GRANDPA MAKES A DEAL
Dr. Finney was a big man, outwardly calm, but his face looked as if it knew patience and pain.
"What do you think, sir?" Paul asked as they stood with Misty in the paddock.
"Well, to be frank, she's a little too heavy, Paul. That is, for one so fine-boned. And that's never good at a time like this. But we'll pull her through."
Misty shouldered her way into the center of the group, ears listening and questing, as if she were part of the conference instead of the cause.
The doctor put a gentle hand on Paul's shoulder. "Misty won't be lonesome here," he said. "In the next stall she can neighbor with Trineda, a well-bred trotter. And my boy David can comfort her and take your place—for the time being," he added quickly.
Just then Dr. Finney's son came racing out of the house. Paul almost hated the boy on sight, for Misty trotted right up to him, sniffing curiously.
"Doctor Finney," Paul said urgently, "couldn't I stay here? Please?"
Grandpa answered before the doctor had finished clearing his throat. "If ye could be of help, me and Doc'd both say yes. But ye're needed over to Chincoteague. Lots o' moppin' up to be done, and ye volunteered as an able-bodied man. Recomember?"
Still Paul could not bring himself to go. He slid his hand under Misty's mane, scruffing his fingers along. "Doctor Finney," he asked, "would it be a good idea for us to get a nanny goat just in case...?"