Code Triage by Candace Calvert

Author:Candace Calvert [Calvert, Candace]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: General Fiction
ISBN: 9781414325453
Google: dtL9Nev9n6UC
Amazon: 1414325452
Barnesnoble: 1414325452
Goodreads: 8191557
Publisher: Tyndale
Published: 2009-08-31T14:00:00+00:00

Twenty minutes later Leigh walked Frisco to his stall and secured the gate, fortified with instructions, but not completely reassured that her beautiful horse wouldn’t end up in a University of California surgery suite due to a twisted gut. And she could lose the best friend she’d ever . . .

A plaintive bray swept down the stable aisle, and Frisco—sweat-crusted and medicated—answered with a low, exhausted whinny. Leigh walked past the empty space to Tag’s stall, and her throat tightened at the sight of him. His eye, ruptured by the pellet gun, was gone, the eyelid dark and sunken.

“Hello, Tag,” she whispered, extending her fingers through the wooden slats. “Where on earth did you come from?” Her mother’s voice rose without mercy: “Who are his people, Leigh?” She flinched, shoving the memory away, and amended her question. “How could you have ended up where someone would do this to you?” Her gaze swept his tidy body. The gang graffiti had been clipped away in raggedy fashion. His hooves shone with oily polish, and his wispy forelock was secured by a glittery pink clip-on bow. By horse show standards, he looked like the butt of a snide, tittering joke. As the object of girlish love, he was unabashedly beautiful. Leigh glanced up as Maria arrived at her side, one side of her hair in a tidy braid and the other still hanging loose.

“Hi, sweetie,” she said, offering a smile. “Did you come to say good-bye to Tag before you go to school?”

The little girl watched her silently, dark eyes unblinking as her fingers played with her necklace, a silver chain and small cross. Leigh tried not to focus on the circular scars on her forearms. Why shouldn’t she be silent? What on earth could she say about what she’s endured? Why should she even try?

She watched as Maria walked down to Frisco’s stall, reached her hand through the slats.

“Be careful, he . . .” Leigh’s warning faded away as Frisco moved to rest his muzzle in the little girl’s hand without a hint of malice.

Patrice called from the doorway to the stable. “Maria? I have to finish your hair. The school bus will be here in a few minutes.” She acknowledged Leigh with a wave. “I’ll talk with you as soon as I get her off to school,” she promised.

Leigh looked down as Maria appeared beside her again. She gazed at Leigh before pulling a clip out her hair. She handed it over, smiling faintly, then turned and scurried down the stall aisle toward her foster mother.

Leigh closed her fingers around the hair clip and walked back to the empty stall beside Frisco’s. She opened the latch, walked inside, and sank down into the soft, untouched mound of pine shavings. She leaned back against the heavy oak planks at the back of the stall, closed her eyes, and listened to the always-soothing blend of sounds: Frisco’s breathing, deep and steady, to one side, Tag’s snuffles and chewing noises on the other.

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