Summer of Love Marie Ferrarella (easy books to read in english TXT) 📖

Like run barrels? She didn’t think so. Neither did she remember him hanging out with any of her 4-H friends. And the only year she’d won the event had been as a high school senior.

The next horse—a splashy brown and white paint—came in, and she fixed her attention on it, although her mind was going at a million miles an hour. The rider directed the horse in a tight circle near the starting area and then let him go. The animal’s neck stretched forward as he raced toward the first barrel, tail streaming out behind him.

“Here!” the rider called as they reached the drum, using her voice along with her hands and legs to guide the horse around the turn. She did the same for the second and third barrels and then the pair raced back in a straight line until they crossed where the automatic timer was set up. Nineteen point two three seconds.

The announcer repeated the time, adding that it put the horse and rider into second place.

Clint leaned closer, his scent washing over her at almost exactly the same time as his arm brushed hers. The dual assault made her mind blank out for a second. So much so that she almost missed his question. “I always wondered. Why do some of them start with the left barrel rather than the one on the right?”

Play it cool, Jessi.

“B-because horses have a dominant side, kind of like being right- or left-handed.”

“Interesting. So your horse was right-handed?”

She swallowed. So he had seen her. She’d hoped maybe he’d heard that she’d won from a friend, rather than having been there in the flesh. What did it matter? So he’d seen her race. No big deal.

But it was. And she had no idea why.

“Yes, she was.”

Neither of the next two horses beat the time of the leader. Despite her wariness at coming out today, and her horror at realizing he’d watched her the day of her win, she could feel the muscles in her body relaxing. He’d been right to suggest she take a day off.

A real day off.

“Do you think Chelsea—?”

“The hospital will call me if they need me. We’re both off duty today.”

She frowned. “She’s my daughter, Clint. I can’t help but worry about her.”

“I’m not asking you to put her from your mind. I’m asking you to enjoy your day. It’s what she would want.”

She sighed. “She did seem happy when I told her where I was going.” Jessi had insisted on stopping to see Chelsea before they’d left, although she hadn’t told her that she and Clint were going together.

“Exactly.” He bumped her with his shoulder again. “And she’s probably going to ask what you did. So let’s make it good.”

Jessi’s eyes widened. How was she supposed to respond to that?

She was still trying to figure it out when she heard a weird screech of metal, then Clint’s arm was suddenly behind her, crushing her tightly against him.

“Hold on!”

She thought at first it was because a new horse had started the course, but then she sensed something falling, followed by screams.

When she glanced back, she saw that the metal support had broken free—probably from the weight of everyone leaning against it—and was dangling from the far side of the bleachers. And on the ground …

Oh, Lord. Fifteen feet below them were five people who’d evidently tumbled backward off the top seat when the structure had given way. Others were now on their feet in a panic, trying to rush down the stands to get to the ground. One person tripped and landed on another spectator a few rows down.

“Stay here,” Clint muttered.

Like hell. “I’m coming with you. I’m a doctor, too, remember?”

Someone in the judges’ booth called over the loudspeakers, asking for everyone to remain calm. And also asking for medical assistance.

Clint cautiously made his way down, trying to make sure he didn’t trample on anyone, and again holding her hand as he took one step at a time.

By the time they reached the bottom they could hear a siren that cut off just as it reached the wide dirt aisle that separated the main arena from campers and horse trailers. The crowd opened a path to let it through.

One of the victims was now on her feet and waving away offers for help. Another person had disappeared, evidently also unhurt. But the remaining three were still on the ground, although one was sitting up, holding his leg.

“I’m a doctor,” Clint said to him. “Can you hold on for a minute while we check the others?”

“Go,” the man said, his thin, wiry frame and rugged clothing suggesting he was a farmer or someone who worked with livestock.

Jessi motioned that she’d take the far patient, a woman who was on her side, moaning, while Clint took the last remaining patient, a child, who was writhing on the ground and crying. They pushed through layers of people who wanted to help.

“I’m a doctor, let me through,” she said to a man who was kneeling next to the woman. The man backed up to make room in the tight circle.

The EMT vehicle stopped and two medical workers jumped from the back just as Jessi crouched near her patient. The woman was conscious but obviously in a lot of pain.

“Where does it hurt?”

“Brandi,” she gasped, ignoring the question and trying to roll onto her back, only to stop with a moan. “My daughter. Where’s Brandi?”

Jessi glanced to the side, but couldn’t see Clint through the bodies of onlookers, but his patient had looked to be a little girl.

“How old is your daughter?”

“She … she’s five. Pink shorts.” Talking was an obvious struggle for her.

That had to be Clint’s patient.

“Someone’s helping her right now. Where does it hurt?”

“M-My ribs. It hurts to breathe.”

Jessi did a quick rundown of the woman’s vitals. Everything seemed good, except for a marked tenderness on her right side. “Did you hit your head at all?”

“No. Just landed flat on my side. I couldn’t get