It was my fault.
All my fucking fault.
I should never have waved.
Mom’s arm came up. Her smile widened. Her love for me as bright as the golden sun.
And the blue roan saw her as a threat.
He saw a raised hand. Tasted more punishment, more pain, more torture.
He wasn’t as broken as the palomino. He still had fight. Self-preservation.
So…he did what was natural.
He tried to protect himself.
His rump shot up, his hind legs gathered, and he double barrelled my mother in the chest.
“Shit!” I was running before she hit the ground.
The blue roan reared, his head tossing as he fought the rope tying him in place. The halter snapped as well as his mind. There was only panic left. He screamed and shot backward, his hooves landing on my mother’s stomach.
She cried out as the heavy animal sank into soft flesh before he spied freedom and took off at a mad gallop, lead rope and broken halter dangling after him.
He would run into a fence and break his legs.
He would die by his own force or mine for what he’d done.
Breath caught in my throat as I skidded to a stop and kneeled beside the only blood family I had left. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
The bag full of Dad’s gifts scattered as I tossed it to the side. Blue wrapped packages rolled into the grass, little dots of sky amongst green. They were utterly unimportant as I touched her face and assessed the damage.
My fingers itched to grab my phone from my back pocket, but Mom clutched my hand, her grip sweaty and tight. “Jacob—” Her spine bowed as pain shock-waved through her.
Blood oozed from her mouth, making my heart shut down. “Don’t talk. It’s all right.”
I shouldn’t move her. She could have a broken back or worse.
But she writhed in the dirt. Her blonde hair turned dusty, her blue ribbon falling from the golden strands as if it already tasted death was near.
Traitor.
I scooped up the ribbon as well as my mother and held her close. “It’s all right. Just try not to move.”
With one arm supporting her, I pulled my hand free from hers and dove into my pocket for my phone.
“Jacob—” She groaned, more blood pooling over her lips.
“Hush. It’s fine.” Adrenaline injected trembles into my veins, making it impossible to punch the numbers for an ambulance.
“Something isn’t…right.” Mom panted. “It-it hurts.”
“I’ll fix it. I promise.” Brushing back her dirty hair, I almost passed out as a female operator barked down the phone.
“Fire, police, or ambulance?”
“Ambulance.”
“One moment, please.”
Mom squirmed, her legs kicking as she tried to hide from the pain. Goddammit, I’d do anything I could to help her. I’d trade places with her. I’d—
“Ambulance. What’s the address?”
My voice caught as I commanded, “Cherry River. Cassie Collins will show you the field. A horse kicked my mother in her chest. It’s serious. Get here. Now.”
Mom moaned as I disconnected the call, doing my best to stay calm and collected but swiftly losing the battle to the quaking stampede of terror.
“Wild One.” Her face scrunched up as a cough bubbled blood. Not red like before, but pink tinged and frothy.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
“Don’t talk. Don’t move. Don’t do a damn thing until the ambulance gets here.”
She cried out again, tears leaking from her eyes as she clawed at her chest. “Can’t…breathe.”
“What can I do?” What a stupid question. What an idiotic, inconceivable question. Resting her head on my lap, I dared drag my hand down her chest. Her cream shirt had pearl buttons in the shape of sunbursts, and I didn’t have time to undo them.
With a quick rip, I pulled her shirt apart, revealing black bra and bruises.
So many goddamn bruises.
There were two almost perfect hoof prints directly above her breasts and two more trampling her upper stomach.
Tears burned my eyes. But it wasn’t from the wounds given by a condemned horse.
I cried because of the oozing, spreading blood creeping beneath her skin.
I shuddered because of the white tip of bone sticking from her side.
I wanted to scream because of the rattle and wheeze that I knew so, so well from a father who’d struggled to breathe and suffocated his way into death.
The horse had punctured her lung.
And the gathering blood from other internal injuries added pressure and agony, slowly killing her.
“Fuck.” I gathered her close, rocking, hating that my caustic tears splashed on her broken body but unable to stop them.
I should be braver. I should pick her up and carry her to the house. I should run into town and drive the fucking ambulance myself.
But I didn’t do any of it.
Because I knew it was already too late.
Mom’s blue gaze met mine, locking onto me in a way that blocked out the rest of the world. It shut down time, location, and life itself, sucking us into a bubble where nothing else existed but us.