Page 87 of Iron Unicorn

Both regarded me through narrowed eyes, and I sighed at their disapproving expressions.

“I guess I can afford five if one isn’t going to have a big vetting bill,” Eddie muttered.

Olivia shrugged. “I’m going to do what I want, Terry.”

Of course she was. I expected all sixteen of Eddie’s stalls would be filled by the end of the day. All I could do was try to prevent the pair from going crazy.

I’d do my best despite the low chances of success.

* * *

In an effort todemonstrate they could be reasonable, Eddie and Olivia went to check out the horses in the general auction while I did a preliminary sweep of the slaughter pen. I spotted the horse likely responsible for Eddie’s reaction. The bay mare was down, I worried we wouldn’t be able to get her up, and she had a colt at her side. Fortunately for the colt, the barn’s staff had been milking the mare and bottle feeding him every hour.

That didn’t stop him from trying to nurse while she was on the ground, although he had limited success.

An injury to her hind leg and overgrown hooves proved to be the cause of her woes and the pair’s presence in the slaughter barn. The colt, likely a bay like his mother, was young enough he’d need a nurse mare, and from what I understood of Texan law, the legitimate injury might result in both being butchered.

Injuries and age accounted for the rest of the animals in the pen, half of which were down and wouldn’t be getting up without the use of a crane. All of them, excepting the colt and mare, had cut tails. The staff did what they could to keep the animals clean and comfortable, but I understood why they were there. With most well over the age of twenty and with crippling injuries, I could even accept their placement in the slaughter pen.

I didn’t have to like it, but I could accept it.

The colt and mare, however, would not be headed to a butcher.

The first step would be to get the mare up, look over the injury, and check for infection. With the blessing of the three men in charge of the slaughter pen, I picked my way inside, easing around the other animals to the mare and her foal. She observed me with interest, a good sign. I crouched beside her, offered my hand, and waited for her to decide what to do.

Rather than sniff my fingers as expected, she grunted, rolled, and lurched upright. I bit back the urge to curse, placing my hand on her shoulder in an effort to steady her. That she had the strength to stand offered hope, and I went to work checking her legs. While she favored her hind leg, she’d used it to get back on her hooves, all the sign I needed that she could be saved.

I couldn’t identify the cause of the injury, but I disliked the evidence of infection. I coaxed her to the gate, where one of the men met me with a lead line.

“Any idea how she got to be here?” I asked, grateful Eddie and Olivia had gone to the other side of the barn first.

“She took a bad fall on the way out of a barn onto concrete. The owner couldn’t afford the vetting bill and sent her over to us. She’s been here a few days, and nobody has shown interest in the foal. We’ve milked as much from the mare as we can to try to buy the colt some time, but she’ll be slaughtered in tonight’s batch if someone doesn’t come to foot the vet bill.”

I eyed the colt, who couldn’t have been older than a week. “I’m going to need a halter and the bail price on the mare. What’s the rate for the colt?”

“We’re asking eight hundred for him to cover expenses plus a hundred in our pocket. The bail rate for the mare is twenty-five cents a pound.”

I counted a hundred profit as more than fair, and twenty-five cents a pound meant I’d get her for a pittance. “That’s low.”

“She’s got a foal, so we lowball it.”

“Let’s get her weighed, and I’ll process the payment. Are any other horses in the pen salvageable?”

The auctioneer shook his head. “The owners have all cut their tails and don’t want to waste good meat. We’ve got empaths working with them, and the owners will be present for their last moments. Law just says we have to give a set amount of time in the slaughter pen unless the animal needs to be put down out of mercy. We’d have all these in stalls, but we have more weanlings than we know what to do with right now, so the place is bustling.”

Texans tended to view the custom as a duty and responsibility to each other, something I respected. However, with the news of weanlings filling the barn, I suspected both Eddie and Olivia would be buying a few too many animals, leaving me with the sole case in need of actual rescue.

At least I could claim I intended to keep the mare and colt, no matter what their pedigree stated. “Do you have papers for them?”

“That I do have, although we haven’t reviewed them beyond making certain the sales were legal. Both are registered.”

I wondered as what, as I could identify a quarter horse at a glance, and whatever the mare and colt were, they weren’t quarters. “Who is the best regional vet you know of?”

The man pointed down the hall, and I spotted a woman in a white coat visiting a horse in a stall. “She’s one of the emergency vets for the region, and she volunteers for basic care for borderline horses to try to keep them out of the slaughter pens. Her name is Aileen, and she can give you the run down.”

“Get me a bill of sale for both, and I’ll go have a talk with Aileen.”

The auctioneer nodded, and I delayed long enough to get the colt haltered and restrained. Then I marched over to the vet, leaned against the railing, and waited for her to finish examining a leggy quarter horse yearling that might end up over seventeen hands at the rate she was growing.

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