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Fiction Short Story

By Linda Barnett-Johnson

Forever Fontane ­ part 4

May arrived with a bolt of lightning radiating across the big sky of Montana. Dark brooding clouds lay menacing against the lush, green hills. Mary’s concern grew over the look of the ominous sky, and she wondered if she should bring the horses to shelter. "Bob, where are you?" With the cracking of thunder, she knew getting the horses to cooperate would be difficult. "Why did we have to argue, and on our anniversary?"

Out by the highway, gray hair lay matted in wet strands against Bob’s head. His dark blue eyes blazed with pain. He was strong from years of hard work, but was losing strength fast.

The storm grew to a crescendo, until rain finally broke free from the confines of the solid mass. Fingers of cold streams penetrated Bob, as he opened his furrowed mouth for a drink of the rainwater. The smallest movement sent shivers of pain so excruciating he dared not move again.

Mary put on her weathered coat, and tied a red bandana around her short salt and pepper hair. The wind attacked her clothes like an angry lion. She bowed her head into the wind, and ran to the old green pickup, then drove out to the east fork of the property, where the two dozen head of horses were grazing. Mary knew the horses would be terrified. She pushed against the door of the truck, the wind making it almost impossible to open. Sheer determination forced it open.

Running to the gate, she flung it open and drove toward the horses. Mary could see the horses’ rumps facing the wind, and their terrified liquid brown eyes. Their nostrils flared with each breath, forming a cloud of fog. Mary started around them with the truck, herding them until she had them heading toward the barn gate. Mary perused the lane, hoping to see Bob.

"Lord, help me," Bob whispered into the wind. His breathing was shallow. "Lord, please take care of my Mary…" A sob forced him to stop.

While Mary herded the horses through the gate, one ornery mare bolted away. "It figures. If it had to be any of them, it was sure to be Fontane." She had been a curious, independent filly from the day she was born. Always had her nose into something.

Mary closed the barn gate, and headed out to find Fontane. "Where could she have gone?" Mary grumbled. Then she saw a dark shadow running down the lane. So Mary got back into the truck and took out after her, hoping she wouldn’t run out into the main road and get hit by a semi-truck. Fontane could run forever just like the wicked wind that was blowing.

Mary lost sight of Fontane again, and then, there she was standing in the middle of the road. As soon as Mary got close, she would take off again. "Why, you rascal," Mary said under her breath. This went on and on until she veered off the lane and down into a gully.

A distant sound penetrated into Bob’s unconscious, and gradually grew louder, until it finally woke him. It was the sound of a vehicle.

"Help, help!" Bob yelled, but only a whisper escaped his lips.

Mary saw something lying against a willow tree, and standing next to it was Fontane.

Bob couldn’t believe his eyes. Was he seeing things? Was he conscious?

There peering at him was a black horse, with a blazed forehead. It was Fontane, his wonderful, beautiful, and curious mare!

"Fontane, help me! Go get help." Fontane snorted and pawed the ground by Bob’s head. She stood over him, sheltering him from the weather.

Mary ran to the overturned car and reached out to touch Bob, making sure it was really him. She could see that his legs were pinned.

"Are you all right?" She was on her cell phone calling 911 before he could even answer.

Mary ran back to the truck and grabbed a rope, horse blanket, and a saddle. After putting the saddle on Fontane, she tied one end of the rope around the saddle horn, and threw the other end around a low-hanging branch, and then tied it to the truck’s window joint. Mary walked Fontane slowly forward, until the car started to rise. Fontane, cooperating with Mary, stood her ground, keeping the rope taut.

When the car was high enough off the ground, Mary eased Bob from under it; hoping she wouldn’t cause more harm, and far enough to free his legs, then Mary gently had Fontane lower it back down. Untying the rope and removing the saddle from Fontane, she bent back down to her husband, and then covered him with the horse blanket.

"Honey, help is on the way."

Bob tried to talk, but started gasping for breath.

"Sh-h-h. It’s okay, we’ll have plenty of time to talk later," Mary sobbed.

Bob took a breath and tried to relax. "Mary, I love you."

"I love you too. Oh, where is that ambulance?" Their tears mingled with the rain. "You hang on, old man. I am not ready to be a widow. Do you hear me?"

It seemed forever before the ambulance arrived. Bob drifted in and out of consciousness. His skin looked gray, and dark circles enveloped his eyes.

After hooking him up with an IV, the paramedics finally placed Bob on a stretcher. Mary got into the ambulance next to Bob, holding his cold, callused hands. Hands that had brought many colts and fillies into the world: hands that softly stroked her head, when she brought their firstborn into the world, and hands that had built their first home, that had been their home for the past forty years.

Fortunately the hospital was only a couple of miles away. When the ambulance door was opened, there was Fontane; sweat lathered her chest, eyes wild with worry. "That horse was standing in the middle of the road when we drove up, and when we stopped, she brought us right to you," said the paramedic as they eased the stretcher out.

"I’ve never seen anything like it before." Mary had to push Fontane back so the paramedics could take Bob through the emergency room doors.

Bob’s injuries were a broken leg, three cracked ribs, and a concussion.

Later, after he fell asleep, Mary walked outside to see Fontane. "Hey girl, would you like an apple? One of the nurses gave it to me." Fontane chomped it down, while Mary scratched her behind the ears.

"Do you know what you did today? Sure you do." Mary swallowed hard. "If it wasn’t for you, Bob would have died." Mary trembled suddenly. "How did you know?" Sobs shook Mary as Fontane nuzzled her.

"I guess it really doesn’t matter how you knew. I just thank God for you. You’re our four-legged Angel, girl."

Mary wrapped her arms around Fontane’s neck, and gave her a big hug. "You deserve a reward. You know that nice green pasture you’re always trying to get into? Well, that’s going to be your new stomping grounds. You and your children. There you’ll be able to run free forever, Fontane.