Golden Filly Collection One Read Online Free Page B

You could take care of everything, God. How about this? Can you really heal my dad, like he says you can? Please, if you could just make it be something simple…They’ve got medicine for everything now. Just let him get the right medicine and come home. I need him!
    Eating her snack with little enjoyment, Trish made her way to her bedroom to change clothes. The mess was still as she’d left it. No good fairies came during the day to repair the damage.
    Trish dropped the apple core in the wastebasket. On a huge poster on her wall, three Thoroughbreds raced for the finish line, reminding her of the animals and stalls that needed to be taken care of.
    “Good thing Brad is coming,” she muttered. “There’s lots to be done.”
    She glanced around at the piles of clothes, dirty and clean all jumbled together. The unmade bed invited her to take a nap, but instead she tossed her pants and shirt on one of the mounds and scrambled to find a clean pair of jeans. A car horn sounded as she pulled a cut-off sweat shirt over her head.
    “Coming,” she shouted out the open window, then dashed down the hall to find her boots. At least they were by the door where they belonged.
    The horn sounded again.
    “Brad, you idiot, I’m coming,” she muttered to herself. Once out the door, she trotted to where Brad lounged against the fender of his metallicblue Mustang. “How’d you get here so fast?”
    “Fast?” He held up his watch for her to see. “It’s been forty-five minutes. What have you been doing? Daydreaming?”
    “Uh—huh—I mean, no.” Trish shook her head. “David went into Vancouver to be with Mom. They admitted Dad to the hospital.”
    “I’m sorry, Tee.” Brad touched her shoulder. “You want me to drive you in there?”
    “No! Not now.” She stared off at the stables. “I mean, uh, someone has to do the chores around here. We can’t all be running in to the hospital.” Trish cleared her throat as she leaned down to stroke the insistent Caesar. “Besides, Dad needs me here. There’s so much left to do before the season starts.” She took a deep breath, silently promising herself to think about that later.
    “Well, then let’s get at it.” Brad bowed. “Brad Williams, horse feeder, trainer, mucker-outer, at your service.”
    “The pay’s not so good.”
    “Madam, I am c-h-e-a-p labor. What I do, I do for love.” Way off key, Brad crooned one of the latest hit melodies.
    “Yeah, love of Mom’s cookies.” Trish grinned at his antics.
    “Speaking of which…”
    “No way. You get paid after you work, not before.”
    “You heartless slave driver.” Brad tried one more pleading look. “Oh well.” He bent over to talk to Caesar. “See how she picks on me?” The dog licked Brad’s nose, and he brushed it off with the back of his hand. “Well, let’s get at it.”
    “He’s crazy, isn’t he, Caesar?” Trish shook her head. The three of them, two long-time friends and the dog, jogged down the slope to the stables. The three white buildings looked peaceful in the late afternoon sunshine.
    A chorus of whinnies greeted Trish’s whistle. All down the line, horses’ heads turned to greet her from the stable doors. Spitfire, in the near stall, tossed his head and wickered again. Dan’l, not to be out done, banged the door with his front hoof.
    “Some greeting.” Brad laughed.
    “You guys just want out, don’t you?” Trish rubbed Spitfire’s soft black nose. He pushed against her shoulder, then nibbled at her hair. “Careful, goofy, you bit me yesterday.” Trish rubbed his ears and stroked down the muscled neck. In the next stall, Dan’l reached as far toward her as his stall door permitted. His nostrils quivered in a soundless nicker.
    “You old sweetheart.” Trish rubbed his nose and on up to his favorite spot, just under his forelock. Dan’l draped his head over her shoulder, content to be scratched.
    “What do you need me to do first?” Brad joined her in stroking the old