going?”
“What time is it?” I asked, instead of answering his question.
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and glanced at the cover. “Five–thirty.”
Should I tell him? Stephanie and Dr. Shrink both told me I needed to trust people more. I thought about the connection I’d felt with Russell last summer, when we’d talked and admitted things. “I found a young stallion that was injured by another horse, and I wanted to see if I could find him and make sure he was okay.”
“An injured wild horse?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said, adjusting his glasses. The moonlight caught one of the lenses, turning it opaque, and the tips of his dark, curly hair.
“No, that’s okay,” I said quickly. I didn’t want him coming with me. I felt stupidly out of breath and gave my head a shake, trying to clear it. I put one leg over my bike.
“Come on, there’s nothing happening here, and I’m wide awake.”
“No.” I pushed down on the bike pedal, needing to get going.
“Does Stephanie have a bike? Could I ride it?” he persisted.
I glared at him.
Ten minutes later the waves roared in my ears and the wheels of Stephanie’s bike whirred furiously beside me in the bright moonlight. The cool, damp, night breeze off the ocean raised goose bumps on my arms. Cody at least wasn’t annoying me by trying to talk while we were riding, which Stephanie always did.
We rode by the roped off turtle nest and kept on going. I was acutely aware of him riding beside me, of the way his knees, when he pedaled, went up a bit too high, since Stephanie’s bike was too small for him. Most guys wouldn’t be caught dead on a girl’s bike, but Cody didn’t seem to care.
I was looking for the forked piece of driftwood, but before we got there, I noticed some odd looking, dark mounds on the beach. They looked like they were moving.
“What’s that?” I called to Cody. We pedaled closer.Something was definitely moving. As we moved toward it, I heard a low, terrible moan, like a child in pain, like something alive that was in pain. This sound was so wrenching, tears came to my eyes and my heart began to beat wildly. What could it be?
I rode closer, then let my bike drop in the sand. It wasn’t Firecracker. It was the mare I had seen on the first day, lying on her side, moaning, snorting, and struggling to stand. And her black foal, Dark Angel, was beside her, its head down, nuzzling its mother, and whinnying softly.
I took a few steps closer, and Dark Angel lunged a few yards away from me, then stood trembling on her knobby legs, and crying almost like a goat.
I watched the mare flail and saw that she wasn’t able to use one of her hind legs. A thin sliver of the white of her eye flashed as she jerked her head in the moonlight. “It’s her leg.”
“What can we do?” asked Cody. He was right behind me.
My mouth was completely dry. The mare’s moans made me feel sick to my stomach, and a cold sweat broke out on my arms and neck. I couldn’t stand to see animals in pain. Last summer when I’d found Waya, the wolf, and she’d been shot, I had almost fainted.
I wanted to go to the mare, touch her, stroke her, andsoothe her. But she was wild. Touching her wouldn’t soothe her. It would only scare her.
I took some deep breaths. Tried to calm the wall of panic in my brain.
If we called anyone, we’d get in trouble for being out here. But we had to. We had to get help for her. Could we call without giving our names?
“Let me see your cell phone,” I said to Cody. Silently he handed it to me, and with shaking fingers I punched in 911.
“Sheriff’s department,” said a man’s clipped voice.
“Yes,” I said, trying to control my breathing. “Out on the beach—where you drive on the beach—there’s a wild horse that’s lying on its side and can’t get up. Someone might have hit it. And there’s a foal too.”
“Where are you?”
“On the four-wheeler part of the
“What time is it?” I asked, instead of answering his question.
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and glanced at the cover. “Five–thirty.”
Should I tell him? Stephanie and Dr. Shrink both told me I needed to trust people more. I thought about the connection I’d felt with Russell last summer, when we’d talked and admitted things. “I found a young stallion that was injured by another horse, and I wanted to see if I could find him and make sure he was okay.”
“An injured wild horse?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said, adjusting his glasses. The moonlight caught one of the lenses, turning it opaque, and the tips of his dark, curly hair.
“No, that’s okay,” I said quickly. I didn’t want him coming with me. I felt stupidly out of breath and gave my head a shake, trying to clear it. I put one leg over my bike.
“Come on, there’s nothing happening here, and I’m wide awake.”
“No.” I pushed down on the bike pedal, needing to get going.
“Does Stephanie have a bike? Could I ride it?” he persisted.
I glared at him.
Ten minutes later the waves roared in my ears and the wheels of Stephanie’s bike whirred furiously beside me in the bright moonlight. The cool, damp, night breeze off the ocean raised goose bumps on my arms. Cody at least wasn’t annoying me by trying to talk while we were riding, which Stephanie always did.
We rode by the roped off turtle nest and kept on going. I was acutely aware of him riding beside me, of the way his knees, when he pedaled, went up a bit too high, since Stephanie’s bike was too small for him. Most guys wouldn’t be caught dead on a girl’s bike, but Cody didn’t seem to care.
I was looking for the forked piece of driftwood, but before we got there, I noticed some odd looking, dark mounds on the beach. They looked like they were moving.
“What’s that?” I called to Cody. We pedaled closer.Something was definitely moving. As we moved toward it, I heard a low, terrible moan, like a child in pain, like something alive that was in pain. This sound was so wrenching, tears came to my eyes and my heart began to beat wildly. What could it be?
I rode closer, then let my bike drop in the sand. It wasn’t Firecracker. It was the mare I had seen on the first day, lying on her side, moaning, snorting, and struggling to stand. And her black foal, Dark Angel, was beside her, its head down, nuzzling its mother, and whinnying softly.
I took a few steps closer, and Dark Angel lunged a few yards away from me, then stood trembling on her knobby legs, and crying almost like a goat.
I watched the mare flail and saw that she wasn’t able to use one of her hind legs. A thin sliver of the white of her eye flashed as she jerked her head in the moonlight. “It’s her leg.”
“What can we do?” asked Cody. He was right behind me.
My mouth was completely dry. The mare’s moans made me feel sick to my stomach, and a cold sweat broke out on my arms and neck. I couldn’t stand to see animals in pain. Last summer when I’d found Waya, the wolf, and she’d been shot, I had almost fainted.
I wanted to go to the mare, touch her, stroke her, andsoothe her. But she was wild. Touching her wouldn’t soothe her. It would only scare her.
I took some deep breaths. Tried to calm the wall of panic in my brain.
If we called anyone, we’d get in trouble for being out here. But we had to. We had to get help for her. Could we call without giving our names?
“Let me see your cell phone,” I said to Cody. Silently he handed it to me, and with shaking fingers I punched in 911.
“Sheriff’s department,” said a man’s clipped voice.
“Yes,” I said, trying to control my breathing. “Out on the beach—where you drive on the beach—there’s a wild horse that’s lying on its side and can’t get up. Someone might have hit it. And there’s a foal too.”
“Where are you?”
“On the four-wheeler part of the
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