A muscle jumped in Wyatt’s jaw. The horse had been through hell, and someone had to find the compassion and make the executive decision to end her suffering. That someone was him, apparently.
“She’s probably disease-ridden and could infect the other horses. And after being abused this severely, her trust in man has likely been irrevocably broken.”
Hannah planted herself between Wyatt and the mare. She didn’t look like a spoiled daddy’s girl now. She resembled a mama grizzly passionately defending her cub. “You can’t write her off without giving her a chance.”
Her stormy gaze hit Wyatt with a fireball of pain, anger and frustration, the same emotions rumbling through him. The fight in her eyes would cause a lesser man to back down.
“Giving horses second chances is what I do, Wyatt. And if you’d done your research on the farm before you tossed around your money, you would realize it’s what you do now, too.”
Wyatt stiffened as the barb hit home. He couldn’t argue with facts. He’d delegated his research. The agent’s report hadn’t included anything about Sutherland Farm being a dumping ground for damaged animals, or Hannah Sutherland, who was going to make damned sure he paid for delegating.
“That right rear leg could be broken.”
Hannah didn’t even glance at it. “It’s cut deep from the hobbles. It looks like the brute bound her back legs so she couldn’t defend herself when he beat her. But from the way she’s bearing weight on it, it’s most likely superficial. I’ll run X-rays to confirm.”
“You mean you’ll run up expenses on a lost cause.”
She glared at him. “This isn’t about money. Find Your Center saves lives. It doesn’t destroy them unnecessarily.”
“What in the hell is Find Your Center?”
Irritation darkened her eyes to storm cloud gray and tightened the tendons running the length of her neck as she stuck out her chin, making the diamonds in her ears sparkle in the barn’s overhead lighting. If she’d been a guy, she probably would have punched him.
“Illustrating once again, Mr. Jacobs, you should have done your homework before your underhanded purchase.”
“There was nothing devious about my purchasing this farm. It was for sale. I bought it.”
She visibly reined in her temper, taking a deep breath then relaxing her tense muscles. “Sutherland Farm specializes in birth and rebirth.”
A bird swooped through the open barn door. The horse spooked and jumped sideways, its haunches knocking into Hannah. She stumbled. Wyatt instinctively sprang forward to catch her. His muscles bunched as he banded his arms around her and braced his thighs to keep them both from going down under the ragged, dancing hooves.
Her feet tangled with his as she scrambled for traction and shifted against him in ways that made him excruciatingly aware of the surprising firmness and strength beneath her curves.
“Are you all right?” he asked through a knotted jaw.
Her wary gaze locked with his. Her cheeks flushed and her lips parted. His pulse spiked and heat flooded him, proving he shared something he wanted no part of with the pampered princess.
Chemistry.
“I’m fine. Thank you. Release me. Please.” She planted her palms on his chest and pushed, broke his hold and backed away. Keeping an equally watchful eye on him, she circled to the opposite side of the horse.
“I’m sorry, Hannah,” Jeb said. “I have her now.”
“It’s okay, Jeb. My mistake,” she offered. “I know better than to turn my back on an unfamiliar animal.”
She flashed a brief look at Wyatt as if he were the animal in question, then she bent to reexamine the mare’s fetlock the way she’d done everything this morning—with a methodical thoroughness and attention to detail that had frustrated him in the lab because he’d suspected her of deliberately stalling as she checked and rechecked each sample and then meticulously packaged and charted each vial. Slow and steady was very likely her modus operandi and not just a passive-aggressive ploy to get under his skin.
She finally stepped away from the mare and, ignoring Wyatt, approached the vet, who’d been watching Wyatt as much as he had the horse. “I’ll keep her.”
“She could jeopardize the safety of the other horses,” Wyatt objected.
“She’ll be quarantined until the test results come back.”
The vet nodded. “Thanks, Hannah. I’ll take care of the legalities. Can you send me the pictures documenting the abuse ASAP? I took some video with my cell phone and shot that off to the authorities. But detailed still shots will help our case.”
“I’ll get photos before and after I clean and treat her wounds, and I’ll email those and the lab results to you as soon as I’m done.”
Wyatt didn’t like the way this was playing out. “The mare’s suffering should end. Put her down. I’ll cover the cost.”
Hannah gripped Wyatt’s forearm. Her touch burned through his sleeve like tongues of fire. Heat licked up his limb and settled in his torso.
“If you don’t care about the mare, let me put it another way. To stand any chance of making the bastard who did this pay for his heinous crimes and to keep him from hurting another animal, we’ll need documentation. Not only was this mare beaten and malnourished, she was obviously living in filth. The judge has to see what a sadist her owner is or the jerk might be allowed to own and torture other animals. No creature deserves to live or die in those conditions. Please, Wyatt, let me do this for her.”
When she put it like that how could he refuse? Reports of abuse and neglect had been the top reasons he’d refused to put Sam in a facility. The mare, like Sam, deserved to be treated with dignity.
Her movements slow and deliberate, Hannah approached the mare and smoothed a hand down the white blaze. The horse shied away, tossing her head and almost knocking Hannah over, but the stupid woman wouldn’t quit. She kept sweet-talking and caressing until the horse tolerated her touch.
“Look at that face. She deserves a second chance, don’t you, girl?” Hannah’s eyes, soft and wide, beseeched him. “Give me two weeks. Unless she tests positive for something I can’t cure, I’ll prove to you, and to her, that she deserves a better life. When I’m done she’ll be healthier so someone else might be willing to foster her. Worst-case scenario, her final days will be good ones. She’ll be warm and clean and well-fed.”
Wyatt couldn’t care less about Hannah’s bedroom-soft purr or the horse’s face. He didn’t believe for one minute this spoiled rich girl had what it took to bring the mare back from near-death, but her point about final days got to him. That’s why he’d bought the farm for Sam.
“Two weeks. You pay for the costs, and no heroic measures.”
Relief softened Hannah’s expression. “Wait and see the miracles a little TLC can create.”
“I don’t believe in miracles.”
