Page 7 of The Coyote's Veterinarian Omega

I thumped my tail at him, and Wyatt frowned. Cal shifted against the doorframe. “Why don’t you patch him up?” he suggested, and Wyatt whipped around to stare at him, slack-jawed.

“But he’s—it’s just—”

Cal shrugged, meeting my gaze. “If you listen to the way Lam tells it, it’s not like this fella’s hurt anybody. Scared the sheep plenty, but hasn’t hurt ’em.”

Wyatt hesitated. “Just because he hasn’t doesn’t mean he never will,” he said.

Cal tilted his head. “Innocent until proven guilty, yeah?”

Wyatt considered, then turned back to me. “He’d need to recover. Where would I keep him?” He grimaced. “I doubt Vern will want to put up with acoyote…”

“Tell ya what,” Cal said, “how’s about we keep him here? I can corral him in the laundry room or something.”

“Really?” Wyatt asked, his voice rising with hope. He cleared his throat. “I mean …”

Cal laughed. “It’s clear to me you don’t like the thought of putting him down, but you don’t want him to suffer neither.” He shifted his weight off the doorframe. “So come on, let’s get him patched up so he can start recovering.”

Wyatt

Iwas amazed the coyote let me approach him. like i said to cal, the ranch owner, the beast seemed almost tame. he sat on the gravel drive calmly, watching me approach with my outstretched hand. his keen amber gaze was fixed on me, and that was how i knew it was the same creature i’d seen last night. that sense of sapience radiated from the coyote.

Well, that and the bullet wound in its shoulder. Strangely, the fur seemed completely devoid of dried blood, like it had already been washed.

As calm as the coyote was, I knew this was a wild animal. I had to be cautious. “Easy,” I said in a soft voice, making my movements as slow and non-threatening as possible. “That’s a good boy, I’m not going to hurt you.”

If animals could talk, this one would have said,I know that, dumbass.

“This’ll sting a bit,” I said, landing my hand on the beast’s shoulder. Its fur was silky soft under my fingertips, and a shiver ran through me.

I glanced up quickly, trying to judge the creature’s temperament. Normally, wild animals didn’t want to be touched—especially not when they were injured.

Amber eyes met mine, and I could have sworn the coyote was laughing at me.

I dragged myself away from the beast’s gaze, looking at the wound.

The blood was gone and so was the bullet, but that was about where the good news stopped. I grimaced.

Cal noticed, shifting so he was standing straight up in the door behind me. “What’s up, doc?”

I ran my fingers gently over the ragged edge of the wound, watching the wince it elicited from my patient. Still, the coyote didn’t even try to snap at me or run away.

“Looks like the bullet’s gone,” I told him. “But I’d guess that the impact shattered some of the bone.”

“Really? Shit,” he said.

Even the coyote looked dismayed, as though he understood what we were saying. I swallowed. “I should operate, try to pin the shoulder.”

Cal grimaced. “Lucky for this guy you showed up then,” he said, already shuffling out of the door. “What’s our next step?”

I took a shaky breath. “We … need to muzzle him and subdue him.”

The burly blond considered for a second. Then he said, “You got a tranq on you?”

I blinked. He shifted again. “If not, I got some the vet left for the cows—”

“God, no,” I spat, getting to my feet and dusting off my jeans. A large dose like that would kill an animal the size of a coyote. “Igot something.”

I rummaged around in my kit, then came up with a syringe and a dose of tranquilizer. It was, in fact, intended for horses, but Vern had showed me how to dose the sheep, which was closer to the coyote’s size at least.