Free Leap of Faith by Fiona McCallum Page A

where the two yards met and gave them some attention while resting from the short journey, which had proved both exhausting and extremely painful. Every movement felt like a bone-splintering jolt right up through her plastered leg. She was even puffing and hot under her layers of clothes. Not only was her left leg aching from taking all the weight and her right from being fractured, her hands were sore from gripping the crutches. God, how the hell am I going to do anything?
    She thought about just returning to the house, but the horses had started pacing, clearly sure their feed was nearly there. She couldn’t let them down now. Well, she had to try. Luckily, they hadn’t got bored and playful and tossed their empty feed tubs around and into the middle of the yards – the tubs stood near the fence; Jessica could probably reach them from where she was if she stretched.
    With each of the brightly coloured plastic tubs beside her, she now had to get them inside the feed shed for filling. She couldn’t roll them because they were too flexible and the moulded handle meant they weren’t round at the top. Could she get down low enough to the ground to lock her teeth onto a handle? She tried it. No, she couldn’t, and fear shot through her as she only just managed to stop herself from overbalancing and falling flat on her face. Broken teeth were the last thing she needed. She scowled at the buckets and then at the horses, who seemed to find her antics amusing: they were contorting their top lips, tossing their heads up and down, and giving the occasional snort.
    â€˜Yes, bloody hilarious,’ she muttered.
    So how the hell was she going to get them fed? Was there a way, or would she have to go back to the house and wait for Steve? The thought annoyed her – Jessica Harrington née Collins had never given up anything in her life without giving it a decent shot.
    Right, there had to be a way. She gasped and gritted her teeth as sharp pain shot up her plastered leg. She pushed it aside and focussed on the task at hand.
    She considered trying putting a tub on her head, but they were far too deep; she wouldn’t be able to see where she was going. Jessica had the fleeting thought that if she did manage to get the tubs to the feed shed there was no way she’d get them back with the horses’ feeds in them. She dismissed it. At least having the feeds portioned, ready for Steve to give out would be a help. And she would feel a sense of accomplishment as well as less useless. Boy, did she need that! She was damn well going to get these bins over and into the feed shed if it killed her!
    There was nothing for it but to pick them up and throw them, and hope they went in the right direction. They were robust enough to stand up to the horses tossing them around. She picked the first one up but, fearful of overbalancing, could only throw it a little way in front of her. But that was better than nothing. She picked the other one up. Prepared for how it would feel this time, she managed to toss it further.
    Finally, sweating, cursing and heaving, Jessica had the two tubs inside the shed and up to the old chest freezers they kept the feed in so mice and other creepy crawlies couldn’t get in and contaminate it. She sat down on the drawbar of the float. She was exhausted and her leg was killing her. And, she thought, looking down at her watch with horror, it had taken her twenty minutes just to get this far. She’d divvy up the feeds and then go back to the house. The horses would have to wait – this trying to be useful was bloody tiring and painful!
    Jessica had just finished mixing the feeds when she heard the ute drive up, dogs barking from the tray. They always got excited when working with stock, and took a while to come down. Meanwhile they let everyone know of the fun and excitement they’d had, and how helpful they had been.
    â€˜Steve,’ Jessica called when she heard the ute