Free Trickster by Laurie Halse Anderson

home.”
    “But—” Zoe starts.
    “No buts, Zoe. You don’t have enough experience being around horses to help here. It’s one thing to help with an injured cat or dog, quite another when we’re dealing with a thousand pounds of horse.” Dr. Mac is not fooling around.
    The others take off, but I stay with Dr. Mac. She takes the cell phone out of her equipment box and punches in a number, tapping her foot impatiently as she waits for the connection to go through.
    “Let me stay,” I ask. “I can help—you know I can.”
    Dr. Mac holds up one finger. “Yes, hello,” she says into the phone. “Gabe? It’s J.J. Get down toQuinn’s—stat! We have a situation here. Starfire is having heart problems, another horse just had a seizure, and we have a couple of cases that look like colic. Yes, it’s ugly. Hurry.”
    “What is it, Dr. Mac?” I ask as she puts the phone away. “What’s happening?”
    “I don’t know yet—some kind of strange viral infection, something in the water, or it could be a plant they ate in the pasture. I just hope we can figure it out in time,” she says grimly.
    “You don’t mean …”
    “Yes, I do. This is serious, David. These horses might be dying. Now go with the others. There is nothing you can do to help around here, and I would feel better if you were home.”
    It takes a second for everything to sink in … Gertie’s seizure, Starfire’s heart problem, all the horses acting weird. Then it hits me like a hammer.
    “Dr. Mac, I think Trickster’s in trouble, too!”

Chapter Fourteen
    W e find Trickster writhing on the ground in his stall, rolling in pain. His coat is sweaty and covered with bits of straw and manure. The stall that I just cleaned—what, half an hour ago?—is already a mess again. It smells really awful, not at all like regular horse manure.
    “Trickster!” I shout.
    He twists his head around toward us, then tries to get to his feet, but freezes when he’s halfway up. He looks like he’s sitting up like a dog.
    C’mon, buddy. Stand up
.
    “Classic colic sign,” Dr. Mac says. “His stomach is hurting him something awful. If he sitslike that, it makes him feel a little better. What we don’t want is for him to roll around on the ground. That could make his intestines twist. Horses can die from that.”
    Trickster slowly gets on his feet, his back legs shaking. His eyes roll back in his head as his belly spasms.
    “Let’s get him out of there,” Dr. Mac says. “Walking can make a colicky horse feel better.”
    “But what about his leg?” I ask.
    “That’s the least of his problems right now. Help me here.”
    Dr. Mac enters Trickster’s stall, clips a rope to his halter, and leads him out. Trickster steps gingerly on the concrete.
    “Walk ahead of us,” Dr. Mac says. “He’ll follow better if he can see you.”
    We slowly make our way through the barn, Trickster’s lopsided clip-clopping noise on the floor reminding me of his injury.
    The paddock outside the foaling barn looks like a hospital waiting room, except the patients have four legs and long tails. Gertie, Gus, Claiborne, and Elsa wander in the paddock, theirheads low and necks dark with sweat. Jared sits on the fence keeping an eye on them. Through the foaling barn door, I can see Mr. Quinn talking to Starfire.
    “J.J.,” he calls to Dr. Mac. “I think his fever is going up.”
    “Claiborne keeps urinating,” Jared says.
    “Where should we put Trickster?” I ask.
    “Too many horses, not enough hands,” Dr. Mac mutters. She takes a deep breath. “OK, here’s what we’re going to do. We can’t let them walk around the paddock. I want you two to take each of these horses into a foaling barn stall.”
    As soon as we bring the first horse, Claiborne, into a stall, Dr. Mac starts examining him. Dr. Gabe arrives, pulling his car around the side of the barn. He jumps out and starts unloading supplies. Dr. Mac and I run over to help.
    “Did you get everything?” asks Dr.