“River,” Anson warned without heat and crossed to the horse. “Don’t make me tell Boone about the whiskey flask you keep in the hay loft.”
“Joke’s on you. He already knows and confiscated it. But he doesn’t know where my back-up is.” River winked at Boone, who responded with a flat stare that would have sent a smarter man running.
Rook shifted, snorting softly as if to say,“Hey, I’m still here and have a problem.”
“Lift,” Anson murmured and tapped the horse’s fetlock. Rook responded immediately, raising his hoof for inspection.
“He’s not denying it,” River stage-whispered to Bear. “That means it was definitely a whole-body thing. Wait, does that mean?—”
Bear’s hand landed on River’s shoulder and squeezed hard enough that he tilted sideways with a squeak of pain.
“Let him work, Riv.”
“Yep. Yep. Okay. I’ll shut up and let him work.”
Anson shot the big man a grateful look and refocused on Rook’s hoof. The shoe had twisted to the side, likely caught on something in the pasture. He pried it off completely and inspected the hoof wall for damage.
“No cracks,” he said to Boone, who hovered nearby. “He’ll just need a fresh shoe. I’ll have to go back to the forge to shape one, but he should be okay in a boot until I get back.” Hestraightened and patted the horse’s side. “He’ll be pissed about it, but he’ll survive.”
When he turned, he found all three men staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “What?”
“You used complete sentences,” River said, still grinning.
Anson frowned. “I always use sentences.”
“Grunts and nods aren’t sentences. Usually it’s just ‘shoe’s bad’ or ‘need new nails’ or my personal favorite, the silent death glare that somehow communicates everything.”
Had he really been that taciturn?
“Leave him alone,” Bear rumbled, though Anson caught the hint of amusement in his voice. “Man’s happy. It’s Christmas.”
“Oh, it’s not Christmas making him happy,” River said. “It’s?—”
“If you finish that sentence, I will nail this twisted horseshoe to your backside,” Anson said without looking up. Rook shifted restlessly as he placed the temporary boot, and he patted the horse’s flank. “Easy, boy. Almost done.”
The barn door opened again, bringing a brief swirl of cold air. Lila stepped inside, veterinary kit in hand, her cheeks pink from the cold. “Morning, boys. Merry Christmas.”
“Lila.” Boone nodded with his usual gruff acknowledgment.
“Doc!” River called. “What are you doing here? It’s a holiday!”
“The horses don’t know that. I was in the area on an emergency call. Evander Cole’s horse got caught up in some barbed wire, and?—”
Boone’s scowl deepened. “You shouldn’t go out to Cole’s property alone.”
“Oh, don’t start.”
“He’s right,” Bear said. “You should’ve called me.”
“Not you, too. Evander is not dangerous, and if he were, I know how to protect myself.” She turned away, dismissing themboth, and set down her medical bag to stroke Rook’s nose. “What happened to you, handsome boy?”
“Just a thrown shoe,” Anson said. “No hoof damage.”
“That’s good. As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted…” She shot Boone a quick, narrowed-eyed glare before refocusing on Rook and Anson. “Since I was in the area, I wanted to stop in and look at Junie’s abscess. Have you checked on her lately?”
“Yeah, yesterday. Did an Epsom salt soak, repacked it with sugardine, and wrapped it. No heat, and she’s bearing weight again.”
“I trust you, Anson, but I’m still going to check,” she said, sounding apologetic. “You know she’s my favorite girl.”
