huffed, impatient. “I might not have a fancy van with pretty letters on the side, but I’ve got eyes and experience, girl. That’s what bears weight around here.”
The other man—Isaiah—took a moment to look behind them. She’d parked her brand-new mobile veterinary van on the back side of the Armbruster house. The words CMF VETERINARY stood out in a large font, over the peaceable image of a horse, a cow and an ewe with lambs. A trusty dog sat off to the side, while a mother cat looked after tumbling kittens. He studied the van, then her without a speck of emotion for either.
Charlotte stood her ground. “They deserve the courtesy of an examination.”
The older man glared at her, then Bitsy. “I came here as a favor.”
Bitsy swallowed hard but sided with Charlotte. “We should check them over, shouldn’t we, Braden? If you don’t have time, maybe Charlotte would do it for us.”
Charlotte motioned toward the sad-looking group of horses. Six were standing, listless, as if too tired to walk or eat. The seventh was down, on her side, an aged mare that might have been pretty in her day. She wasn’t pretty now. “I’d be happy to do the exams, Doctor, so you can get to your office hours on time.”
He glared at her, then the horses, then her again. He turned as if to leave, then swung back. “Let’s get to it.” Sour-faced, he started for a horse.
“We’ve made him angry.” Bitsy sounded genuinely distraught, as if the old veterinarian’s anger was a bigger worry than it should be. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
Neither had Charlotte, but to declare such a permanent decision without making an examination seemed wrong.
“Braden has given years of time and expertise to help reestablish the ranches in this part of Idaho,” Bitsy added as they followed the old man. “I’d never want to hurt his feelings.”
“Put the blame on me,” declared Charlotte, and she didn’t keep her voice all that soft, either. “Because if I’m going to have half a dozen dead horses on my conscience, it’s going to be for a good reason.”
Bitsy looked surprised, but then not so surprised, as Charlotte’s words hit home.
The cowboy tipped back his hat slightly. He met her gaze briefly, then moved up alongside the older vet. “How can I help, Braden?”
A peacemaker.
Well, good for him. Charlotte had a lot of respect for a serene existence, but the cheating father and then the law-breaking ex-boyfriend made her realize that peace at any cost wasn’t peace. It was capitulation, and where these poor horses were concerned, she wasn’t about to give an inch.
The cowboy turned. “Do we have any placements, Bitsy?”
“The Council Rescue can take two.”
The old vet snorted.
Bitsy ignored the sound as Charlotte moved forward to examine the horse.
“Ty said they could house two for the interim.”
The old vet shot her an incredulous look over his shoulder.
“Young Eagle texted that he could take one and his sister would tend another. He’s coming right down.”
Braden Hirsch’s scowl deepened. “A couple of weeks back, that might have been the way to go, but I’m telling you straight, you’re causing more harm than good to try to rehabilitate animals like this. You get ’em healthy and then someone tries to ride one and gets thrown because the horse has lost its trust of humans or just spooks easy, and then your happy ending goes up in smoke.”
“It’s a valid point.” Char felt the heat in the first horse’s leg, then moved on to the group of three. They scattered, but they scattered quickly enough to make her assessment fairly easy. “Any horse that can shy that quickly deserves a chance.”
“Being scared doesn’t make them healthy, girl.”
“Doctor,” she replied smoothly. “And I have the Cornell University diploma to prove it.”
“High-faluting schools don’t always mean good,” he retorted. “Sometimes they just mean overpriced and overdressed.”
Two men had joined Bitsy. They were putting halters on the horses to aid in moving them, but when they approached a dun gelding, Charlotte shook her head. The dun was too far gone for help at this point. And that left them with the inert horse on the ground.
“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.” Char ran a gentle hand along the horse’s neck when she got to the prone Appaloosa. “So very sorry.” She did a quick exam. The mare’s heart and lungs sounded fair, but she was little more than bones. Bones and...in foal, Charlotte realized.
And yet so debilitated at this point that the idea of getting her healthy enough to have the foal, much less care for it, seemed impossible.
A shadow fell over her. She looked up.
Isaiah shifted slightly, then squatted beside her. He didn’t try to hide his brokenhearted expression. He laid a hand along the horse’s neck as if in benediction, then met Char’s gaze. “Two to put down? And five to attempt healing.”
She started to nod when the horse lifted her head. Looked around. She seemed disoriented for brief seconds, then rolled slightly to see Isaiah.
He stared at the mare.
The mare gazed back.
And when the big Native American swallowed hard, Char had to fight off a thrust of rising emotion. “You know her.”
Gaze firm, he laid a hand against the horse’s face.
“She knows you.” Char read the horse’s reaction. And the man’s.
He blinked once, a silent assent.
Braden came up behind them. “I knew this one was an easy decision, even for someone fresh out of the classroom.” He stopped. Stared. Then his look went from the horse to Isaiah and back again. He swallowed hard. Really hard. “She can’t be here. She was put down a long, long time ago.”
Isaiah kept his face flat and a comforting hand along the horse’s jaw. “Clearly not. But maybe that would have been the better choice, considering.”
“I’ll get things ready.” Braden set down a medical bag that had seen better days and opened it. With shaking hands, he withdrew what he needed to inject the mare.
“No.”
Braden paused. He stared at Isaiah. So did Charlotte.
“We’re not putting her down. If she can get up and walk, we’re not putting her down.”
“Well, she can’t or won’t—stubborn to the end—and you know every reason why we can’t let her live, Isaiah. Better than most.”
Charlotte stayed quiet, but when Isaiah stood, tall and firm, she stood, too.
“Come
