Helping Hands (8 page)

Chapter Fifteen

D
avid and I take turns walking Babe and her rider around the corral. Every five minutes I ask David to check what time it is; one o'clock is coming way too fast.

But when one comes, Gus does not arrive. One oh-five, one ten . . .

“Did someone say there's a lame pony around here?”

Out of the back door of the store comes my father and Dr. Gabe, who's carrying an emergency medical kit.

My heart skips, then falls.

“Oh, no,” I say. “The Labradoodle?

“He's still in surgery,” Dr. Gabe says.

“But—”

“Dr. Mac and the girls got home just after we hung up,” he explains. “Both Zoe and Maggie woke up with a stomach bug. I assisted Dr. Mac with the surgery on the Labradoodle, then she sent me here to check out Buster.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Dad asks.

“Just keep your eyes open for Gus,” I say. “He's supposed to be here any minute.”

As Dad walks away, Dr. Gabe introduces himself to Buster, gently smoothing his mane while the pony smells him.

“I thought you couldn't treat him without Gus's permission,” I say.

“That's right,” he says. “But I can certainly have a look at him.” He takes a stethoscope out of the kit and listens to the pulse point behind Buster's front leg and then listens to the sounds in his belly. After he checks Buster's gums, he runs his hand along Buster's side and down his right front leg. “Okay, there, buddy, are you in the mood to show me that hoof of yours?”

Buster must feel reassured by Dr. Gabe's tone of voice and confident touch because he lifts his hoof out of the bucket.

“Hmmm.” Dr. Gabe frowns as he feels Buster's lower leg.

“It smelled awful this morning,” I said.

“That smell usually indicates an abscess.” Dr. Gabe puts his thumb and finger on the lower part of the leg. “I'm feeling a strong thumping digital pulse here at the fetlock,” he says. “We don't feel a strong pulse here unless there is an infection in his foot.” He finally lifts Buster's hoof. The pony shudders, but lets the doc check out the bottom of the hoof.

“It's definitely very tender here. Do you want to see?” Dr. Gabe asks.

I peek over the vet's shoulder to see what's happening. The underside of Buster's hoof looks very different than Babe's. It's moist and mushy and smells bad, too. Dr. Gabe cleans it out with a a small hooked instrument that he calls a hoof pick and tells me about the parts of the hoof. “The structure in the middle is the frog. This is the hoof wall, the hoof capsule, and the white line, which holds the areas together.” He leans in to look closer.

“I don't see any stones,” I say.

“I'm also looking for punctures or cracks; openings where bacteria could have entered, causing this infection. The hoof has an abscess—that much is clear. They're common in horses and ponies and really hurt, which is why Buster suddenly couldn't walk.”

Dr. Gabe uses a set of hoof testers, squeezing the metal prongs around the hoof. Buster cooperates until Dr. Gabe squeezes the hoof tester on one spot, then Buster pulls his foot away.

“Yep,” Dr. Gabe says. “See there? Buster is letting us know where it hurts. When an infection digs in, the horse's body fights back by sending white blood cells to the area. They form pus. If the pus builds up in the body, it causes inflammation and pain. As the tissue around the wound dies and the pus leaks, you get that stench.”

“How did it get infected?” I ask.

“He could have stepped on a nail from a thrown shoe, or a bit of stone or dirt could have worked its way into the hoof. A horse will be fine one moment, then suddenly seem completely lame the next.”

“That's how Buster was yesterday!” I exclaim. “Totally fine, then suddenly limping.”

“We need to find out if Buster is up to date on his tetanus shots,” he says. “An infection like this almost guarantees exposure to the bacteria that cause tetanus, and that disease can kill an animal. That's why it's so important to clean and check the hooves. There's an old saying: ‘No hoof, no horse.'”

He gently eases Buster's hoof onto the pavement.

“The good news is, abscesses are easy to treat. He'll feel better as soon as I drain it, and it should heal with no problem if the hoof is kept clean and allowed to continue to drain.”

“Sounds like there's bad news, too,” I say.

“Sadly, there is.” He stands up. “I need Gus's permission to drain the abscess.”

“But he caused it, right? He doesn't take good care of them; that's why Buster is sick!”

Dr. Gabe pets Buster's neck. “Even ponies who are treated wonderfully can develop abscesses. The law requires that before I help an animal I have to get ‘informed consent.' The owner has to understand what I want to do to his animal, and he has to give me his permission. If that doesn't happen, I can lose my license to be a veterinarian.”

“Glad you know it,” says a harsh voice.

I look up, startled, to find that Gus is standing behind us.

“Hand over that lead,” Gus demands. “Time for these ponies to leave.”

Chapter Sixteen

Y
ou must be Gus.” Dr. Gabe extends a hand. “I'm Gabe Donovan, from Dr. Mac's Place. I've heard a lot about you. The kids are really enjoying your ponies.”

Gus eyes the doc suspiciously but shakes his hand. “Kids always love ponies; that's why it's a good business.”

Standing by the corral, Jules raises her hands and gives an exaggerated shrug, trying to ask me what she should do. Gus is busy untying Buster's lead. I pretend to hold a phone to my ear, and she nods. Thank goodness for our twin connection. She has a quick conversation with David, then sprints toward the store.

I try to keep my voice calm and friendly. “It's a shame you're going to lose so much money.”

“What are you talking about?” Gus grumbles.

“Buster has an abscessed hoof,” Dr. Gabe explains. “He won't be able to work unless it's treated.”

“Ponies heal up naturally,” Gus says. “They don't need interference from the likes of you.”

Dr. Gabe bristles but calmly replies, “Well, that can sometimes be the case, but in my opinion, when an abscess reaches this point—”

“I don't give a hoot about your opinion!” Gus says. He points at David and hollers, “Rides are over! Get that kid off of Babe!”

The parents of the little boy on Babe's back approach the corral to talk to David. I sure hope he figures out the right thing to say to them.

“Horse doctors are too expensive anyway,” Gus mutters.

“But it's free!” I blurt out. “My dad will pay the bill.”

This is a total lie, and it could be a complete disaster, but it's the only thing I can think of. We have to keep Gus here as long as possible.

“Free?” Gus asks.

Dr. Gabe looks at me, one eyebrow raised. He has to know that I'm not telling the truth, but he plays along. “Hard to turn down an offer like that,” he says.

Oh, man. I'm gonna be in so much trouble later. I'll probably be babysitting and doing odd jobs for the rest of my life to pay this vet bill. But I can't think about that now.

“Well, if it won't cost me anything—” Gus says. “Guess I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Go ahead, fix him up.”

“Excellent!” Dr. Gabe replies.

As the last family leaves the corral, David ties Babe's lead and heads for the door, making the phone-call sign that I gave Jules a few minutes ago. I'm not sure who he's going to call, or why, but I hope it helps.

“You.” Gus jerks his chin at me. “Take down the corral while the doc is working.”

“I um . . . can't,” I stall.

“Why not?” Gus demands.

“I need Josh's help draining the abscess,” Dr. Gabe says, giving me a strange wink that I don't quite understand. “He's my assistant, after all.”

“I am?” I ask, stomach flopping. Gus gives me a funny look. “I am!” I repeat quickly, trying to sound enthusiastic. My heart is beating fast. I feel a little proud that Dr. Gabe called me his assistant, but that whole “draining the abscess” thing makes me want to run and hide.

“Well, I haven't got all day,” Gus says. “If you're gonna fix up Buster, you'd better get to it.”

“I just need to see Buster's medical records,” Dr. Gabe says.

“I don't have that stuff with me,” Gus says.

“You don't keep copies in your truck?” Dr. Gabe asks.

“I just said that, didn't I?” Gus asks. The angry tone of his voice makes Buster lay his ears back.

“How long have you owned Buster?” Dr. Gabe asks.

“I dunno. Six, seven years.”

Dr. Gabe says takes a small notebook out of his medical kit. “Best guess, when was his last tetanus shot?”

“Can't remember,” Gus says. “Just give him another one. That'll be free, too, right?”

“There are different protocols depending on when he was last vaccinated,” Dr. Gabe explains calmly and gently, as if talking to a child.

“I don't have time for this,” Gus says, looks agitated now. “We need to get on the road.”

“Okay, okay, no worries.” Dr. Gabe turns to me. “Are you ready to assist, Josh?”

I say, “Yes,” but I'm thinking,
No
!

Dr. Gabe gives me a squirt of hand sanitizer and pulls a few things out of his bag, including surgical gloves for both of us. I struggle to pull the gloves on, trying not to think about the fact that I'm about to help with a medical procedure. The problem with trying not to think about something is that it becomes the only thing you can think about.

“I'm going to break down the corral,” Gus says. “Hope you're done by the time I am.”

Dr. Gabe waits for the pony handler to get out of earshot. “You weren't kidding about him, were you?” He sighs. “Let's do our best here.”

I hold Buster's bridle and stroke his nose while Dr. Gabe gets Buster to bend his leg so the doc can get to work. He uses a hoof pick to scrape away a soft bit of Buster's infected hoof.

“There! See that blackish section?” Dr. Gabe asks.

My stomach flops, flips, and flops again. I breathe deeply through my mouth, swallow hard, and look. Wow. It is disgusting.

Dr. Gabe picks up a scalpel. “I bet the abscess is right here,” Dr. Gabe says as he lances the spot.

As soon as he punctures the surface, nasty- smelling yellow gunk oozes out. Ugh.

Deep breath, deep breath!
I stare at the white star on Buster's forehead and try to settle my stomach. The poor pony probably thinks I'm nuts. I glance at the infected hoof—
Deep breath! Deep breath!
—and look back at Buster. The tightness around his eyes has already faded. I think about how Buster's pain was so much worse than any of my stupid nausea, and he looks better already. Having the abscess lanced must have really helped—and knowing that I helped Buster makes the gross stuff easier to stomach. I take one more deep breath and look at the hoof again. This time, I don't have to look away.

“There we go,” Dr. Gabe says, sounding satisfied. “Purulent material.”

“Purulent?” I ask.

“It means this fluid has pus in it,” Dr. Gabe says.

“A gross word for a gross thing,” I say.

“Yep.” The doc chuckles. “Hand me that bottle of cleaning solution, please.”

I pet and distract Buster as Dr. Gabe cleans the abscessed area.

“Now one of those medicated pads,” he says, pointing to the pack he needs with his elbow. He presses a pad on the bottom of the hoof and more pus leaks out. He repeats this process several times, using a clean pad each time. When he presses the fourth pad on the hoof, a little blood seeps out, but no pus.

“Can you come around and hold this?” he asks. “I need to get the tape ready.”

I brace Buster's knee with my leg and press the pad against the hoof. “Tape? Won't that just fall off as soon as he takes a step?”

“This tape is specially made for horses,” he says as he tears off a strip. “It will keep that pad in place and protect the wound.” He wraps the pad quickly and straightens up. “You can let go of his foot now.”

We watch as Buster gingerly puts the injured foot on the ground. He shakes his mane.

“Nice,” says Dr. Gabe. “Look at the difference in him already.”

I don't answer because I know that it won't last. Gus has finished unpinning the corral panels and is driving his pickup truck into the parking lot. Babe is tied to the horse trailer. As soon as Gus gets out of the truck, she lifts her tail and deposits a poop pile.

“My thoughts exactly,” I mutter.

A second pickup truck enters the lot.

“Did Gus bring a friend?” Dr. Gabe asks.

“I don't think he has any friends,” I say. “It's probably a customer for the store.”

But the truck skips all the parking places, drives up to us, and parks. A tall, thin man with a bushy black beard gets out of the driver's seat. I recognize him—it's Brenna's dad. Out of the passenger's side steps a man about my dad's age who's dressed in fishing gear. I've never seen him before. The second man flips forward the passenger's-side seat so the people in the back can get out.

“We made it!” yells Brenna, pumping her fists.

She's followed by Sunita, who says, “I can't believe it!”

Dr. Gabe walks up to Mr. Lake and greets him. “Good to see you. What are you doing here?”

Mr. Lake points to the guy in the fishing gear. “Have you met Gary Snyder?”

Gary Snyder reaches out to shake the vet's hand. “I'm Animal Control,” he quietly says.

Brenna raises her fists again, triumphant.

“Nice to meet you. This is my new assistant, Josh,” Dr. Gabe says. “He needs to talk to you about these ponies.”