Page 104 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

I let out a breath through my nose and give him a small nod.

“No… I don’t think they are.”

Wyatt’s pickup tears into the yard less than ten minutes later, throwing gravel behind it before he climbs out with his battered leather medical bag already in one hand. “Red.”

“We’re over here.”

He crosses the yard without another word, dropping beside the gelding as though every horse on the ranch belongs to him. His hand settles against its neck before he runs careful fingers along the jaw and lifts one eyelid.

“Easy, fella.”

The horse flicks an ear but doesn’t fight him.

Wyatt checks its pulse, presses a thumb against its gums, then watches the way it shifts its weight before turning toward the feed bucket.

He scoops a handful of grain into his palm, rubs it between his fingers, brings it to his nose, and lets it fall back into the bucket.

“How long have you noticed him like this?”

Red folds his arms. “Five minutes, maybe ten.”

“Any vomiting?”

“No.”

Wyatt nods. “Tremors?”

“A little.”

Wyatt reaches into his bag, pulls out a plastic sample pouch, and fills it with a handful of feed before sealing it shut.

“I’ll send this off,” he says, tucking it safely away. “I doubt the lab’s going to tell us anything we don’t already know.”

Nobody interrupts him.

He studies the gelding again before resting his hand against its shoulder. “I’d put money on somebody mixing a sedative into the grain.”

Emmett drags a hand across the back of his neck while Arizona stares at the bucket like she expects it to explain itself.

Red nods once. “That’s what I figured.”

Wyatt gives the horse another careful look. “They didn’t use enough to kill him.” He reaches into his bag for a syringe and starts preparing the medication. “They used enough to make him dangerous.”

The picture forms all by itself.

One of us saddles him.

One ride.

One bad landing.

Wyatt injects the medication into the gelding’s neck before rubbing the spot with the flat of his hand.

“I’ve caught it early enough that I like his chances,” he says. “He’ll be watched the rest of today, and I don’t want anybody riding him until I say otherwise.”

Emmett exhales. “So he’ll recover?”

“I expect he will.”