Page 13 of Saddles and Snowstorms
“Doc Walsh?” he said, holding out a hand to shake.
“That’s me,” I replied, shaking his hand. “You can just call me Rowan though.”
“Beau Turner,” he replied, his voice filled with concern. “Willow is back this way.”
“Is she really bad?” I asked, suddenly worried by how serious he seemed.
“She’s been pacin’ all day and biting at herself. And her belly looks distended.” I had to practically jog to keep up with him. “She’s my best horse, my best friend really. I can’t bear to lose her.”
“It’s alright,” I replied, trying to reassure him as best I could. Ranchers sure did get awfully attached to their horses. “I’ll do everything I can for her, don’t worry.”
“Appreciate that, Doc.”
I followed Beau into the barn, the familiar scent of hay, leather, and horses washing over me. Despite my city upbringing, I’d grown to love that smell during vet school. It meant honest work and animals that needed my help.
The barn was immaculate—polished wood stalls with brass nameplates, concrete floors swept clean. Everything about the Turner Ranch spoke of generations of care and pride. Not to mention a little bit of new shine to make the guests feel like they were getting their money’s worth. In fact, a couple of them were wandering around the barn as we came in, their heads turning in our direction.
“She’s down here,” Beau said, his voice tight with worry as he led me to a large corner stall.
Inside was a beautiful chestnut mare with a white blaze on her forehead, her coat gleaming even in the dim barn light. She was pacing restlessly, stopping occasionally to look back at her flanks, her ears pinned back in discomfort.
“Hey there, beautiful,” I said softly, setting my bag down outside the stall. “Mind if I come in and take a look at you?”
Beau opened the stall door, and I slipped inside, moving slowly toavoid startling the horse. Up close, I could see the sweat darkening her neck and flanks. Definitely colic. The question was what kind and how severe.
“How long has she been like this?” I asked, pulling out my stethoscope.
“Since—” Beau began.
Another voice cut in, this one distinctly un-Texan. “Probably since two days ago when you left that whole damn case of Oreos on the table.”
I looked up to see a brown-haired man marching my way. He had a cowboy hat on too, although it looked pretty immaculate for someone who did a lot of cattle work. His clothes were clean too and nicely pressed. Judging by his accent and the way he carried himself, he was much more a businessman than a cowboy.
“Oreos?” I asked, looking up at Beau.
He went from looking worried to ashamed almost instantly.
“That’s right,” the other man said, stepping up beside Beau and burning him a dirty look. “We had an entire family pack of them on the table and this fuckin’ troublemaker,” he said, pointing up at the horse. “Ate every goddamn one and half the container along with it. She hasn’t sat still since.”
I could help but smile at the way this man was glaring down Beau. For all the macho cowboy charisma he exuded, he backed right down under the gaze of the newcomer.
“Well, that would explain the colic,” I nodded. “But I’ll do a full exam just to make sure.”
“I didn’t mean to, Doc,” Beau said weakly. “I just… forgot they were there.”
The other man gave him a nudge. “Maybe next time you wanna go romp in the shrubs you’ll pack up your stuff first.”
Thatcaught my attention. I glanced up again to see both of them grinning at one another sheepishly. Beau was bright red though, looking more embarrassed than the other. Did they mean what I thought they meant? I supposed it wasn’t my business, but my curiosity was piqued.
“So,” I said, pressing the stethoscope to the horses side. “Are you two the owners?”
“This is my family’s place,” Beau nodded. Then he glanced up at the other man. “And this… this is…” He paused for a moment, waiting for some sort of signal.
“Go on,” the other said, giving him an encouraging smile.
“This is Lucas Greene,” he said at last. “My fiancé.”
My stethoscope fell away from the horse’s side. “Your… fiancé?”
