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Dorian - September

TAKE ME HOME, COUNTRY ROADS - LANA DEL REY

Life in WoodstoneFalls was in its full swing, a blur of activity; taking care of Gracie, family dinners, running the clinic and caring for all kinds of animals.

Cows, sheep, dogs, cats—I’d even treated a damn chinchilla recently.

And today was no different. My calloused hands gripped the leather steering wheel as the truck rumbled over the familiar back roads. The tires hummed against the asphalt as I steered toward the farm right outside of town.

One of the mares was having trouble with her leg, and the owners called in a panic, knowing I’d be going to Seattle in the morning for a veterinary networking conference. I made sure to let all my clients know, posted it on the clinic door a month ago, and gave everyone the contact information for the closest emergency vet.

But Mary Whitmore called me earlier, asking if there was any way I could run out before leaving town, and I agreed. I’d been out to their place more times than I could count, usually for routine checkups.

Being the only vet in town meant that life never slowed down as much as I might have wanted, but the busyness of it all kept me grounded.

Despite the demands of my job, I always made time for Gracie and my family. It was something my dad instilled in me from an early age, and that lesson stuck with me as I became a father. It’s why I couldn’t imagine leaving Woodstone Falls, even for a better-paying job in the city. As much as I’d been tempted, the pull of family and familiarity always won out.

Gracie was surrounded by her barrage of uncles, her aunt, my dad, and others who weren’t related by blood but were just as willing to step up for her as needed.

I forced my grip to loosen as I pulled up to the farm, dust kicking up behind my tires. As soon as I stepped out of the truck, Ed and Mary Whitmore rushed toward me, their faces lined with worry.

“Dr. James, she’s limping pretty badly.” His shoulders tensed as he cleared his throat. “We don’t know what happened. She was fine yesterday, but this morning…”

His words faltered as he looked to me for reassurance. I nodded once, keeping calm for their sake. Ed and Mary weren’t just any clients—they owned The Pine Ridge Lodge, one of the oldest and most beloved spots in Woodstone Falls.

Growing up, it was where my family celebrated everything from birthdays to graduations. The crackling fireplace, hearty meals, and stories shared over dinner made the place feel like home, and the Whitmores were always at the center of that.

“Show me,” I said.

They led me toward the pasture, walking into the open field. The grass was thick, gently swaying with the breeze. A few chickens clucked nearby, scratching at the dirt by the coop, while a dog lay sprawled lazily by the barn, its coat a stark white against the deep green of the grass.

Up ahead, the mare stood by the fence, her chestnut coat gleaming. She lifted her head as I approached, ears flicking toward me with a soft snort, but she kept her weight off her back left leg, the limp subtle but there. I moved closer and watched her eyes carefully.

Mary wrung her hands nervously. “Do you think it’s serious?”

I crouched down to examine the leg, running my hands along the tendons, trying to get an idea of what I was working with.

“Could be a sprain. Might be more. Need to take a closer look.” I kept my tone even, not feeding into their panic, but not offering false comfort either.

Ed exhaled sharply. “We’ll do whatever it takes. She’s our best mare.”

I glanced up at them. “We’ll get her sorted.” I straightened up and gave the mare a gentle pat.

“Let’s get her back to the barn. I’ll check her out.” Without another word, I motioned for them to lead the horse inside.

They nodded, moving swiftly, as I grabbed my kit from the truck. The whole time, I stayed focused on the task at hand, keeping my words short.

I wasn’t known as the small talk kind of guy around town. I was to the point. I wanted to get in, do the job, and get out, everyone the happier.

I followed Ed and Mary into the barn, the familiar scent of hay and horses filling the air. The mare’s limp was more pronounced on the hard-packed dirt of the barn floor. I didn’t say anything as I watched her, already running through the possibilities in my head.

Once we tied her up, I crouched down again, carefully lifting her leg. She shifted, and I kept a firm grip, murmuring under my breath to keep her calm.

“Easy,” I said.

Mary stood off to the side, frantically lacing her fingers as Ed hovered behind me.

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