending nearly an hour on the phone with Rhonda, Trish snuggled down in her bed.
No homework, a day that can never be topped, extra rides coming up to pad my bank account, and best of all, no school for nine days!
And tomorrow she and Rhonda were going shopping and to a movie. That is, if the roads cleared.
If only Dad didn’t have to go to the hospital tomorrow for another treatment.
M
om says I can’t drive.” Rhonda moaned over the phone the next morning.
“I know. The roads are just too slick. David’s taking Mom and Dad to the hospital in the four-wheel drive.”
“Another treatment?”
“Yeah. About the time he’s feeling pretty good, they knock him down again. Just going outside in the cold air made him start coughing.” Trish slid to the floor so she could lean back against the cupboard. “Why don’t you walk over and help me and Brad with the chores.”
“Thanks a lot. I wanted to go shopping.”
“Mm-mm. You coming or not?”
“All right.”
Trish didn’t mind staying home. She didn’t have much money left, and now she didn’t need to buy a jacket. “And you don’t really
need
anything else,” she reminded the face in the mirror as she brushed her hair. A movie and lunch out would have been nice. And who knew when they’d have time for that later.
She finished straightening up her room, tossed the dirty clothes in the washing machine, and shrugged into her jacket. A quick check outside and she switched from leather boots to rubber ones. It had begun to rain.
“You be careful out there,” Brad cautioned as he boosted her into the saddle on Spitfire.
“No problem. We’re just walking today. Rhonda’s coming over, so why don’t you saddle Firefly for her. If you’d like, you could work Anderson’s Final Command.”
“That’s okay. I’ll get the stalls cleaned out. Then we’ll all be done about the same time. Maybe we’ll get to that movie yet, the way the snow’s melting.”
Spitfire shied when a load of snow swooshed off a fir branch and thwunked in the snow. He spooked again when another tree dumped its load. Trish hunched her shoulders to keep the drizzle from trickling down her neck, but she never took her attention from the frisky horse. She stroked his neck with one hand and kept up a running commentary on all she saw. He settled after one round of the track and seemed as relieved as she when they turned back to the stables.
“Better late than never,” Trish teased her friend who’d arrived while Trish stripped the saddle off Spitfire in his stall. “You want Gatesby or Firefly?”
Rhonda gave her a have-you-lost-your-marbles look.
Brad chuckled as he boosted the slender redhead into the saddle. “So you don’t want a blue-and-green from Gatesby, eh?”
Rhonda stared down at him from Firefly’s back. “A blue-and-green?” She started to laugh. “That’s a good one, Brad. No, I don’t want a Gatesby bruise, or to get dumped either. I don’t know how Trish puts up with him.”
“With who?” Trish stopped Final Command in front of Firefly’s stall.
Gatesby nickered in the stall next to them. To look at the blaze down his long face and the soft eyes, no one would guess him to be ornery, until he laid back his ears and reached for Trish’s jacket.
“Him!” Brad backed up the gelding so his back was out of range of Gatesby’s nipping teeth. He gave Trish a leg up. “You should have put him on the hot walker to work off some of his meanness.”
“I’m starved.” Brad closed the door and shot the bolt on the tack room when they were finished. “I’ll go home and change, then we can go.”
“I gotta call my mom first. She’ll probably say okay now that it’s warmed up and I’m not driving.” Rhonda sniffed. The cold had made her nose run too.
“Well, we better hurry. I have to be home in time to feed, in case David doesn’t get back. We could get hamburgers at the drive-in window at Burgerville. That way we can make the matinee.” Trish pushed open the sliding glass door. While they waited for Rhonda to call home, she slipped out of her jacket and hung it over the back of a chair to dry. “Want a cookie, Brad?”
“Just one?”
“No, you nut. The whole plate. I don’t care how many you eat. Help yourself. Mom musta known you were coming. She left some of each kind.”
“Man, oh man!” Brad popped a brownie in his mouth while he picked out several other kinds. “Your mom is the best baker.”
“Hey, she didn’t do it all. I helped.”
Brad pretended to gag.
“Don’t worry. She made the brownies. Just don’t try the Rice Krispies bars. I did those.”
“I can go!” Rhonda gave a little skip as she entered the room. She looked down at her wet jeans. “You got some clothes I can borrow?”
“See you in fifteen minutes.” Brad swallowed the last of his cookies and grabbed a couple more. “To keep me from passing out.” He laughed as he went out the door.
They slid into their seats just as the opening scenes of the matinee appeared on the theater screen. Brad passed the popcorn tub over to Trish and pulled off his jacket. After propping his knees on the seat-back in front of him, he pushed up his sleeves and reached for some popcorn.
“You think you can settle down now?” Trish whispered.
“Sure, who’s got the Coke?” He popped a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “Anybody get napkins?”
“Shush.” Rhonda giggled as she handed him the tall drink. “We should never let you out in public”
“Hey, I’m driving, remember?”
A woman in front of them turned to frown at Brad.
Trish was afraid to look at Rhonda for fear they’d never be able to quit laughing. It was a good thing the movie was a comedy. It was a giggly kind of afternoon.
But that night Trish didn’t feel like laughing. Her father had been throwing up for five hours straight. In between that he had coughing spells.
By the time Hal finally fell into an exhausted sleep, Trish felt like her own throat was raw. “I thought they’d found some medicine that would keep him from being so sick.” She slumped in her dad’s recliner with her feet across the arm so she could warm her toes by the fire.
“This time none of that seems to help.” Marge leaned her head back in the rocking chair. “I think the cold air made things worse because it started the coughing.”
“Just when he was finally feeling better too.”
“I know. But at least he is getting better. We’ve got to be thankful for that.”
“Mm-mmm.” Trish bobbed her toe to the beat of “The Little Drummer Boy” on the stereo. “It just doesn’t seem fair.”
“I think that storm is hitting earlier than they predicted,” David said, entering the room to rub his hands in front of the fire. “I’ve just been down to check on the animals. I think it’s dropped about twenty degrees out.”
“Is it still raining?” Marge asked.
“More like sleet now. I turned the light on in the pump house and blanketed all the racing stock.”
“We’d better store up some water in case the electricity goes out. Trish, you could fill the bathtub. I’ll fill some jugs in the kitchen. Want some hot chocolate, David, or coffee?”