Love's Deception (22 page)

Cat looked up. He still stood on the other side of the fence, holding it upright. He couldn’t let go of it or it would fall into her and Ava. He unclipped the lead rope from the fence and offered it to Cat. “Thank you.” She clipped it onto the halter ring. “Come on, Ava. Let’s go get you bandaged up.”

Once Cat had the horse well away from the fence, Ty dropped  it and stepped across the wire into the pasture. Grateful the worst of it was over, Cat smiled at him. He didn’t look dressed to go to a nice dinner—dirty jeans and the ratty flannel jacket he’d worn the night she visited his treehouse. After making a point of inviting her out for a nice dinner in downtown Portland, she expected he would have dressed up a little. “You weren’t gone long,” she said, noticing he hadn’t shaved. “Did you change your mind about dinner?”

“No, I didn’t. Actually, I was standing in the shower and felt I should check on you. Maybe it was an obsessive-boyfriend moment. I don’t know why, but suddenly I was worried sick about you. So, I got out of the shower, threw on some clothes, and drove over here. I’ve got to admit, I fully expected you to laugh at me when I got here.”

Hot tears flooded Cat’s eyes and she shook her head. “I’m definitely not laughing, Ty. It’s a miracle you came back. I was so scared, I couldn’t think straight. The fence was too heavy for me, and I never would have thought to climb to the other side and clip the rope to the wire. I kept trying to push it off, but with Ava’s kicking it was too dangerous. But I prayed for help, and you came.”

He wrapped his arm around Cat’s shoulder and pulled her close to his side. “I’d always come back for you.”

She leaned her head against his chest and put one arm around his waist, but a tug on the rope followed by a deep grunt from Ava brought her to a stop. Cat spun around to see the mare dropping to the ground. The big horse rolled onto her side and groaned, her flanks rising and falling rapidly.

“What’s wrong now?” Ty asked.

Cat’s eyes widened. It couldn’t be. She tugged on the rope. “I don’t know, but this is what they do when they colic. That would explain why she lay down so close to the fence. That’s not like her.” Cat moved to the side of the horse and yanked on the animal’s head, but Ava rolled onto her back, pawing the air. Cat yanked on the rope and finally got her to stand. “Come on, Ava.” She kept constant pressure on the rope, wanting to make it as difficult as possible for the horse to lie down again.

“Does this happen very often?” Ty questioned.

“No, but she did colic once before.”

“What did you do?”

“Danny was just a baby, so my mom walked Ava for hours, trying to keep her on her feet. At around two in the morning, she came back in the house and told me she thought Ava would be fine. And she was.”

“Is that what you’re going to do this time?”

“I guess. I don’t want to call the vet if I don’t have to. It’s just too expensive.”

“What is colic, exactly?”

“Basically, it’s a generic term for stomach problems. Horses can’t throw up, so what goes in has to come out the other end. If food gets hung up somewhere along the way, the horse colics.”

Cat took the mare into the barn and began walking circles in the arena. Ty pulled two metal T-posts and a roll of wire from a dusty pile of odds and ends in the back corner of the barn. He disappeared for a few minutes and returned with the sledgehammer. “I’ll go fix that fence. Eventually it’ll need a new post, but I can prop it up with these for now.”

“Thanks,” Cat said before he disappeared into the darkness.

Ava lay down three times while Ty repaired the fence. Each time, Cat tugged on the lead rope until she scrambled to her feet. About half an hour later, Ty returned with the sledgehammer slung over his shoulder. Rainwater dripped from his hair and the tip of his nose. “That should hold it,” he told Cat.

She let out a sigh. The grumble in her stomach reminded her that she should be sitting at a fine restaurant eating a gourmet meal, not walking circles around a dusty arena. “Ty, I’m so sorry for making us miss dinner, especially when it’s your last night here.”

“That’s okay. It’s not your fault. Are you hungry, though? I could make us something. Or go get carry-out.”

“I should be hungry, but with being so worried about Ava I may not be able to eat much. There’s leftover lasagna in the fridge if you want some.”

Ty leaned the sledgehammer against the wall. “Lasagna sounds good. I’ll hurry back.”

Twenty
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Five

Cat’s mom entered the barn next. “Ty told me. I’m sorry, Cat. You didn’t need this tonight.”

“It’s okay, Mom. How are you feeling? You should be in the house, where it’s warm.”

“I’ll be fine for a while. I need to help. I can’t sit inside when Ava’s having trouble.”

Cat glanced back at the mare, remembering the injury to her legs. “If she’ll stand still long enough without lying down, we could doctor her legs and get them wrapped. Every time she lies down, dirt gets in the cuts.”

“I’ll grab the vet kit,” her mom offered.

No one could wrap a leg better or faster than Sally Benson. Cat hosed off Ava’s legs and walked the horse to where her mom sat on the hay. With the precision of a professional, she applied antibiotic ointment, a nonstick pad, a layer of cotton, and then finished off with hot pink vet wrap. Meanwhile, Ava pawed the ground and turned her nose to sniff her distended stomach. Before Cat could get her back into the arena, Ava dropped to the ground in the aisle. She lay on her side, ignoring Cat’s efforts to get her up. Her mom knelt beside her horse’s head and whispered in its ear. The words were lost amid the drumming of the rain on the metal roof, but the sight of her mother next to Ava brought tears to Cat’s eyes. Didn’t her mom have enough problems as it was? Why did Ava have to get sick? Why now?

Cat’s mom looked up at her daughter with tear-filled eyes. Slowly, she rose to her feet and picked up the whip leaning against the wall. “She’s got to get up and keep moving. We can’t let her roll.” Anguish filled her countenance, but her voice came out strong. “Ava,” she said, clucking loudly. “Walk, walk, walk.” She followed the verbal command with a tap from the whip. On the third tap, Ava got to her feet and followed Cat into the arena. “She’s worse this time,” her mom said.

“She is. I think we might need to call the vet.” Ava’s distress showed plainly in the look in her eyes, and when she stood still, she quivered. Her coat was nearly dry now, leading Cat to believe the trembling was a pain response, not a result of the cold.

“Let’s give it a little more time,” her mother said. “We don’t have the money to call the vet. Has anything changed in her diet?”

“The last few bales of hay were coarser than usual and full of thick stalks. Maybe she couldn’t digest them. But Mom, money or not, we’re calling the vet if we need to.”

“I know, but let’s give her a chance to work it out on her own first. Just keep her moving.”

Cat trudged around the arena, staring at the toes of her boots kicking through the soft dirt. Three laps later, her head shot up at the sound of Danny’s voice. “Mom, we brought you something.”

Ty entered the arena and held out his hand. “I’ll walk her while you eat.”

Cat relinquished the rope and walked to where Danny stood holding a plate of food. Her mom tapped her foot nervously while Cat ate the lasagna. Sally never took her eyes off her horse. Three times, Ava dropped to the ground while Ty walked her. Cat finished eating and went to take over.

Ty didn’t smile when he passed the rope back. “I’m not doing as well you did.”

Cat tugged on Ava and kept her moving. “It’s not you. I think she’s worse.”

Her mother lifted her head out of her hands and announced, “It’s time to call the vet. Danny, can you run to the house and get the phone?”

Nearly two hours, later Cat stood with Ty, staring at a sedated Ava. Her mother initially insisted on staying with her horse, but Cat and Ty had ganged up on her when what little color she had drained from her face and she began shivering from the cold. Ty had walked her and Danny to the house and returned with the report that Danny was ready for bed and watching a movie, while Cat’s mom had curled up with the electric blanket. Before her mother would let Ty leave, she wrangled a promise out of him that he’d come in and tell her what the vet said.

“What do you want to do?” Ty asked Cat now.

Trying to think was like driving bumper cars blindfolded—each thought crashed into something. Cat ran through Dr. Barlow’s verdict. Based on his exam, it was most likely an impaction colic. Left alone, Ava’s chances were slim. Ideally, the vet wanted her brought into the clinic, where an ultrasound could be performed and she would receive twenty-four-hour-a-day monitoring. After more tests, he would know what to recommend. Surgery was an option, but not one Cat could afford. First, Ava would be given intravenous fluids to flood her system and try to break up the impaction. They would keep her sedated to minimize the risk of her twisting her intestines by thrashing around on the ground. Although far less expensive than surgery, intensive care at an equine hospital wasn’t cheap. And considering the severity of Ava’s colic, any treatment the vet could do at home would most likely prove inadequate.

“I don’t know,” Cat said finally. “Financially we can’t do the surgery, and I don’t think my mom would want to put Ava through that anyway. I don’t know if I can afford to take her to the clinic and put her on IV fluids for a day or two. Yet I don’t know if I can afford not to. Sometimes I think my mom is living for Ava. I can’t even imagine what losing her would do to my mom.” Tears filled Cat’s eyes and she couldn’t speak.

Ty turned away and paced a small circle in front of her. The vet finished packing his equipment in the back of the truck and approached them. “Should I call ahead to the clinic and let them know you’re coming?” Dr. Barlow asked.

Cat didn’t respond right away. She should hand Ty the lead rope and ask the vet to wait a moment while she talked with her mom, but before she could make the suggestion, Ty answered the vet. “Yes, I’ll hook up the trailer and we’ll leave in the next fifteen minutes. Let’s try the IV fluids and see if that helps.”

The vet pulled his phone out of his pocket. “All right, I’ll tell them you’re on your way. With a little luck, the mare will pull through this.”

Ty reached out and shook the vet’s hand, thanking him.

“You’re welcome,” Dr. Barlow replied. He held the phone to his ear and turned toward his truck.

Cat stared at Ty. “Shouldn’t we have asked my mom?”

“I think both the horse and your mom deserve a chance. You heard the vet. Ava won’t make it if we do nothing. I’ll get your truck and back the trailer down here.” Ty left for the house. Cat let out a sigh, relieved the decision was made. Ava did deserve a chance, and that was what they’d give her. Cat would have to charge the vet bill to her credit card and figure it out later. Now it was more important than ever that she find a job.

Five minutes passed before Dr. Barlow returned, putting his cell phone in his pocket. “They’ll have a stall ready for her when you get there.”

“What do I owe you?” Cat asked.

“You can pay the total at the clinic when we know exactly what we need to do for her,” the vet answered.

The rumble of her truck’s engine sounded from the driveway. Two sets of headlights panned the arena. One from the vet leaving, the other from Ty turning her truck around to hook the truck to the trailer. Cat stood in a state of mild shock. Was it only hours ago she thought it was a perfect day? Now it didn’t even seem like the same day. Things had changed in the blink of an eye. What were Ava’s chances? Had the vet sugarcoated it? Cat had never seen a horse colic this bad before.

She should probably be doing something to help Ty, but thinking it and making herself move were two entirely different things. He backed the trailer into the arena and shut off the engine, then opened the back of the trailer and watched as Cat loaded Ava. The horse weaved her way into the trailer, still groggy from the sedative.

Cat tied Ava’s rope to the trailer and turned to Ty. “What about my mom and Danny? We should tell—”

Locking the trailer door, Ty interrupted her. “I already talked to them. Danny’s still watching a movie. He looks like he’s about to fall asleep on the couch. And your mom said thank you. I told her we’ll call her as soon as we know something.”

“What about my purse?” Cat said.

Ty slipped his arm around her and led her to the passenger side of the truck. He opened the door.“You won’t need it. I’ll drive.”

Cat chewed her fingernails throughout the forty-five minute trip. She’d broken the habit years ago, but under stress, she faltered. “It’s the second driveway after the stoplight,” she said, then slid the nail on her ring finger between her teeth.

Ty reached across the cab and took her hand in his. “Hold my hand. You’re going to draw blood if you keep that up any longer. Don’t worry. It’ll all work out.”

She tapped her foot on the floor mat. “I hope so.”

Ty chuckled and shook his head. The first smile she’d seen in hours spread across his face. “What’s so funny?” Cat asked.

He turned on his blinker and glanced at her knee, bouncing up and down as she tapped her foot. “You. Relax. We’re doing everything we possibly can. It’s in the Lord’s hands now.”

She took a deep breath and stretched her legs in front of her. “You’re right, but I just feel so anxious.”

Ty pulled through the open gate and stopped by the oversized clinic door. “Well, we’re here.”

The full-time hospital vet and two assistants met them at the door. Cat unloaded Ava and followed them into the large building. An assistant took the rope from Cat’s hand and got the horse’s weight before leading her to a large stall. Four huge IV fluid bags hung from the ceiling. Cat watched from the doorway as a whirlwind of activity surrounded Ava. While the vet and one assistant worked a tube through the mare’s nose into her stomach, the other assistant shaved a square patch of skin on her neck and inserted the needle for the IV. It was taped firmly into place and rubber bands were used to attach the tubing to a braided section of mane. The vet and the assistants lowered the fluid bags and hooked the tubing to the first one. The sedative had worn off completely, leaving Ava agitated. The muscles along her side quivered as she tried to manage her pain. She pawed the ground and turned a circle in the deep bedding of wood shavings, looking for a place to lie down.

The vet pulled on Ava’s halter, walking her in a small circle while she adjusted the flow of fluid and called for a tranquilizer. An assistant passed her the medicine. “What’s that for?” Cat asked.

The vet depressed the contents of the vial through the IV. Within a minute, Ava relaxed once again. The vet smiled and turned to Cat. “The sedative relaxes them and helps with the pain. It’s the best way to keep her still. We don’t want her rolling. That’ll only make matters worse.”

Cat nodded her head and then looked around for Ty. He’d left twenty minutes ago to park the trailer, but the aisle was vacant. The vet stepped outside the stall and made some notes in Ava’s file. Cat folded her arms and waited, fighting a mental battle to keep from breaking down and crying. The events of the evening had drained her of every ounce of emotional and physical energy.

A few minutes later, Ty walked around the corner with one of the assistants. The keys to her truck dangled loosely from one of his fingers. He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave her an encouraging smile.

The vet finished her notes and took the handful of syringes from the assistant. “You can leave if you’d like. We’ll have someone with her at all times, and we’ll call you in the morning with an update on her condition.”

“What if she gets worse during the night?” Cat asked. “You’ll call me, right? It doesn’t matter what time it is, you can call.”

The vet smiled. “Yes. If anything changes, we’ll call you right away.”

Cat looked up at Ty, who asked, “You ready then?”

“I guess.”

They left the clinic, his arm protectively around her shoulders. At the truck, he didn’t open the door right away, instead wrapping both arms around her. In the quiet darkness of the parking lot, he pulled her into the warmth of his embrace. Her defenses crumbled when he whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry, Catherine.” She buried her face in his chest and let out a muffled sob.

For a long time she stood there, crying, not wanting to leave his arms. He ran his fingers gently through her hair while he held her.

Ty’s phone rang, and Cat reluctantly lifted her head. She wiped her fingertips across her cheeks. Then after realizing how dirty her fingers were, she wiped the back of her hand under her eyes, thankful the darkness would hide any streaks of mascara.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and answered the call, then handed the phone to Cat. “Your mom.”

“How’s it going, honey?” her mother asked after Cat said hello.

“Ava’s settled in here. They got the IV in. They’ll flood her system with fluids to break up the impaction, and they’ll sedate her tonight so she stays quiet. They’ll call us in the morning with a report, or earlier if anything changes.”

“Okay. Thank you, Cat. It breaks my heart I can’t take care of this.”

“I know, but it’s okay, Mom. We’re about to leave the clinic now, so we’ll be home in an hour.”

“You drive safely.”

“Ty’s driving, but we will.”

“Tell him thank you for me, will you?”

“Sure, Mom. We’ll see you soon.”

Cat handed the phone back. “She asked me to thank you.”

He pocketed his phone and unlocked the door. “You’re very welcome.”

Once they were on the road, Cat closed her eyes, trying to block out the image of Ava quivering in pain, hooked up to tubes. When Ty took his right hand off the steering wheel, Cat slid her fingers through his. He looked at her with a trace of surprise on his face. “Why don’t you scoot over here and sit by me,” he suggested.

Leaving her hand in his, Cat unbuckled her seat belt and moved to the middle. She rested her other hand on his arm and laid her head against his shoulder. She let out a sigh and shut her eyes. “I’m so tired. We never did get to have our dinner conversation. So, I’m still waiting to hear what we talked about in my sleep the other night.”

“I know,” Ty said. “I was looking forward to that conversation. But it’s late, and you’ve had a long day. It’ll have to wait for another time. You should try to rest.”

Cat pushed her worries to the back of her mind and thought only of Ty. Within minutes, she eased herself into sleep.