by Lisa Jackson
“It looks like strangles,” she said.
“Strangles? What the hell is that?”
Curtis swore roundly and shook his head. “Distemper.”
“Damn!” Colton pressed his lips together in mute frustration. “He’s got to be isolated immediately.”
“Might already be too late,” Curtis muttered.
“Too late for what?” Colton demanded.
“To protect the other animals. This stuff runs through a stable like wildfire,” Cassie said. “Anything he’s come in contact with could be contaminated. All his feeding and grooming utensils should be disinfected daily in an antiseptic solution. All the straw in his box will have to be burned.” She flipped her bag open, located a hypodermic and bottle of penicillin. “His throat’s sore, so I want him fed warm mashes. And don’t feed him on the ground—use a sterile bucket. Keep him inside for the next couple of days, but make sure he gets plenty of fresh air.” Quickly she injected Black Magic, then reached into her bag again and handed Colton a tube of medication. “Apply this liniment over his abscess so it will mature faster and can be drained.”
Colton stared at the sick stallion. “Isn’t there some vaccine against this sort of thing?”
Cassie nodded thoughtfully. “There is, but it’s controversial. I don’t even use it on our stock. Too many side effects. The best prevention is to avoid exposure.” She glanced down the row of stalls in the stallion barn. “What’s he been in contact with? Any other horses?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” Colton tossed back at her, his eyes narrowing. “No one here knows.”
“But—” she started to argue, then understood.
“Obviously he caught something while he was gone,” he surmised sardonically. “Son of a—”
“You don’t know when he contracted the disease,” she cut in.
“It’s a pretty damned good guess!”
Curtis stepped in before Cassie could answer. “Let’s just calm down,” he suggested, eyeing both Cassie and Colton. “Is this going around?”
Stung by Colton’s hot retort, she said, “Not that I know of, but Craig was called over to the Monroe ranch this morning and he’s been at Matt Wilkerson’s this afternoon.”
“What for?”
“I’m not sure,” she said worriedly. “But some of their horses weren’t feeling well.”
Colton clamped his jaw tight. “Looks like there might be an epidemic, although this stallion”—he hooked a thumb at Black Magic—“hasn’t been in contact with any horse other than those on this ranch and those he met while he was gone!” He glared at Cassie for a second before his face slackened as if he’d realized arguing wouldn’t help. He swung his gaze to Curtis. “You said there was another horse with symptoms?”
“Tempest.”
Colton sucked in a swift breath. Tempest wasn’t one of the finest horses on the ranch. In fact he was pretty much mean-tempered and nondescript. For those very reasons he appealed to Colton. In the past few months Tempest had become Colton’s favorite mount. “Great,” he murmured sarcastically. “Let’s check him out.”
Cassie had to run to keep up with Colton’s long strides. His boots sounded on the concrete, and inquisitive dark heads poked from the stalls as Cassie walked quickly to the far end of the stables.
Colton stopped at one box, and Cassie nearly ran into him. She looked into the stall and sighed inwardly. Tempest was sick all right. The sorrel stallion looked listless and weak. His water and feed hadn’t been touched. Cassie guessed his temperature was high, his pulse elevated. She washed her hands, snapped on a new pair of gloves and examined him as she had Black Magic.
“Has he got it, too?” Colton asked.
“Yes.” Wearily Cassie blew a strand of hair from her eyes. These two horses were just the first in the McLean stable to come down with the disease. She found a new needle and a dose of antibiotic, which she gave to Tempest before patting the stallion’s shoulder.
She slipped out of the stall, stripped out of her gloves and reached again into her veterinary bag. Handing a large bottle of antibiotic tablets to Colton, she instructed, “I want Tempest and Black Magic quarantined.”
“How serious is this?” Colton asked.
Cassie didn’t mince words. “It’s serious, but unless either horse develops complications, they should survive.”
“What kind of complications?”
“Pneumonia for starters.”
Colton exhaled heavily. “Pneumonia, huh? Great. Just goddamn great.”
Wishing she could offer him some consolation, she said, “Pneumonia’s just one of the complications, but let’s not worry about that now. Both your stallions are young and strong. The antibiotics usually work. Tempest and Black Magic should make it, but the next few weeks are going to be rough.”
“As long as they pull through.”
“They should—really.” Without thinking, she touched his arm, and the muscles beneath his sleeve flexed. Cassie turned to the foreman. “Are there any other horses with symptoms?”
“Not so far. Len checked the entire herd.”
“Including Tessa’s animals?” she asked, knowing how dear Tessa’s horses were to Colton’s sister-in-law.
Curtis nodded stiffly. “They looked fine.”
“What about any neighboring mares the stallions may have serviced?”
“The first mares were due to arrive next week.” His lips pursed together as if pulled on a drawstring. “I suppose that’s out, right?”
“Absolutely. You have no choice but to cancel.”
Curtis’s old shoulders drooped.
“Now wait a minute,” Colton cut in. “We can’t—”
“You don’t have a choice! You’re lucky only two of your horses are infected!”
“She’s right,” Curtis said, frowning so deeply his face became a mass of lines.
“I’ll have Len clean out their stalls and disinfect everything,” Curtis said as he snapped a lead rope on Tempest. “We’ll stable them in the old foaling shed. Come along.” Curtis clucked his tongue and gently pulled on the lead. Tempest, his head extended rigidly, followed docilely behind.
Colton, leading an equally sluggish Black Magic, opened the door, trailing Curtis toward a weathered older building that was now used only for storage.
Slowly the unhappy caravan made its way across the yard and through two paddock gates to the small building. Inside, the shed was clean and light. While Cassie held the horses, Curtis and Colton swabbed the floor with antiseptic, then quickly spread straw and carried feed and water to the horses. Neither stallion took any notice.
Cassie’s heart went out to the sick animals. Though, if lucky, they would both survive, the disease could disable and scar them. Once the stallions were settled, she said, “I think I’d better look over the rest of your herd.” Mentally crossing her fingers, she silently prayed she’d find no other horse with symptoms.
“You think it’s spread?” Colton’s voice was grim, as if he was steeling himself for the worst.
“I hope not,” she whispered, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her skirt. For the next three hours she examined every horse on the McLean Ranch, including the swollen-bellied mares ready to foal.
Colton never left her side, studying each animal as she did, waiting, his face gaunt, to hear that yet another horse was stricken.
“So far, so good,” Cassie said as she examined the last of the horses, a chestnut with a crooked white blaze—Tessa’s favorite stallion, Brigadier.
Impatient at being examined, Brigadier minced this way and that in his stall, shifting his sleek rump and hindquarters away from Cassie’s expert hands or jerking his head away when she attempted to look into his eyes and nostrils. “Feisty one, aren’t you?” Cassie murmured, relieved she hadn’t found any more cases of strangles than the first two.
Brigadier snorted haughtily, and Cassie gave him a playful slap on the rump. “This one’s healthy!” Encouraged
slightly, she squeezed through the stall gate and walked outside with Colton.
“For how long?” Colton asked.
“I wish I knew. It depends. Has he been in contact with the infected horses?”
Colton shook his head. “Tessa’s always kept her horses separate, even after she and Denver married.”
“And the rest of the herd?”
“You’ve seen it. The mares and foals are in one field, the yearlings in another, the stallions and geldings even more isolated. In fact, since Black Magic’s been back, he hasn’t been around any of the other horses—including Tempest.”
“Then maybe you’re safe,” she said as she scanned the maze of pastures and paddocks comprising the ranch. The evening air was moist, but warm. The last streaks of sunlight blazed across the mountains, gilding the highest peaks and streaking the sky with swatches of lavender and magenta. Playful fillies and colts scampered through the lush grass, kicking and bucking, galloping in uneven strides through the fields.
“Aside from another animal, how does a horse get it?”
“Contaminated surroundings, water or food. Sometimes from droppings or from contaminated utensils.”
“What’s the incubation period?”
“Two days to a couple of weeks.”
He raked stiff fingers through his hair, shoving a wayward clump that hung over his forehead back. “So any horse that’s come in contact with Black Magic could be infected?”
“Yes.” She could tell by Colton’s grim expression that he understood the size of the epidemic he might have on his hands.
Guilt weighting his shoulders, Colton felt as if he hadn’t slept in days. “I guess I’d better call Denver.” Absently rubbing his wounded shoulder, he grimaced. He’d kept Black Magic’s disappearance from Denver to save him any worry, and it had blown up in his face. Denver would be furious!
“Do you want me to talk to him?” Cassie asked.
“This is my problem,” he snapped. Then, hearing the bite in his words, Colton forced a thin smile. “I mean, I’ll handle it. But why don’t you come with me—as my backup. Just in case Denver wants a more professional opinion.”
“Fair enough.”
Gritting his teeth, Colton strode into the house, marched into the den, picked up the phone and dialed.
As he waited for the connection, he sat on a corner of the desk and drummed his fingers on the scarred wood. Explaining this would be hell. The phone rang four times before a recording answered. “Great,” Colton muttered. He wasn’t about to tell a recording machine what was going on. Instead, he just asked Denver to call him as soon as possible.
“No luck?” Cassie asked.
Colton laughed bitterly. “I think I ran out of luck about six months ago.”
“Things’ll get better.”
“Will they?” he asked, squinting through the window to the yard beyond. He watched as Len and Curtis, their backs bowed with feed sacks, trudged into the broodmare barn. “Is that your professional opinion?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.” He rubbed the tight knot forming in the muscles between his shoulders. God, he was tired. He’d been awake most of the night, tossing and turning on that damned cot, his mind filled with images of Cassie and the ranch and a future that was far away. A future spent looking through the lens of a camera in some godforsaken land. Alone. Without Cassie.
She had dropped onto the arm of a worn couch and was staring at him with those wide, soul-searching eyes. The kindness and concern in her gaze bothered him. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“Do I look okay?”
Cassie smiled faintly. “The truth?”
“Don’t hold back.”
“You look like hell,” she said.
“Thanks for the compliment.” He forced one corner of his mouth up. “That’s better than I feel.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Isn’t it? I lost the horse, didn’t I? It happened while I was in charge!”
“Wait a minute, Colt! Before you go on an extended guilt trip, let’s look at the facts, okay?” She pushed herself to her feet, and her cheeks flushed. “We’re not certain Black Magic caught this while he was ‘lost.’ And as far as you being responsible, I don’t think you should be beating yourself up over it. The same thing happened last year and you weren’t even here!”
“Last year Black Magic survived.”
“And he just might this year,” she said, crossing the room to stand only bare inches from him, “unless we all give up on him! Have some faith.”
“Do you?”
“I told you, usually the disease isn’t deadly.”
She was so close that Colton could see the ribbons of green in her hazel eyes, smell the scent of her. Her black hair gleamed in soft, tangled curls that rested against her cheeks and fell past her shoulders. “And what else do you have faith in Cass?” he asked, reaching forward, curling his fingers around her arms.
Cassie didn’t breathe. Her gaze flickered downward to where his long legs swung from the corner of the desk, brushing intimately against her skirt.
“That . . .” She swallowed hard. “That depends.”
“On?” Colton’s blood began to surge through his body. She was, without a doubt, the most bewitching woman he’d ever met.
“On you, Mr. McLean,” she said, her lips parting, the pulse at the hollow of her throat leaping out of control. “I’d like to have faith in you.”
His insides turned molten.
“Maybe you should.”
She tilted her chin. “Should I? Why?” she asked, her warm breath fanning his face.
“Colton? You in there?” Milly Samms’s voice drifted through the door. A loud rap echoed through the room.
Cassie froze in his arms for just a second. Blushing like a teenager, she quickly stepped back.
Colton, slightly amused, cleared his throat, but his voice was still raspy. “Come in.”
“It’s time for din—” Milly stopped in midsentence as she stepped into the room. “Oh, Cassie! I didn’t realize you were still here.”
Cassie stuffed her hands into the pockets of her skirt. “I thought I’d stay awhile, until we were sure none of the horses came down with the virus.”
“Virus?” Milly asked.
Colton explained about Black Magic and Tempest, and told the housekeeper about the possibility of an epidemic. “I tried to get hold of Denver, but he was out. If he calls back, I want to talk to him. Immediately.”
Milly’s round face had turned ashen. “What about the foals?”
“So far, so good,” Cassie said, “but I think I’d better stick around for a while.”
“Then come on in to dinner,” Milly insisted.
Cassie held up a hand. “No, I couldn’t—”
“Nonsense. I always make enough to feed the entire Third Battalion, so you just come along.” Before Cassie could protest any further, Milly swept out the door and hurried off toward the kitchen.
“I really can’t,” Cassie said to Colton once the housekeeper’s footsteps had faded.
“Why not?”
“Because. I don’t want to intrude—”
“You won’t. Besides, I want you to stay.” He touched her lightly under the chin, forcing her gaze to his, and for the first time that day Cassie saw tenderness tempering the passion in his eyes.
She swallowed nervously. Staying with Colton seemed natural and right, and she might be able to help if any of the rest of the stock came down with the virus.
“Don’t tell me,” Colton joked, “you’ve got a better offer.”
“Millions of them.”
“I thought so.”
Cassie’s lips turned up at the corners. “Actually I’m on my own tonight. Dad’s playing cards with some friends.”
“Then I insist.”
“And I accept,” she said, burying any lingering doubts. Tonight Colton needed her, and, unfortunately, she needed him.
* * *
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Milly Samms proved an excellent cook. By the time the pork chops, potatoes, gravy, fresh asparagus and cherry pie had been served and devoured, Cassie was stuffed.
Curtis and Len had already left. Only she, Milly and Colton lingered over half-full cups of coffee at the McLeans’ large dining room table. “I’ll help with the dishes,” she offered, but Milly wouldn’t hear of it.
“You go tend to the horses, and I’ll handle this.”
“But—”
Colton reached over and squeezed her hand. “Don’t argue,” he said. “The kitchen is Milly’s turf. She kicked me out just the other day.”
“And a lucky thing, too,” Milly said, picking up a few of the platters of leftover meat and potatoes. “This place was fallin’ down around your ears and you didn’t even know it.”
“It was just a little messy.”
“A little? A little, he says,” she muttered under her breath, chuckling to herself.
Cassie reached for the butter dish. “At least let me clear—”
“No way. You’re the guest, remember? Now put that down.” Casting Cassie a look that dared her to defy her authority, Milly carried a stack of dishes through the swinging doors to the kitchen.
Cassie felt a bitter pang of disbelief. Milly had referred to her as a guest. In the McLean house. Never in all of her twenty-five years had she entered the house as a guest; not even when, years before, she’d thought she would marry Colton. She was an Aldridge—not a friend.
“I’m the veterinarian,” she corrected, shoving her chair back. “And I’d better go check on Black Magic.”
The phone rang, and Colton jumped. “Denver,” he said just as Milly called, “Colt—Denver wants to talk to you.”
“Here goes nothing,” he mumbled under his breath, but said more loudly, “I’ll get it in the den.” Cassie shoved back her chair and started for the door, but Colton added, “Don’t leave until I’m done talking with my brother.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good.” Colton walked into the den and snatched up the telephone receiver. “I’m glad you called,” he said, stretching the truth a little. “We’ve got a problem.” Blow by blow, he explained about Black Magic’s disappearance, return and subsequent poor health.