same motions.
“What’s going on here, Lilly?” Nathaniel asked. He braced both hands on a fence post and leaped over the barbed wire while Clay went to the back of the horse trailer and opened it up, lowering the ramp.
“She’s acting like colic, Doc. And like she’s had it awhile.”
“You find anyone around the Jeromes'?”
“No. It’s like they ran off. There was a chicken coop behind the barn, door standing open, broken eggs and a lot of feathers. You don’t suppose …?”
“That they left the horse in the pasture, the henhouse door open, the dogs to fend for themselves?” Nathaniel pulled back the horse’s lips to look at her gums. He listened to her stomach for gut sounds and felt her tight belly, an action that made her prance a little. “This sort of thing hasn’t happened in such numbers since the Depression, or so my dad tells me. With unemployment so high and money so tight, folks are faced with hard choices. Sometimes they have to decide between feeding their kids or their animals. Some abandon their property, mortgages and animals and just look for shelter.”
“They took their furniture,” she said. “The house is empty. So is the grain bin and trough. Think it’s possible they put out the last of the feed and left some water for this horse and she gorged herself?”
“Anything is possible. A few weeks ago some folks from downriver found a dead seven-year-old gelding by the road, starved. I didn’t know the horse. Someone who couldn’t afford to keep it might’ve taken it to an empty pasture and left him, hoping it would be rescued.”
“They couldn’t've sold him?”
“In this economy? It’s tough.”
Clay joined them, a halter and lead rope in his hand. Nate took them from him and said, “You mind fetching my bag, Clay? And please, draw up 10cc of Banamine.”
“Got it,” he said.
“What can you do, Nate?” she asked him.
“I’ll get her temperature, make sure she’s not diseased. They could’ve poisoned her to put her down before leaving her, but I’d be surprised by that. Most folks who run into situations that force them to leave their animals behind hope for the best. If we have advanced colic, I’ll give her some Banamine for the pain, run a stomach tube into her and administer some mineral oil, see if that moves things along. If it’s an intestinal twist and she needs surgery… well, let’s hope it’s a blockage …”
Lilly bit her lip; she understood. Nathaniel couldn’t do surgery, hospitalize the equine patient and care for her while she was at great risk of expiring. She was an orphan. No vet could afford a lot of expensive charity cases.
When Clay returned with the bag and drug, Lilly stepped back out of their way and marveled at the way they worked together. Clay wasn’t flirting now; he was focused on the horse and assisting his vet. Over the course of about thirty minutes, the animal was agitated, stretching and kicking. Clay had the halter on her and held the lead rope so he could control her movements somewhat, keeping her upright so she wouldn’t twist her intestines, but he mainly stroked her and held her as motionless as possible while Nathaniel first completed his exam and then injected her with Banamine. That seemed to almost immediately quiet the animal. But she wasn’t real crazy about the stomach tube that was run down her throat.
It was amazing the way Clay and Nathaniel worked together, as if they’d been in this situation a hundred times before. When the mare was resisting the tubing, Lilly stepped forward to help in some way, but Clay’s hand came up, palm toward her. “No, Lilly. She’s in pain and when she’s thrashing, she could kick you. Stay back, please,” he said quietly, calmly.
After the mineral oil was infused and the tubing removed, the horse moved as though she’d go down again, but Nathaniel instructed Clay to try to keep her up, walking her slowly and quietly. If she continued rolling around on the ground, she increased the chances of twisting her intestines into a knot.
“Will you take her to your stable?” Lilly asked Nate.
“Not anytime soon,” he said. “Maybe later, if the oil works on loosening up a blockage. The truth? This horse is lucky if it’s a blockage and there’s a little movement because putting her in the trailer in her condition isn’t going to be good for me or her—she’s bound to kick it into tin cans or hurt herself as she struggles to ease the pain in her belly.”
“You’ll leave her here?”
“Probably have to, Lilly. But with any luck, the treatment will work and we’ll find a relieved horse by morning. You can go, Lilly. Clay and I will take it from here.”
“But. But will you leave her alone out here?” she asked.
“We’re not going to leave her in this condition. I’ll stay until I see which way it’s going. And if it gets worse …”
She stiffened immediately. “What?” she said.
“She has no owner that we can find and she’s in pain,” Nathaniel said. “If it gets worse, I’ll put her down.”
“No—”
“She’ll get every chance and every possible treatment, Lilly,” Clay said, his low voice soft and gentle. Reassuring. “We won’t let go of a horse that has a chance.”
“You promise?” she asked.
“Promise,” he said, giving her a firm nod. “Go on home. You’ve done enough. And thank you.”
She backed away almost fearfully. “No. Thank you,” she said. “Please take care of her.”
“Of course,” Clay said. “Try not to worry.”
As Lilly backed away, she muttered, “How could someone just leave her like that? Abandon her.?” But Clay and Nathaniel didn’t hear her; they were busy working with the horse.
When Lilly delivered feed for her grandfather, who everyone called Yaz, she used one of the company trucks. Her personal vehicle was a little red Jeep, which she’d park in the rear of the store. She spent the majority of her time managing invoices, ordering supplies and cutting payroll checks. Two afternoons a week she’d take out one of Yaz’s company trucks, and one of the guys who worked for him would load up the back each time she returned empty after deliveries. She made several runs to smaller stables and horse properties. The larger orders to big ranches and farms were handled by Yaz and a couple of his employees on the flatbed truck. Yaz was sixty-nine and still strong as a bull. Some farmers and ranchers grew their own feed; some picked up their feed and saved a little money.
Lilly took the pickup keys and clipboard to Yaz’s desk at the back of the store. “Got it done, Grandpa,” she said, handing off the paperwork and keys. “Need anything more from me today?”
“Thank you, Lilly. Any problems I should know about?”
“The delivery went just fine. Dr. Jensen is taking on another horse tomorrow so I’ll increase his delivery for the next time.”
“Does he need a special run?”
“He didn’t ask for an extra delivery, just an increase. I looked in the
