Her lungs seized mid-breath. The world narrowed to that single impression in the mud.
Landry.
He was here.
No, no, no.
He couldn’t be here.
Anson brought out an orange kitten and placed it in her arms, and it was enough of a distraction that her lungs unlocked. She stared down at the kitten—bigger than the first, but still so small. When she looked back at the spot under her window, she no longer saw the footprint.
She shook her head and held the two kittens close as Anson disappeared under the porch again. She was being paranoid. Of course, there were footprints in the mud here. It was a ranch.
Finally, Anson emerged with a calico that was much smaller than the other two. The runt. Her eyes were not open, and she was terrifyingly still. Bramble nuzzled it and whined, worry evident in his amber eyes.
“Fuck,” Anson said, voice tight. He tucked the listless kitten against his chest, snapped up his coat, and strode toward the barn. “C’mon. We need to get them to Lila.”
“Lila?”
“Veterinarian.”
His strides were long enough that she had to run to keep up. Bramble trotted ahead, pausing occasionally to look back as if checking that all the kittens were accounted for.
The barn doors stood open, warm light spilling out across the yard. Inside, a woman with pale golden hair was examining a bay mare’s leg while a massive man held the horse steady. The woman—Lila, presumably—looked up as they entered, her eyes widening at the sight of them.
“Found them under her porch,” Anson said before Maggie could speak. “Mother’s gone. The little one’s stiff.”
Lila moved immediately, wiping her hands on a towel as she approached. “Let me see.” Her voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of authority that reminded Maggie of the director on her show—someone used to being listened to in a crisis.
Lila took the tiny calico from Anson’s hands and cradled it close to her chest. She rubbed the kitten’s body vigorously through the fabric of her shirt, her movements practiced and sure.
“Bear, grab that heating pad from my truck,” she instructed without looking up. The massive man – who must be Bear – moved with surprising grace for someone his size, disappearing through the barn doors.
Maggie clutched the other two kittens tighter, their tiny bodies trembling against her. “Will she make it?”
“She’s responding,” Lila said, still rubbing. The little calico had begun to move slightly, mouth opening in a silent cry. “There you go, little one. That’s it.”
Bear returned with a portable heating pad. Lila directed him to plug in the pad near one of the barn’s outlets, and she carefully placed the calico on the warmed surface.
“Let’s see the other two,” she said, turning to Maggie.
Maggie handed over the gray kitten first. Lila examined it, checking its mouth, eyes, and tiny paws.
“This one’s a boy,” she announced, setting him beside the calico on the heating pad. “Dehydrated, but his temperature is coming up.”
The orange kitten went next, squirming more vigorously in Lila’s hands. “Another male. Stronger than the others. I think they’ll all be okay, but they’ll need round-the-clock care. Warmth. Formula. Regular feeding.” She glanced at Anson. “The barn is too cold, and the bunkhouse isn’t ideal—too many people, too much activity.”
“The forge,” Anson said without hesitation. “It’s warm. Quiet.” He cleared his throat. “Got my cot in the back. Could set them up there.”
Lila’s eyebrows rose slightly, but she nodded. “That would work. I’ve got kitten formula in my truck. Bear, sorry to send you out again. Can you grab the blue toolbox?”
Bear nodded and strode out of the barn again, ducking his head slightly as he passed through the doorway.
“We’ll need to feed them every two hours,” Lila continued. “Keep them warm—you can take the heating pad, and I can get you an incubator if the little girl doesn’t respond. And stimulate them after feeding to help them eliminate.”
Maggie blinked. “Stimulate?”
“Their mother would lick them to help them pee and poop,” Lila explained. “We’ll use a warm washcloth.”
