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Lauren gasped with delight as the stall door opened. Tesoro stood in a shaft of light, gleaming like a newly minted gold coin. The foal was growing fast. Thanks to Erin’s loving attention, he was as friendly as a puppy and more than a little spoiled. When Lauren knelt in the straw, he scampered over and butted her with his head, demanding to be petted.
“Oh, he’s precious!” She stroked the plush baby coat. “Would you consider selling him? I’ll bet I could talk Daddy into buying him for me.”
“Tesoro’s not for sale at any price,” Beau said. “He belongs to Will’s daughter, and she wouldn’t take a million dollars for him.”
“Lucky girl! I don’t blame her!” Lauren continued to fondle the foal, cooing and murmuring little endearments. Only then did Beau happen to glance back and notice the mare.
Lupita was huddled against the rear of the stall, her head down, her sides and belly distended as if they’d been pumped full of air. Beau could hear the rumbling in her gut and smell the explosive passing of gas. He was no expert, but having grown up on the ranch, he recognized colic when he saw it. The sick mare was in life-threatening danger.
Lauren was staring at him, her eyes wide with worry. Evidently she understood enough to know what was wrong. “Run back to the house,” Beau told her. “Tell Will to call the vet. He’ll have her number.”
As Lauren raced out of the barn, Beau found a halter, slipped it over the mare’s head, and attached a lead. Taking care to keep clear of Tesoro, he led her out of the stall and closed the gate. The foal would be distressed without his mother, but for now that couldn’t be helped.
Natalie’s business card, with her phone number, was thumbtacked to the gate of the stall. Beau had his cell and could have called her himself, but the last thing she needed was to have Slade hear his voice on the phone. Better that Will make the call.
Gripping the halter, he urged Lupita forward, walking her along the row of stalls toward the far end of the barn. Keep her moving. Until Natalie could get here, that was the only way to ease the miserable bloat and help her pass gas. The ranch couldn’t lose this young mare.
Growing up, Beau had seen two horses die from colic, and several others recover after getting their stomachs pumped. The ailment was most often caused by food fermenting in the digestive tract, creating blockage and copious amounts of gas that could rupture the intestine. The best chance of saving a horse was to catch the problem early.
Sky, who had a sixth sense about such things, would have noticed the mare’s distress at once. Beau was lucky to have caught it at all. Lupita would have died before morning. She could still die if Natalie didn’t get here soon.
As he was turning the mare at the end of the barn, Lauren rushed in to tell him that Will had reached the vet and she was on her way. “Daddy wants to leave now,” she said. “He’s in a black mood. I’m guessing he and your brother had words. Sorry I can’t stay and help.”
“You’ve helped already.” Beau might have said more, but the congressman was honking the horn outside. For an elected official, the man had the manners of a jackass.
With an apologetic roll of her eyes, Lauren fled, leaving Beau alone. Time crawled as he walked the mare up and down along the row of stalls.
Natalie bailed out of her SUV and raced around the vehicle to get her equipment from the back. Two buckets, a length of surgical tubing, a small siphon pump, and a bottle of mineral oil—she could only hope that nothing else would be needed. Some cases of colic required surgery—a horrific prospect. She’d brought what she needed just in case. But she wouldn’t think about that possibility unless she had to.
A thread of light told her the barn door was ajar. Arms full, she shouldered it open and almost stumbled into Beau. He was gripping the mare’s halter, his face a study in relief.
A swift glance around the barn confirmed that they were alone. Being here with him was as risky as walking on quicksand. But she had a job to do, and her feelings toward the man who’d broken her heart couldn’t be allowed to interfere.
“How’s the mare doing?” Natalie forced herself to ignore the rapid flutter of her pulse.
His eyes revealed nothing. Neither did his voice. “I’ve been walking her, but she’s still in trouble.”
“And her foal?”
“In the stall. Aside from wanting his mother, he’s fine. Thank you for coming, Natalie.”
Even the sound of her name on his lips triggered a rush of emotion. She turned away, avoiding his eyes. “It’s my job. Let’s get it done.”
The stall nearest the door was kept empty for emergencies like this one. To keep the mare in place, Beau used a light rope to cross-tie her halter to steel rings on either side. The smaller of the two buckets was filled with heated water Natalie had brought in an insulated jug from her house.
“Can you hold her by yourself?” she asked Beau.
“She should be fine. She’s a calm one.”
“Then let’s do it.” Natalie pulled on a pair of surgical gloves. Intubating a fully conscious horse through the nose was a delicate process, but if done carefully enough, it wasn’t painful. Beau stood to one side of the mare’s head, holding her steady while Natalie did her work.
“Amazing,” he murmured. “I remember when you used to get wobbly at the sight of blood. How many times have you done this?”
“More than I care to count. Now let’s see what this lady’s been eating . . . Oh, good grief!” She gasped in dismay as the mare’s last meal poured out of the tube into the bucket. “Grain! Enough to fill her whole stomach! No wonder she’s bloated! Who fed her last?”
A muscle twitched in Beau’s cheek. “Somebody w
ho’s going to be hauled out and fired first thing tomorrow!”
