A Dark Horse - Part 5

A Dark Horse – Part 5

[Jenny, flabbergasted and confused by his outburst, quickly handed him the leadrope, her eyes wide. “Should I call the vet?” she stammered.

“No!” Kip shouted. “He’ll be fine. He’s fine.” Kip scowled. “I’ll just walk him. Get me the Banamine! It’s in the office!” She took off at a quick jog to get the medicine. “And a syringe!” he called after her.

“C’mon, you dumb horse. Let’s walk. You’re just trying to make me look stupid.”

The horse tried to sink to his knees again. “Get up, Dummy!” Kip hollered, while kicking at the pained gelding.

Jenny returned with the bottle and the syringe as Kip and the gelding made their slow way to the arena. She followed, while Kip continued to make crude remarks, prodding the horse along each time it tried to fall to the ground and roll.] - recap of the end of Part 4

***

Kip and the sweaty, golden horse finally made it to the arena with Jenny following determinedly along. When the boy and the horse were standing on the dirt floor, he yelled at Jenny.

“Hand me that syringe so I can dose this dumb horse!”

Jenny fumbled with the syringe and the bottle. She knew how to fill the syringe, but not with how much.

“How much?” Jenny insisted.

Kip screamed, “You dummy! Give me the bottle!” He snatched the bottle and syringe from her hands, angrily filled it with the dosage he wanted, and plunged the needle into the thick muscle of the quivering gelding.

The horse didn’t flinch. He just started pawing at the sand again to lay down. Kip tossed Jenny the leadrope.

“Here!” He snapped at her. “Take him and walk him around in here. I need to check on something back at the house. I’ll be back in a few! I’m sure he’ll be fine by then, but don’t you dare let him roll!”

“Okay,” I replied – wide-eyed and sort of shocked. “Come on, Boy. Let’s walk.” I started forward and the horse followed the gentle tug on the rope. I saw Kip leave the arena, at the same time, raindrops began pinging lightly off the metal roof over us. The horse and I continued our circles, the pain medication was starting to work, but I could tell the gelding was still uncomfortable.

Kip returned about twenty minutes later. The rain was making louder and steadier noise on the roof.

“Give me that horse back and go wait outside for the vet. He will be here soon.” Kip announced this to Jenny in his usual gruff way.

“Sure,” Jenny said as she handed Kip back the lead. She grabbed her coat before going to stand out in the rain.

There was still a trace of snow on the ground, but it was quickly melting away beneath the steady showers of the cold, springtime thunderstorm. Thunder boomed in the distance, and she watched a flash of lightening over the distant trees.

Luckily, there was an eve built over the entrance to the barn, so she did not have to stand directly in the icy deluge while she watched for the veterinarian’s truck.

Finally, though it was only a few minutes, it felt like hours, she saw the vet’s vehicle turn into the drive. She waved to him to show him he was in right place and where to go. He pulled up to the barn and got out. He followed the girl into the stable and to where Kip and the horse were standing in the arena. The horse was now looking much better, but still a little “off.” The sweat was now dried. But the coat crust and the saddle marks still evident. Kip was vigorously trying to brush away the evidence of the turmoil that likely caused the incident.

The veterinarian held out his hand to Kip, introducing himself as Dr. McCain, “but you can call me Mac,” he said with a handshake and a smile.

"So, tell me more about this horse and what brought on the problem?”

Kip became as polite and gentlemanly as could be while conversing with Mac.

“Well, Sir, this guy (referring to the gelding) just arrived here today, and I think he was pretty stressed out about the move. He’s not mine – I’m just his trainer.”

“I see,” said Mac, pulling out his stethoscope to listen to the horse’s heartbeat and gut sounds.

“Well, his heart is still going a bit fast, and his gut sounds are still pretty quiet, although he doesn’t appear to be in as bad a state as described to me on the phone earlier. Let me treat him with a bit more meds and see if we can’t get him more settled.”

After about forty-five minutes, the vet finally seemed satisfied with the gelding’s progress.

“Okay. Let’s get him back into his stall now with just a small amount of hay and water for tonight. No grain. You can give him the same in the morning, and I’ll be back to check on him tomorrow.” He brushed his hand over the still prominent spur marks. “And no riding.”

Kip and Jenny followed the veterinarian back out to his truck. The rain was letting up but still falling lightly. He got into his vehicle with the final statement: “And remember, no riding! And I’ll be back late morning tomorrow to see how he’s doing.”

“Okay, Mac Seeya tomorrow!” Kip gave him a smile and a salute. He turned away to climb back into the covered golf cart he had driven down to the barn to avoid getting too wet.

Jenny remembered her own two horses were still in turn-out getting rained on, probably, even though they each had shelter right in their paddocks to get out of the weather.

Jenny went back inside to get Jewel’s halter first. She then stood outside with the now heavy again rain soaking her red hair, watching Jewel for a bit, and wondering to herself: Would Kip ever stop being such a jerk?

She watched his golf cart make its way back up to the house through the downpour, over the long, black-topped driveway.

***

(and the story continues ...)

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