He chomps on it in one bite.
I stroke his mane.
Mason replies, "I'm not the one jumping from a hungry horse. By the way, that's Spitfire."
"That's a good name for you, buddy," I say as Spitfire nuzzles my chest.
Mason states, "Isabella wanted to call him Monique."
I arch my eyebrows.
Mason chuckles. "Thank goodness Jacob Jr. pulled the longer straw."
Nostalgia hits me like a brick. I smile at the memories, commenting, "Your dad still has the kids pull straws to name the horses?"
"Sure does."
Mason tosses me a brush, and I catch it. I groom Spitfire, and he does the same for a brown Thoroughbred. Then he asks, "So what's your plan?"
I groan. "You're just like your dad."
He chuckles. "So I've heard. Does that mean you have no clue what to do?"
A ferocious chill sweeps the barn. Jagger's booming voice interjects, proclaiming, "Damn, it's cold!" He slides the heavy wooden door shut.
Several horses snort in protest.
I taunt, "Did your new sugar turn you into a candy-ass?"
"She's a warm slice of pecan pie. You'd have to trade your saddle in to handle her, though," he says cockily.
"Why? Did you take up pegging?" I mock.
He grunts. "Only if it's a cold day in Hell."
Mason tosses a roll of white bandages to him. "It's too icy to run them this morning. Morning Glory needs her leg rewrapped."
Jagger's face falls. "I don't know if she's going to recover."
Mason's grim tone matches his. "Only time will tell."
"What happened?" I question.
"She cut her leg on barbed wire. The infection went deep and doesn't want to let up. Every time it starts to heal, the next day, it's aggravated again," Jagger answers, grabbing an apple and stepping in front of another stall.
A beautiful white-and-brown spotted Appaloosa limps toward the gate.
"Here you go, sweetheart," he coos, holding out the fruit.
Morning Glory chews it, gentler than Spitfire, almost graciously.
"Aw. You can tell she's not feeling well," I comment, reaching out and rubbing her mane.
"Yeah. Emma's going to be heartbroken if she doesn't kick this infection. The vet said there's a high possibility it'll attack her bone. If that happens, we all know what's next." Jagger adds, his tone sad.
"Emma named her?" I question.
"Yeah." He grabs another apple and offers it to Morning Glory. Then he says, "I know how to solve your problem."
