Dollars to Doughnuts

By Patricia Gilkerson

Piper finally has her driver’s license, but life gets very messy after she and her dad rescue a horse from a turned-over trailer. Little do they know that rescue will trigger a series of increasingly dangerous events, putting her, her family and her friends at risk. She needs to get her Junior Project going — a Pony Pals class for little kids— and ace it. Complications include nightmares, a boyfriend away at college, the upcoming Halloween Hop, and the cute guy in Science Class.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melange Books, LLC
• Release date: Apr 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781680468793

Patricia Gilkerson

Patricia Gilkerson spent a horse-loving childhood growing up in Kentucky, and finally got her first horse as an adult. She began writing books for children at night after teaching all day. Today Patricia lives on a hobby farm in Minnesota with her husband Jim, and the current count of three horses. Her two children are grown with children and pets of their own, so there are frequently grandchildren and granddogs running around her house. Her hobbies include travel, Irish/Celtic music, scuba diving and reading. Her favorite thing to do is to hang out with family and friends.

Book preview

1

The Horse Trailer Disaster

One of the fun advantages of having a veterinarian for a father was getting to go along with him on farm calls. He let me go with him when I was out of school. It might be a sick horse, or a cow having trouble calving, or any number of animal-related emergencies. Dad’s veterinary practice kept him very busy and I knew how to keep quiet and help out when necessary.

I’d passed my driver’s test a month ago, and had the day off from school due to Kentucky Education Association teacher workshops so I was going on calls with Dad. I didn’t have my own car, but if I raised my grades this year, he’d agreed to get me a used one next summer to make his own life easier. We drove home on a beautiful October evening after a long day of vaccinating calves and seeing colicky horses. I got to drive the pickup and he didn’t criticize the way I handled it, so I was relaxed.

However, we were both tired and hungry and it was getting late. The sun hung low in the sky, making long shadows. I was trying to concentrate on the road, but needed Dad’s input on something.

So, Dad, I said, my Junior Project? I had already explained to him how important it was, but I was having a lot of trouble coming up with good ideas.

You haven’t picked one yet, Piper? I thought that would be easy for you.

It can’t be anything too easy or silly. I have to follow it for three months and then write an essay about it.

This is for a grade in a class?

Well, we get a grade on it, but it’s an independent study kind of thing, not a class. Everyone has to do one and I need to make my proposal next week.

What ideas have you had?

I had three horses of my own at that point, and another one under my care. Horses were my world and my life.

I want to do something with horses, obviously! But I can’t come up with anything helpful to other people. Oh, my God, Dad! Do you see that?

There was a dirty black truck ahead of us on the two-lane highway, pulling an old grey two-horse trailer. It had begun to swerve all over the road, across the center line and then over to the shoulder on the right.

Holy cow! said Dad. Easy, hon, don’t try to pass them; just slow down. I slowed a lot. I don’t drive fast when I’m with Dad, anyway. What were they doing?

Are they drunk? Is there a horse in there? I had just seen a video at school about the dangers of driving while drinking. Those things made an impression and I took them seriously.

Can’t tell, said Dad, either drunk or texting, or high. And they have at least one horse in there. I can see its head.

Following slowly, we watched as the truck and trailer continued weaving back and forth in front of us. Luckily, it was the wrong time of day for there to be much traffic. The rolling hills of Western Kentucky, while pretty and wooded, didn’t allow for fast driving. This particular road had plenty of curves and would be treacherous if there was oncoming traffic.

Oh, my gosh! Dad! Look! The trailer came unhitched from the truck, the safety chain on the horse trailer broke, and it rolled off the road onto the shoulder. As we watched, it wobbled down into a ditch and turned on its side. Meanwhile, the black truck continued on for about a hundred feet, then screeched to a halt.

Stop up there behind the trailer, and put on the flashers, said Dad, so I pulled over and stopped the truck on the shoulder of the road near the trailer. I searched for, then put on the emergency flashers. We stared at the trailer and minute later saw a horse’s head poke up out of the escape door at the front of the trailer. Dad and I looked at each other, silently agreeing that hungry and tired as we were, we had to help out.

I walked over to the trailer to see the frightened brown and white paint horse that was looking out. I zipped up my hoodie sweatshirt, as the breeze was cool. The horse’s eyes were wide with fear and its nostrils flared as it made a snorty noise in its throat. I patted it to try and calm it, crooning to it softly. It seemed to have stable footing on something because it wasn’t flailing around, but its coat was covered with sweat, in spite of the cool evening. Its nostrils flared as it sniffed the air. I wanted to think that it was asking me for help.

The black truck backed up and two people got out, slamming their doors. A large woman with long stringy hair and a little girl, maybe four or five years old, came running toward us from the truck.

Oh, my God, oh, my God! The woman was yelling. Can you help me?

Of course, said Dad, whose bedside manner toward his veterinary clients was always steady and calming. He never seemed to get excited and yell, or get upset. Except, of course, with me when I screwed up. Which I did. Often.

Is there just the one horse? asked Dad.

Yes, and her dog is in there, said the woman. Tell him, Bethanne.

My dod is in there. The little girl wiped her runny nose.

Let’s get this thing open so we can get your horse and dog out, said my Dad, trying to open the big back door. It was stuck. Horse trailers have a latch on the back so that they do not open very easily. You don’t want a horse to back into it and have it fall open while driving down the road at sixty miles per hour.

It’s bent and stuck, said my dad, beating on the latch and kicking at the door. We’ll need a cutting torch to get it off.

Do we have one? I asked, still petting the paint horse, who gurgled in his throat. I hugged and patted his neck. Why didn’t that woman come and help calm her horse?

Do you know a lot about horses? The woman looked at my dad.

Sorry, said Dad, I’m Dan Jones, I’m a veterinarian, and this is my daughter, Piper.

He stopped wiggling the latch, offered his hand and I waved at her from my position by the horse’s head. The woman stood looking at Dad with her hand over her mouth. What was her problem?

Hi. I had to say something, so I waved again. Still didn’t get why she was staring at him. Dad came over and looked at the horse.

He looks perky enough. Okay, he said, pulling out his cell phone and dialing. I’ll get hold of Gary Johnson. He’s a friend that has a cattle ranch close by. He’ll have a cutting torch.

I’m Shirley Gamble and this is Bethanne, said the lady, looking at me and Dad, leaking tears. She wrung her hands and sniffled. We’re on our way to Texas. I don’t know how this happened. I rented this horse trailer in Indiana and it’s been just fine till now. I think it broke.

It brote, said Bethanne, pulling on one of her pigtails. Dad turned away to talk on his phone.

I wasn’t very impressed with the woman. All the women I knew kind of jumped into action in an emergency instead of just wringing their hands and whimpering the way Shirley was doing.

Dad walked over as he gave his friend directions to our location. Then he looked at Shirley. My friend Gary will be here in about ten minutes with the cutting torch. What kind of dog is in there? We could hear some high-pitched whining coming from inside the trailer.

He’s a cross, collie and German Shepard. He’s Bethanne’s dog. Tell him. She poked the girl in the arm.

He’s my dod, said the little girl, rubbing her eyes and sniffling.

Dad came over near the horse’s head and rubbed the animal’s neck, looking at his eyes.

He doesn’t seem too distressed, he said, Just kinda freaked about tipping over. I’m betting he’ll be not much worse for wear. Dad peeked in the door, trying to see past the horse to find the dog.

So how did it happen? Was the trailer hitch tight when you left?

I don’t know, I don’t know, Shirley shook her head, covered with thin, dirty brown hair. All of a sudden I heard this clanking and when I looked in the rearview, the trailer was over in the grass. So, Dr. Jones, you have a practice in Serendipity Springs?

I listened hard and her voice didn’t sound slurred, like she had been drinking or taking drugs. But I didn’t really know what to listen for. Her breath smelled funky, but not like beer or anything.

I hope he’s not bruised or has anything broken. Shirley looked sideways at me.

Well, if Dad thinks he’ll be okay, then he will. Dad sees a ton of horses all the time.

Good, said Shirley, He’s an old horse.

Ode horse, said Bethanne.

What’s his name? I asked, thinking it might help him stay calmer.

Spotty, said Shirley.

Potty, said Bethanne, nodding.

While we waited for Gary to show up with his cutting torch, a State Patrol car pulled up with two troopers in it. Dad went over and talked to them, while I stayed by the shaggy brown and white head, stroking it and crooning about how everything would be okay. Spotty/Potty had a black mane and forelock, which made his coloring very interesting and different. My voice calmed the horse because he sniffed my arms and looked around with interest. I could tell he was a good-tempered horse because he was so mellow in this weird situation.

The troopers both must have been used to traffic accidents because neither one of those guys got excited, but they did seem uneasy around the horse and trailer. They kind of stood around chatting with each other while making small talk with Dad. I think they were glad Dad was a veterinarian and had taken over so they didn’t have to. Shirley seemed even more anxious. She wrung her hands together and wiped her forehead as one of the troopers asked about her name, where she was from, and where she was going. Maybe she didn’t like law enforcement types. I had met some people like that. Hopefully, I wouldn’t meet any more.

Gary finally drove up in a dark blue Chevy pickup with a matching horse trailer hooked on behind. Gary waved at me and I said hi back. I stayed with the horse while Dad talked to his longtime friend, planning what to do. The acetylene torch made a whining noise cutting through the heavy metal of the gate latch. Spotty/Potty put his ears back and rolled his eyes at the noise, but I patted his nose and talked to him some more. After several minutes, there was a CHUNK as the latch fell to the ground. The men pulled it away from the trailer and wrestled the door open.

A scrawny-looking, matted pup came blinking and limping out of the trailer. He whined and wagged his tail, looking for comfort. Dad knelt down and rubbed his head.

It’s okay, bud. You’re out now. He felt around all over the dog, talking softly and calmly to it. He was checking out the dog for injuries, but why wasn’t the woman or the girl hugging it? He had no collar or tags, but put his head on Dad’s knee and sighed.

Gary came walking hunched over out of the trailer, leading the paint horse. Spotty/Potty turned out to be a gelding, which is a male horse that has been neutered. Luckily, the horse wasn’t very tall and only had to keep his head low to get out safely. He jumped the last step and shook himself when he was finally standing on grass. Gary held on to the lead rope as he turned around to look at the trailer lying on one side in the ditch.

Dad walked over to