Golden Filly Collection One Read Free Page B

if your conversation is so all-fired serious, at least you won’t get run over.”
    “Thanks, friend.” Trish tried to smile but the corners of her mouth felt stiff. She felt herself gathering to run. What she needed right now was to huddle in the big chair in the living room at home and wait for her parents to return. Maybe, just maybe, the problem wasn’t too serious. Maybe some kind of medicine would make her dad well again. Maybe Jesus would make him well right away. She groaned to herself. She hadn’t even thought to pray again. Some Christian she was.
    “Trish?”
    “Ummm-mm.”
    “What can I do to help?” Rhonda shifted her books so she had a free hand to grab Trish’s.
    “What’s going on here?” Brad looked from one stricken face to the other. “Trish, you look like you lost your first race.” He lifted her chin with a calloused finger.
    Trish glanced from Rhonda to Brad, then stared at her typing book. The more she talked about it, the worse it seemed.
    Taking the hint, Rhonda said, “It’s her dad. He was coughing blood this morning.”
    Brad stared at the wall above Trish’s head. He shook his head, took a shuddering breath, and looked deep into her eyes, searching out the pain that lurked behind her self-control. “When did this start?” he whispered.
    “Well,” Trish tried to think back, “he’s been coughing for a long time. Just kept referring to it as ‘his smoker’s hack.’ You know how he is.”
    Brad nodded.
    “Then this morning in the barn…” Trish stared at the hurrying mob of students with unseeing eyes. “They’re at the doctor’s now.”
    “Would you like me to take you home?”
    “I don’t know.” She pushed her hair off her forehead. “I wanted to go home a minute ago, but here I have something to keep my mind sort of busy.”
    “Do you need help at the stables?”
    “I don’t think so. David’s there.”
    “Well, if you need anything…”
    “Sure, thanks.” What I need, you can’t give, she thought. No one can.
    “Starving won’t help.” Brad took both girls’ arms. “Let’s go eat before the food’s all gone.”
    Trish attempted a smile. She knew Brad was trying to make things easier for her. He’d been that kind of friend for years. Her mother often laughed about having four kids instead of two. David was the oldest, Brad next, and finally the Siamese twins, Rhonda and Trish. All four had dreamed of being jockeys when they grew up, but the boys had grown so big they made jockeys look like midgets. Rhonda had switched her concentration to showing gaited horses, so that left Trish to carry the farm silks to glory. Together they had voted on stable colors, crimson and gold. Hal teased them about being in a rut since those were their school colors, but they had stuck by their decision. Trish would wear crimson and gold all the way to the winner’s circle.
    Trish and Rhonda made their way to the salad bar. Like a robot, Trish greeted the serving attendant and filled her plate. Her shoulders slumped when she saw other students sitting at their table in the back of the room. There’d be no time for real talking, no privacy.
    She felt like hiding. The walk across the room suddenly seemed too far, too difficult. Why, just this morning everything had been fine, and now her favorite person in all the world was…She refused to finish the thought.
    She juggled her purse and tray to free one hand. With it, she brushed back her wayward bangs. We’re winners, she thought. Dad always says “Quitters never win and winners never quit.” She marched across the room.
    “You want to sit somewhere else?” Rhonda asked from behind her.
    “No. That’s okay.” Trish set her tray down. “Besides, everything else is full.”
    A chorus of “hi’s” greeted the two as they pulled out their chairs.
    The familiar din of the lunchroom made talking below a shout difficult, so Trish concentrated on her salad.
    “Still watching your weight?” Doug Ramstead,