Helen's   Novels

USEF BREEDS:   Arabians, Andalusians, Friesians, Welsh,

COLOR BREEDS:  Pintos, AMHA miniatures, AMHR/ASPC Miniatures and Shetlands,

Open Shows

Wes's legs crumbled under him, and his body slithered down the wall with a will of its own.  What effort to open his eyes.  Helpless, he watched Sutherland reach to the pegboard and grab the hayhook Wes himself just hung there.  "You're more trouble than a damned Arab," the towering Sutherland mumbled.

 Good God, this was no longer a simple fisst fight.  It took all Wes could manage to fling his body aside as Sutherland stabbed at his chest.  He reached out for one of the pieces of pipe, but couldn't grasp one.

The horse at her feet flailed forward and lurched to his feet, pulling the pole between his back legs.  Cal gasped.  That pole could break both his back legs.  She reached for his rein as quietly as she could.  "Whoa, Boy," she mumbled through the glove still in her teeth.  She had to get that pole free.Heat radiated from him, his breath whuffling in his fear.

It took her a moment to realize if she could get the reins freed from the terrets and unfasten the girth, most of the harness would slide off the horse's rump.  The horse stepped over the pole, knocked it against his leg, and jumped back over it.  Cal moved fast to stay in front of the animal.  His eyes rolled , showing the white sclera around the iris, revealing how close he was to panic. 

For an instant, Marsh thought Hirsh must have missed.  Only a small dark spot marked Jim's back, not gobs of flowing red the way the James Bond movies showed. 

Marsh had never been so close to any of the men killed by enemy fire in Korea.

But he saw  that Wannerman's eyes found death hard to believe, as the short figure turned slightly, buckled, and sank face down.

"You're next."