Page 80 of Stick Around,
Without waiting for a response, I jogged toward the stables, the crate of contraband fireworks tucked under my arm. I stopped at a trough of water for the horses and dumped the fireworks inside it.
The stable doors were flung wide open, and inside, chaos reigned. Ranger was pacing nervously in his stall, while Tater Tot was munching on hay like it was just another night. Several empty stalls told me Reid and Enzo had already moved some of the horses to the pasture for safety.
Reid stood in Junebug’s stall, one hand on her neck, speaking softly to her. The horse’s eyes were still wild, nostrils flared, but she wasn’t thrashing. Enzo moved methodically from stall to stall, checking legs and flanks for injuries. His jaw was set in that way that meant he was barely containing his rage.
“I handled the guests with the fireworks. Confiscated their stash and told them they have an hour to leave.” I tossed my hat onto a hook and rolled up my sleeves. “Need me to lead any more out to a pasture?”
Enzo glanced up, his expression hard. “Already moved the worst ones. Calypso nearly kicked through her stall door.”
“Any injuries?” I scanned the stalls, mentally tallying which horses remained inside.
“Nothing serious. A few scrapes from the ones that panicked initially. We’ll document and inform the owners if they aren’t ours.” Enzo ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end.
“Where’s Quinn?” The question hit me suddenly as I realized she wasn’t among us.
Reid’s hands paused momentarily on Junebug’s neck. “We sent her to check on the goats and chickens. Figured it was safer than having her in here with panicking horses.”
“When?” My pulse quickened.
“About ten minutes ago.” Enzo frowned, straightening up from where he’d been examining a horse’s legs. “She should have been back by now.”
I didn’t wait to hear more. I spun and sprinted toward the barn, gravel flying beneath my boots. The night air felt suddenly thick, making it hard to breathe.
Quinn was new to all this and didn’t know how to handle animals that were spooked. What if one of them had hurt her in their panic? What if she’d gotten kicked by Debra?
The barn door stood partially open, a slice of yellow light spilling out onto the ground. I slipped inside, my eyes scanning for her.
“Quinn?” I moved deeper into the barn.
In the goat enclosure, Jack and Chip stood together in a corner, unusually subdued. Maple lay in the straw next to them, chewing placidly as if explosions in the sky were an everyday occurrence. Surprisingly, Butters was drinking water in the opposite corner.
But Pancake was missing. The gate was slightly ajar, no doubt from Butters.
I turned toward Debra’s stall, finding it empty. I tested the door, and it opened to reveal it had been kicked where the latch was.
Damn it.
“Quinn!” I moved faster now, checking every corner of the barn until I got to the other door.
As I stepped outside, I turned on the flashlight on my phone and headed for the gate. I scanned the pasture beyond, the flashlight beam sweeping the tree line.
That’s when I saw her crouched near the far fence, crouched over what I assumed was Pancake. Debra paced nearby, her ears twitching and her tail flicking with agitation.
I exhaled hard and cut across the pasture, the light of my flashlight bouncing wildly over the uneven ground. My lungs burned with each breath, not from exertion but from the knot of worry lodged firmly in my chest.
“Quinn!”
She looked up at the sound of my voice, her face a perfect blend of relief and frustration in the harsh glow of my phone light. Pancake was half-wedged under the bottom rail of the fence, her little body trembling. Debra paced in tight circles nearby, braying occasionally as if she were personally offended by this entire situation.
Quinn’s shoulders sagged. “Debra kicked her stall door and tore out of there like her tail was on fire. I tried to catch her, but she was on a mission.”
I crouched beside her, our knees bumping in the damp grass.
“When I found her, she was standing over Pancake like she was guarding her. She must have known she was out here.” She gestured to where the tiny goat was wedged. “I was afraid if I pulled too hard, I’d hurt her.”
I ran the light along the fence line, assessing the situation. Pancake had managed to get her head and front legs under, but her little body was too wide to follow. Now she was stuck, bleating pitifully every few seconds.
Debra stamped an impatient hoof, braying loudly enough to make Quinn jump.
