Stories from Anne & Brooke: Broken Hand

>Anne<

Broken Hand

I decided to go riding one beautiful summer day on my horse Britney, but before I could do that I had to clean the tack room in the horse trailer.
I walked across the lawn and breathed in the fresh air, excited to ride. It was a perfect day.
Taking Britney out of the trailer, I tied her to the outside—thinking nothing of it—and placing some hay near her to eat while I cleaned things up. Naturally, I had tied her very loosely so that she was able to reach her food without difficulty. I went on my way and began cleaning the trailer, humming a hymn as I went. While I had my back turned, Britney wrapped her rope about the spare tire mounted to the side of the trailer.
Knowing Britney to be very head-shy, I quickly jumped out of the tack room and tried unwrapping the rope when I had seen the predicament she was in. It was extremely taut, and my hand was between the tire and the rope. I was so close to having it undone when Britney spooked because her head was being pulled down—which she hates.
Scared half to death, she pulled her head high frantically. It happened so fast… I didn’t have time to pull my hand out. I shouted for my sister in a panicked voice. Britney pulled and pulled—saw she wasn’t freeing herself—and pulled more.
My hand was being smashed, again and again.
The rope was too tight for me to untie it.
I figured my only chance was to calm Britney.
I didn’t think about the pain… I only thought of Britney freeing herself and running loose into the road, getting herself hit.
It was a sickening thought and I determined to get out of the situation as quickly as I could.
Just when I thought I would never relieve myself from the searing pain in my hand or stop Britney from pulling, I heard a loud noise. The latch on the rope had broken!
Britney fell back and sat for a moment, stunned. I pulled my hand out quickly, so relieved that it was free. I dropped to the ground, hugging my hand to my chest in pain, tears coming to my eyes.
I called Britney, worried that she would run off, then called my sister as I jumped up and took hold of the horse. My sister wasn’t coming, so I yelled again at the top of my lungs. She was by my side within seconds of my third call. She took Britney while I sat on the ground and examined my injured appendage.
My finger was bent, so I tried to straighten it. That’s when I realized my finger wasn’t bent at all. It was so swollen it just looked bent. My sister put the calm horse away and I went inside in shock.
I was taken to the emergency room a day later. My hand was severely bruised, and I was just thankful to God that the damage wasn’t any worse.