Chapter 16 #2
“That’s it.” Tessa tugged the halter straps. “Come on, Einstein. Ups a daisy. You can do this.”
Together they pushed. Cade lifting, Tessa pulling, Einstein flailing between them.
The horse lurched. Cade shifted, caught him, shoved harder. Something in his shoulder popped. He ignored it.
Then, like a dam breaking, Einstein found his feet. He staggered upright, head sagging low, body shaking.
“Keep him moving.” Cade clucked his tongue. “Slow circles. Don’t let him get down again.”
If a horse with colic stayed down, the gut could twist. Fatal in minutes. Walking bought time.
Tessa fell in step, the lead rope in her hands. They guided Einstein into the aisle. He stumbled on the first step but steadied on his second. His head bobbled when he moved.
Cade pressed his palm into the gelding’s flank, working firm circles, felt the muscle spasm under his hand, rock hard. He winced. Not good. “That’s it. One foot, then another. You remember how. Same feet you’ve always had.”
Hooves scuffed concrete. Straw rustled. Other horses leaned over their doors, Cupcake with her ears pinned back, Pickles pacing hard, the whole barn unsettled.
Einstein’s ears flicked toward Cade. Good sign. Meant he was listening.
“There we go.” Cade exhaled. “Just another night, nothing new. Keep moving.”
They circled once. Twice. Cade stayed between the horse and the wall, ready to take the weight if Einstein faltered. His hand never stopped pressing into the gelding’s belly, coaxing the spasms to release.
Tessa kept Einstein moving. She looked wrecked.
“How long?” Cade asked.
“I don’t know. I was out with my friends, and when I came home, I found him this way. I called the vet.” She choked. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You did fine. You kept him calm. That’s half the battle.”
She let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. “I fell apart.”
“But you stayed.” His eyes flicked to hers for half a breath. “You didn’t run.”
“I couldn’t leave Einstein!”
“No,” he said. “You couldn’t.”
They finished another lap. Einstein’s breathing shifted from frantic gasps to still heavy but more regular. Cade’s fingers found a knot in the flank muscle and worked it until the kink melted. Einstein groaned, then lifted his head a few inches.
“That’s my boy.” Tessa tousled his mane. “My brave boy.”
Two more circuits. Einstein stood straighter. Gut sounds rumbled. A sign of life.
They slowed by the wash stall. Cade kept one hand on the gelding, the other stroking his legs down. Tessa leaned against the wall, one hand on Einstein, the other pressed to her stomach. Straw tangled in her hair. Tear tracks cut her face. Beautiful. Her eyes met his, full of questions.
“Cade. How…where did you…I thought—”
Then headlights cut across the windows. A truck engine idled down. Doors slammed.
“The vet,” Tessa said.
The vet came in with his bag and no wasted words. Cade stepped back far enough to let him work. When the vet asked questions about Einstein’s condition and what they did, he answered them.
The vet pressed a stethoscope to the gelding’s barrel, then shook his head. “Gut sounds are faint. We’ll flush him.”
He opened his bag and got out supplies. Uncoiled a tube, clipped on a funnel, and looked to Cade. “Hold him steady.”
Cade locked both arms on the halter, braced against Einstein’s thrash. “I’ve got him.”
“Good. Tessa, here.” The vet shoved the funnel at her. “Hold it upright.”
She clutched it.
The vet slid the tube down Einstein’s nose. The gelding snorted, flung his head; Cade grunted with the strain. Foam sprayed, soaking Tessa’s sleeve.
“Keep him still,” the vet said.
“I’m trying.” Cade leaned harder, shoulder wedged into Einstein’s neck. “Easy, boy. Easy.”
The vet poured the cloudy mix. The funnel shook in Tessa’s hands. The smell was sharp, mineral and sour, sloshing onto the straw, onto her coat. Einstein gagged, groaned deep. For a breath, it seemed he would topple them all.
It was touch and go for what felt like forever, but at last, the blockage cleared.
Einstein coughed, stomped once, then sagged against Cade’s weight, trembling but still on his feet.
“That’s it.” The vet was repacking his bag. “Keep him walking. He’s turned the corner. He’ll be okay.”
They did. Circling the aisle, Cade at his head, Tessa steady at his side, until the gelding’s breathing eased and his steps steadied.
By the time the vet tipped his hat and promised to call at dawn, Tessa stood beside the stall rail, straw tangled in her hair, arms streaked with sweat and oil.
Only then did Cade let himself look her in the eyes. His pulse hammered, his head dizzy from it.
Her eyes met his, raw and wet. “You left me.”
The words cut him open all over again. He swallowed hard. “You said you didn’t need me.” His chest clenched at the memory. “I believed you.”
Her mouth trembled. She pressed her hand to her stomach like she might hold herself together. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
Cade said nothing. He waited.
Tears streaked her face fresh. “I was scared, Cade. Everything was moving too fast. I thought if I failed, it would all come down on you too. I’m not used to carrying that kind of weight. I panicked. It was never about you.”
Cade searched for any sign of evasion, any trace of the flippant mask she wore so often. There was none. Just a woman stripped bare, her fear still trembling in her voice, her tears cutting clean through the dirt on her face.
He shook his head. “You can’t toss words like that and not expect them to land.”
“I know, and I’m sorry.” She drew a breath that shuddered all the way through her. “So sorry. When Einstein went down, I said it out loud. That I needed you. Not just for him, not just for Rent-a-Reindeer. For me. And then—” Her laughter came out jagged. “And then you were here.”
He let the silence hang. The horse shifted behind them, nickering, as if reminding them they already fought one battle tonight and won.
“You scared the hell out of me, Tessa. Thought I lost you before we ever had a chance.”
Her lips parted. “You haven’t lost me.”
The barn narrowed to that one promise. He wanted to reach for her, to test the truth of it in her touch, but he held still, rooted in the fear that if he moved too fast, she might bolt.
“I don’t know what happens next,” she said, “but I know I don’t want to face it without you.”
That undid him. The rope slipped from his hand.
He crossed the space between them and caught her face in his palms, straw, sweat and tears between them, and kissed her with everything he had inside him.