Her Four Cowboys

Briar, a sweet, seven-year-old mare that I’d taken a special interest in, was lying on the ground, her sides heaving in evident pain as she made sounds that would haunt my dreams. Her burnished mahogany coat was stained with sticky red patches, and I fell to my knees next to her to take a careful inventory.

“No,” I said, looking her over. “Briar, honey. What got to you?”

It couldn’t be anything but an animal attack. The slices into her side were evidence enough of that, and the blood was still leaking out of them, despite the fact that it had been slowed by the cold winter air.

I couldn’t fix this on my own, and I didn’t think that Austin would be able to take care of it himself either. Hands trembling, I pulled out my phone, barely able to pull up the contact that I’d been dying for an excuse to call, any excuse.

Any excuse, that is, but this one.

“Lucy Oliver,” the cheerful voice said on the other side of the phone when the call was answered.

“Lucy,” I said, my voice trembling despite myself. “It’s Aaron Kent.”

The cheerful tone vanished from her voice in a second. “Aaron, what’s wrong?”

“One of our younger horses was mauled. I’m not sure by what, but I think it was a mountain lion. I need help right away, but Austin already left for the night.”

“I’m leaving right now,” she said, and I heard her moving around in the background, grabbing things and tossing them around. “I can be there in fifteen minutes. Where are you?”

“I’m in the north pasture.”

“Where are the injuries?”

“From what I can see, there are at least three big gashes on her side—ribs and abdomen—and a bunch to her legs. She’s lying down, so I can’t tell if there’s anything on her other side.”

“Okay. Just keep her calm until I get there.”

I did my best, but I was a nervous wreck myself as I traced my hand in small circles along the uninjured parts of Briar’s head and neck, trying my best to slow her breathing and my own.

“You’re doing great, girl,” I murmured. “Help is gonna get here so soon.”

I was so immersed in keeping her—and myself calm that I almost missed it when I heard the truck pulling up.

“Aaron!”

I looked up to see Lucy’s anxious face running toward us, amazingly not slowed down by the heavy medical bag that she carried with her. She was paler than I’d ever seen her, but her breaths were still even and measured when she skidded to a stop next to me.

“Thank God you’re here,” I said, bringing a shaking hand up to my face.

“Of course, I’m here,” she said, falling to her knees next to Briar and immediately beginning her examination. “What’s her name?”

“Briar,” I said.

“Hey, Briar,” she said, opening her bag and stroking Briar’s long, elegant nose at the same time, “Hey, you good, brave girl.” She looked up at me, her wide, green eyes clear as she took me in. “Aaron, we’re going to need some way to get her inside. With the storm coming in, I’m not going to be able to work on her out here, and I need a space that’s at least partly sterile.”

“Okay,” I said. I stood up, my legs shaking a little under me as I made my way to my feet. “Okay. I’ll get the rest of the horses to the barn, and I’ll come back with a dozer to get her in too so that we can at least get under cover.”

She nodded, pulling out a few medical supplies and beginning to apply them to Briar’s wounds. I turned away from her and walked back to Ember, climbing back into the saddle and turning him around to round up the rest of the horses.

“Come on, guys,” I said, clicking my tongue. “Come on. Let’s go.” I got the horses to follow me to the barn, wrangling them into their stalls, and grabbed the keys to the nearest dozer. I was practically moving on autopilot as I drove back out to where Lucy was seeing to Briar, working as quickly as she could to disinfect as much of the more superficial wounds as she could after having packed the deeper ones.

“That’s perfect,” she said, standing up and walking toward me. “Let’s get her on and get her to the barn, and then I can do what I need to do to close her up.”

I lowered the bucket to the ground, and the two of us knelt down, carefully maneuvering Briar’s fragile form into the container.

“Come on,” I said, cocking my head toward the cab and climbing back into the driver’s seat. She climbed in with me, and the two of us said nothing as I drove us toward the closest barn.

I maneuvered the dozer directly into the barn, setting the bucket down on the floor and helping her get Briar out of the basin.