Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
It was just before midnight when Tessa unlocked the door to her house and stepped inside.
Silence swallowed her whole. The place was too quiet, too empty without Cade in it.
She poured a glass of water, drank half, and dumped the rest. Opened the fridge, stared at leftovers, and shut it again.
Her reflection in the microwave stared back. She looked haunted. “Get it together.”
She paced. She was lonely, lost. Seeking comfort, she put her coat back on and went to the barn.
Marshmallow lifted her head and nickered. Her white coat shone silver in the dark. Tessa switched on the light.
“Hey, sweet girl. Just me.”
Tater Tot stamped in the next stall and swished his tail.
The other minis roused and poked their heads above the stall door, seeing what the ruckus was about.
All except Einstein.
Tessa frowned. Unusual. He was the ringleader. “Einstein?”
Marshmallow sidestepped, pressing into her wall. She nickered again, lower, uneasy. Snicker slapped his tail hard against the boards. Domino pawed his floor.
She hurried to the last stall and peered inside.
Einstein lay sprawled in the straw, oh so very still.
Her stomach plunged.
His sides heaved, panting. Sweat darkened his coat, and his eyes were dull and glassy.
Dear heavens! Terrified, she rushed into the stall and dropped to her knees beside him. She caressed his hot hide. Did he have a fever?
“Hey, sweet boy, what’s wrong?” she cooed, smoothing him as best she could.
His ear flicked weakly.
“We gotta get you up. C’mon, baddy.” She stretched for the halter on the hook, put it around him, and then tried to prod him gently to his feet.
He tried to obey, her little trooper, but when he attempted to push up on his knees, he collapsed back down in the bedding. He lowered his head, and snorted softly. A sound of surrender.
“Oh, no, we do not give up.” Ha. That was funny coming from the Queen of the Quitters. She searched his body for signs of injury. Nothing. Only fever, sweat, and shallow breaths. “We’ll fix this.”
Call the vet, now!
She yanked her phone from her pocket and punched in the vet’s number. It rang once, twice, three times.
C’mon, c’mon, answer.
Fear stabbed her, constricting her breathing, blooming a deep ache in her chest.
An automated voice answered, inviting her to leave a message or contact the nearest twenty-four-hour big animal emergency hospital. Argh! She left a message, asking for a quick callback.
Another glance at Einstein told her she couldn’t wait that long. Quickly, she called the emergency vet. They wouldn’t know Einstein like Doctor Potter did, but they needed him ASAP.
“Twenty-four-hour Equine Hospital,” a woman answered.
Oh, thank God. Quickly, Tessa filled her in on Einstein’s condition.
“Our vet is already out on an emergency call. Can you bring in your gelding?” the woman asked.
Tessa took another look at Einstein and shook her head. “No, I’m alone and he’s having trouble getting to his feet.”
“It might be an hour before the vet can get to you.”
Tessa bit her bottom lip. Forty minutes was forever. “What can I do until then?”
“Keep him quiet. Stop him if he tries to roll. Walk him if he’ll stand, but don’t force it. Watch his breathing. Call back if it worsens.”
“Please tell the vet to hurry.”
“I will. I’m texting him right now.” The woman ended the call.
Einstein shifted, his hooves scattering the hay. Tessa didn’t know whether to urge him to be still or get up.
She fetched a bucket, filled it with water, and set it near his head. “Get a drink, my sweet fella. Fresh and cool.”
He turned his nose, flared nostrils, but didn’t drink. He was so listless. No spunk. Which was not her Einstein.
She smoothed his damp forelock. “Fight this. Remember that abscess you had? Doc Potter said he’d never seen a horse heal so fast.”
Einstein’s flank quivered, and drool oozed over the side of his mouth. Anxiety gut-punched her. If Einstein died, she didn’t know what she would do. He’d been the first mini she bought when she inherited the farm, just a cute little colt that stole her heart.
Now, her furry best friend was in trouble, and she was helpless to fix it.
Tessa fisted her hand and bit down on her knuckles to stay the cry rising in her throat. She couldn’t fall apart. Einstein was counting on her strength and courage.
Except courage was not her strong suit.
Einstein shuddered and pawed the air. She pressed her palm to his shoulder, massaged his muscles, desperate to ease his suffering.
“Please don’t die on me.” She hugged his neck.
His ear flicked against her cheek. Tears spilled hot down her chin.
“Don’t you leave me. Remember the time you got in the feed bin and ate half a bag of oats, and you blinked like, What oats? Or the time you blocked the farrier from getting to his truck until he paid his tax in peppermints? You trained him, not the other way around.”
His breathing caught, staggered, pushed on.
“You’re the heart of this place,” she said. “The others look up to you. I do too. I can’t—” Her throat closed.
Her whole focus narrowed to the rise and fall of his chest under her palms. Twenty breaths a minute. Then twenty-five.
She checked the time. Thirty minutes had passed since she called for help. What if Einstein slipped away before the vet got here? What if she was counting down not to rescue but to goodbye?
Cade would’ve known what to do. Her horse whisperer. He could have intervened, but she’d sent him back to 1878.
“I didn’t mean it.” She blubbered, wiping at her eyes with her coat sleeve.
She sat flat on the ground, shifted her body around, rested Einstein’s head in her lap, stroked his cheek with one hand, and tangled the other hand in his mane.
“Hang on, sweet baby. Please, don’t leave me too.”
Einstein’s breath hitched, chest rattling like the bellows of a forge losing fire. Tessa bent lower, whispering the only litany she had left, telling him stories, memories, scraps of love to pin him here.
“You taught me how to believe in impossible things. A sleigh in the parade, remember? No one thought we’d pull it off, but you did. You carried me through. You always carry me.”
Her tears streaked into his coat, damp on damp, salt on sweat. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
She closed her eyes, forehead pressed to his, counting every fragile breath. If only Cade were here. If only.
“Oh, Cade. I’m so very sorry. I do need you. I need you for the business, I need you for Einstein, but most of all, I need you for me. Without you, I’m only half a person.”
* * *
Cade lay on his bedroll, surrounded by snoring cowboys. He couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking about Tessa. Her smile. Her laugh. Her eyes dancing with mischief.
His entire body ached for her. From the pounding in his heart to the knot in his gut. He missed her something fierce. Longed for her. Yearned to hold her in his arms. To kiss her. To be with her. To love her.
Yes, love.
He loved her. He did not know how it had happened, but from the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew they were supposed to be together. An inner knowing so sure, so unshakeable, that he hid from it. Denied it.
Memories tumbled in on him. Shopping with her. Ice skating. Waffle confessions. They roasted marshmallows and wished on stars. She asked what he wished for. He said home.
Back then, he meant 1878. His crew. The herd. Work that filled his hands and wore him out by nightfall.
Now he knew better.
Home was Tessa. Her hand tugging him across the ice, fearless even when she fell. Her grin, daring him to have fun. Her kiss under the mistletoe, peppermint on her lips, sunlight in her eyes, telling him he was wanted.
She had changed him. Brought joy into his life he hadn’t even known was missing. She showed him life wasn’t only duty and survival.
His chest tingled. He pressed a hand to it, exploring the warmth. Tessa. She was in his heart forever. Time separated them, but he would never forget her.
The warmth spread. Not painful. Welcomed. He shut his eyes and let it wash through him.
For a breath, he let himself believe she was reaching for him, missing him as much as he missed her.
Heat now. Full-blown. Hot. It filled his body. Fireballs ignited. And then, the now-familiar tugging sensation.
Pulling him out of this time and back to hers.
He braced himself, but there was no bracing for it. The magic didn’t ask permission, didn’t ease him into it like stepping into a hot bath.
It grabbed him by the spine and yanked. One minute he was lying on a hard, cold bedroll, and the next, his knees slammed onto wood planks.
A cry sounded.
Tessa?
But no, the noise wasn’t from a human. A horse. In pain.
He blinked, his vision fuzzy, letting his eyes adjust to the overhead lights.
Back. He was back in Tessa’s barn. Back in 2025.
That’s when he saw Einstein. The little gelding sprawled on his side, legs kicking weakly at the straw like he was trying to run lying down. And beside him—
Tessa.
For one stunned heartbeat, Cade froze. She was real. Here. Hair tangled loose, shoulders shaking, sobs tearing out of her.
But Einstein’s labored breathing cut through everything else. The horse’s sides heaved. Foam edged his mouth. Pupils rolled back in his head, only the whites of his eyes visible.
The wrangler in him shoved past the shock, past the questions, past the surge of joy at seeing her again. He dropped to his knees beside her, steadying Einstein’s head where she cradled it.
“Get him up. Now.”
She jolted like he branded her. Her head snapped toward him, eyes swollen from crying, staring hard and blinking as if she couldn’t believe he was here. “I can’t. I tried. He’s too heavy.”
“On your feet, Tessa. We can do it together. I’m here now. You’re not alone.”
The horse cried again, and her shock broke.
She looped her fingers around his halter. Cade wedged his shoulder under Einstein’s withers, got his weight set. The gelding wheezed.
“Up, boy.” Cade muttered into the horse’s ear. “Let’s see those feet.”