There’s a silver Lexus with Illinois plates parked in the driveway, veered off to the side near the house. The front door opens and slams shut behind an older woman, who resembles Josie even from this distance. She hurries down the porch steps, motioning toward the barn as if I don’t know where to go.
My truck bumps along the uneven gravel driveway, and I stop as close to the barn as I can get. I put the truck in park and kill the engine. Josie emerges from the barn as I’m getting out of the truck, and her hands are stained red from blood.
“Hi,” she says awkwardly, brows pushing together.
“What happened?” I ask, going around to the back of the truck to grab one of my medical bags. All I know is that one of the horses got a pretty decent slice on his back leg, and I’m already planning on sedating the horse, cleaning the wound, and then stitching the skin back into place if need be.
“Thor,” Josie starts. “I mean, the pony, fell through a weak board on the porch.”
I actually stop in my tracks, resisting the urge to look at the front porch because she has to be kidding.
“The porch?” I echo.
“Yeah.” She slowly shakes her head. “Don’t ask.”
“I’m gonna have to. Why was he on the porch? Were you trying to take him inside?”
“No,” she snaps. “I wouldn’t. He, uh, got out while I was away.”
I just nod and follow her into the barn. Treat the horse now, tell her how to be a responsible horse owner later. I try to be as careful as I can with what I say to clients, but there comes a point where I have to be blunt. It could save lives: both the horses and their handlers.
“Thanks for coming so fast,” Josie says, turning around. The tension is gone in her face and I’m back to wanting to drink her up. She’s wearing the same jeans and t-shirt that she had on only hours ago, only this time, her shirt is dirty and there are obvious blood stains on her pants from her wiping her hands on her thighs.
“Of course. I am the only equine vet in the area.”
“So, I’ve been told,” she replies, eyebrows hiking up. I swear she rolled her eyes as she quickly leads me into the barn. Thor, the bony little pony, is standing in the cross ties, being fed grain out of a bucket by a younger guy. The rest of the horses have been put away, and several are pine at the ground thinking it’s time for grain Thor is eating.
“Thank god,” he huffs when he sees me. He steps back and gives the bucket to Josie. “Sorry again, sis. You got this, right?”
“Yes, princess,” she retorts, narrowing her eyes at her brother. “Go back to your Airbnb and leave me to deal with your mess.”
“Your mess?” I echo, setting my bag down.
“I was the one who didn’t put the chain on the gate,” the guy admits. “I was trying to help, and Jo didn’t tell me the little shit knew how to open the latch.”
“Don’t you dare blame me,” Josie shoots back, eyes widening. “You took the chain off to get into the pasture. Common sense would tell you to put it back on.”
“I assumed you were being OCD like normal.”
“I am not OCD.”
Her brother lets out a snort of laughter, and their banter reminds me of my own brothers. “Fine. I am really sorry. He’s going to be okay, right?”
The barn is dim, even with the overhead lights on. When the roof got damaged during a storm some years ago, Kim had plans to replace it with an entirely new one with skylights, letting natural light into the barn. Obviously, that didn’t happen, and it probably never will. It’s an expensive undertaking, that’s for sure.
“I’ll let you know in a few minutes,” I say and pull my phone from my back pocket, needing to use the flashlight.
“I’m Elijah, by the way,” Josie’s brother goes on. “Her brother.”
“Yeah, I gathered that,” I state matter-of-factly as I inspect the wound. At first glance, the entire back left leg is a mess, but I think it’s all superficial. I’ll need X-rays to confirm it. “How are you with a flashlight?” I stand back up and turn my head to look at Elijah but notice Josie first.
She’s standing slightly to the side of Thor with both hands on his face, rubbing her fingers in slow circles along his muzzle. The pony melts into her touch, ears twitching back and forth, listening to me and then to whatever Josie is softly humming to him.
“You want me to help?” Elijah’s face pales.
“He passes out at the sight of blood,” Josie quips, not looking away from the pony.
“I do not,” Elijah snaps back. “I prefer not to see it, but I don’t pass out.”