Chapter 13

-He's my pain in the ass-

Churchill pawed at the ground and tried to go down again. Emma hauled on his halter to prevent him from lying down in the square. "Get your butt moving, Churchill." She said as she marched him around the darkness of the square.

Sal had fetched her from her room after dinner when he saw the signs. Colic. The one word Emma dreaded. Colic often struck with little warning and it could be fatal.

Churchill stopped again, she hauled on his halter but he refused to move. "Come on, I didn't drag your ass halfway across the province and back to lose you to a tummy ache. MOVE!" she ordered him, slapping his side. He made a face at her and moved. Archer breathed a sigh of relief.

"How's the horse doin'?" Daryl came out of the Gatehouse as she walked by.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." It was late and everyone who wasn't on watch was asleep.

"S'arright. Take it he ain't better?"

"I swear to God I never wanted to see a horse poop so bad."

Daryl fell into step beside her. It was an indication of how sick Churchill was that he didn't try to take a piece out of the man. "That what this 'bout?"

"Something is stopping his digestive system from moving the food he's eaten out the back end." She sighed. "It could be an impaction or maybe a twist in the intestinal track. We just don't know. We have to wait and see if it works itself out."

"How's marchin' 'round the square all night gonna help?"

"I have no idea. It's just something you do. Sal gave him a shot of something that's supposed to help."

"What if he don't get better?"

"We'll have to decide…. If he doesn't get better, if he's in pain." She shrugged. "I guess horse meat will be on the menu for a few days."

Daryl nodded. "Least some good'll come of it."

She cringed and looked away so he wouldn't see the tear spill from her cheek.

"Shit." Daryl looked up at the sky, the stars were hidden by clouds. "Just a horse, Archer. Can't live forever."

"He's not JUST a horse to me." She scratched Churchill's itchy spot on his neck, he leaned into her hand.

Daryl shrugged. "Got watch. See ya at dawn." He ducked up a stairway to the wall.

Emma and Churchill were alone again in the square. She looked the gelding in the eye and willed him to live. "Don't think I didn't notice you making nice to Daryl. Stop being a sissy and start getting better."

Churchill snorted and shook his head.

Sal came up at dawn to take Churchill off Archer's hands. "Go rest, you've been up all night. You're not any good to anyone exhausted."

Begrudgingly she handed over the lead line to the old farmer. "He's not any better, but he's not getting worse either."

"Take what we can get. Come on Churchill." Sal led the gelding away.

Emma returned to the kitchen, Daryl was already there. He handed her a cup of coffee as she sat down. "Thanks." She said.

"Still bad?" Daryl asked, sitting across from her.

Archer put her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands. "I hate this. I keep him away from the pike lines so he doesn't get hung up on them. I watch for gopher holes so he doesn't break a leg. I make sure I walk him out so he doesn't go back to his stall hot… Then he goes and colics."

"Shit happens." Daryl agreed.

"Yeah." She sighed. "I know he's mean, I know he's a pain to handle and he's finicky with his feed. But.."

"He's yer pain in th'ass." Daryl finished her thought.

"Yeah." She said, wiping a tear off her cheek. "He is." She laughted half-heartedly. "To think no-one wanted him."

"Things changed."

"The more I live in this world, the more I realize how little our lives before mattered." She sighed. "What I wouldn't give for a kick-ass vet right now."

Archer had taken up a position outside Churchill's stall. They had decided to stop walking him at noon when his condition hadn't improved. She saw Sal and Joel taking in hushed tones when they thought she wasn't looking. She had a feeling that they were discussing putting Churchill down and was worried they'd do it without asking her.

Like Daryl said, she thought, he's my pain in the ass. She didn't like being circumvented.

"Why don't you go to bed?" Sal asked, shifting from one foot to the other. "You haven't slept yet."

She eyed him suspiciously. "No, I'd really rather stay."

"Suit yourself. Send someone for me if something changes." He headed out the door, leaving Emma alone in the barn.

She could hear Churchill pacing his stall and wondered if she shouldn't just put him down. Warm tears fell down her cheeks. She didn't want to lose her four-legged friend. Ultimately she knew it was going to happen sometime, he couldn't live forever. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the stall. If only there was something I could do…

"Sal said you'd be in here." Daryl's voice woke her. She must've dozed off.

"What time is it?" She asked, rubbing her eyes.

"Six." Daryl handed her a bun wrapped in a handkerchief. "Brought ya somethin' ta eat."

She thanked him for the food and devoured the offering. Emma was hungrier than she thought.

"How's the patient?" Daryl closed in on Churchill's stall. He jumped back quickly as Churchill's head shot over the door with teeth bared. "What th'hell hoss?"

"Churchill?" Emma stood, looking in the stall at the big gelding. He didn't seem to be in any distress. She scanned the ground.

"YES!" She cried out, spying the fresh manure on the ground. "YES! YES! YES!" She turned around and threw her arms around Daryl's neck.

"Huh?" Daryl was puzzled.

"He pooped!" She smiled at Daryl, "He pooped!"

"Ain't that what horses do?" Daryl said slowly.

She laughed and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "I've gotta tell Sal!" She jumped in the air and gave a little fistpump. "That's MY BOY!" Cheering as she ran across the quad to share the good news with Sal.

Stunned, Daryl stared after her.