Free Golden Filly Collection Two by Lauraine Snelling Page B

desire to fling herself into her mother’s arms was strong, but she hung on to the windowsill, unable to let down the floodgate of her own tears.
    Finally Marge sighed and pulled a tissue from the nightstand. “Trish, I understand your anger, but you can’t keep taking it out on the rest of us. We’re trying to get through ourselves, and we want to help you.”
    “Don’t.”
    Marge stood and joined her daughter at the window. “How about talking with Pastor Mort?”
    Trish shook her head. “No way.”
    When Marge tried to give her a hug, Trish sidestepped so it turned into a pat on the shoulder.
    “I need to go see how Miss Tee is.”

    The next morning, after long gallops on the three horses in training, plus a nip from Gatesby, Trish took a lead shank out to the pasture and waited for Miss Tee to meet her at the fence. The filly danced up and stopped just out of reach. She extended her muzzle in search of a treat, but leaped away when Trish reached for the halter.
    “Great. This is turning into a perfect morning.” Trish forced herself to stand perfectly still and wait for the filly to come to her; her patience lasting only long enough for Miss Tee to sniff her hand for the usual carrot.
    “Sorry, you didn’t earn one today.” She snapped the lead shank in place and led the filly through the gate.
    “Where you going?” David asked when Trish continued past the barns and toward the drive.
    “Taking her for a long walk. She needs to learn some manners.”
    “Well, take her around the track then.”
    “David, quit the boss stuff. I know what I’m doing.” She clucked to the filly and walked off. She could hear David muttering and complaining but chose to ignore both him and Patrick. “You’re my horse, you’d think I could do what I want.” Miss Tee bumped her head against Trish’s shoulder as if begging for her treat. Trish gave her a small piece of carrot.
    Her dog, Caesar, padded beside them as they alternately trotted and walked down the long gravel driveway. “Come on, Miss Tee,” Trish encouraged the filly, “you have to do the same thing I do.” She tugged on the lead shank to pick up the pace. Miss Tee pulled her head up and back, ears flat, each time the lead shank tightened over her nose. Trish patted her neck. “You’re just making life miserable for yourself. Go along with me; it’s easier.”
    Trish turned forward and clucked with a tug again. They were nearly at the Runnin’ On Farm sign; time to turn back. At the instant she turned, a rabbit dashed across the drive in front of them. Caesar exploded after the rabbit, his sharp bark cutting the air.
    Miss Tee bolted. Her shoulder spun Trish around, sending her to her knees. The force ripped the lead shank from her hands, and the filly tore out onto the road, swerving just in time to avoid broadsiding an oncoming car.
    The filly whinnied in fear, the lead shank slapping her on the side, and galloped up the road.
    Trish felt as if she were watching a horror movie in slow motion. She leaped to her feet and dashed after the horse.
    “Can we help you?” the driver of the car stopped to ask. “I thought we’d hit her for sure.”
    “If you could wait here…no, back there on the other side of our driveway, and stop any oncoming cars…” Trish pointed behind her.
    “Okay.” The man backed up.
    Trish ran on ahead. She could see Miss Tee just over the rise, still running hard. A horn honked. Brakes squealed.
    Trish poured on all the speed she had, terrified she’d find the filly crushed on the road ahead.
    She topped the rise. A car was swerved sideways in the road, but the filly ran on.
    Each breath burned her lungs as Trish sucked in great gulps of air, still pounding up the road. Then she heard a vehicle pulling up beside her.
    “Trish, for pete’s sake, get in!” David stopped the truck long enough for Trish to jump on the running board and hang on to the doorframe. “I told you—” David clipped off his words. “What