“Oh, don’t worry, I have that covered.” Winnie lets out what can only be described as a squeal as we make our way inside the house. “Buttero sent me a pair of their boots last month!” She pulls up her jean leg to show off a pair of dark pink leather boots, knee high, with embroidery going up the sides.
I let out a whistle, unable to contain my reaction. “Those are some pretty expensive boots. I didn’t know pageant queens got such good freebies.”
“They don’t always,” Winnie says, turning to look at me and winking. “But I do.”
I scowl. She’s being flippant about a pair of boots that cost more than some people earn in a month. I glance down at my old, beaten up boots. They’re solid, and have lasted years, but I’m in need of a new pair.
Next year, I think. I’ll get a new pair next year. It’s a lie, and I know it, but it’s one I tell myself all the time. Next year won’t be any better than this year.
“What makes you so special?” I’m unable to contain my annoyance or my curiosity.
Candice and Beau are already in the kitchen, which leaves Winnie and I alone.
“You really don’t know who I am?” Winnie asks, her voice inquisitive and almost, for some reason, hopeful.
“Do I look like I follow pageants?”
“Right,” she says, recovering. “I just thought you might have talked to Candice. But no worries! No reason to know who I am.”
“Obviously.”
She blushes, a deep pink spreading across her face. It draws my attention to her features, and I can’t help but notice that Winnie is stunning. Her eyes are a dark, unrelenting blue that reminds me of deep ocean waters. Freckles dust her cheeks, and her mouth is plump and red, even though I’m pretty sure she’s not wearing any make up.
Beautiful she may be, but it’s clearly gone to her head if she thinks anyone in Star Mountain is going to know who she is.
“No one here is going to know who you are,” I say. “So you better not expect them to.”
“Really?”
“Really really.”
I cross my arms and raise a brow at her, expecting her to crumble, but something strange happens. Instead of looking distraught at the idea of being without an adoring audience, the pageant queen smiles and then does a fist pump.
“You just made my day.”
Huh. Weird.
Winnie glides by me and into the back of the house without another word, and I head into the kitchen, knowing that’s where Beau and Candice will want to talk. Their single story home is small, and we always do meetings in there, usually with a plate of Beau’s homemade cookies close by. I sit down between the Wilsons, Candice on one side, nervously fiddling with the hem of her sweatshirt, Beau on the other.
“This case is going to be tough, Jonah,” Beau says, without looking up from his phone. He rubs a hand over his face and passes me the phone.
I flip through the photos, and can’t keep my mouth from dropping open.
“I’ve never seen laminitis this bad,” I mutter.
“Keep going,” Beau says.
I look at the next photo which is of the bottom of a hoof. “And canker.”
“Yep,” Candice says. “The poor thing spent most of his time indoors, in a stall that was rarely cleaned.”
“Does he have a name?” I ask, setting the phone down. I’ve seen enough.
“No,” Candice says. “Not one that the owner shared with us anyways.” Her bottom lip trembles, out of anger or sadness. Maybe a combination of both.
“This will take work from both of us,” Beau says. “I’ve never treated a case like this, so I’ll need your expertise.”
Beau is a large animal veterinarian, and he’s seen a lot in his time. But as a farrier, I specialize in hoof care, and I’ve treated a few cases of canker before. It can be a pretty intense infection, and needs a lot of attention as it heals.
