Page 7 of Something Unavoidable

“About forty minutes,” George said as she stepped toward the stall door. The mare’s ears flicked again, and George held out her hand for inspection before stroking the poor girl’s nose as she leaned into the touch. George had an energy animals gravitated toward. It was a big part of what made her so good at what she did.

George looked around the filthy stall, the long day showing on her face and audible in her voice. “Every time, I ask myself how someone could let this happen.” She ran her fingers through the mare’s forelock in a fruitless attempt to fix the tangled hair. “It doesn’t get easier.”

Keegan gave her shoulder a squeeze. There was a delicate balance when you were rescuing abused animals. You had empathy for them, of course, but you couldn’t let yourself get too invested. You’d burn out because the job was never over. George was good at separating herself most of the time, but the bad ones hit everyone hard.

“We’re going to need to find space for the horses. Hopefully with someone who knows something about what they’re going to need.”

Keegan nodded, having already figured that out. “I’ll give the Averys a call. See how Ryan feels about being a foster dad.”

An hour later, andwith the help of four other volunteers, they had all three horses loaded up on the trailer—including the pony, who, despite her poor condition, had plenty of fight left in her. Ryan had a farrier meeting them at the ranch to start working on their feet the minute they reached their temporary home.

For the next two weeks, they would be in quarantine stalls to make sure they weren’t carrying any diseases. The isolation would also give Keegan a chance to stabilize them, tend to any injuries, and start getting weight back on them.

The drive back to Split Rock felt longer than the trip out had been. Keegan followed the trailer in his truck and held his breath over every bump, hoping no one would go down along the way. Thankfully, they made it to the ranch with all three horses still on their feet.

When they pulled to a stop in front of the big cream-colored barn, Ryan was waiting outside, seemingly impervious to the icy wind, his husband at his side. Micah’s heart was in his sad brown eyes, and Keegan felt a twinge of regret for bringing the horses here and putting that look on Micah’s face, but he knew this was the best place they could be. Micah proved him right when he gave Keegan a wobbly smile and a tight hug, then got to work helping George and Ben unload.

Keegan stood next to his best friend, relieved when Ryan got straight to business. He didn’t have the energy for pleasantries. “The farrier’s set up, and the quarantine stalls are almost ready. Anything specific they need right now?”

“Which farrier did you call? They don’t seem to have been handled much. The pony, in particular. It’s gonna be a rough one.”

The corner of Ryan’s mouth tipped up. “Mason.”

Keegan let go of some of his tension. Mason was a grumpy old bastard, but there wasn’t a better farrier in a hundred miles. Hewas about to ask Ryan what supplies they had on hand when he was distracted by the tall young man strolling out of the barn.

Izzy King moved like he owned the place, his long legs eating up the distance to where Keegan and Ryan were standing. He stopped on the far side of Ryan, his hands tucked into his coat pockets as he tossed his blond curls out of his face and gave the activity around them a condescending side-eye.

The mare scrambled as she stepped down off the trailer, her overlong hooves making it difficult for her to find her balance on the gravel. Keegan tensed, but she steadied herself, her head lifting and her nostrils flaring as she took in her new surroundings.

“Are the stalls ready?” Ryan asked, somehow ignoring the scowl on Izzy’s face.

“All good,” Izzy replied, his distaste clear as he took in the state of the horses. “These poor guys look half dead,” he said bluntly. “What are their chances of recovery?”

Keegan had to force his jaw to relax before he broke a molar from how hard he was clenching his teeth. Izzy wasn’t wrong, but the blunt statement made Keegan’s protective instincts flare. “Better than they would be if no one tried,” he snapped.

Izzy’s shoulders went tight. “Right,” he snarked back. “’Cause that’s exactly what I was implying.” He rolled his eyes and turned back to Ryan. “You can’t assign them to Alice. She won’t be able to handle it if they don’t make it.”

Ryan nodded, his eyes not leaving the trailer as Ben unloaded the gelding. “Wasn’t planning to.”

“Micah either,” Izzy continued. “He’ll get way too attached.” Izzy pulled his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms over his chest, shoulders hunched. “Archer’ll probably be fine. He’s practical like that.”

“They’re your responsibility,” Ryan replied, voice mild. “Under Keegan’s supervision.”

Izzy’s head snapped around to stare at Ryan. “What?” he asked, voice jumping up an octave. He shot Keegan a glare, as if this was his fault, then turned that glare on Ryan. “The fuck, boss?”

Keegan’s reaction was similar, though he refrained from voicing it. Izzy was the last person he expected Ryan to assign to the task. Not because Izzy wasn’t capable—he had plenty of experience—but because Ryan knew he and Keegan would be at each other’s throats. Their distaste for each other wasn’t new.

Ryan didn’t so much as twitch at Izzy’s outburst. “Alice will take over some of your usual tasks to make up for it,” he continued, as if Izzy hadn’t spoken.

“Why can’t Archer—”

“Because he’s busy,” Ryan said, losing some of his calm detachment. “We’ve got twenty horses that need exercise this winter, and you’re the only one who doesn’t help with that.”

Izzy’s mouth clicked shut. He looked away, his lips pressed into a tight line. That had to sting. It was an open secret that Izzy had been an Olympic-bound eventer, once upon a time. After a bad fall, he’d sold his horse and walked away from the sport. These days, though he was recovered, Izzy acted like he barely knew a Western saddle from an English one. And for reasons Keegan couldn’t understand, no one at the ranch questioned the blatant lie. The whole thing rubbed Keegan wrong—particularly when Ryan had to scramble or overschedule himself to accommodate the best horseman on his staff refusing to suck it up and get back in the saddle.

“Fine,” Izzy grated, looking like he’d smelled something rancid. “This is gonna bestellar.” He gave Ryan a scathing look that somehow included Keegan. Then he spun on his heel and stomped back into the barn, the back of his neck red—probably with anger—despite the cold.

Keegan turned to Ryan with an eyebrow lifted.

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