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“Hey, Doc.” Mitchell stepped back, making room for the veterinarian to enter the stall. “Thanks for making the trip out, especially in such bad weather.”
“I was in your neighborhood over at the Taylor’s ranch with a breech calf,” the doctor said. “Otherwise, I would’ve asked you to wait until morning.” He glanced toward Nash and Londyn. “I’m Dr. Matheson.”
Nash held out his hand. “Nash Nelson. And this is Londyn Tyler-Lovejoy, the horse’s owner.”
Londyn shook the vet’s hand. “Please, call me Londyn.” She stepped out of the stall doorway and waved toward the buckskin. “This is Butterscotch.”
Dr. Matheson squatted beside Butterscotch and laid his hand on her neck. “How long has she been down?”
Londyn knelt beside the vet. “She just laid down.” She explained what had happened and how the horse had gone berserk. “I’ve never seen her do that before. She’s the calmest horse I’ve ever worked with. It was as if she’d suddenly lost her mind.”
The veterinarian gave the horse a quick exam, checking her eyes, teeth, gums and heartbeat. Then he plucked a syringe out of his satchel and drew blood. “I’ll send the sample out to be tested. The results won’t be available for a couple of days.”
“I’d like to get her back to my ranch to recuperate,” Londyn said. “It’s about a two-hour drive from here.”
“I’d give her something to counteract an allergic reaction, but she’s calm and breathing normally. She doesn’t seem to be distressed at this time.” He straightened. “If she’s up and acting fairly normal by morning, she should be all right to transport. She might feel better in familiar surroundings.”
Londyn scratched behind Butterscotch’s ear and patted her neck. When she stood, she shook the veterinarian’s hand. “Thank you for coming out.”
“My pleasure.” He lifted his chin toward the ranch owner. “Dan tells me you’re a member of the cast shooting the movie on his place in the park. I look forward to watching it on the big screen.” He shook her hand. “I’ll get back with the results as soon as possible. And I’ll be on call during the filming to look after the health and well-being of the other animals.”
“That’s good to hear,” Londyn said. “Be careful driving home in this storm.”
“Thanks. I will.” Dr. Matheson gave them a nod, gripped the handle of his satchel and left the barn.
The veterinarian pulled on his rain jacket, popped open his umbrella and left. As he exited, one of Mitchell’s men entered the barn, carrying two trash bags. He opened the bags one at a time and pulled out two tightly bound sleeping bags.
“Oh, good,” Mitchell pointed to the bags. “They’re not mattresses with fresh sheets and pillows, but they’ll keep you warm. If you change your minds and want to come to the house, just knock on the front door. Our dogs bark loud enough to wake the dead.”
“I’m sure the bags will be fine,” Londyn said.
“The stall next to this one was thoroughly cleaned, disinfected and has fresh woodchips,” Mitchell offered. “You can be nearby if needed, but not stepped on, should your horse get up in the night.”
“Perfect,” Londyn said.
“I’ll have my cook send out some sandwiches. He baked a huge ham for our guests and ranch hands. There was a lot left.”
Nash’s stomach rumbled loudly in response to the mention of a ham sandwich. He laughed. “That would be great. You sure it’s not too much trouble?”
Londyn elbowed him in the side. “Shh. He’s offering food.” She smiled. “We’d love a sandwich.”
Mitchell chuckled. “Cookie won’t mind. He loves it when we have guests, even if they choose to stay in the barn. I’ll also bring out some dry clothes for you two to change into. You can’t stay in your wet things all night.”
Nash smiled. “There’s no need for anyone else to get out in this storm. We can come to the house to get the food and clothing since we’re already soaked.”
“I insist.” Mitchell nodded toward Londyn. “My sister is about your size. She leaves work clothes here for when she visits from Seattle. I’m sure I can find something for both of you. It might be half an hour or so, depending on what I can find in our closets.”
“We’ll be fine until then,” Londyn said. “Thank you for everything.”
Mitchell stepped back out into the storm.
Londyn shrugged out of Nash’s leather jacket. “I hope the rain doesn’t ruin your coat.” She hung it on a hook outside the stall door. “Thank you for letting me use it.”
“It’s been wet before. It’ll be fine when it dries.” He stepped back into the stall with Butterscotch and scooped a handful of feed out of the trough, knelt and offered it to the horse.
She sniffed and then nuzzled his palm, taking his offering.
“I’m glad she’s eating something,” Londyn said. “She’d probably exhausted from her wild escape.”
