Farm Girl Has Bad Boy (#3)

Chapter Fifteen

I jump to my right, away from the coyote as it lands at his feet, snarling as it grows more impatient. Before it can start trying to attack me again, I scream as loud as I can, waving my flashlight back and forth in front of me, warding off the animals and also hoping someone might be able to see or hear me as they come to my rescue. Luckily, they do sooner rather than later.

I see the flashlights in the distance and the sound of people yelling along with the thundering of hooves. The coyotes stop and turn around to look at the three approaching horses and their riders. My dad trots towards me, slowing to a stop with his teeth clenched tight. I cannot place the look on his face as he cocks the shotgun and points it in the air. I instantly cover my ears but then quickly place my hands over Patch’s instead.

The sound makes my teeth gnash together and my ears ring, however the animals quickly run hastily away and my dad, along with Mary and Emery hop off their horses. Instantly, Emery is at my side before the rest of them, carefully looking me over and wiping of mud to look for wounds.

“I fine,” I whisper nervously, realizing what had just happened. “But I don’t think Patch is.” I turn to stroke his cheek as he cries out in pain while my eyes finally assess his injuries. Bite marks cover his sides and what’s even worse are how his legs look. No wonder he can’t get to his feet.

“She’s okay,” Emery calls as my dad and Mary rush over. They quickly look over Patch and tears instantly start rolling down Mary’s cheeks.

“We’ll talk about what happened later,” my dad says, his voice rushed but even. “First we need to figure out what to do about Patch.” I kneel at his side, stroking him in attempt to comfort him and Mary follows in suit.

“He can’t stand,” I mumble worriedly. “He slipped in the mud and before then he was limping. How are we going to get him back?”

My dad sucks in air between his teeth and shakes his head as he takes off the hat he’s been wearing. “He’s not looking too good, River,” he says with a sigh and I know exactly what he’s thinking. Whenever something ‘wasn’t too good’ it was always god-awful and the outcome never ended happily.

“You can’t!” I cry, a sob leaving my throat as Emery rubs my upper back, trying to comfort me. “Dad, you can’t!” He turns his gaze from my sister’s horse to meet my eyes. His eyes are sympathetic and I can’t believe what he’s thinking.

“Do what?” Mary asks, her voice weary and scared. She looks between my farther and I as no one answers her directly.

“There’s no way we can get him back to the house.” He doesn’t move his stare as he gives me a stern look. “Patch is in a lot of pain, River. He’s suffering.” My dad exhales nosily and looks down at the horse. “We have to put him down.”

“No!” Mary and I scream at exactly the same time. We both inch closer to Patch and wrap our arms protectively around him. He’s all we have left of Ocean and without him; our only tie to her is severed. “Dad, you can’t!” I cry again.

“River,” Emery murmurs, stroking my damp hair. “It’s not fair to Patch.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snap, shoving Emery off of me. He sighs as he rises to his feet and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“He’s being logical,” my dad says in Emery’s defense. How do you expect us to get Patch back to the house? And even if we did, what would we do then?”

I look down at Patch’s eyes as they flicker around in agony. By the time I’m looking back at my dad, I’m doing my best to be hopeful. “You bring one of the trucks back here,” I start and my father gives me an uncertain look. “If we attach one of the old trailers, we can get Emery’s friends to help and we can lift Patch into it. We can figure out the rest from there.”

My dad thinks for a moment before pressing his lips in a tight, thin line. “River, five guys and two girls, excluding you, doesn’t seem like enough to lift a horse.”

“We have to try, Mr. Snow,” Mary pleads, fresh tears forming in her eyes. “River and I aren’t ready to let go of Patch; to let go of…” She trails off, not saying my twin sister’s name. Finally, after a few moments of thinking, my dad sighs.

“Fine. I’ll go get them while you two stay here.” He gently tosses the family shotgun to Emery before turning towards the horses. “Mary, I need your help to round up Silver while I take Midnight back to the barn.” He climbs onto Dusk and grabs Midnight’s reigns, turning towards the farm.

Mary gently kisses Patch’s forehead and gives him a sympathetic look being unwillingly rising to her feet. Once she’s on Dawn and galloping to go find Silver, Emery pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and flicks his blue lighter.

“Do you really need to do that right beside Patch?” I ask through teeth clenched tight. Emery rolls his eyes and walks a few steps away until the smoke isn’t blowing towards Patch or me anymore.

“River, are you going to be like this until I apologize for agreeing with your dad?” I shoot him a look and he sighs nosily. “Well, then I’m sorry.” I don’t respond as I watch Patch closely, doing my best to do anything possible to comfort him. By the time the headlights of truck are blinding us, neither Emery nor I has said another word.

My parents and Mary climb out of the front seat of the truck while Emery’s friends, including Alana hop out of the trailer. My mother carries blankets to it and starts laying down blankets as Mary and my father rush over while everyone else slowly sags behind; especially Alana. She doesn’t move as she stands beside the truck, arms crossed over her chest as she stares down at where I sit beside Patch. I can’t see her expression in the dark but I have a feeling it’s acknowledgement that this is her entire fault.

My mother drives the truck closer until the trailer is directly beside Patch. My father lays out a blanket beside him and we gently try to move him onto the blanket so we have something to hold him with.

“Alana,” Emery calls when it’s time to start lifting my sister’s horse. “We’re going to need your help.” Slowly, Alana starts taking steps towards us as we all try to get some leverage on Patch.

“River, go get the trailer ready,” my father orders sternly. I roll my eyes as I hurry to the trailer and start smoothing over the blankets as if it’s the most important thing in the world. I watch Alana reach under Patch with shaky hands and soon we’re having progress. Though it looks very hard and a lot of backs are going to be extremely painful tomorrow, everyone manages to carry Patch the few feet to the trailer. By now, he’s still crying but not moving around or kicking, knowing we’re helping him.

Once he’s laid down, I drape a large blanket over him and sit beside his head. Mary climbs in beside me as my parents get into the truck. Emery’s friends get in the trunk of the truck while Emery debates where to go. Finally, he settles on the trailer where he chooses to keep a distance from me knowing I’m upset with him.

Slowly, the truck rumbles to life and we start moving over the bumpy fields towards home. Patch cries out, scared and in pain. Mary and I quickly rush to whisper to him and comfort him by stroking his cheek. By the time we get back to the house, I still have no idea what to do other than call the vet and see if he’ll come out here.

“I’ll go get more blankets and call the veterinarian,” my dad calls as he slams the truck door. Next is my mom who piles out and quickly hurries to the side of the trailer.

“River,” she says sternly, grabbing my arm. “We need to go.”

I scrunch my face in confusion. “Go where?”

She gives me a look that makes me feel both oblivious and insane. “Didn’t you fall of Silver?” When I nod she gently tugs me and I climb out of the trailer to walk beside her. “Emery!” She calls, and soon the three of us are standing out of earshot of everyone else. “We need to go to the hospital immediately or call an ambulance.” She can’t hide the obvious worry in her voice.

“Why?” I ask as I look between my mother’s conceded face and Emery’s shocked one. Maybe it’s the fact that my sister’s horse is possibly dying beside me, however I’m still completely unaware of what’s going.

“Because,” my mother replies just as Emery intertwines our fingers and gives my hand a good squeeze. “The baby may not be okay.”