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“Of course,” she said.
The man had changed over the past months, and he’d transformed the stables in town along with him. He’d expanded the riding outfit from six to fifteen horses, dramatically increased their standard of living, and overhauled the business’s outreach and marketing. It helped that he had a whole town full of coven businesses foisting horseback rides on every tourist that came through their doors. She’d long since told him he could come home, but Buck had declined. He lived with a few of the shifters from the Blue Ridge pack at the edge of town and had told her he couldn’t take the quiet out here. More likely, he couldn’t take the memories of his former self. She was just glad she’d finally done right by him.
“I thought I’d visit my father,” he said quietly as the mare struggled in front of them.
“You don’t have to ask. He’s under house arrest. He’s not dead.”
Nathan spent his life on his couch watching TV. If he’d shown the slightest hint of remorse, Goldie would have let him out after a month had passed, but he hadn’t changed at all.
“I don’t want to, but I feel like I should.”
“Then don’t,” Goldie said and winced. “Or do and be miserable, you know. You do you.”
“He keeps talking about getting out and taking over.”
Goldie shuddered, knowing he’d probably say that to his dying day, which he would spend locked in that house. She trusted Kathleen’s ward completely. The woman had inadvertently become one of the foremost experts in the world on how to ward a property. But then Buck would report on some new scheme of his father’s, and she was out there walking the perimeter checking for weak spots.
“Shouldn’t we help her?” the woman asked desperately.
“Do you want to run this stable?” Paul asked her.
“No, sir,” Moira said.
His outburst shocked Goldie. Paul had never raised his voice to anyone, but this woman seemed to get under his skin.
In moments, a tiny black foal slipped out without a whisper of protest, and Goldie gasped.
It was covered in slime and looked like some alien species rather than a flesh-and-blood horse.
After a minute, Kathleen whispered, “Get up.”
The baby didn’t heed her and continued to flounder.
“Shouldn’t we help it?” Moira asked.
“Shut up Brennan,” Paul said.
“Get up, baby,” Kathleen repeated.
The foal trembled and teetered to two feet before collapsing just as its mother recovered and got up herself. She began licking it all over, and Goldie swallowed hard. There was a reason she didn’t hang out too often around the harder parts of the job. She’d never developed the stomach for this.
She squinted at the horse as her magic stirred and forgot about wanting to vomit at the miracle of childbirth. Paul had done as she suggested and bred Lady to a nobody horse. Fortunately, that nobody horse had won two huge races in the last six months, finally coming into his legs and making this little number the hottest ticket in town.
But that would mean nothing if it couldn’t walk.
The little horse straightened its back legs and kneeled on its front, and then hesitantly straightened one front leg after the other. It stood trembling like a sapling in a breeze.
“Come on,” Moira said.
Finally, it took its first wobbling steps on legs that seemed to go on for days.
“Yes!” Paul shouted and clapped a hand over his mouth.
It tripped toward its mother, and Goldie held her breath.
“One more thing, little one,” Paul said.
“What thing?” Moira asked, breathless.
