Page 31 of High Density

Some of the hands standing nearby chuckle, and Mackey swings around to glare at them, letting out a frustrated growl. It makes me smile. A bit more composed, he turns back to me.

“There’s nothing wrong with that bronc.” He waves his hand at the jittery roan I just pulled aside.

The horse has an open rubbing wound, right where a flank orbuckingstrap would be tightened. In addition, hisleft front fetlock—the ankle joint—is swollen and warm to the touch, suggesting inflammation. I suspect it’s damage to or deterioration of the flexor tendon, which is pretty common in bucking horses.

I sent Logan home after we were done inspecting today’s arrival of animals, but I kept this horse aside.

I outline my findings to Mackey and explain the horse needs rest to heal, and is a write-off for the rodeo. Despite my calm tone, I can tell he’s getting all fired up again, cursing up a storm at my expense. More accusations of incompetence, a general contempt of my gender, and a few juicy, bigoted insults I’m trying not to respond to.

In my peripheral vision I catch the approach of Jericho, who has been around the past two days, keeping an eye on things. He’s not my favorite person, but he hasn’t really bothered me much and I’m glad he’s coming to check out this confrontation. I’d rather have him as a witness if this escalates than Mackey’s own crew, even if they did laugh at him.

Apparently, Mackey caught sight of him too, because he immediately tones down.

“Then put him the fuck down. He’s no use to me now and I ain’t gonna waste good food on a bad horse.”

“Are you kidding me? Put him down? All he needs is a few weeks of rest and some proper care and he’ll be good as new.”

I know it’s his right as the owner, but I can’t believe he’d ask me to kill the horse over something that can be easily fixed. It goes against everything I stand for.

“I run a business, not a goddamn hospital. My horse, and if you’re too fucking soft to do your job, I’ll do it my goddamn self.”

His eyes are fixed on me as he pulls a gun from a holster on his belt. For a moment I’m frozen, wondering how the hell we got to this point, but then he walks up to the roan and puts the barrel to the horse’s forehead.

“I’ll take him,” I blurt out, impulsively grabbing for his arm. “Save you the bullet and the mess.”

Since I’ve managed to pull his gun away from his target, he tries to dislodge me, sending me stumbling back. That’s when Jericho steps in.

“Mackey! You hurt my vet or shoot that horse and we’ve got issues.”

His tone is calm, but his voice holds an authoritarian threat which is impossible to miss. This is not a man to be messed with.

Apparently, John Mackey realizes it too, because after only moments of facing off with Jericho, he grunts, holsters his weapon, and turns on his heel.

“Take the useless carcass then,” he fires off his parting shot as he stalks back to the stockyard.

Great. Now I have a bucking horse I have no use for and I sent Logan packing. I could’ve had him run up to the clinic to grab the small horse trailer from behind the barn.

“Tomorrow we’ve got the cattle coming in,” Jericho reminds me, interrupting my thoughts. “The trucks should get here around ten. Are you bringing the kid?”

“Logan? Yes, he’ll be with me.”

He nods. “Good. You’re gonna need the extra hands. It’ll be a long day.”

“We’re prepared,” I return, perhaps a bit defensively.

Jericho flashes a grin. “I’m sure you are. But maybe stay out of Mackey’s way tomorrow. You hit any problems, send the kid to come find me.” He glances at the horse. “Best get that animal out of here before he changes his mind.”

Right.

As I pull my phone from my pocket and dial the clinic, I watch him walk back to his trailer.

“Libby Veterinary Clinic.”

“Frankie, it’s Doc. By any chance did Logan stop by there?”

“No, I haven’t seen him.”

Shit, I was hoping maybe I’d catch him there and could get him to run the trailer over here. I don’t really want to leave the horse because I don’t trust what’ll happen to it if I’m not here.

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