Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 123171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
“Not help, just hold a light,” I clarify, mentally debating what to do. There is a decent amount of skin hanging from the cannon nearly all the way down to the fetlock. One misstep and Thor could tear the skin all the way off, which would lead to an entirely different treatment. I could sedate him and hope he’d stand still, but since I don’t know exactly when Crystal will be here, I don’t really want to go that route.
“I tried to wrap it,” Josie tells me. “And he kicked. Not that I blame him.”
“Right.” I open my bag and get out what I need to sedate the pony. He was another animal control seizure and I believe he’s been here for a few weeks now. “It looks painful.”
“Fuck,” Elijah huffs. “Sorry, little dude.”
“It was an accident,” Josie tells her brother and holds out the lead rope. “You hold him, and I’ll man the light.”
“What do I do?”
“Hold him,” she repeats. “Sing to him. He seems to like Zombie by The Cranberries.”
Elijah shakes his head and I pull the medication into the needle. “You should hold him for this,” I tell Josie. Out of the two, she’s clearly more comfortable around horses. She sings to the pony while I give him the injection, and then we wait until the medication takes effect before I get to work.
Sedating a horse or pony doesn’t mean they’ll stand completely still and won’t react. Sometimes it’s the opposite and a normally puppy-dog horse will startle easily once they feel the pull of the drugs. Luckily, Thor is zonked out and resting his heavy head in Elijah’s hands when I crouch down to clean the wound.
Josie follows suit, squatting down next to me only to inch over, getting out of the line of fire in case Thor kicks out. Smart on her part, I’ll give her that. She’s close to me, and I can feel the body heat coming off of her in waves. She leans in, holding up her own phone to shine a light on the wound.
She smells good, despite being dirty and crouched down in the middle of a horse barn. It’s her shampoo, I think. It’s citrusy, with a warm undertone that I can’t place. Whatever it is, it’s alluring and draws me in.
God, fucking focus.
I clean the wound and then stitch it up. The thin skin on horses’ legs is always tricky. They’re such big, strong animals but have such fragile legs. It’s a painstaking process, but I get him stitched up and then get X-rays taken before the sedation starts to wear off. Josie somewhat frantically adds an extra bag of bedding to his stall before we lead him in, wanting an extra soft place for him to lay down.
She lets out a huge sigh once the stall door is shut, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find out she’d been holding her breath the whole time. Her messy French braid still has hay stuck in it, which is not oddly alluring.
No. It’s not. Not at all.
“Thank you again,” she tells me, stepping away from Thor’s stall and right over to me. I’m close to his stall door, and she’s only a foot from me. She inhales deep, causing her breasts to rise and fall beneath her t-shirt. And then she side-steps away.
“It’s my job,” I reply and take my gloves off, turning to pack up my stuff.
“He’s going to be okay, right?” Elijah asks, face still a little pale. Josie wasn’t kidding when she said her brother doesn’t handle blood well. I’ll never fault anyone for it, though it doesn’t bother me.
“I can’t promise that,” I tell him honestly. “I gave him a shot of antibiotics to hopefully prevent an infection, and I’ll know more once I can look at the X-rays.”
“Fuck,” Elijah mutters again, guilt obvious on his face. “I didn’t know he’d open the gate.”
“It’s okay,” Josie presses again. “You were just trying to help.”
Her brother looks at her with a lopsided frown. “I’ll take that as my sign to not help anymore.”
Josie just shakes her head and turns back to the pony, eyes falling shut for a moment as stress takes over her face. It’s a look I know all too well when you’re trying to hide how overwhelmed you are—which is just another reason why this is too much for her to handle on her own.
“Let me help you.” She pushes off the stall and starts gathering up dirty gauze. I take my bag back to my truck and see another car pulling down the driveway. It stops near the barn, parking to the side of my truck.
“You must be the vet,” an older man says once he’s out of his black SUV.
“I am,” I reply.
“Thank god you were able to come on such short notice. It was a relief to hear you were on your way. How’s the little guy?”