the mixture of odors, from hot popcorn to the sweat of nervous animals. Even Fanchon, or Fanny, as the mare was more commonly called, evidenced excitement.
With her gloved hand Maddie stroked Fanny’s neck and murmured, “Hold on, girl. We’re up next. Stay calm.”
Her touch always soothed the beautiful gray quarter horse mare, and Maddie let her gaze drift around to the men and women in jeans, boots and big hats awaiting their events. She could hear snatches of conversations and recognized the same thrill of competition in their voices that she felt in the pit of her stomach.
A roar went up in the stands, and Maddie heard over the loudspeaker that Janie Weston had knocked over a barrel during her race, which meant that if Maddie made a good ride, she would again win the trophy and the purse. Barrel racing was Maddie’s specialty, and she could fill a small room with trophies, if she had a room. But her home was a long trailer that she pulled with a one-ton pickup truck. And so whenever she was in Austin, Texas, as she was now, she would go to her rented storage space and unload the trophies that she’d picked up since her last visit.
Maddie never let herself get overly confident, nor did she ever even think hallelujah when her toughest competitor knocked herself out of the race. It could happen so easily, and it had happened to Maddie a time or two. Besides, rodeo contestants were, for the most part, good sports and great people. Maddie knew a lot of them by name, especially those that followed the rodeo circuit, as she did.
Janie rode from the arena with a downcast expression, but when Maddie’s name was announced as the next contestant, she sent Maddie a thumbs-up.
Maddie acknowledged Janie’s courtesy with a smile and a nod and urged Fanny forward. At the starting post, she again touched Fanny and spoke quietly. In seconds the blare of the starting horn put both Fanchon and Maddie into action. At lightning speed Fanny circled the first barrel and then the second. Every movement made by Fanny and Maddie was smooth and necessary. Maddie’s mind was totally focused on her race against the clock, and she barely heard the crowd now.
Then something happened. Fanchon took a sudden nose dive and Maddie went flying. She landed hard on her right side and blacked out.
The crowd fell silent, and the announcer didn’t have to shout to be heard. “Folks, Miss Maddie Kincaid ran into a bit of trouble. As you can see, the medics are putting her on a stretcher. They’ll see to it that Maddie is well cared for. I’ll keep y’all posted.”
The rodeo continued, but Maddie knew nothing for a good ten minutes. When she came to she was in an ambulance with a wailing siren, lying on her back with an IV needle in her arm and an attendant watching her vital signs.
“Fanchon,” she said weakly.
“Your horse? She’s fine. Not even a scratch.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very sure.”
Maddie closed her eyes. She couldn’t find a spot on her body that didn’t hurt and finally whispered, “Pain.”
“Yes, I know,” the attendant said. “There’s a mild sedative in your IV drip, but we can’t give you anything stronger until you’re checked for concussion. Try to relax.”
The rest of Maddie’s trip to the hospital was spent in “trying to relax.” But her body hurt like hell and her mind was clouded just enough to make sudden, clear thoughts jump out at her—especially any thought pertaining to Fanny. After all, when the man in the white suit didn’t know if she had a concussion or not, would he tell her the truth if Fanny had been seriously injured in their fall?
Being transported from ambulance to emergency room was fast and little more than a blur for Maddie. Then began the tests—a battery of them—and finally a pain shot that did some good. She went out like a light and woke up hours later in a hospital gown and bed. Her brain was fuzzy, and she was thirsty enough to drink water from a horse trough—right along with the animals.
It seemed like a simple matter to get the tall glass of water she could see on the stand next to the bed, but when she tried to raise her right arm, it refused to cooperate. She finally lifted it high enough to see the thick blue fabric encasing her hand and lower arm. She knew what it was—a soft cast. She’d broken something. Not her wrist, because that would be in a hard cast. She’d seen many casts and bandages during her rodeo career. Banged-up cowboys and cowgirls were not a rarity, but this was Maddie’s first accident that had put her in a hospital bed.
She rang for the nurse, and in a minute or so one came in. “You’re awake. Good. What do you need, hon?”
“Some water, which I can’t seem to reach for myself, and maybe a rundown on what else is broken besides my arm.”
The nurse held the glass so Maddie could suck water through the straw. “Your arm’s not broken, hon, it’s a couple of little bones in your hand. You have no other fractures, but your entire right side is badly bruised.”
“I feel…awful,” Maddie said in a whispery unsteady voice.
The nurse checked her watch. “You’re due for another pain shot. I’ll get it.” She hurried out and returned almost at once with a syringe. “You have to turn a bit so I can reach your hip.”
Turning even a “bit” was unbelievably painful for Maddie. In comparison, the sting of the needle was nothing.
“Your doctor will be in to see you sometime this evening,” she said before leaving.
Maddie was already drifting off again, only alert enough to be glad about the doctor. She had questions, or she’d had questions when the nurse had talked so briefly about her injuries. Maybe she would remember them when the doctor appeared this evening. She hoped so.
As it turned out, the doctor showed up around four-thirty that afternoon. “I’m Dr. Upton,” he said while reading the notations on what Maddie supposed was her chart. Finished with that he sat on the one chair near her bed. “How’re you feeling?”
“I hurt,” she said bluntly, if with very little force behind the two words. Along with varying degrees of pain from her head to her legs, she felt horribly weak, but had to find out everything she could about her injuries.
Dr. Upton nodded. “I don’t doubt it. You took quite a spill, young woman. It’s somewhat of a miracle that all you broke were two small bones in one hand. It’s the hand you landed on, of course. Your abrasions were caused from being dragged through the dirt.”
“Dragged? By what?”
“By your horse.”
“Fanchon is a gentle mare and would never drag me!”
The doctor smiled indulgently. “Sorry, Maddie,” he said gently, “but that’s exactly what happened.”
“Then she was afraid.”
“Possibly. Undoubtedly,” he added. “She was falling, as well. Fear is only natural in that instance.”
“Where is she? Do you know?”
“I knew that would be your first question once you were lucid, so I made some phone calls to find out. Fanchon is stabled at the rodeo grounds. She’s fine and so will you be in time.”
“In
