The Color Of Courage. Patricia Davids
felt Shane take her hand and she gripped it tightly. Don’t scream, she thought, be brave. Act like a soldier. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to stay calm. Only it was so hard. It hurt so much.
Through clenched teeth, she managed to say, “We tripped Avery…and Socks. Are they okay?”
Shane said, “Socks is up. Avery looks a little shaken, but I think he’s okay. Hold on, kid.”
“Dakota is all right, isn’t he, Shane?” She panted, trying to block out the merciless agony. “Please, tell me he’s all right.”
“I’ll check him over once we get you free.” She recognized the voice as the grouchy vet who had suggested Dakota wasn’t sound. If only she had heeded him instead of resenting his interference.
Pride goeth before a fall. Dear, Lord, why did I have to find that out the hard way?
She raised her head once more to look at him. “This is my fault. I should have listened to you.”
Two men in EMS uniforms reached her, saving Brian from having to reply. For that, he was thankful. As they attended to Lindsey, soldiers from the unit quickly dismantled the jump and pillar, making room to move the stricken horse. With their help, Brian coaxed Dakota to roll off his side and onto his stomach, but kept the horse from rising. The move freed Lindsey’s arm, but tore a scream from her that ripped into his heart.
While the medics worked on her, she kept asking about her horse. Others offered her reassurances, but Brian remained silent and avoided her pleading eyes. When she was finally placed on a stretcher and taken off the field, he breathed a sigh of relief. She obviously cared a great deal for the animal. The last thing he wanted was to have her see the brave fellow put down.
For the horse was being brave. Brian’s admiration of the bay gelding grew as the big fellow remained still in spite of the activity going on around him. Even though his eyes were wide, with the whites showing all around indicating pain and fear, he didn’t struggle or thrash the way most horses would have.
When the area had been cleared, Brian gave up his position to a color guard member and rose awkwardly to his feet. He leaned heavily on his cane until he was sure he could take a step without falling on his face. He then moved to check out the horse’s leg. There was already serious swelling below the delicate ankle joint. It didn’t look good.
Several of the football officials in black-and-white striped shirts approached the group. One of them asked, “How soon can you get him off the field? We have a game to play.”
“Your game will have to wait.” Brian didn’t bother to hide his ire.
The man Lindsey had called Shane remained crouched beside Dakota, keeping him still with a hand on the horse’s neck. He ignored the officials completely. “Should we let him try to get up?”
Brian shook his head. “Not with the way that leg is swelling. We don’t want him to do more damage. Let me get a splint on it first. My truck is parked outside the gate next to your trailers. It’s white with College of Veterinary Medicine in purple lettering on the side. I’ve got first-aid equipment in there.”
“Private Gillis will get what you need if you’ll give him your keys.”
One of the soldiers stepped forward and held out his hand. After giving him a detailed list of what he wanted and where it was located, Brian waited impatiently for the Private’s return. It seemed to take forever, but in reality only a few minutes had passed when the breathless soldier raced back and handed Brian his kit and the supplies he had requested.
With the help of the other color guard members, Brian soon had the leg encased in a cotton wool wrap. He applied a lightweight but sturdy aluminum splint and secured it with Velcro straps.
“All right, let him try and get up, but if he doesn’t make it on the first attempt, we’ll need to get a lift in here.”
“We’ll get one, but I sure hope we don’t need it. Do you think he has a fracture?”
“I do, but I can’t say for sure until we get him to the clinic and X-ray the leg.”
With a gentle tug on the reins and some quiet words of encouragement, Shane urged Dakota to stand. After a brief hesitation, the horse lurched awkwardly to his feet. The crowd in the stands broke into loud cheering and applause. Brian looked up in surprise. He had forgotten he had several thousand onlookers watching his every move. No doubt some of his students were in attendance. Perhaps he’d present a pop quiz on splint application on Monday to check if they had been paying attention.
“If you can get your trailer in here, I think he can be loaded. The ride to the clinic isn’t far. You’ll need to wedge him in securely. I don’t want him moving around at all.”
“Thanks, Doc. It is doctor, isn’t it? I’m Corporal Shane Ross.” He held out his hand.
Brian took it in a firm grip. “Yes, I’m Dr. Brian Cutter, Professor of Equine Surgery for the College of Veterinary Medicine here at K-State.”
“Then it sounds like Dakota will be in good hands. I sure hope this isn’t a serious injury. The horse belonged to Lindsey’s brother. She’ll never forgive herself if he has to be put down.”
Lindsey endured her examination at the base hospital in stoic silence, answering between clenched lips only the questions posed to her. The pain she could deal with, but the fact that her arm hung useless against her side had her truly frightened. She couldn’t even move her fingers—they had no feeling at all. Thoughts of Danny’s paralysis crowded in her head. She fought down her rising panic as she addressed the physician attending her. “Sir, why can’t I move my hand?”
The gray-haired doctor sat on a stool beside her narrow bed. “Your humerus is fractured, that’s the bone in your upper arm. I’m going to splint it for now and send you to see an orthopedist. This is a nasty break.”
Like she needed anyone to tell her that. “I still don’t understand why I can’t move my fingers.”
“The nerve that controls hand movement runs in a grove along the bone of the upper arm. When a break occurs the nerve is often damaged. You should recover full use of your hand in a few months.”
“Months?” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“You’ll be on restricted duty until then. I’m giving you some pain medication. Take it regularly, don’t try to tough it out. I’ll write some instructions on icing the arm and have the nurse make an appointment with the specialist. Do you have any questions?”
“How soon can I ride?”
“Not for at least eight weeks, maybe longer depending on the nerve damage.”
She turned her face away, not wanting him to see the distress she knew was written there. The Inauguration was only ten weeks away. Did this mean there wouldn’t be a trip to Washington, D.C., for her?
No, she wouldn’t accept that. She wouldn’t let her chance to honor Danny and all he had stood for pass by without a fight. Besides, even if she couldn’t ride, Dakota could make the trip. Danny could still watch him striding down Pennsylvania Avenue. Every recent phone conversation with her sister-in-law had been filled with stories of Danny’s determination to attend the parade in person.
“You won’t be able to drive,” the doctor said gently. “Do you have someone who can get you home?”
She nodded. Captain Watson was waiting for her. Exactly how she was going to get back and forth from her off-base apartment to her duty station until she could drive was a worry she’d put aside until later.
After they applied the splint and sling and gave her some pain medication, she managed to walk out of the room under her own somewhat shaky power. She found Captain Watson perched on the edge of a chair in the waiting area. He looked nervous and ill at ease. Her heart sank.
Bracing herself to hear the worst, she asked,