A week later, things were looking up. The foal, which they'd called Bramble on the paperwork, and Bessie were out in their own paddock now. They'd usually be kept with other nursing mares, but Bessie was the only one who'd given birth so far. The others wouldn't be ready until next year. They both had a clean bill of health, and Bramble was flourishing. He was putting on weight every day, his fur was glossy, and his legs were steady. Allen had quickly become his favourite human, possibly due to him being the first thing he saw as he cleaned his nose, and he followed him whenever he could.

Even though Bramble wouldn't be ready for sale for another two years, they'd already had multiple offers in the hundred thousand range. With his lineage, it was almost a certainty he'd be an excellent runner and, as a male, he'd be ripe for breeding. Richard was quietly tempted to keep him for himself. He'd be a valuable stallion, and he was the first foal born in the stable, but that wouldn't be a good business decision. They'd have to buy in more mares if they kept Bramble so they didn't cross family lines, since the other foals would be from the same stallion. But if most of the other foals are also male...

They were also ready to sell May-Bell, a mare who was hitting her second year that season. She could run the track in just over three minutes, which was an excellent time for any potential buyer to build on. They'd had offers as high as ninety-five thousand, which was pretty good, but Richard would let Allen handle that side of things. He always swung a better deal. Richard's primary focus was training, and that's where he was happiest. With that in mind, they were making the most of the end of the summer. They trained the entire year, of course, but it was always nicer when the weather was fine and the days were long.

With that in mind, Richard was out on the track again. The wind in his hair, the reins tight across his fingers, his ass barely bouncing in the saddle as he rested his knees on the leather. He was riding Mellow Yellow, a boisterous thoroughbred that had been gifted a rich cream coat with a glossy black mane and tail. She'd be a great runner one day, but she needed a lot of training. It wasn't so much the speed that was the issue, but the control. She needed to learn to listen, to follow the guiding pull of the reins, and she just wasn't there yet. Still, it was exhilarating. Never knowing what she'd do or how she'd act brought with it a certain level of excitement.

"That's it! Come on!" Richard spurred her on down the main strip, grinning and leaning low as the wind whipped his face. Each pounding step made his body bounce, hips rocking to keep balance. "Go Melly! Go!" He whooped as they sped down the strip, laughing as they came up to the second turning. He pulled the reins. Mellow snorted and leaned into it, hooves pounding the earth as they took the turn and got back onto the straight. She'd slowed a little, as she should, but they were soon picking up speed again.

"Too fast! Watch the turning!" Allen bellowed as they came up to the starting line. Much as he hated to admit it, Allen was right. Mellow didn't take the hint soon enough. She wasn't slowing down the moment he pulled. Still, things were looking pretty promising. Her fur was glossy, working up a sweat from the workout. They were going for their second lap now, a chance to perfect the turning. Richard panted and rocked in the saddle, holding tight as they pounded their way down the track.

"Alright, come on girl...Now!" Pulling the reins, Richard urged Mellow to slow and turn. His eyes widened. Her outer hoof slipped, throwing her off balance. Richard let go and released the stirrups as she fell, leaping off backwards. They both hit the ground hard. Richard grunted, taking the brunt of the fall on his forearm and feeling a searing pain shoot up through his shoulder as he rolled. His head hit the ground, helmet bouncing and scraping on the firm earth. Shit! Gritting his teeth, he grabbed his arm and rolled onto his back, breathing through the pain and turning his head to see how Mellow was doing. He huffed fondly as he noticed she was already up. She was rattled, shaking her head and rearing, but she was on her feet.

"Richard!" Allen's feet pounded the earth, spooking Mellow and sending her off down the track without a rider. That was probably the best place for her. There was a fence around the edge and no one else was down there, so she'd calm herself eventually. Richard was Allen's primary concern as he threw himself down and put a hand on his chest, wary of moving him in case he'd broken something. "Richie, hey! Are you alright? How bad is it?" That was a pretty hard question right now. He was pretty shaken up and tender from the fall.

"Sh-shoulder." That was the one thing he knew didn't feel right. He hadn't heard or felt any crunching, so it probably wasn't broken, but it fucking hurt. His forearm was pretty scraped, and his elbow hurt. His hip had also taken a hit, and his legs were probably battered from rolling across the ground. Although his head hurt, he knew the helmet had done its job and saved him for the most part. "I-I think that's the worst of it." Though he wasn't a medical professional, so he wouldn't know for sure until he got checked out.

"Alright, I'll call an ambulance."

"Are you crazy? It's not that bad!" This wasn't his first time falling from a horse, though it was his first time for a while. It was also rare for him to fall off on the racetrack. His falls were usually on the softer ground of the jumping range. Allen looked down at him doubtfully, unsure he really believed him. "I mean it! I just took a fall!" Granted, that fall was from a five foot, thousand pound horse, but he could still move his fingers and toes, so there was no serious spinal damage. Allen seemed a little more relaxed as he lifted his head, suggesting his neck was also still in one piece.

"Alright, but I'm still taking you to get checked out." Richard wouldn't expect anything less, and honestly, he was pretty sure he needed it for whatever had happened to his shoulder and elbow. He hissed as he straightened his arm and rolled his shoulder. He could still move them, so it probably wasn't that bad. Maybe a few torn ligaments or a fracture. Breathing was a little painful, so he'd probably done something to his ribs, too. The whole of his left side had taken a hit. At least my right arm is alright. That was the hand he used for writing. "Why don't you stay here while I get Mellow put away?" They couldn't just leave her out by herself.

"Sure, I'll just...wait here." He wasn't ready to move yet anyway. It was always pretty scary, taking a fall, and that was the worst he'd had in a while. His legs were still shaking as he scooted over to the white railings surrounding the track and leaned against a post. He wouldn't say he'd seen his life flash before his eyes, but he'd certainly thought the worst when he hit the ground. His heart was still racing as he watched Allen jog down the other end of the track, where Mellow was still trotting in circles. Shit. There was something off in her gait. He could see it from where he was sitting. She was limping a little.

She reared and whinnied as Allen rounded the corner, clearly agitated. Richard watched as Allen backed off and spoke in his usual gentle tones. It took a few minutes, but the sound of Allen's voice and the offer of a sugar cube soon had her settled enough to let him grab the reins. He patted her flank as they walked, and he gently coaxed her all the way back to her stall, where he stripped off the saddle and bridle before putting her inside. By the time he returned to Richard, the trembling in his legs had stopped and he was feeling much better, though still very sore.

"Ready?" Allen asked as he gripped his good arm. Richard nodded and pushed as Allen helped him up, groaning and limping on his right leg. The pain in his left hip was a little worse than expected. He hissed in pain as he found his footing, trying to shake off the dull pain. Allen squinted at him distrustfully, quietly convinced he was covering his injury.

"I'm fine! It just hurts like a bitch." Which was true. Allen clicked his tongue as he helped him limp his way across the track and along the path to the yard. They took Allen's car, since he'd be the one driving.

"I told you Mellow was taking the corners too fast," Allen grumbled as Richard climbed into the passenger seat with a wince. He didn't even bother arguing. Allen had warned him, and he'd taken it seriously. He'd pulled the reins sooner than before, hoping to pull her into a sharper turn. Maybe that's it. I might have pulled a little too hard. Mellow wasn't as seasoned as the others. She didn't know how to read him yet.

"It was probably my fault." Allen couldn't say that definitively. Mellow was in training. Accidents happened when working with horses, and this was one of the risks. Richard got off easy by the looks of it. A fall like that could have been a lot worse if he hadn't dismounted in time. His leg could have been crushed, his hip or back broken, or his neck might even have snapped. "Did you check Mellow? How is she?" Allen huffed. How like Richard to worry about the horse first.

"She's settled, but I'll have to call the farrier in. She threw a shoe in the fall." Richard winced at the news. That explained the limping. With one hoof shorter than the others, the poor girl was walking off balance. They'd have to wait for the farrier to find out how bad it was. She might have ripped part of her hoof off with the shoe or bruised her fetlock. Hopefully nothing worse than that. "I'll keep her in for a few days and have Luther check her over." That was probably for the best.

Since he was now sitting, Richard unclipped his helmet and tossed it on the backseat, wincing as he did so. The helmet had saved him from any serious injuries, but he was still pretty tender where he'd hit the ground. The longer they drove, the more sore his battered limbs were becoming, too. He was probably black and blue under his tight slacks. He sat back with a sigh. Great. He probably wouldn't be back in the saddle for a few weeks. It might even be months, but he didn't want to contemplate that. Once they got to the hospital, Allen told him to wait in the car. Assuming he was going to pay for parking, Richard waited, but he was mortified when he returned with a wheelchair. Are you fucking kidding me?

"I'm not a fucking invalid!" he groused as Allen opened the door, pausing with a firm frown. They glared at each other. There was no way he was voluntarily sitting in that thing! He'd have to drag him. Kicking and screaming. He balked as Allen leaned in and unfastened his seatbelt.

"If you don't put yourself in the chair, I'll pick you up and do it myself." Richard flushed with indignation. He knew better than to think Allen was exaggerating. They'd been here before. Scooting the chair closer, Allen put on the brakes and waited with folded arms. Grumbling under his breath, Richard shuffled his legs out with a pained grunt. He felt stiff already. His elbow and shoulder felt like they were swelling, which they may well have been. He grudgingly accepted Allen's hand as he heaved himself to his feet and shuffled into the chair like an old man. This is the worst..."Thank you," Allen murmured as he settled his feet on the plates and wheeled him towards the emergency room.

Allen handled everything once they were inside. Being retired, and not overly famous anyway, Richard wouldn't have complained about waiting in the ER, however, Allen was quick to bring up his status and insurance. With such a dangerous job, it only made sense to go private in case something big happened. Within a few minutes, Allen had wheeled him through to a smaller, private waiting area, and within thirty minutes, they were led into an examination room. Although sessions really should be private, Allen made no move to leave, and Richard didn't tell him to. As a result, Allen was the one who leapt into an explanation of what had happened.

"He landed on his left side and rolled, but his arm took the brunt of it, and his head bounced off the track." Richard glared at that. Great...Did he really have to say that? Hearing about the head injury, the doctor, a young woman who looked to be in her thirties, sat up a little straighter. Head injuries could be dangerous. Richard understood that, but he was really fine!

"Did your head hit the ground?"

"I was wearing a helmet!" This was getting ridiculous. The helmet had taken the brunt of the impact. Yes, it hurt. Yes, he could feel some sore spots, but it really wasn't that bad! The doctor's lips softened into something of a smirk at his response as she looked over her glasses with amused eyes.

"That's not what I asked." Richard's pout was enough of an answer.

"Alright, yes. My head hit the ground a couple of times, but I was wearing a helmet!" The doctor was glad to hear it. Without a helmet, they'd likely be in a very different position. Richard sat patiently, trying not to huff too much as the doctor reached out and ran her fingers over his skull. She hummed softly, watching as Richard winced under her touch and lingering over the sore spots for a more thorough check. Next, she got her penlight and had him look this way and that as she checked his vision.

"Well...your eyes seem fine. Dilation is as it should be, and your movement seems unaffected. I'll order a scan just in case, and we'll keep you in overnight to be sure." Richard balked at the suggestion. Overnight? Was that really necessary? The fall wasn't even that bad! He was just feeling a little stiff and achy. Allen was much happier, clearly relieved Richard would be in good hands. Seeing Richard's face, the doctor put on her most appeasing smile. "It's precautionary, and we'll have x-rays to run on your arm and hip anyway, so staying here is much more convenient." There probably wasn't even a reason to x-ray!

"Are you sure that's necessary?" Richard couldn't help feeling like he was being a bother. Sure, the more treatment he got, the more money the private ward would make, but all this fuss was really too much.

"Absolutely. You should never take chances with head injuries, and if you have any broken bones, they'll need to be properly set." She wisely chose not to mention that with him being older now, those breaks could take longer to heal and cause more problems. Richard knew she was right, but he really felt fine! The doctor had him strip and put on a gown so she could examine his limbs properly. There was a little swelling around the shoulder and elbow, either from fractures or strains. His hip was badly bruised, though she couldn't feel any cracks. She predicted that two of his ribs were fractured from how tender they felt, and his legs were predictably covered in bruises. "We'll get you a bed and some anti-inflammatory medication for the swelling. Do you think you need anything for the pain?" Richard shook his head. It was painful, but not so bad that he wanted to be put on anything stronger than Paracetamol.

The rest of the afternoon was mostly spent waiting. He was shown to a room, where he had to stay in the open-backed examination robe, and put into bed. Allen stayed to keep him company, mostly insisting that this was for the best and he should listen to the doctors and stay overnight, like they said. He could, of course, discharge himself, but Allen knew that with a little convincing, he'd do as he was told. He always did. They paid for TV, and Allen bought him a newspaper so he'd have something to do later when he was eventually shooed away for the night.

After multiple x-rays and scans, it was confirmed that the helmet had done its job. No severe signs of concussion or fractures in the skull. His elbow had a minor fracture, but he wouldn't need surgery or a cast. His shoulder was similarly damaged, so the joint was bandaged and his arm placed in a blue sling. He was to keep it there for six weeks without moving it, except for when he was doing elbow exercises. That would be quite a challenge, using his elbow without moving his shoulder. His ribs were also slightly fractured, so he was told to rest as much as possible. His hip, surprisingly, was fine. It was battered and bruised, like his legs, but there were no cracks or breaks. Small mercies...

"We'll check everything again in six weeks to see how you're doing, so until then, no strenuous activity, and you need to rest as much as possible." Richard almost pouted. That meant no riding. Allen gave him a knowing look, almost smirking. Richard was always the same when he was injured. He sulked and pushed boundaries as much as possible. The next six weeks would be a living nightmare, and Allen would be working overtime trying to keep him in check. Unless...Richard had a thing with Hank going, so maybe he could wrangle Hank into keeping Richard's mind off work.

Despite the scans, they still wanted to monitor his condition overnight to make sure nothing changed, so Allen was soon shooed away for the evening to allow Richard to rest. It was only then, as Allen pottered about making sure he had everything he needed within reach, that Richard thought of Hank and the chickens. He was probably wondering what happened after he didn't turn up that morning.

"Al! Would you see to the chickens for me? And...could you let Hank know?" His insides squirmed at that second part. It felt weird, having someone who'd notice he was missing besides Allen. It sort of warmed him to think there was someone out there waiting for him who might miss him when he was gone. He sort of felt bad for not thinking about it sooner. Then again, I did spend the day getting poked and prodded. He was still irritated by the experience.

"Why don't you call him?" Allen asked curiously, though it occurred to him that Richard didn't have his phone. The look on Richard's face informed him there was another problem though. "You don't have his number?" Richard balked at the exclamation. He was acting like it was the most outrageous thing in the world!

"We live right next door to each other!" If he wanted him, he could just walk outside and yell. Allen sighed. The things Richard was missing out on! Perhaps it was a good thing that he'd have six weeks to learn. Allen almost smirked at the thought. He'd certainly be willing to give Hank some pointers on how he could keep him occupied.

"Alright, I'll need to get the horses in anyway." They'd already been out in the fields longer than they should. It was getting on for dinnertime. Richard waved with his good arm and sat back with a sigh, boredly looking up at the ceiling. At least he still had the crossword.