“That’s good news.” Kat smiled at us. “Sorry I wasn’t here to greet you, Jude. We were in a meeting with Maverick, going over some numbers and upcoming plans.”
“No worries.” I shrugged. “Carson was more than up to the task.”
Carson’s cheeks turned ruddy. “Gonna get…back mucking.”
“Good luck,” I said as he clomped toward the stalls he’d been working on when I arrived. “Thanks again for the help.”
“Hope he’s not tiring himself out,” Kat fretted after he was out of earshot.
“I’ll check on him in a bit, make sure he’s taking breaks.” Grayson gave a decisive nod.
“He seems to be handling himself fine.” I gave each of them a stern look in turn. They should know better, especially Grayson,who dealt with any number of old injuries from his rodeo days. “Might want to hover less.”
“That’s what he said. Wants to be treated like the other hands.” Grayson’s tone was frustrated but not unkind.
“Probably a good idea.” I glanced down at Grayson’s ankle. He often had a subtle limp, especially when it was cold or at the end of long days.
“But he’s still rehabbing his injuries.” Grayson didn’t seem inclined to see my point that Carson needed space and respect. “And he’s Colt’s baby brother. We don’t want him overdoing it.”
“Might want to let Carson be the judge of what he’s up to,” I said coolly.
“That’s probably a better approach,” Kat allowed.
“You’re right.” Grayson groaned, stretching his neck from side to side. “No one wants to be coddled.”
“Or spoken for,” Kat added, wagging a finger at Grayson. “You were finishing his sentences earlier.”
“Fair.” Grayson’s shoulders slumped. “It’s hard to see him like this, but I’ve gotta hand it to him for how far he’s come. He’s got a lot of fight, that’s for sure.”
“Something I’ve learned through my work with other veterans is everyone has their own path back.” I wasn’t quite done with my lecture. Simone, the counselor who led the veterans’ support group, was always quick to call out casual ableism, and it was also a frequent complaint from my fellow veterans who dealt with chronic injuries. “We all need to let Carson find his way. Accommodate as necessary, but let him be the boss of his own life.”
“When did you go and get so wise?” Kat whistled low. She was only slightly older than me, but she’d always had a sort of big-sister attitude toward me. “And now I feel bad.”
“We’ll do better.” Grayson clapped her on the shoulder before turning back toward me. “Colt might need your advice too. He’s already messaged twice this morning, checking up.”
“I imagine being the eldest brother is tough, but I’ll suggest he lay off.” As an only child, I could only guess at the responsibility for his siblings that Colt had shouldered after losing his father at a young age.
“Good plan.” In an obvious bid to change the subject, Grayson pointed at the horse. “How’s Cinder?”
“Relatively okay.” Having said my piece, I was happy enough to get on with discussing the real reason for my visit. While I was there, I checked in on a few other horses and discussed ongoing treatment plans with Kat. Then it was onto a hasty lunch from my cooler in my truck before the next stop.
Like most days, my Monday was packed with scheduled visits, but for once, I stayed on track without any emergencies to derail me. I made it back to town and the building housing our veterinary practice while the July sun was still overhead. I dropped Cinder’s blood sample off for our tech, who handled basic lab work, before stopping by Luna’s small office. Luna was my professional partner. She handled mainly small animals and pets and was finishing up her charting for the day.
“Back before closing time.” She smiled up at me. In her mid-forties, Luna had short hair somewhere between dark brown and silver, burgundy glasses, and a near-permanent teasing lilt to her voice. “That’s a rare pleasure.”
“Shush. It was a relatively slow day.” I held up a hand. “Don’t jinx it.”
“You deserve a whole string of slow days, Jude.” Luna adjusted her glasses so they wouldn’t slip farther down her angular nose. “In fact, this is why?—”
“We’re not hiring.” I cut her off before she could renew a long-standing argument about staffing. “I’ve got the fieldwork covered.”
“The margins aren’t as tight as they used to be.” Luna adopted the same tone she used with her nine-year-old to get him to wear a hat in winter. “You could loosen the reins a bit.”
“Could.” I made a noncommittal sound. My father was the one who’d originally hired Luna, but she’d become a dear friend as well as a savvy business partner.
“Could start with that rattletrap of a truck.” She moved on to her second favorite topic. “It’s becoming a liability.”
“I’ll think on it before winter,” I promised.
