She lets out a quiet, muffled whinny. There’s somethingso pained in her eyes. Someone who isn’t familiar with horses wouldn’t notice it, but I’ve worked with them for so long, it’s hard to miss.
I hold out my hand for her to sniff, and I take a few slow steps in her direction. Her coat lacks the usual luster you expect to see in a healthy mare, confirming everything I already know—she’s been on her own for a long while. “I’m here to help you.”
I turn back to Troy and Griffin, who are watching me from outside the stall. I’m careful to keep her visible in my periphery in case she startles. “Do we know her name?”
Troy snickers. “No. Why does it matter?”
Griffin’s jaw ticks, and I give him a subtle look of warning, hoping to convey that I don’t need rescuing.
I blow out a steadying breath, so I don’t bite the man’s head off myself. “It helps if there’s some familiarity for her. To keep her calm.”
As a horse owner, he should know that. But I won't say that aloud.
I plaster on a fake smile and turn my attention back to the patient. When I take one more step, she lowers her muzzle and nudges at my hand. “That’s it, girl. Look at you. You’re doing so well.”
I run my palm along her neck in long, soothing strokes, swallowing the sudden tightness in my throat. There’s something so hollow in her eyes, as though she’d already resigned herself to the worst fate imaginable. I know a little something about resignation.
“How long were you on your own, huh? We’re gonna take care of you now.”
She rests her chin on my shoulder like she’s hugging me, and tears spring to my eyes. What is wrong with me? I never get emotional on scene. This isn’t like me at all.
When I’m finished with my initial assessment, I back out ofthe stall. She follows me to the door and drapes her head over the side.
“Think she likes you, Angel,” Griffin says. “How is she?”
“No significant signs of any illnesses. I’d like to do an ultrasound when we get her back to the ranch, and I’ll send off some blood for testing.”
“But?”
“No buts. I think she just needs a little TLC.”
I feel a tug on my hair. When I turn around, the mare has my ponytail trapped between her lips. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “Somebody’s feeling needy,” I say in the baby voice I often use to talk to animals. “Let’s get you to your new home. You’ll be good as new in no time.”
Griffin
When I try to approach the mare with a bridle so we can get her ready for transport, she retreats to the back corner of the stall. Angie surmises that she might be afraid of men, so she takes over, and we get her secured inside the trailer.
I shake Troy’s hand and thank him for contacting us, squeezing a little more forcibly than necessary this time.
Angie rests her head against the window as I drive us back to the ranch. She looks weary after the events of the day, and I can’t say I blame her. This job can take a toll on you. It takes a special kind of person to dedicate their life to healing animals, and it’s no surprise that special person would be Angie. There’s just something about her. She has a fierce side, that’s for damn sure, but beneath the surface, there’s a softness there.
“Think she needs a name,” I tell her.
“You wantmeto do it?”
“She seems very attached to you.”
“That’s a lot of pressure.”
“I can ask Emmy Lou, but she recently named one of the barn cats Sprinkle Butter. Do you really want something like that on your conscience?”
She laughs, and the sound sets my soul on fire. It’s been days since I last heard it. I kept my distance after the trail ride, sensing that she might need space to process whatever’s happening between us, but every minute we were apart was like torture.
“Sprinkle Butter does have a certain whimsy to it,” she says.
“Whimsy’s a cute name.”
She scrunches up her nose. “Yeah, if you’re an elf at the North Pole.”
