Get out your hankies, folks. Here is "Thrown."
It had been a long day. Paul felt like talking anyway.
"Cordelle sure worked you over today," he said to Violet, buckled in the back seat, eyes closed.
"The first time she threw you, I wondered if you'd get back on that stupid horse. The second time..." He took a deep breath. "I called home. Mom's meeting us there, OK?"
Violet didn't answer. And she never would. Paul didn't need to talk to his daughter. But pretending that his 15-year-old "baby" would wake up again was all that kept him between the lines on the long ride to the hospital.