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She strained forward at hearing the agony in his voice.
“He’s been hurt.” Brand dipped his head toward the animal cradled in his arms.
Sybil tucked her notes in her pocket and rushed forward. Five feet away she saw the matted blood on Dawg’s side. “What happened?”
“He figured he could take on a cougar. Dawg ain’t too bright at times.”
“How can you say that? Poor doggie. You were just being brave, weren’t you?” She closed the distance between them and reached to pat the dog’s head, then hesitated, not sure where she could touch him without hurting him.
Dawg whined.
“How bad is he?”
“Bad. I need help with him. You’re the only person he’s ever let touch him except for me. I thought...”
She swallowed hard. “I’ll do what I can to help, but I’ve never done anything with an injured animal.”
“You figure Eddie will let me put him in the barn?”
“Of course he will. You go on ahead. Don’t wait for me. I’ll get there as fast as I can.”
But Brand stayed at her side as she turned toward the ranch buildings. Knowing Dawg needed immediate attention, she lifted her skirts and trotted toward the barn, pushing open the door so Brand could duck his head and ride in.
Slim stood before a workbench in dark pants and a light brown shirt, his hair slicked back, reminding Sybil it was Sunday and people at the ranch were preparing for the church service. “Is Eddie about?” She hadn’t seen him on the way toward the barn.
“Last I seen of him he was taking feed to the pigs.”
Even on Sunday, a day of rest, the animals had to be fed.
Slim’s attention riveted on Brand. “Can I do something for you?”
“Dawg is hurt. If you could let me use a stall to doctor him up, I’d be grateful.”
Slim nodded, but didn’t make a move toward the dog. Like the others on the ranch, he’d learned to keep his distance. “Far pen is clean and empty. Help yourself. I’ll let the boss know.”
“Thanks.”
Sybil followed the horse and rider down the aisle and swung the gate open. Brand slowly dismounted. Dawg growled a protest. “Sorry, old pal, but I gotta do this.” He looked about. “I need the saddle blanket for him.” He nodded toward the blanket still on the horse’s back, beneath a large saddle.
She assumed he meant for her to get it for him, but she had no idea how. “Tell me what to do and I’ll get it.”
“Take off the saddle.”
“I don’t know how.” Surely that was the weakest thing she’d ever said.
“Reach under and undo the cinch.”
Reach under the horse? “He’s big.”
“He’s used to it.”
Ignoring the trembling of her insides, she did as Brand directed. She should have followed Mercy’s example and learned to do these things for herself.
Slim moseyed to the pen. “Here. Let me.”
Gratefully, she stepped back. She couldn’t look at Brand. He’d think her useless. But she’d never ridden a horse unless it had been saddled and brought to her. As she considered the fact now, she vowed she would remedy that as soon as she had a chance.
She grabbed the saddle blanket and arranged it on a mound of hay Slim put out.
Brand gingerly lowered Dawg to the bed and knelt beside him.
Slim shook his head. “That don’t look good.”
Sybil caught her bottom lip between her teeth. It certainly didn’t. Dawg had been torn to pieces. It looked as if clotted blood and matted hair was all that kept him together.
“He’ll survive.” Brand made it sound like an order. “Most of it is only skin deep.”
“I’ll get the supplies.” Slim stepped out and returned in a moment with a box of veterinarian necessities, which he put at Brand’s side.
Dawg bared his teeth and growled.
“Sure ain’t discouraged his bad attitude.” Slim stalked away.
Sybil knelt at Brand’s side, resisted an urge to pat his hand. “What do you need me to do?”
“You want to hold him or stitch him?”
She gasped. “You’re going to sew him together?”
“Got to.” She felt a shudder race up Brand’s body. And this time she followed her instincts and pressed her hand to his arm. Later, she would return to her vow to forget him, to remind herself that he was leaving...that he was the sort of person she should avoid if she didn’t want her heart torn asunder again.
