Courted by the Cowboy (The Boones of Texas 3)

“Here, Dr. Boone.” The vet student handed down the catch pole.

“Nope, get on your knees and see what we’re doing.” Fisher didn’t take his eyes off the cat. Bobcats were fast.

“But—”

“What’s your name?” Fisher asked.

“Michelle,” she said.

“Well, Michelle, I can see it. And it needs help.” He paused. “That’s your job, right?”

A few seconds later Michelle was on her knees beside him. “It’s gorgeous.”

“It is. But remember it’s also a pissed off wild animal with a nasty set of claws and teeth. I wouldn’t get all warm and fuzzy over it.” Fisher knew all too well the havoc a bobcat could wreak on a farm. A few years back, he’d spent the better part of an afternoon cleaning up what remained of the family chicken coop after a bobcat’s visit. It hadn’t been pretty. “You need to get the pole in front of it. Keep it flat, slide it in—”

He kept his voice low and even, for the cat and Michelle. When it came time to catch the cat, he took the pole. He was quick, flipping the loop over the cat’s head and snugging the loop before the animal could react. When it realized it was caught, the bobcat dug in, the growl deafening.

“Tranquilizer?” Fisher asked.

“Jake has it.” Fisher could hear the awe and fear in Michelle’s voice as the bobcat thrashed around.

Fisher sighed. “Maybe now would be a good time for him to use it?” This was ridiculous. “Before it makes its injuries worse?”

“Jake,” Michelle called out. “Now. Sedate him.”

Jake flopped down on his stomach on the other side of the vehicle. Fisher pulled the noose just tight enough to keep the animal still so Jake could get a solid shot from the tranq gun, praying the kid knew how to aim. A minute later the bobcat was unconscious, completely limp.

“I’ll get a gurney,” Michelle offered, hurrying in to the hospital.

“Sorry, man,” Jake murmured, joining Fisher. “Guess I sort of panicked.”

“In a situation like this, you’ve got to focus and stay calm.” Fisher needed Jake to understand how serious things were. “You’ve got a highway, pedestrians, a tranq gun—a lot of variables in an uncontrolled environment. You have to act quickly—carefully.”

Jake’s shoulder drooped.

“Good shot, though,” Fisher added.

Jake nodded.

The two of them pulled the forty-plus-pound animal from under the Jeep and onto the sidewalk, out of harm’s way. Fisher rubbed the cat’s head, checking its pupils before running his hands along its muscular side. The cat’s right back leg hung at an awkward angle.

“Fracture. Possibly oblique, maybe transverse. We’ll know soon,” he murmured.

“Pretty lucky, considering.” Jake knelt beside him.

Fisher nodded. “So was the woman who was driving.”

Why the woman decided to put the bobcat into the Jeep with her after she’d hit it, he’d never know. Sure, she did a good thing by bringing it to the hospital. But she’d also endangered herself by handling a wild animal. She’d loaded it into her Jeep while it was too stunned to react. But when it did come round, the bobcat wasn’t too

thrilled about being trapped. The woman was going to need stitches the length of her forearm as well as on her thigh and the side of her hand. The bobcat was probably looking at some pins and a plate in his leg.

Michelle arrived, pushing the metal gurney in front of her. “Sorry. Couldn’t find one big enough.”

Fisher stood, scooping the bobcat up and placing it on the gurney. “No problem. Long as we get him into a cage before he wakes up again.” He ran his hands over the bobcat, careful of the broken leg. “Did you page Dr. Archer?”

Michelle paused. “No.”

“I will.” Jake finished making notes on his tablet and started to go, but Fisher stopped him.