Heart and Soul

Chapter 9

The next morning Doctor Martin came to look at me. Annie was at school so it was just Mom, and she showed no signs of the break down she had last night.

Doctor Martin looked me over and felt down my legs, then put a stinging poultice on and wrapped a bandage around it. He repeated this process with all four of my injured legs, then he turned to Mom.

"She'll be okay, the infection didn't have too much time to spread and these antibiotics should knock it right out. She's a lucky mare."

"Thank you Doctor Martin." Mom said, stroking my nose with her good arm while the lead rope was draped over her bad arm in the sling. "I don't know what Annie would do without her, she poured her heart and soul into this mare."

For the next two weeks of stall rest I was so full of pent up energy I would shiver when Annie brushed me. She noticed this and decided to teach me tricks. First she taught me how to smile on command, then she taught me how to canter very slowly next to her while she walked when she tapped my leg with the lead rope. Then she taught me to Spanish Walk, to be performed when she said: "Show me whatcha got!" The next thing I was learned was how to bow when she clapped.

When my stall rest was finally over and all I had left of the ordeal were bad memories and a white scar across my cannon bone from the coyotes' hungry teeth, I was turned back into the field with Vikingo and Paloma.

The first thing I did was make sure Paloma remembered I was lead mare (she did) then I chased Vikingo away from his hay, his is always the best. Then the three of us stood under an oak tree and watched as the sun went down.

Mom threw us more hay which Paloma wandered down to eat while Vikingo and I fell asleep under the huge boughs of the oak tree.

Several hours later we were startled awake by the sound of tires crunching on gravel. A black truck was parked in front of our pasture, pulling a black trailer behind it. A man stepped out of the passenger side and a Shepherd leaped out after him, sitting alert at his feet.

We watched as the man patted the Shepherd's head, but no love was in it. He then whistled quietly and the dog dashed under the fence, barreling towards us. By then a second man had pulled open the gate and a third man had backed the trailer up to it; there was no escape. Paloma and Vikingo shifted uneasily, but when the dog approached them they ran towards the trailer.

The dog ran up to me, snapping at my heels. I started to gallop, but when the dog wouldn't lay off I kicked back. I heard a crack and when I turned my head over my shoulder I saw the dog on the ground.

I had started to slow when someone grabbed my halter. I reared up, but more men were upon me, and one yanked my head down. The second attached a lead rope to it while the third filled a needle with something.

"Tranq it, we don't need the trailer's walls smashed in."

I felt a prick, then I saw the shepherd, back on its feet, charge towards Paloma. She thundered right into the trailer and Vikingo, now alone, whinnied for us. The dog started for Vikingo, but was shoved aside by something moving very fast.

It rolled over, then leaped back up to face its opponent. Rally! I whinnied for him, then the Shepherd leaped upon him. There was loud barking and snarling, then the porch light flicked on and little Oreo went running down the porch steps and straight towards Rally and the Shepherd.

One of the men cursed, then shoved me onto the trailer. Vikingo called for us, but my mind was becoming foggy. I looked out the window, oddly serene, at my life, my good, calm, fun life. Now gone, as quickly as my grain.

At least I had Paloma. I felt her velvety muzzle rest on my shoulder, seeking comfort.  I raised my head and gently groomed her shoulder, but soon the tranq took effect and I found myself stumbling as I struggled to stay upright.

We stayed this way as the sun rose, then set, then rose again three times. We would stop, but only for the men to fill up their truck with disgusting smelling liquid or to tranq me again. They never offered me, or Paloma for that matter, food or water.

One morning as we drove in the stinking trailer there was the screech of brakes and the horrible sound of ripping metal. The trailer lurched and Paloma and I were thrown sideways as the back of the trailer ripped open.

I scrambled for the daylight, Paloma too, as the trailer slowly began to tip. Paloma had just leaped out when the trailer and truck went careening down a steep slope, another car following close behind.

Spooked, I began to run, Paloma by my side. I was faster than her, but I wasn't about to leave her side. As we galloped the only sounds were our snorting breaths and the pounding of our hooves.