Sixteen and Dying by Lurlene McDaniel Page B

solitaire in the main lodge, hardly noticing the guests who grouped around the TV set and board games. From the corner of her eye, she saw Morgan sitting on the hearth of the great stone fireplace. He was entertaining a group of kids with a length of rope, showing them how to tie different kinds of knots.
    A violent clap of thunder shook the rafters. Anne started, and kids squealed, scampering toward their mothers like frightened kittens. “It’s only a big boomer,” Anne heard Maggie explain to everyone. “My mama used to say thunder was only the angels bowling up in heaven.”
    Laughter rippled through the room. “Fall’s coming,” Maggie added. “Summer rain means autumn’s on its way.”
    Anne didn’t want to think about autumn, because it meant she’d be back home, and if her health held, she’d be back in school. She’d miss the outdoors, Golden Star, Maggie, Marti, Skip, Morgan—most of all, Morgan.
    Suddenly, the door of the lodge banged and Skipstood framed in the open doorway. His yellow slicker streamed with water that puddled on the floor around his boots. “Morgan!” Skip shouted. “You’d better come quick. Your bay bolted, tried to jump the fence. He’s hurt. Bad.”

Fourteen

    M ORGAN GOT UP too fast, and a stabbing pain shot through his side. He clamped his hand over his taped, bruised ribs and limped toward Skip. “What happened?” he asked.
    “The thunder must have spooked him. I was in the barn and looked out in time to see him try to jump the corral fence. There wasn’t enough room for a running start, of course, and he went crashing through the poles.”
    Morgan felt a sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach. “Is he up?”
    “Last I saw, he was thrashing on the ground. I came to find you, quick as I could.”
    Morgan didn’t wait for further explanations. He shoved past Skip and hurried outside into the driving rain faster than his aching side wanted him tomove. If his horse was still down, it meant only one thing—he was too hurt to get up. Horses instinctively sought to stay upright.
    The rain was driving so hard, Morgan could barely navigate his way to the corral. He was drenched to the skin and trying to maneuver through the mud. He arrived at the corral, but the rain was so heavy, he couldn’t see from one side to the other. Skip caught up with him. “This way,” Skip yelled.
    Gasping for breath, Morgan hobbled after him; his lungs felt on fire. The horse was lying on the ground, one of its legs twisted at an angle. The animal continued to thrash, but its movements looked weak. Morgan crouched by the bay’s head. Its eyes were wide with fright. “Take it easy, fella,” Morgan said, stroking the animal’s neck.
    Skip knelt beside him. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” He had to shout to be heard above the rain.
    “The worst. Uncle Don always said the horse was spooky. I should have listened to him, should never have tried to make him my own.”
    “Don’t blame yourself.”
    The horse was one more thing he’d loved and lost. Morgan rose painfully and steeled himself for what he knew he had to do. The horse would have to be put down. The ranch couldn’t afford to nurse a horse that had value only to him and that would probably never be right even if he did heal. Feed and veterinarians cost money. “Dumb, hardheaded beast,” Morgan said to himself, trying to distance himself emotionally.
    “You want me to take over?” Skip asked.
    “I can handle it.” Morgan felt a coldness inside himself, similar to the one he’d felt when he’d learned about his father.
    “You sure?”
    Morgan nodded.
    Skip went into the barn and emerged with Morgan’s rifle. He handed it to him.
    “What are you doing?” Anne’s frantic question above the roar of the rain took Morgan and Skip by surprise.
    Morgan turned, ignoring the pain in his side from too quick a movement. “Get out of here,” he said.
    “I won’t! What are you going to do?” Her eyes looked wide and