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Show 121. "Someone has to call an ambulance," Stephanie said, remembering vividly the night they'd taken her dad to the hospital. "You guys give me a hand-" Fred said, trying to right the snowmobile. "I'll phone for help from Dougan's. Carol Sue, come with me!" In a minute they had the cat started and were heading down the pasture road. JD took off his coat and wrapped it around Chic. "You'd better not," he warned Laney who looked like she might try to rearrange Chic's legs. She pulled away on the verge of tears. "He looks so helpless. Do you think he'll be all right?" "Oh, God, I hope so," JD's voice cracked. Stephanie thought he was going to cry as he bent over Chic's face and wiped away the blood with his bare hands. "Come on, boy," he said softly, "I'm so sorry. Come on, Chic. Wake up. I didn't mean to hurt you. God knows I wouldn't hurt you." Claudia was unfolding the blankets. Gently, they slid one under his back and covered him with two more. "Get some light over here," JD called out, this time with the tears running down his cheeks. "Is there a torch or flashlight somewhere?" The boy who had the jeep pulled it up into the pasture and parked it so the light shone across Chic's slight form. Beyond the group, the headlights cast long, sad shadows onto the tubing hill. In the gully, the fire-once intended to attract a UFO or two -died down, unattended. Soon Stephanie could hear the wail of the ambulance in the distance, joined in minutes by the sound of the Red Butte patrol car. Mike Butzow would be coming, of course. She wondered if Chic's dad would be sober tonight or even if he'd be home. It's not fair, she thought, holding Chic's head against her knees. He's the best one of us all. |