Chapter 10
The Mare
? Blue Hour - Anna Graves
Angelina
Turnsout it’s really difficult to avoid your husband when you live in a small town, you’re the only certified veterinarian in the area, and he runs a sanctuary for injured horses. Damn near impossible, actually.
That’s how I ended up in his truck, barreling down the highway on the day we were supposed to be meeting at his parents’ place for dinner. I can’t say I’m disappointed that we’re missing it. It’s too soon to face his entire family.
I haven’t seen Griffin since our trail ride back from the creek—a promise fulfilled five years too late. It was quiet and serene as I rode Storm down the winding path, so unlike the heated kiss under the waterfall. Despite my best efforts, I can’t seem to get that kiss out of my mind.
“I don’t know what state she’ll be in when we get there,” Griffin says, keeping a tight grip on the steering wheel. “They found the owner’s body yesterday. Said itlooked like he’d been there a while. Months. Maybe longer.”
This part of my job never gets easier. There’s some small consolation in knowing I can bring them comfort if they’re nearing the end, but each loss weighs on my heart. I can only hope this mare isn’t beyond saving.
My knee bounces in the seat as we near the location. I breathe in deep and blow it out slowly. Griffin places his hand palm up on the console between us, and I hesitate for the briefest moment, but I need the comfort he’s offering. The last thing I want is to fall apart before we get to the farm.
My hand slides into his, and his thumb strokes along the back. His touch instantly soothes me.
I’ve never mastered the ability to separate the job from my personal feelings, but I can’t imagine doing anything else. I’m not above crying in my car on the way home from a house call, and I’m no stranger to grief. It doesn’t get easier; you just learn new ways to cope.
Griffin pulls into the half-circle drive, parking behind an unmarked black SUV. He’s at my door before I reach for the handle.
He offers me a hand as I step onto the gravel drive with my med kit.
“You ready?” he asks.
I nod solemnly.
A man in a tan cowboy hat and worn boots greets us as we approach the barn. He holds out his hand toward Griffin. “I’m Troy. We spoke on the phone.”
“Griffin,” he replies. “This is Dr. Angelina Rossi.”
He gives me a firm handshake, but I don’t miss the subtle look of judgment on his face. It’s nothing new for me. I’ve learned to ignore it.
Somebody as young and pretty as me couldn’t possibly be skilled enough to provide medical care to livestock, or so I’vebeen told. Young is relative. Pretty is just a fact. Neither of those things affects my competency as a doctor. I’m damn good at my job, and I won’t pretend otherwise.
I brace myself for what I might find in the barn. We were warned that the mare is frightened and lethargic. She didn’t fight back when they brought her inside, but she’s skittish. Horses are inherently social animals, and she’s been on her own for an extended period of time. It makes sense that she’d be wary.
Best case scenario, she’s malnourished and traumatized, with no long-lasting damage to her nervous system. I don’t want to even think about the worst case until the time comes—ifit comes.
“You’re the neighbor?” Griffin asks.
Troy nods. “Been keeping my eye on her for the past month or so on my way to work. I fed her a few times. Got horses of my own, but you know how it is out here. Closest neighbors are about a mile up the road. Hadn’t seen anyone tending to her in a while, so I called it in.”
Griffin nods. “You know the owner?”
He shakes his head. “Saw him a few times. Older man. Pretty sure he lived on his own.”
Troy shows us into the barn. “I put down fresh bedding, food, and water earlier. The sheriff didn’t want to deal with it, so I called you. My buddy Noah said you could help.”
Griffin clamps a hand on his shoulder. “You did the right thing.”
We stop outside of a stall with a beautiful brown leopard appaloosa mare standing in the back corner. You can see her ribs, hip bones, and spine, like a coat draped over a skeleton.
I pull open the door, and she skitters backward. “Shhhh,” I say, keeping my voice low and even. “It’s okay, pretty girl. I’m only here to help you.”
