River jogged up, still grinning until he saw the blood dripping into the roadside gravel. His smile faltered, then collapsed altogether.
“Oh shit,” he said, voice suddenly small.
“Did you cut the fence?” Boone demanded.
“What? No! I swear, I just thought you’d have to chase them around the ranch. I didn’t think?—”
“No,” Boone cut him off, not looking at him. “You didn’t think.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled to the vet’s number.
Jonah appeared on an ATV, his face paper-white as he hopped off and crouched beside Sunny’s injured leg. “Oh, my girl. How bad?”
“Bad enough,” Boone replied, pressing the call button.
The phone rang three times before someone picked up at Garrison Veterinary Services, the only practice within thirty miles that handled large animals.
“Dr. Garrison’s office,” a female voice answered.
“This is Boone Callahan,” he said, keeping his voice steady despite the rage still simmering in his chest. “We need Dr. Garrison out here. Horse with a deep leg laceration, bleeding heavily.”
“He’s not available today,” the woman said. “But I can be there in twenty minutes. What’s the location?”
Boone hesitated. Not the old man, but someone who worked for him. “Valor Ridge Ranch, off Ridge Road.”
“I know it. Keep pressure on the wound if you can. I’m on my way.”
Boone hung up and tucked the phone away. “Vet’s coming,” he told Jonah, who nodded, his hand resting on Sunny’s shoulder. He was talking to her in a low voice, the same gentle tone Boone had heard him use with scared dogs at the shelter.
River stood a few feet away, shifting his weight from foot to foot, all his usual manic energy condensed into nervous fidgeting. “Is she gonna be okay?”
Boone ignored him. He couldn’t trust himself to speak to River right now. Not with Sunny bleeding, not with Jonah looking like he might shatter, not with Sharpe still ranting about liability and lawsuits.
Minutes crawled by. He kept pressure on the leg until the sound of an engine made him look up. Walker’s truck was coming down the drive, a horse trailer behind it.
Jesus. Walker was going to be pissed.
River should be shaking in his boots right now. Walker had given the guy chance after chance, but this?
This might be the final straw.
Walker braked hard, sending gravel spraying as he pulled onto the shoulder. He was out of the truck in seconds, his face carved from stone as he took in the scene—Sunny trembling and bloodied, Dennis Sharpe gesturing wildly at his dented truck, River standing uselessly to the side.
“What happened?” he demanded, striding toward them.
“Your psycho residents let their horses loose,” Dennis spat. “Nearly killed me! Look at my truck!”
Walker ignored him. “Where are the other horses?”
“Back on ranch property,” Boone answered.
“Good.” He narrowed his eyes at the broken fence, then knelt beside Sunny to look at the wound. “How bad?”
“It’s deep, but clean,” Boone said. “Vet’s on the way.”
Walker gently stroked Sunny’s neck, his touch steadying her even as his eyes burned with cold fury when they landed on River.
“Who cut the fence?”
River’s shoulders hunched. “I didn’t cut anything, I swear. I just opened the gate. It was supposed to be a joke.”
