Healing The Cowboy's Heart. Ruth Logan Herne
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struggle for however long it took to put them in this wretched condition.
“Braden.” The woman who’d called for help kept her voice purposely soft. “You’re going to put six of them down?”
He glared at her, then the horses. “You wanted a professional opinion, Bitsy. You got it. Any idea where they came from?”
She shook her head. “None. Which means they’ve probably been wandering throughout winter, based on the state they’re in. You’d think that with the conditions we’ve had for the last two months, they’d have recovered somewhat, wouldn’t you?”
The veterinarian huffed. “Some are smart enough to do that. Some aren’t. And sometimes it becomes survival of the fittest.”
Survival of the fittest? Char bit back a protest.
He was wrong.
Char was sure of it, but she was the new kid on the block, just arrived from veterinary school and a stint on a Western New York farm specializing in horse care. There was no way these seven had been open grazing anywhere for the past few months, because they’d have had abundant food and water, even if rain had been scarce. And they would have been noticed, wouldn’t they?
“What do you think, Doctor?” The woman turned toward Charlotte, seeking a second opinion. An opinion that wasn’t going to win her any points with the other veterinarian. She began to answer as a pair of sheriff’s cars pulled into the equine academy’s driveway, followed by a pickup truck hauling a two-horse trailer.
The older vet’s narrowed eyes challenged her to disagree. The last thing she wanted was to begin her new career on the wrong side of the established veterinary practice, but she put her comfort on hold to do what was best for the horses. “Where there’s life, there’s hope.”
The woman—Bitsy Armbruster—let out a sigh of relief as Chad Armbruster tried to distract the campers behind them. There were about a dozen teens and preteens in attendance, and whatever happened next wasn’t something a bunch of horse-loving kids needed to see.
A man climbed out of the pickup truck and came their way. He walked big. Straight. Tall. Sure of himself and square-shouldered. Crazy good-looking. Black hair, a touch long, as if taking time to get haircuts didn’t make the short list. Great cheekbones and a square jaw suggested Native American lineage. Warrior shoulders completed the image.
“Isaiah!” One of the girl campers jumped the fence and tore across the pasture. “I knew you’d come!” She threw her arms around him and held on tight, and when he hugged her back, the look of love he gave her...
Charlotte would have given anything for a father who loved her like that. She got a cheating conniver instead, a man who came from money and managed to lose it all once he was running the family publishing business. She had learned a lot as the youngest daughter of an esteemed Kentucky horse-breeding family, though. She went into veterinary school at Cornell with an intimate knowledge of horses. That knowledge was about to put her toe to toe with the old man at her side.
“Isaiah.” Bitsy motioned him their way. “I’m so glad you’ve come. And you brought a trailer.” Hope raised her voice slightly.
The girl started to come forward with him.
The man paused, saw Dr. Hirsch’s expression, then indicated the other side of the fence with a simple thrust of his chin. His message was clear. Would the girl follow the silent directive?
She frowned, then trudged across the field and hopped the fence to join the other campers on their way to a barn set a fair distance away.
Neat trick, thought Charlotte.
“I don’t think you’ll be needing that trailer, Isaiah,” said the old man.
“Better prepared than wishing I was, Braden.” He kept his voice low, and walked with quiet authority. “If I left it at home, J.J. would think I made up my mind before I took the time to have a look, and what kind of man does that?” He didn’t look like he expected an answer and didn’t get one. He indicated the electric fencing surrounding the pasture. “Has anyone blocked the way they got in here?”
“We called the sheriff as soon as we discovered them,” Bitsy answered, “but both deputies were at the other end of the county and we didn’t want to leave either the campers or the horses unsupervised, so I asked Ty Carrington to help,” she explained. “He knew that Charlotte had just come to town to open a veterinary practice, so he asked her to come over. He’s fixing the fencing on the northwest corner. He’ll give us a high sign when we’re ready to power up. We had shut the power down to save money because our horses are kept closer to the practice jump areas right now.”
“So, breaking through the wire wasn’t a big challenge.”
“No.”
Bitsy’s phone buzzed a text. She read it and gave them a thumbs-up. “Fencing is powered up.”
“A lot of waiting for horses who aren’t likely to try to get anywhere fast,” said Braden. “I’ve got office hours in thirty. Let’s get this done.” He began moving forward with a worn black bag.
“Hold on.” Charlotte crossed the distance quickly and stood between him and the first horse. “You’re going to put them down without giving them any kind of examination?”
Braden huffed, impatient. “I might not have a fancy van with pretty letters on the side, but I’ve got eyes and experience, girl. That’s what bears weight around here.”
The other man—Isaiah—took a moment to look behind them. She’d parked her brand-new mobile veterinary van on the back side of the Armbruster house. The words CMF VETERINARY stood out in a large font, over the peaceable image of a horse, a cow and an ewe with lambs. A trusty dog sat off to the side, while a mother cat looked after tumbling kittens. He studied the van, then her without a speck of emotion for either.
Charlotte stood her ground. “They deserve the courtesy of an examination.”
The older man glared at her, then Bitsy. “I came here as a favor.”
Bitsy swallowed hard but sided with Charlotte. “We should check them over, shouldn’t we, Braden? If you don’t have time, maybe Charlotte would do it for us.”
Charlotte motioned toward the sad-looking group of horses. Six were standing, listless, as if too tired to walk or eat. The seventh was down, on her side, an aged mare that might have been pretty in her day. She wasn’t pretty now. “I’d be happy to do the exams, Doctor, so you can get to your office hours on time.”
He glared at her, then the horses, then her again. He turned as if to leave, then swung back. “Let’s get to it.” Sour-faced, he started for a horse.
“We’ve made him angry.” Bitsy sounded genuinely distraught, as if the old veterinarian’s anger was a bigger worry than it should be. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
Neither had Charlotte, but to declare such a permanent decision without making an examination seemed wrong.
“Braden has given years of time and expertise to help reestablish the ranches in this part of Idaho,” Bitsy added as they followed the old man. “I’d never want to hurt his feelings.”
“Put the blame on me,” declared Charlotte, and she didn’t keep her voice all that soft, either. “Because if I’m going to have half a dozen dead horses on my conscience, it’s going to be for a good reason.”
Bitsy looked surprised, but then not so surprised, as Charlotte’s words hit home.
The cowboy tipped back his hat slightly. He met her gaze briefly, then moved up alongside the older vet. “How can I help, Braden?”
A peacemaker.
Well, good for him. Charlotte had a lot of respect for a serene existence, but the cheating father and then the law-breaking ex-boyfriend made her realize that peace at any cost wasn’t peace.