I knelt next to the mare and pressed my hand to her belly, checking for tension. Her gut was tight, too tight. Holt handed me the stethoscope, and I listened, already knowing what I was about to find. There was nothing. Not asingle sound.
“Tessa,” I said as I stood. “She needs to be walked hard. We can’t let her go down again.”
“I tried. I can’t hold her alone. She’s too strong.” Tessa shook her head.
“That’s why we’re here.”
“On your feet, girl,” I murmured, guiding the mare up while Tessa pulled carefully at the halter. It took all three of us to get her standing, and when she swayed, Tessa let out a sharp, broken sound that twisted something low in my chest.
“We walk her. Don’t let her stop.”
We started moving the mare in slow circles through the barn aisle, Tessa on one side of her head, me on the other, Holt behind her, pushing gently when she tried to stall out. She kept stumbling, jerking sideways, trying to throw herself down.
Every time she lurched, Tessa panicked. “Stop. Don’t fall. Please don’t fall.”
“Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“You’re not.”
“I am,” she snapped, and her voice cracked on the last word.
The mare rolled her shoulder hard without warning and nearly crushed her. I grabbed Tessa around the waist and yanked her out of the way in one rough motion. She slammed into my chest, her hands fisting in my shirt, her breath hot against my throat as she dragged in air.
For one dangerous second, she stayed there before she shoved me away. “Don’t touch me.”
“If you want to stay alive, I’m going to touch you.”
“That’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t a joke.”
We herded the mare through the barn, sweat drippingfrom all of us, and out to the pasture. The immediate temperature change sent a shiver down my spine, but it was welcome.
“Keep her moving. She needs the pressure to shift.”
Tessa shot me a look through hair plastered to her cheek. “I’m trying.”
“You’re doing good,” I said softly.
“Don’t patronize me.” Tessa rolled her eyes, and I wanted to toss her over my knee. Good lord, this woman got on every nerve I possessed.
We walked until my shoulders burned and Holt’s shirt was soaked through. The mare panted, foam streaking her neck, every part of her screaming distress. Tessa looked like she might break in two.
“Wyatt,” she said suddenly. “Is she going to die?”
“No.”
Her eyes flashed. “Stop lying to me.”
“I’m not.”
“You think I can’t handle the truth. After everything else. After Ray. After the bank. After all of it.”
I held her gaze. “I think you’re exhausted, scared, and trying to carry this alone.”
Her lip trembled. Her grip on the lead rope tightened like she was strangling it.
