Daddy, He Wrote. Jill Limber

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СКАЧАТЬ his big head when she’d started to cry, as if he’d known what she was saying to him.

      She chalked some of her emotion up to fatigue. Emma had a little fever and had been fussy and awake for a good part of the night. Trish had been up giving her baby sponge baths every hour.

      “Okay, then. I have the paperwork here. I want to hurry before the storm hits.” He pulled a sheaf of dog-eared papers from his back pocket.

      Trish took the papers and looked to the north. It was only the middle of the morning, but the sky was almost black. She wondered how much time she had until the snow started.

      There was still so much to do before Mr. Miller returned this weekend. She stood back as the horse dealer led the big gray into the trailer.

      Trish went into the barn and took hold of Max’s bridle, even though he’d probably follow her like a big old brown dog.

      She got him out to the truck and the dealer held up his hand.

      “I want him in last, ’cause he gets dropped off first.”

      Trish scratched Max under his chin. “I thought they were all going to the same auction.”

      “Not this guy. He’s going to the slaughterhouse. A lame old horse like him won’t sell.”

      Trish felt as if she’d been hit in the belly with a fist. “You mean he’s going to be put down?”

      The man shrugged, his heavy sheepskin-lined jacket swallowing his ears for a moment. “Yup.”

      Her mind whirling she asked, “So you won’t get any money for him?”

      “Nah. But I won’t charge your boss to drop him off.”

      Trish dropped Max’s lead and shuffled through the papers the dealer had given her. Before she could talk herself out of it, she pulled out the sheet that belonged to Max. “So it doesn’t matter if he stays?”

      He shot her a surprised look. “Up to you. But a three-legged horse eats as much as one with four legs. Can’t ride him, can you?”

      Trish shook her head. She didn’t ride any of them. That made no difference to her. Emma sneezed and Trish patted her through the heavy jacket.

      She led Max back into his stall and closed the gate while the driver loaded the other two horses.

      Why was she acting so crazy? Mr. Miller wanted all the animals gone. He’d been very clear on that point. She couldn’t very well hide a horse. Or afford to feed him, she reminded herself.

      She checked the feed bin. It was low, but with only Max eating, it would last for a while. She’d think of something.

      She went out to the teamster’s rig and signed the papers for the other animals in the trailer, then watched the driver pull away.

      Calling herself a fool, she headed for the stone house. Maybe the people who lived out on the main road near the bus stop would let her pasture him there. They had young children and she could exchange his keep for baby-sitting. She’d check when she went for groceries.

      She couldn’t let Max be put down. He was too good a friend, and Trish had had so few loyal friends in her life.

      She gathered up the laundry and the bag of Emma’s dirty diapers and hauled it all up to the main house. She’d do her laundry tomorrow while she was cleaning.

      She worked all day, stopping frequently to nurse Emma. Her little nose was so stuffed up she had a hard time eating.

      Exhausted, Trish finally decided it was time to quit. With Emma bundled up in her arms, she opened the front door and was shocked to see two inches of snow had already fallen.

      She locked the door and fought the wind, making a quick stop at the barn to feed and water Max, who stood dozing in his stall. Tollie, the mutt, had made a bed in a pile of hay outside Max’s stall, and his tail thumped when she greeted him, his blind eyes staring right past her. Crew Cut, the cat with the scarred head and damaged ears, was curled up with the dog.

      Tollie did pretty well, considering he couldn’t see a thing, but she noticed he was staying in the barn more and more. She left the door open a crack so Tollie and Crew could get out if they needed to.

      She let herself in the door of her house. It was almost as cold inside as it was out in the snow. She needed to get the fireplace going so the room would be warm enough for Emma.

      They’d have to sleep in front of the fire again tonight. She flipped the switch of the lamp in the front room.

      Nothing happened.

      Trish groaned. The power was out already and the storm had just started. That meant no lights and no water, because the well pump was electric.

      Still holding Emma, she turned around and headed back to the main house to get the generator going.

      Trish unlocked the door and settled Emma, who was starting to fuss, on the couch with pillows around her to keep her from rolling off. Then she tackled the generator.

      Within minutes she had the lights on and could hear the hum of the refrigerator. She could also hear the wind starting to howl around the house.

      Trish turned on the television and listened to the news as she tried to nurse Emma again. The baby felt too warm and Trish tried to gauge her temperature. She was still running a little fever, which would account for her crankiness. Normally she was a very happy baby.

      The local newscaster was predicting temperatures in the teens, high winds and two feet of snow.

      There was no way Trish could keep Emma warm at the stone house. There was no heat besides the fireplace, and when the wind blew, the flue did not draw well and the air inside became smoky. With her stuffed-up nose Emma was having enough trouble breathing as it was.

      She tucked the baby into the crook of her arm. “I guess we’ll stay here tonight.”

      Emma smiled a toothless little lopsided grin, the first one Trish had seen all day.

      “There’s my girl. You like that idea?”

      The baby gurgled and smiled again.

      “We’ll just camp out right here. I’ll build a fire and we can be nice and warm all night. We can even watch television.”

      Trish fixed herself a can of soup and made a mental note to replace it with her own money the next time she went to the grocery store. Just as she was finishing up she heard Tollie barking at the door to the screened porch on the side of the house.

      She went out to let him in, and the chill took her breath away. The dog was caked with snow, and she had to shove against the screen door to close it, because of the wind. Just before she got it shut, Crew squeezed through the small opening and ran through the main door and into the house.

      She brushed the old dog off before letting him in, then put a frayed towel in the corner near a heater vent and led him to the spot.

      “If you’re staying in, you’ll stay there.”

      Tollie СКАЧАТЬ