Page 100 of Spindrift

Morgan’seyes widened in surprise, and Emilia felt her own face like a mask. She didn’tknow what her expression revealed about just how much those words had taken herunawares. This was a disaster in waiting, wasn’t it? Hadn’t she sworn to take afew months off from the field to think about things? She knew what a bad caseof colic might mean: euthanasia. Could she handle that?

“We’dlove a hand,” said Morgan, and Emilia didn’t know whether she was gratefulMorgan hadn’t questioned her decision or terrified. “Need a pair of coveralls?”

Emiliaconsidered her shirt and sandals. “Maybe a pair of boots if you have them?”

Itturned out that she and Lillian wore the same shoe size, and Morgan lent her aSeal Cove Veterinary polo that she shoved into her jeans in a French tuck.Morgan’s shoulders were significantly broader than hers, and the shirt hung offher. Not that it mattered how she looked, she reminded herself, but focusing onher clothing felt safer than thinking about what lay ahead.

Sherefused to let Morgan kick Stevie out of the front passenger seat. Instead, sherode in the back with a confused Nell. Kraken remained behind with Lillian andAngie. The shirt smelled like Morgan’s detergent, and she stopped herself withdifficulty from burying her face in the sleeve while Stevie fiddled with theradio as they drove down country roads lined with forests and fields. Shecaught Morgan watching her in the mirror more than once and took comfort inthose steady blue-gray eyes.

I’ma doctor, she toldherself as they drove.This is my job. Nothing to panic about.

Panic,however, was determined to have its say. Her last work memory pounced. Pushingthe bright pink Euthansol. The phone call. Her father’s death, and the sense,illogical but irrepressible, that she had somehow caused it, as if all thedeath in her wake had added up to that moment.What a waste of life.Whata waste of a fucking life.

Ithad never mattered that if it hadn’t been her pushing the drug it would havebeen someone else, or that the people working at the shelters did their best tofind homes for all their animals, even if it meant filling their own homes withmore animals than they could afford. It had never mattered because everyone whohad warned her against the field had been right; she hadn’t been cut out forshelter medicine. She couldn’t detach, and so her brain had done it for her,but it had taken things several steps too far—severing instead of shielding.Would things have been different if she had gone into general practice? Wouldshe have still burnt out only a few years out of school?

Thinkof this as a ride-along,she tried to tell herself. She’d done plenty as a student. This could be alitmus test for how she was feeling toward work. It had nothing to do with thejob opening at Seal Cove.

Thatlast thought froze her. She sat, her hand tight around Nell’s collar, as she weighedthe implications of even considering what that could mean.

“Ihaven’t had a ride-along in a while,” Morgan said from the front seat. “Lastone was a vet student on summer vacation.”

Emiliahad a sudden and vivid picture of how she would have reacted as a student to aride-along with Morgan. Buckets of drool would undoubtedly have been involved.And swooning. She met Morgan’s eyes, and Morgan seemed to guess her thoughtsbecause she grinned. The flash of white teeth calmed her. This did not, afterall, need to be as big a deal as she was making it. Downed horses were tricky,and they might very well need a hand to get the mare back on her feet. She wassimply fulfilling the oath she’d taken when she became a vet.

Theypulled into a small but neatly maintained farmstead fifteen minutes later.Sheep dotted the hillside pasture, and a woman stood waiting outside the redbarn doors. Morgan opened Emilia’s door for her, and before Emilia had time toregister whether or not the gesture irritated her, Morgan touched her arm.

“Areyou up for this?”

“I’llfind out,” she said. Morgan squeezed her forearm and looked as if she wanted tosay more, but didn’t.

“Dr.Donovan,” said the stocky woman Emilia assumed was Abby. “Thank you forcoming.”

“Ofcourse. Where is she?”

“Theback paddock.”

Steviehad her hands shoved deeply into her pockets and a worried expression on herface as she fell into step behind Morgan with Emilia.

Theback paddock was small, and it was clear that Olive had done her best toeliminate every single blade of grass.

“Itook her off pasture because she was getting fat, and this afternoon I came outand found her like this.”

ABelgian mare sat in the dirt, more like a dog than a horse. Emilia recognizedthe symptom. The horse raised her head at their approach but made no move tostand.

“Howlong do you estimate she’s been like this?” asked Morgan.

“Shewas up this morning, but didn’t eat all her breakfast. I thought that wasunusual, and I ran some errands, then came home to keep an eye on her. She’s gottenup a few times, but she keeps biting at her sides and rolling. She’s beensitting like this for about an hour.”

Morganwalked around the horse while Stevie knelt at her head, whispering something toher. Emilia cast her mind around for what she remembered about colic. It couldbe caused by any number of things, ranging from a buildup of gas to aninfarction. With luck, this would just be an impaction—perhaps the result ofingesting too much sand from the paddock.

“Let’sget some blood; then we’ll try and get her up.” Morgan joined Stevie at thehead and accepted the vacutainer collection needle Stevie handed her. The maredidn’t move as Morgan held the tubes up to the vacutainer to fill them, but hersides heaved, and sweat soaked her shoulders and flanks.Classic signs ofpain.

Olivestruggled to her feet as Stevie tugged on her halter and Morgan shoved at thehorse’s hips. Emilia and Abby urged Olive on with encouraging chirps and wordsof praise, and at last Olive staggered to her feet. She stood with her legssplayed and her eyes glazed.

Morganmotioned for Emilia to step forward. With her borrowed stethoscope, she joinedMorgan in listening for intestinal sounds. Absolute silence met her ears.

That’snot good.

“Okay,”said Morgan as she checked Olive’s heart rate and mucous membranes.

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