Blue Moon by Marilyn Halvorson Page A

as darkness fell and we drove into the night. The main highway was busy with a lot of big trucks throwing water up over my windshield. I was relieved when we turned off onto the two-lane highway for the last halfhour of the drive. Then the storm really hit. The sky just opened up and the rain was a solid sheet in front of us. The noise on the truck’s roof was enoughto rattle my brains. I hoped that Blue Moon wasn’t too scared back there.
    I slowed down to a crawl, stared hard through the curtain of water and tried to keep track of the white line on the highway. We started into a long, gentle curve—and suddenly everything happened at once. A pair of headlights cut through the rain almost straight ahead of me. Cole yelled, “Look out!” and I swung the wheel to the right.
    A bunch of miracles happened in the next split second. The other driver managed to swerve back into his own lane. I managed to stop my swerve before I rolled both the truck and the trailer. We skidded to a stop with just one front truck wheel in the shallow ditch.
    The minute we stopped moving I was piling out the door. I slid my way along the rain-slick highway to the trailer and yanked open the small door at the side. Blue Moon was on her feet, standing kind of straddled out like a person on the deck of a rocking boat. I reached in and rubbed her neck. “It’s okay, Moon. It’s gonna be all right.” Shegave a nervous little whinny and reached over to take a nip out of the sleeve of my jacket. I think she was making a statement about my driving. I gave her another pat and then gently closed the door.
    â€œThank God she’s okay,” I said over my shoulder to Cole. There was no answer. I turned around to face him, but he wasn’t there. I was sure he’d have been out of the truck in a flash and right behind me to check on the horse.
    I went back to the open driver’s side door. Cole hadn’t moved. He was sitting with both hands gripping the edge of the dashboard, staring straight ahead. “Cole? Are you hurt? Did you hit your head or something?” I started to panic. “Cole! Talk to me!”
    He sort of shook his head and relaxed his death grip on the dash. “Sorry, Bobbie Jo,” he said in a voice that was almost a whisper. “For a minute there I thought it was all happening again.”
    I laid my hand on his shoulder. “What, Cole?” I asked softly. “What was happening again?”
    He took a deep breath. “Is the horse okay?” he asked. I nodded. “Are we stuck?”
    â€œI think if I put it in four-wheel drive we can get out. Just one wheel went in.”
    â€œOkay, let’s go home. I’ll tell you on the way.”
    He told me. It was a long story. “We used to live in Texas. My dad was head trainer for one of the biggest quarter horse ranches in the country. We were building up a herd of our own, too. We’d just put down a payment on a place of our own. Then,” his voice went kind of shaky, “one night we were comin’ home from the city in a thunderstorm and a drunk driver hit our truck. We all got hurt.” He turned and lifted up the side of his shoulder-length hair to show me the angry red scar on his neck. “A piece of pipe we were hauling came through the back window and got me. Mom had a broken arm. But Dad….” His voice broke. He swallowed. “You’ve seen Dad. He couldn’t work anymore. We didn’t have medical insurance. The doctor bills took everything. We saved Nightstar and two mares. That’s all. This is my uncle’splace we’re living on here. He’s owned the land for a long time, but he lives in Calgary. He said we’d at least have a roof over our heads.” He gave me a shaky smile.
    â€œDad goes to the hospital for therapy every day now. It’s been a year and a half since the accident, but this is the first he’s been willing to even try.