Free Sylvie's Cowboy by Iris Chacon

are
quick to respond, however, and emergency medical technicians are
standing by at the end of the field should their assistance be
required. Let us maintain quiet for a moment until the doctor can
determine the gravity of the situation. Rules require that if a
player loses consciousness, he may not resume play in this
match.”
    The doctor and two officials knelt beside
Walt, who was indeed unconscious. Momentarily, he revived, and they
helped him to sit up. The crowd cheered.
    Three grooms surrounded the injured animal.
One of them left the horse, walked to Walt’s side, and said
something solemnly.
    Walt nodded slowly. With help, he stood and
limped to where the pinto struggled, unable to stand. Walt gestured
to someone on the far sidelines. The doctor and officials left the
field, and the referee spoke into a field-side telephone. Walt
knelt beside the fallen horse, held its head, and stroked its neck
comfortingly. He seemed to be talking softly, trying to calm the
animal.
    Sylvie was frozen in her seat, clutching
Maude as if life depended upon it. She didn’t even know she was
crying. If asked, she wouldn’t have been able to say whether her
tears were for the man or the animal. She only knew her stomach
cramped, her throat was congested, and her eyes were inexorably
fixed on the fallen horse and rider.
    The announcer broke the stunned silence that
had settled over the stands. “Ladies and gentlemen, the player is,
fortunately, not seriously injured. However, the doctor has invoked
the loss-of-consciousness rule, and Walter McGurk will not play the
remainder of this match. The loss of a nine-goaler like McGurk is
critical in a match as close as this one, and it appears—”
    He stopped abruptly as an official returned
from the far sidelines with a pistol. Walt took it from the
man.
    The announcer continued, in hushed tones.
“Oh, how unfortunate, ladies and gentlemen. This valiant polo pony
has been seriously injured in the fall. Please maintain quiet a
moment longer while we wait for further word on his condition.”
    Utter stillness covered the crowd. The flags
atop the grandstand seemed to thunder against the unnatural silence
as they flapped in the wind. The faces of all the players on the
field had turned to stone. Sylvie Pace had stopped breathing.
    Walt gently placed the animal’s head down on
the grass and stood. He pointed the pistol, trembled, then steadied
himself. A gunshot resounded across the field. Echoes of the pistol
shot gradually died away until only the flapping of the windblown
flags atop the grandstand could be heard.
    Walt, dejected and in physical pain, was
helped from the field by two men. Quickly, a team of grooms
maneuvered a truck with a lift gate onto the field and removed the
dead horse.
    In short order, a substitute rider had taken
Walt’s place on the field, and the two teams faced off, prepared to
resume play. Daniel Stern could not keep a mild look of triumph off
his face.
    In the stands, Sylvie began breathing again
with a sob. The crowd around her had taken their seats soon after
the initial shock of the accident. Sylvie realized she alone
remained standing. She sat down, clutching Maude and staring with
tear-blurred eyes at the player who limped toward the team locker
rooms without looking back.
    Distantly, she heard the announcer say,
“Ladies and gentlemen, play is resumed.”
    …
    Inside the team locker room, a man was
waiting beside a massage table when Walt limped through the door,
supported by a groom. Walt clutched his left side as the groom
assisted him onto the padded table.
    “That’s all right,” the waiting man told the
groom. “I’ll take it from here. Thank you.”
    Walt didn’t even look up. He heard the groom
leave the room and the other man close the door. The man wore a
yellow windbreaker, and when he began removing Walt’s polo shirt,
Walt finally looked at his face. “What are you doing here?”
    Harry Pace answered him without stopping