block his intestines. And he needs a collar with an identification tag and bell, too. That way you won’t accidentally step on him.”
“Sounds like work,” Erik says as he folds the brochure and sticks it in his pocket.
“It’s worth it,” Dr. Mac assures him.
As Rascal and Erik walk out the door, Dr. Macglances at the clock. It’s almost four. “Where’s Lucas? It’s a long drive to Maryland and back, but knowing him, he started before dawn.”
“He’s probably at the stables wondering where we are,” I suggest.
“No way,” Maggie says. “You know Mr. Quinn. He’s not the kind of guy to stand around waiting for anything. He said he’d call when he got back.”
“We’ll be patient a little longer,” Dr. Mac says as she comes out from behind the counter. “I imagine you’re excited about riding again, David.”
“Don’t get him started,” Brenna warns.
I have to grin. “Excited? Try excited times a million! Thanks, Dr. Mac—you know, for talking to Mr. Quinn for me.”
Dr. Mac rolls down the sleeves of her shirt and buttons the cuffs. “He didn’t take too much convincing. He told me you were one of the best young riders he had ever seen. I hear that you can even ride bareback.”
He told her that? “A little. Mr. Quinn taught me. He was teaching me how to jump, too, when I, uh, took that little side trip.”
“That’s in the past,” Dr. Mac says firmly. “Useyour head, be responsible, and Mr. Quinn will be glad to have you around.”
Brenna squints and peers out the front window. “Excuse me, Dr. Mac?” she says.
“What, Brenna?” Dr. Mac answers.
“Does Mr. Quinn drive a blue pickup truck with a big dent in the side?”
“A blue truck, yes. But I don’t recall a dent.”
Brenna points toward the parking lot. “Then someone else just pulled in towing a horse trailer.”
I race to the door. “It looks like they were in an accident!”
The truck and horse trailer are a mess. There is a long crease running down the side of the truck and along the side of the shiny silver horse trailer. The small glass window on one side of the trailer is smashed to bits, and the fender over the wheel is just about flattened.
I open the door and run outside. Mr. Quinn is already out of his truck. He looks worried.
The horse in the trailer neighs, a high-pitched scream for help. It sounds freaked out, or hurt, or both. Loud bangs rattle the trailer. The horse is kicking the walls of the trailer—hard.
“Get the doc!” Mr. Quinn shouts.
Chapter Two
W e got hit on the turnpike,” Lucas Quinn explains to Dr. Mac. “A car swerved, clipped the side of my truck, and got the trailer, too. Darn fool took off. Didn’t stick around to see what happened.”
“At least the trailer didn’t flip over,” Dr. Mac says.
“It leaned pretty hard, though. Knocked the horse around.”
We hear more loud bangs from inside the trailer. The horse sounds like he’s about to burst through the walls. He’s whinnying loudly.
“We have to get him out,” Dr. Mac says. “He’spanicking. Did you unload him after the accident?”
Mr. Quinn shakes his head. “No, I checked and he seemed fine. I wanted to take him straight home, but then he started to tear it up in there. So I decided to come straight here. He’s going to need a sedative. You’d better take a look at him.”
“I bet he feels trapped,” I say. Both adults turn and look at me. “He might be afraid something else is going to hit him, the way the car did.”
BANG! BANG
! I hope the walls of that trailer are stronger than they look.
Dr. Mac points to the far side of the house. “Back the trailer up to the gate over there,” she says. “We’ll unload him into the backyard, where it’s fenced. He’ll feel better if he can walk on grass instead of the driveway.”
Mr. Quinn gets in the truck and carefully maneuvers the trailer backward. It rocks back and forth as the horse shifts nervously, snorting and stamping his
“Sounds like work,” Erik says as he folds the brochure and sticks it in his pocket.
“It’s worth it,” Dr. Mac assures him.
As Rascal and Erik walk out the door, Dr. Macglances at the clock. It’s almost four. “Where’s Lucas? It’s a long drive to Maryland and back, but knowing him, he started before dawn.”
“He’s probably at the stables wondering where we are,” I suggest.
“No way,” Maggie says. “You know Mr. Quinn. He’s not the kind of guy to stand around waiting for anything. He said he’d call when he got back.”
“We’ll be patient a little longer,” Dr. Mac says as she comes out from behind the counter. “I imagine you’re excited about riding again, David.”
“Don’t get him started,” Brenna warns.
I have to grin. “Excited? Try excited times a million! Thanks, Dr. Mac—you know, for talking to Mr. Quinn for me.”
Dr. Mac rolls down the sleeves of her shirt and buttons the cuffs. “He didn’t take too much convincing. He told me you were one of the best young riders he had ever seen. I hear that you can even ride bareback.”
He told her that? “A little. Mr. Quinn taught me. He was teaching me how to jump, too, when I, uh, took that little side trip.”
“That’s in the past,” Dr. Mac says firmly. “Useyour head, be responsible, and Mr. Quinn will be glad to have you around.”
Brenna squints and peers out the front window. “Excuse me, Dr. Mac?” she says.
“What, Brenna?” Dr. Mac answers.
“Does Mr. Quinn drive a blue pickup truck with a big dent in the side?”
“A blue truck, yes. But I don’t recall a dent.”
Brenna points toward the parking lot. “Then someone else just pulled in towing a horse trailer.”
I race to the door. “It looks like they were in an accident!”
The truck and horse trailer are a mess. There is a long crease running down the side of the truck and along the side of the shiny silver horse trailer. The small glass window on one side of the trailer is smashed to bits, and the fender over the wheel is just about flattened.
I open the door and run outside. Mr. Quinn is already out of his truck. He looks worried.
The horse in the trailer neighs, a high-pitched scream for help. It sounds freaked out, or hurt, or both. Loud bangs rattle the trailer. The horse is kicking the walls of the trailer—hard.
“Get the doc!” Mr. Quinn shouts.
Chapter Two
W e got hit on the turnpike,” Lucas Quinn explains to Dr. Mac. “A car swerved, clipped the side of my truck, and got the trailer, too. Darn fool took off. Didn’t stick around to see what happened.”
“At least the trailer didn’t flip over,” Dr. Mac says.
“It leaned pretty hard, though. Knocked the horse around.”
We hear more loud bangs from inside the trailer. The horse sounds like he’s about to burst through the walls. He’s whinnying loudly.
“We have to get him out,” Dr. Mac says. “He’spanicking. Did you unload him after the accident?”
Mr. Quinn shakes his head. “No, I checked and he seemed fine. I wanted to take him straight home, but then he started to tear it up in there. So I decided to come straight here. He’s going to need a sedative. You’d better take a look at him.”
“I bet he feels trapped,” I say. Both adults turn and look at me. “He might be afraid something else is going to hit him, the way the car did.”
BANG! BANG
! I hope the walls of that trailer are stronger than they look.
Dr. Mac points to the far side of the house. “Back the trailer up to the gate over there,” she says. “We’ll unload him into the backyard, where it’s fenced. He’ll feel better if he can walk on grass instead of the driveway.”
Mr. Quinn gets in the truck and carefully maneuvers the trailer backward. It rocks back and forth as the horse shifts nervously, snorting and stamping his
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