Racehorse (5 page)

“C
OME ON
, L
ISA
,” Stevie said, welcoming her to the stable. “I’ve cleared it with Max for us to take a practice ride in the outdoor ring—me on Topside, you on Comanche. You’re going to love him.”

One of the things Lisa loved about her friend was that Stevie understood exactly how she was feeling about Pepper and was trying to help her think positively. Of course, one of the reasons Stevie understood was that she felt the same way about Pepper that everybody else did. Pepper had been one of Stevie’s first horses as well. Stevie, however, wasn’t one to dwell on sad thoughts. Her mind always headed straight for the fun side of things. To Stevie, it was exciting that Lisa was going to get a chance to learn more about a whole new horse. Except, of course, Stevie had ridden Comanche before.

“I’m not so sure about this,” Lisa said uneasily.

“Comanche’s great,” Stevie assured her.

“Great for you,” Lisa said. “I’m not so sure about me.”

Early on in her riding, Lisa had learned that horses, like people, had very individual personalities, and for a rider to enjoy a horse meant that their personalities had to mesh. One of the reasons she’d gotten along so well with Pepper was that he was sweet and even-tempered. Comanche, on the other hand, was high-spirited and mischievous. That made him a perfect match for Stevie, not necessarily for Lisa.

“Come on, chin up,” Stevie said. “Let this young boy show you his stuff, okay?”

“Okay,” Lisa agreed, though she wasn’t honestly enthusiastic about the change. They headed for Comanche’s stall. On the way they passed Pepper. He looked up when Lisa passed and sighed heavily. It was as if the thought of going out on a ride was too much for him. Lisa thought he seemed relieved when she walked on by, though how could he really understand?

Stevie had gotten to Pine Hollow first and had tacked up Comanche for Lisa. She’d also groomed him quickly so that his deep chestnut coat was gleaming and he stood proudly, anticipating a fun time with his rider. His eyes sparkled and his ears perked alertly. He nodded a greeting to the girls, apparently eager to be riding. The contrast between Comanche and Pepper was startling. It was certainly enough to convince Lisa that this was worth trying.

The two girls brought their horses into the outdoor ring, touching the traditional good-luck horseshoe on their way through the doorway. Lisa always did that automatically, because by tradition all the riders at Pine Hollow did it. Nobody who had ever done it had gotten seriously hurt riding at the stable. Today she wondered if it would be enough. After all, Comanche was a lot more horse for her to control than Pepper had been. She was going to have to work harder. She was going to have to be better.

Red O’Malley, the head stablehand at Pine Hollow, was nearby to keep an eye on the girls. He waved jauntily at Lisa. He was always nice, but he didn’t usually do that. Lisa realized that he understood what was going on. He wanted Lisa to like Comanche, too.

Lisa and Stevie circled the ring a few times at a walk, allowing the horses to warm up. The warm-up also permitted Lisa to get used to the feel of Comanche’s gait. Horses’ gaits were as distinct as their personalities. Lisa thought that Comanche couldn’t have been more different from Pepper. For one thing, he was a full hand taller. Horses were measured by “hands,” and a hand was four inches. That meant Comanche’s saddle was four inches higher than Pepper’s. Lisa noticed the difference right away. It was like sitting in the cab of a truck instead of the front seat of a car. The world looked smaller. Comanche’s walk was also brisker than Pepper’s. Since his
legs were longer, each stride carried him across more ground. Also, there was a sort of grinding quality to Pepper’s slow walk. Lisa knew that had to do with his age. Comanche seemed to take pride in the smoothness of his walk. Then they trotted. Comanche’s trot was almost choppy, but it was very fast. Lisa could feel the breeze in her hair, even with her hard hat on. She posted automatically, rising and sitting ever so slightly with every step of the horse’s trot. Pepper’s trot was very smooth, though much slower than Comanche’s. She often did a sitting trot on Pepper. It would be hard and uncomfortable to sit Comanche’s trot. She was sure she’d just bounce out of the saddle like a cumbersome sack of potatoes. Lisa wasn’t happy about that at all, and she told Stevie about it.

“Balance,” Stevie said, consoling her. “Balance is the most important thing. When you work on that, you’ll find you won’t have much trouble with that choppy trot.”

Lisa made a face.

“I promise,” Stevie insisted. “And besides, the best is yet to come.”

Stevie slid her foot back and touched her horse, Topside, behind his girth. In an instant he began cantering.

Comanche followed suit. It bothered Lisa that Comanche had started cantering before she’d signaled him to do it. It just wasn’t a good idea to let a horse change
gaits on his own, even if she was about to tell him to do it. Lisa tugged on the reins ever so slightly. Immediately Comanche slowed to a trot. That was good. She made him trot a quarter of the way around the ring. Then she gave him the signal for a canter. He obeyed. At first Lisa was so pleased by the fact that she’d done the right thing and taken charge of Comanche that she didn’t even notice how wonderful the result was. Then it came to her. Comanche had a smooth, rocking canter that totally made up for his choppy trot. She sat deeply in the saddle, shifting easily back and forth with the gentle motion of the speeding horse.

“Oh, this is wonderful!” she called out to Stevie, now behind her.

“I knew you’d love him!” Stevie said happily.

But, of course, that wasn’t what Lisa had said. She
didn’t
love Comanche. She just loved his canter. The horse she loved was Pepper, and the trouble was that she couldn’t ride him. Riding wasn’t ever going to be the same for Lisa.

A
LTHOUGH
C
AROLE LOVED
being with Judy and learning from her, she found it difficult to be with horses who were in pain. They had been working together for a while and Carole couldn’t get over her feelings of sadness every time she saw a sick horse.

“It’s not the pain they’re in that’s important—unless it was avoidable,” Judy said to her. “It’s how we can get them out of it that matters.”

The two of them sat across from one another at a pizza restaurant where they’d paused for a snack in the middle of a busy afternoon.

“But it hurts me so much to see a horse who feels bad,” Carole explained.

“All creatures, including people, feel bad from time to
time. Most of what we see is temporary and will pass. You know the gelding we saw earlier with founder?”

“I thought you said that was laminitis—”

“Same thing, different name,” Judy told her. “It’s an inflammation in the hoof. I recommended a change of diet, a new kind of shoe. Within a short time that horse will be back under saddle. For that horse it’s a temporary condition. For another it’s chronic and will recur dozens of times throughout his life. I don’t feel sorry for the gelding we just treated. I do feel sorry for the horse with a chronic problem. Life can be tough.”

“I know,” Carole said. “I guess I just don’t like to be reminded of that.”

“I’m sorry,” Judy said quickly, giving Carole a comforting look. Before she could say more, her beeper went off. She hurriedly took a final bite of the pizza, grabbed her soda, and dashed for her truck, parked outside the restaurant. “Let’s see what Alan wants.”

Alan was Judy’s husband and veterinary assistant. He didn’t usually call her unless there was an emergency. When veterinary emergencies happened, seconds counted. Judy was on her car phone calling Alan before Carole had a chance to climb into the cab of the truck.

“Hold on!” Judy said, hanging up the phone and turning on the engine at practically the same instant.

Carole slammed her door and strapped herself in with
her seat belt. When they’d made a U-turn and were speeding along the street, Carole asked what was up.

“I won’t know for sure until I see, but it sounds to me like we’ve got a really sick horse on our hands. This one may bother you, Carole. You don’t have to come in, you know.”

“What happened?”

“I think it’s tetanus,” Judy said, shifting into high gear.

Tetanus? Carole knew all about tetanus. It was everywhere. It was caused by a bacteria that lived in the soil and horses were constantly exposed to it. It was a tough germ that could survive for long periods and in extreme temperatures. Everybody who knew anything about horses knew a lot about tetanus—including the fact that it was almost completely preventable. Every horse had to be immunized against it soon after birth, with regular boosters throughout their lifetimes. Every person who spent time around horses had to be immunized against it regularly. Any cut, particularly deep ones, on people and horses, had to be assumed to have tetanus in it and called for additional immunization. Tetanus was a dreadful disease. It was also a killer.

Judy drew the truck to an abrupt halt at a small barn on a small farm and jumped out of the cab almost as fast as she’d gotten in.

The horse’s owner, looking drawn and pale, was waiting for Judy by the entrance. He came over while Judy took her bag out of the traveling emergency room on the back of the truck, and the two of them talked urgently.

Carole reached for the handle of the door and then stopped. She didn’t know if she could do this—if she was ready to see a horse who was deathly ill. She’d seen death in humans and horses before, and she didn’t like it. She looked at the hand reaching for the door handle. It was shaking. Then she thought about the horse inside the barn who needed Judy’s help and might need hers as well. She decided that her own feelings were not as important as the horse’s care.

Without further hesitation, Carole opened the door and joined Judy and the owner in the barn.

Carole saw the sick horse immediately. He was standing in a soiled stall, all of his limbs stiff from pain. His head was raised in an awkward position, almost like an extension of his neck. His eyes looked clouded until Carole realized that it was the horse’s “third” eyelid—a milky membrane that was always open—that had closed over them, as if trying to shut out the world. Saliva drooled freely from his clenched jaw. Then Carole saw the healing gash on the horse’s hind leg that was the cause of the disease. The gash was getting better. The horse was not.

Judy didn’t waste any time. She began examining the horse and jotting notes in a file.

Carole knew some of the things Judy would do. She also knew that if this horse was going to have a chance, he was going to need a clean stall, specially prepared for him. Immediately she began working on that. One of the stalls in the barn was empty. She mucked it out, removing every bit of soil and old straw. She covered the bottom of the stall with a thick layer of fresh sweet straw. A horse who couldn’t bend his neck was going to need his water bucket up high. She found a high nail and hung a fresh water bucket from it. She removed the low hooks and nails because they might cause further damage to a stiff and flailing horse.

As soon as she was done, Judy walked the stiff gelding over to the clean stall, smiling a small thank you to Carole for knowing what to do and for doing it without being told. Carole would have been glad for some help from the owner, but he looked as shaken as his horse and seemed totally incapable of doing anything useful.

Judy gave the horse an injection, gave the owner some instructions, and left the horse in peace. It was all they could do for him right then. It would probably be all they could ever do for him.

When the three of them stepped outside the barn, Judy turned to the owner and said what was really on her mind. She told him that he was almost certainly going to lose the horse—over eighty percent of horses with tetanus don’t make it, and virtually all of the small percentage
who do make it receive treatment long before the disease has reached this stage.

“Now, let me see the immunization records for your other horses,” Judy said.

The man looked at her blankly.

“When did the others receive their last tetanus boosters?” she demanded. Her voice sounded harder and harsher than Carole had ever heard it. Carole realized that Judy was very angry and was trying, unsuccessfully, to mask it.

“I don’t have any records,” the man said. “My horses haven’t been sick before.”

Judy took a deep breath. “You have six horses in that stable,” she said. “I am going to immunize each one of them against tetanus today. Today you are going to start taking proper care of your horses or I will never come here again.”

The man nodded meekly. Judy returned to the barn to immunize the other horses. Carole returned to the truck. She was close to tears and couldn’t shake the horrible image of the sick gelding in agonized pain. She couldn’t face the reality of it for one more minute.

When Judy and Carole left, they rode together in silence. There was nothing to say. The image of the horse with tetanus was with them both and said it all for them.

“I
T MUST HAVE
been awful,” Stevie said later, trying to comfort Carole. Carole, Lisa, and Stevie had met up at
TD’s for a fast visit after Judy’s vet calls. They were having an impromptu Saddle Club meeting until Carole’s father picked her up on his way home from work.