Page 47 of High Density

“She should be fine. Keep it as clean and as dry as you can.”

The barrel horse probably got caught on a piece of fencing or something, and tore a four-inch gash along her shoulder. But it wasn’t that deep and I was able to clean and close the cut with a tidy row of stitches. The minor injury shouldn’t impact the horse’s performance.

I pet the pretty pinto’s neck. “You’re sure she’s up to date on her tetanus shot?”

The girl nods. “I’m pretty sure, but I’ll check. I brought her vaccination records. They’re in my trailer.”

I turn to Logan, who’s been observing, and give him a nod.

“Would you walk back with her and check the date? And then you may as well grab some lunch.”

My assistant appears to be quite pleased with my request as he flashes a grin in the pretty girl’s direction.

“Sure thing.”

Clearly his lanky good looks haven’t gone unnoticed by her either, as she shyly smiles back.

“You may not see him back for a while,” JD warns me.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” I consider as I watch them walk off.

I tuck a few strands of my hair back under the ball cap I wore to cover my eyes from the sun. It’s a hot one today and we’ve been standing out in the baking sun without even a hint of shade, so I’m sweating buckets. Adding to my discomfort is the itching of my skin underneath the wires and the tape used to secure the minute microphone between my breasts. I’d almost forgotten I was wearing it while I had my hands full, but I’m annoyingly aware of it now.

When we got here this morning, Phil Jericho showed us to a small corral where he wanted me to set up clinic. I actually thought it was a good idea, being able to keep my gear in one spot rather than lugging it around the grounds. When possible, the animals were brought to me, which suited me just fine. Most of my patients this morning were horses with relatively minor issues, and one goat with a clogged teat.

The goat is part of this afternoon’s kids’ fair. All kinds of children’s activities like kids’ barrel racing, best-in-show farm animal contests, a petting zoo, greased pig wrangling, and a goat milking race, among other things. I’m personally not a fan of any of these events, other than perhaps the best-in-show contest—at least those animals are generally treated well—but I’m not here to make moral judgements.

What I didn’t realize, until the gates opened to the public earlier, was the corral Jericho assigned us to is actually right beside the petting zoo. Which means we’ve had a fair number of onlookers and curious kids asking all kinds of questions. To my surprise, JD ended up fielding a lot of those in his calm, steadyvoice that seemed to have the kids mesmerized. Some mothers too, and I discovered I actually do have a jealous bone in my body.

“You’re getting a sunburn. You need a proper cowboy hat,” JD suggests when I wipe the sweat off my forehead with a wad of gauze.

“I tried. They don’t stay on my head for long in this line of work.”

I did put on sunscreen this morning, but that was sweated off a while ago.

“What I need is some shade and a cool drink,” I declare, looking longingly at the fair, where some food vendors set up picnic tables under the cover of tents or large umbrellas.

“Let’s go. It’s quiet now,” he points out. “We’ll grab some lunch, and find a spot in the shade where we can keep an eye out.”

He’s right. There’s no one waiting, and once the auction starts later this afternoon, I’ll be stuck there.

“I’ll grab us some food, you find us a table,” JD suggests. “Fry bread tacos okay with you?”

“Sounds good. I’m just gonna hit the bathroom first.”

Of course there’s a line-up at the small building housing his and hers restrooms. There are also a number of Porta-potties, but I avoid those. I’d rather wait so I can have running water to wash up a bit. I feel gross, the dust and dirt are sticking to my damp skin.

When it’s my turn, I quickly pee before cleaning up at the small sink. Hand soap is probably not the best choice to wash my face and neck with, but I do feel a lot better when I step outside.

I manage to procure a picnic table under a large awning, and sigh in relief to be out of the sun. But the relief doesn’t last long.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

I look up to see Mackey stalking toward me, his face once again an unhealthy red and purple color. My entire body tenses up as he walks right up and into my space.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, getting to my feet so I take away his advantage of hovering over me.

“You took my cow.”

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