Chapter 14
“How long has the horse been in pain?” Thatcher halted against the corral fence just outside the horse barn.
The roan gelding was staggering around inside, butting the split rails, frantic to escape. The poor creature didn’t realize that he wouldn’t be able to get away from the pain by running off somewhere else, that the pain was inside him.
Sterling Noble stood at the corral fence already, his face shadowed beneath the brim of his hat. “Noticed him acting strange last night.” The man in charge of the sprawling Noble Ranch, Sterling was intense and serious, and tension radiated from his weathered features and strong shoulders.
Beckett, the Noble Ranch foreman, paced inside the corral, holding a head collar. “Thought he was suffering from constipation, so I gave him a dose of black draught, but that only seemed to make him more agitated.”
The black draught could help with the colic, constipation, or a belly ache if one of those was the problem. But from a quick assessment of the gelding, Thatcher suspected something more was wrong.
The snorting roan stumbled but then righted himself, his head lolling back and forth. He was gnashing his teeth and foaming at the mouth. His nostrils were dilated, and his eyes contained wildness and confusion.
Thatcher nodded at the horse collar. “Let’s get the collar on so I can examine him.”
Amelia was beside him at the corral, her pretty eyes crinkled with worry as she watched the gelding. Even so, the morning sunshine made the gold flecks in her hazel eyes sparkle, bringing back the image of her eyes when she’d kissed him a little while ago—wide, nervous, and yet filled with longing.
She had kissed him.
His heart pattered with a few extra beats despite the gravity of the situation with the Nobles’ gelding.
The truth was, he hadn’t been able to get the kiss out of his mind since the moment he’d stepped away from her in the barnyard.
She had taken him by surprise not only in starting the kiss but also in staying there and seeming to relish every moment of it.
What a kiss it had been, filled with passion and longing and exploration, as if she’d never been kissed quite like that and was experiencing a truly moving kiss for the first time.
It had moved him. In fact, it had bucked him off his saddle and landed him on his backside on the ground with the wind knocked out of him.
He wasn’t sure exactly why he’d reacted so strongly to the kiss, and he hadn’t had much time to think about it in light of the urgent call to the Noble Ranch.
But he suspected the reason the kiss had affected him was that Amelia affected him in a way no other woman had.
Even just standing there beside her as the concern radiated from her beautiful face, how could he not be affected?
A swell of emotion rose swiftly inside his chest. He hadn’t known her long, but was he already falling in love with her?
Had it been love at first sight, the same way it had been for the previous couple who had lived on his farm?
Maybe there was something in the air there that heightened the love and made it blossom more quickly.
Or maybe it was just that she was the perfect woman for him, and he had Providence to thank for bringing them together.
Whatever the case, the past week had been one of the best of his life. He’d enjoyed every moment with her, whether working alongside her or sitting with her in the evenings. He couldn’t deny he was falling for her fast.
Now with that kiss between them, what would happen next? He didn’t want to rush things, but how long did he have to wait before he could kiss her again?
Beckett was approaching the gelding slowly and carefully. He was a lanky fellow but was quick and strong, like most cowboys. He was less serious than Sterling, had a ready smile and a sharp wit.
The foreman had sent away for a mail-order bride too.
He hadn’t talked much about it, certainly not as much as Thatcher had.
But of course, that probably had to do with the fact that Beckett’s bride wasn’t coming until the spring, after the snow thaw.
Thatcher just hoped Beckett’s bride turned out to be as good as his—although he wasn’t sure how that was possible.
From the sound of things, Sterling seemed to be happy with his own new bride.
He’d just gotten married a couple of weeks ago to Violet, the love of his life.
Because of some danger that Violet and her sister Hyacinth had been in, Beckett had temporarily pretended to be engaged to Hyacinth for her protection.
Of course, the engagement wasn’t real—never had been and never would be, especially because the two fought like a cat and dog.
However, the community still had the notion that Beckett and Hyacinth were together and planning to get married.
It didn’t help that Beckett persisted in pretending in order to bother Hyacinth. But that was Beckett.
As the foreman closed in on his gelding, he worked with a confidence that came from years of experience. Before the gelding could get away, Beckett had the collar around him and was pulling him to a halt.
Thatcher began to make his way to the gate and could sense Amelia following behind.
She’d proven herself to be indispensable during his calls, assisting him without so much as batting an eyelash at all the things she’d witnessed.
He loved that about her, loved that she wanted to be there with him, loved that she cared enough to help.
Yes, he had to admit, he was falling in love with her. He’d always hoped to have a loving relationship with his mail-order bride, and he’d wanted to give them time for affection to grow. He’d just never imagined his feelings would develop so strongly and so quickly.
For a short while, he forced himself to focus on the gelding. First, he did his usual external assessment. The horse’s heart rate was too fast, the mucous membranes in the eyelids too red, and the temperature too high. Something more serious was definitely going on.
Thatcher washed up in a bucket of warm water that another ranch hand brought him, soaped up his arm, and then did a rectal examination.
It didn’t take him long to discover that the small intestine seemed to be in a knot and was cutting off the blood supply to the rest of the intestines.
With the strangulation—the torsion—the horse would most certainly continue to suffer extreme pain.
Thatcher probed for a few more long moments before slipping his arm out and submerging it into the bucket of water Amelia held out.
Sterling, Beckett, and several other ranch hands had gathered around the horse and were now watching him and waiting for his prognosis.
He hated this part of his job, where he had to deliver bad news and disappoint people.
But the truth was, he couldn’t save every animal.
It just wasn’t possible. And in this case, it would be cruel to the horse to prolong his life.
While Thatcher scrubbed his arm in the soapy water, he finally met Beckett’s gaze. “I’m sorry, but as far as I can tell, he has a torsion. His intestine is twisted up pretty badly.”
Beckett didn’t blink. “What can you do for him?”
“I’ve seen emergency surgeries performed for torsions.” He’d participated in one such surgery in college. “But I don’t have the equipment for a surgery of that magnitude, and even if I did, there’s still a big chance it’s too late.”
“What about a shot of morphine?” This question came from Sterling.
“The morphine would only drag out his pain longer than necessary.”
The horse gave a desolate whinny and lolled his head to one side.
Sterling brushed a hand down the horse’s mane while Beckett murmured to the horse.
Thatcher gave his arms one last scrub, then took the towel Amelia offered. “I suggest we put him out of his misery as soon as possible.”
Beckett was holding the collar and narrowed his eyes on Thatcher. “Just like that?” His Southern accent was strong today. “You’re not gonna try anything at all?”
“Like I said, surgery would be a gamble.”
Beckett spat out a piece of hay that he’d been chewing on. “What about going back in and trying to untangle the intestines.”
“That’s not how it works.” Thatcher finished drying his arm and paused to face Beckett directly. “The intestine is already dying from lack of blood flow, and toxins are pumping into his blood.”
“If you untangle the intestine, then everything will be all right.”
“I can’t manually untangle it. It’s knotted too tightly.”
“You can’t give up.” Beckett rubbed the horse’s flank, which was sweaty. “You’ve got to try something.”
“He’s in agony—”
“I see that.” Beckett’s voice rose. “Which is why you need to figure out something.”
“There is nothing else.”
“Do. Something. Now.” Beckett rose to his full height and took a menacing step toward Thatcher.
Thatcher held out a hand. “Whoa, now.”
“What good are you as a veterinarian if you can’t help when it’s really needed?”
Sterling took a step to block Beckett from getting any nearer. He shot the foreman a warning glare before facing Thatcher. “This is Beckett’s horse from forever. The one he rode when he came west. So it means a lot to him.”
“I wish there was more I could do.” Thatcher began to roll down his sleeve. “But there isn’t a way to fix this.”
A quiet settled around the corral. At the closing of a door at the main house across the yard, Thatcher guessed the womenfolk had come out to watch, likely having heard or seen Beckett’s agitation.
Maybe it would be best for Amelia to go into the house and wait with them inside while the horse was shot. Putting an animal down, no matter how merciful, wasn’t something the women needed to see.
“Sterling, would it be all right if Amelia went inside with your wife—”
“Amelia?” Beckett shoved Sterling aside and peered at Amelia.
Amelia stared back at Beckett, her face growing pale.