Backlash Tender Trap Aftermath - Lisa Jackson Page 0,151

said, “Not that I know of, but Craig was called over to the Monroe ranch this morning and he’s been at Matt Wilkerson’s this afternoon.”

“What for?”

“I’m not sure,” she said worriedly. “But some of their horses weren’t feeling well.”

Colton clamped his jaw tight. “Looks like there might be an epidemic, although this stallion”—he hooked a thumb at Black Magic—“hasn’t been in contact with any horse other than those on this ranch and those he met while he was gone!” He glared at Cassie for a second before his face slackened as if he’d realized arguing wouldn’t help. He swung his gaze to Curtis. “You said there was another horse with symptoms?”

“Tempest.”

Colton sucked in a swift breath. Tempest wasn’t one of the finest horses on the ranch. In fact he was pretty much mean-tempered and nondescript. For those very reasons he appealed to Colton. In the past few months Tempest had become Colton’s favorite mount. “Great,” he murmured sarcastically. “Let’s check him out.”

Cassie had to run to keep up with Colton’s long strides. His boots sounded on the concrete, and inquisitive dark heads poked from the stalls as Cassie walked quickly to the far end of the stables.

Colton stopped at one box, and Cassie nearly ran into him. She looked into the stall and sighed inwardly. Tempest was sick all right. The sorrel stallion looked listless and weak. His water and feed hadn’t been touched. Cassie guessed his temperature was high, his pulse elevated. She washed her hands, snapped on a new pair of gloves and examined him as she had Black Magic.

“Has he got it, too?” Colton asked.

“Yes.” Wearily Cassie blew a strand of hair from her eyes. These two horses were just the first in the McLean stable to come down with the disease. She found a new needle and a dose of antibiotic, which she gave to Tempest before patting the stallion’s shoulder.

She slipped out of the stall, stripped out of her gloves and reached again into her veterinary bag. Handing a large bottle of antibiotic tablets to Colton, she instructed, “I want Tempest and Black Magic quarantined.”

“How serious is this?” Colton asked.

Cassie didn’t mince words. “It’s serious, but unless either horse develops complications, they should survive.”

“What kind of complications?”

“Pneumonia for starters.”

Colton exhaled heavily. “Pneumonia, huh? Great. Just goddamn great.”

Wishing she could offer him some consolation, she said, “Pneumonia’s just one of the complications, but let’s not worry about that now. Both your stallions are young and strong. The antibiotics usually work. Tempest and Black Magic should make it, but the next few weeks are going to be rough.”

“As long as they pull through.”

“They should—really.” Without thinking, she touched his arm, and the muscles beneath his sleeve flexed. Cassie turned to the foreman. “Are there any other horses with symptoms?”

“Not so far. Len checked the entire herd.”

“Including Tessa’s animals?” she asked, knowing how dear Tessa’s horses were to Colton’s sister-in-law.

Curtis nodded stiffly. “They looked fine.”

“What about any neighboring mares the stallions may have serviced?”

“The first mares were due to arrive next week.” His lips pursed together as if pulled on a drawstring. “I suppose that’s out, right?”

“Absolutely. You have no choice but to cancel.”

Curtis’s old shoulders drooped.

“Now wait a minute,” Colton cut in. “We can’t—”

“You don’t have a choice! You’re lucky only two of your horses are infected!”

“She’s right,” Curtis said, frowning so deeply his face became a mass of lines.

“I’ll have Len clean out their stalls and disinfect everything,” Curtis said as he snapped a lead rope on Tempest. “We’ll stable them in the old foaling shed. Come along.” Curtis clucked his tongue and gently pulled on the lead. Tempest, his head extended rigidly, followed docilely behind.

Colton, leading an equally sluggish Black Magic, opened the door, trailing Curtis toward a weathered older building that was now used only for storage.

Slowly the unhappy caravan made its way across the yard and through two paddock gates to the small building. Inside, the shed was clean and light. While Cassie held the horses, Curtis and Colton swabbed the floor with antiseptic, then quickly spread straw and carried feed and water to the horses. Neither stallion took any notice.

Cassie’s heart went out to the sick animals. Though, if lucky, they would both survive, the disease could disable and scar them. Once the stallions were settled, she said, “I think I’d better look over the rest of your herd.” Mentally crossing her fingers, she silently prayed she’d find no other horse with symptoms.

“You think it’s spread?” Colton’s voice was grim, as if