treacherous sport of horse-riding, and this would never have happened.
He cursed himself in his thoughts, felt no consolation for having been proved right about what could happen. It didn't lessen the pain
either to think that when fully recovered, Jenny might abandon this dangerous hobby; give it up forever. The only positive thought he could muster was that somehow, somewhere, there might be a miracle treatment or procedure that would
correct the malfunction in his manhood, and change both their lives forever.
* * *
Andy's heart was heavy, laden down with sadness and worry. He was terrified at the thought of Jenny being seriously injured. Opening the
ramp at the rear of the double horse trailer as Joe led in the big mare, he couldn't speak. The hurt he felt was intensified even further when he took the saddle and bridle from Garry, and placed them in the trailer where the little
horse would have stood. Joe could see his father's grief, tried to console him, while managing to bravely retain his own composure.
'It's just one of those things that happen, Dad. As long as Jenny is all right ...' he hesitated. He wasn't sure - no one was sure, he
tried again.
'If Jenny is okay ... sure that's the main thing, isn't it? The horse can be replaced.'
Andy just nodded. It helped a little. He was grateful to Joe
for his valiant efforts, but his eyes were full and his heart was still aching.
* * *
Waiting for the lights to change at the junction that led on to the N25, Garry leaned over the steering wheel of his old jeep. Ahead of him
lay seventy miles of lonely road. Weary and frustrated, he dearly wished he was home. It had been a long and eventful day. He would 'hit the hay' early and sleep it off. He wondered about the young woman. Had she woken up yet? Would she ever
wake up? It looked bad. She was so unlucky. A freak accident - no one's fault. Just one of those things. A real good-looking lady too. I wonder will she make it?
"Be positive, Garry," Her husband is a doctor
at that new hospital. Of course she'll make it - she'll be fine."
When she does wake up, would she ever know about him. T'would be nice if someone told her. A chat with her sometime would be nice too - even on the phone - to talk about horses. She seemed a real horse-woman - and
what a rider. How she presented that little horse to those big brutal jumps. She definitely was no ordinary rider - there was real talent there. Courage and 'bottle' too - tons of it. She'll be back - that's for sure.
Pity about the little horse. He won't be back. He was brave too - a bit too brave for his own good. He needed another inch or two in height for those massive banks. What he lacked in size, he made up for with courage
and a big honest heart.
The big mare was something else though. She had everything - except experience. When she gets that she'll be brilliant. Mrs Dilworth should buy her. She won't regret it. Mares like her don't come easy. She's not cheap -
maybe not now - but in the long run she'll prove to be a bargain. What a hunter? What a race-mare she'd make? What a potential brood mare? Mrs Dilworth was lucky. He was pleased for her.
* * *
At the emergency entrance to the Belmont Clinic, staff were
on full alert as the ambulance rolled to a smooth halt. Dr Turner was there too. This was no routine admission. The wife of one of their own doctors, arriving seriously injured, unconscious, was a first for all of them. She would
get extra special attention.
The stretcher was lowered gently, under the supervision of an outwardly composed Dr McKevitt, rolled down a brightly lit corridor, then into Radiology.
Ken was suppressing his inner turmoil. He was determined to
act professionally in the presence of the senior doctors. He knew it would be understood if he couldn't. But he also knew that if he showed weakness or emotional stress, Dr Turner would diplomatically place him on the 'subs bench'
for his wife's emergency treatment. He couldn't risk