Backlash Tender Trap Aftermath - Lisa Jackson Page 0,150
Ranch depending upon him to take her home to her father’s house.
“I’d better take my own truck. I’ll meet you there.”
Colton gave her a quick nod and hopped into his rig. Less than a minute later he’d headed out of town.
Cassie followed at a safe distance behind, wondering what could be wrong with Denver’s prize stallion. Worries plagued her. Fever. Fever from what? Infection? Virus? She gnawed on her lower lip as she drove. The McLean Ranch was known for the high-quality care given its stock. Petty jealousies aside, most of the ranchers in the area respected Tessa Kramer McLean’s handling of the horses and cattle. And Denver, since he’d returned, had proved himself a capable, caring rancher.
But both Tessa and Denver were gone—and had been for several weeks. What kind of a rancher was Colton? Hadn’t he sworn to hate everything to do with the ranch? Wasn’t he here only to recuperate?
“Stop it!” she muttered angrily to herself as she flipped on the radio. Obviously Colton cared about the ranch or he wouldn’t have raced to the clinic, looking haggard and worn. Nor would he have assumed the responsibility for the ranch and stock if he hadn’t been prepared to give it his all.
He was already out of his Jeep and talking to Curtis by the time she drove into the yard, which separated the main house from the stables and barns. His arms crossed over his chest, his face drawn, he listened as Curtis talked.
“. . . Afraid so,” Curtis was saying as he puffed on the cigarette dangling from his lips and squinted through the smoke. “Whatever it is must be contagious.” Casting a skeptical glance at Cassie, he added, “I hope you know your stuff.” He tossed his cigarette to the gravel and ground it out with the toe of his boot.
“Contagious?” Her heart sank. “Another horse has symptoms?”
“See for yourself.” Without another word, the wiry ranch foreman led Cassie and Colton into the stallion barn.
The minute she saw Black Magic, Cassie knew Colton’s fears were well-founded. Something was wrong—very wrong.
Gone was the handsome, vital stallion she’d seen only days before. Now Black Magic held his head stiffly; his eyes, once bright, were dull. “Poor baby,” Cassie murmured as she examined him carefully, running her fingers over his body, checking nose, mouth, ears and eyes. His temperature had climbed to 104 degrees, his pulse had elevated significantly, and there was some nasal discharge.
“Well?” Colton asked, frowning as she carefully touched the stallion’s jaw. Her fingers encountered hot swelling over his lymph nodes, and Black Magic tossed back his head, knocking Cassie’s hand away from the abscess.
“It looks like strangles,” she said.
“Strangles? What the hell is that?”
Curtis swore roundly and shook his head. “Distemper.”
“Damn!” Colton pressed his lips together in mute frustration. “He’s got to be isolated immediately.”
“Might already be too late,” Curtis muttered.
“Too late for what?” Colton demanded.
“To protect the other animals. This stuff runs through a stable like wildfire,” Cassie said. “Anything he’s come in contact with could be contaminated. All his feeding and grooming utensils should be disinfected daily in an antiseptic solution. All the straw in his box will have to be burned.” She flipped her bag open, located a hypodermic and bottle of penicillin. “His throat’s sore, so I want him fed warm mashes. And don’t feed him on the ground—use a sterile bucket. Keep him inside for the next couple of days, but make sure he gets plenty of fresh air.” Quickly she injected Black Magic, then reached into her bag again and handed Colton a tube of medication. “Apply this liniment over his abscess so it will mature faster and can be drained.”
Colton stared at the sick stallion. “Isn’t there some vaccine against this sort of thing?”
Cassie nodded thoughtfully. “There is, but it’s controversial. I don’t even use it on our stock. Too many side effects. The best prevention is to avoid exposure.” She glanced down the row of stalls in the stallion barn. “What’s he been in contact with? Any other horses?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” Colton tossed back at her, his eyes narrowing. “No one here knows.”
“But—” she started to argue, then understood.
“Obviously he caught something while he was gone,” he surmised sardonically. “Son of a—”
“You don’t know when he contracted the disease,” she cut in.
“It’s a pretty damned good guess!”
Curtis stepped in before Cassie could answer. “Let’s just calm down,” he suggested, eyeing both Cassie and Colton. “Is this going around?”