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Wren’s eyes sparkled. Apparently he found me amusing. He touched my cheek and then let it hand drop as he turned back to the ponies.

“Not much more than what I told you on the phone. The gelding is a little skittish and the filly is feisty, but….” He let out a breath. “I just want to get the paddock up and some shelter. Matigan said he could be here in an hour, hour and a half, depending on how long his current call takes. Like I told Mike when he called, they can quarantine here but I’m not keeping them.”

I fought the laugh that wanted to escape. I draped an arm around his shoulders and kissed the side of his head. “Don’t want to be a pony dad, hm?”

Wren grunted. I did chuckle at that. He elbowed me gently. “I think your dad might want them for his gaggle of grandchildren. If they can be taught manners, of course.”

Given how well they were behaving at the moment, I was certain they could. They definitely weren’t acting feral, which made me think they had a home before this. I looked them over, and I wasn’t as good at quick assessments as Dad or Hawk, but they looked all right. Definitely in need of groceries and hoof care, like Wren said. The gelding had a spot on one hip I hoped was rain rot and not ringworm. All in all, wherever they came from, I didn’t think they’d been wandering for months.

“I asked Mom if she’d heard of anyone missing ponies, because you know she would have, but she hadn’t. Which makes me think they didn’t just escape.”

A storm cloud passed over Wren’s face. “If they were dumped….” He let out a growl that made the filly startle and sprint around to the other side of her mom. Then she rather aggressively shoved her head into the mare’s udder and drank noisily. The mare didn’t even react. “People who do shit like that should be dipped in lye.”

“So bloodthirsty,” I teased.

He glanced up at me with a squint, then let out a snort. “Like you don’t agree.”

I did, and he knew that. Cruelty to animals should be punished the same way abuse of a child should. Anyone who could hurt something or someone defenseless deserved to rot in jail for the rest of their lives. But I didn’t need to voice that, and instead wrapped my arms around Wren, pulling him in front of me. He rested against me, giving me his weight, as we kept an eye on the ponies.

They all had similar markings, and the filly had a blaze that looked a hell of a lot like the gelding’s. Either he’d bred the mare before he’d lost his balls or it was just coincidence. Either was just as likely where horses were concerned. They were all pretty shaggy too, their winter coats having come in, though they were all in need of a good groom.

The sound of diesel engines caught our attention and we turned to watch as first Dad and then Russ pulled in and parked close to my truck. Dad, Hawk, and Ennis exited his truck, and a few seconds later Russ, Luke, and Gemma rounded into view. Ennis was carrying several halters, and since I noted they were pretty small, they must have been ones he used for the foals. Hopefully they could be adjusted to fit the ponies. I wasn’t sure he had one small enough for the filly.

Nyx let out a huff as she stood from her sit and then stealthily crept around the ponies to the other side. The gelding immediately moved closer to us, not wanting the rottie in his space. Nyx slinked forward a few more steps.

“She knows she’s not a herding dog, right?” I asked Wren. He just smirked.

“She’s a good girl.”

With Nyx’s help, it was easy enough to get a halter on the gelding and change out the one that Wren had attempted to adjust for the mare. The issue came when we tried to wrangle the filly, who did not want to be caught. She clearly wasn’t halter trained at all. She squealed fiercely, which made the mare kick up a fuss, even though we’d surrounded all of them and the filly couldn’t escape. I finally got a hold of her and scooped her up, just enough to get her feet off the ground. She kicked out, but didn’t get me, and she probably weighed a good hundred pounds. Even though the other two were looking a little skinny, this baby had certainly been getting enough milk.

Gemma got the halter on her head. It barely fit, just a hair from being too loose, and when I set her back on the ground, Gem straddled her and kept her trapped. With a hold on the halter, the filly began to calm down. My sister was talking sweet to the baby even as she maneuvered her closer to her mom. After a minute or so, Gemma held up a thumbs up.

Dad took charge, which was what he was best at. “Okay, people. Let’s get this pen built. Ennis, Luke, there’s a portable shelter in the bed of my truck, so you get that set up. Gem, you’re on first shift with keeping the ponies occupied. Everybody else, get to hammering.”

It wouldn’t take us long. It was only a fifty-by-fifty-foot space, meant for holding when we rode horses over. We’d all spent plenty of time in our lives building paddocks and replacing boards. The lumber was cut to size and the posts were already in the ground. Once Wren pointed out where he wanted the gate, which was among the supplies, we got to work.

I was inordinately pleased when Wren followed me and we worked together. He held the boards, I swung the hammer, and we quickly got into a rhythm. All around us was the sound of metal on wood and low murmurs of conversation. Russ, for all that he was in his early seventies, was still pretty strong and agile, so he was holding boards for Hawk. Luke and Ennis got the shelter erected quickly and stabilized in one corner before they joined Dad.

I was so in the groove, it took me a good twenty minutes to realize Wren was limping. At first, I thought I imagined it. Then I attributed it to the uneven ground at the spot where we were working. But shortly after that, I knew it wasn’t in my head. My boy was hurt.

I finished with the nail I was pounding in, but before moving to the next post, I took hold of his arm. “Are you limping?”

“No.”

The denial came far too fast and vehemently. Anyone else, he might have fooled, but not me.

“Bird,” I chastised, drawing the nickname out.

“I’m fine. Get hammering, Bodhi Michael.”

“Ooh, you got two-named,” Gemma sing-songed. She’d switched with Russ to give them both a break, plus Russ was a bit of a horse whisperer himself, and he had the filly eating out of his hand. Literally.

I ignored her. “Baby, if you—”

He shut me up with a kiss. It was quick, but hard, and really just the feel of his lips on mine was enough to short-circuit my brain for a second and make me forget what I’d been talking about. Wren looked rather pleased with himself and motioned to the post.

After another few minutes, when we moved again, the limp had gotten worse. This time I stopped completely, turning him away from our audience, and cupping his face. Wren let out a sigh, closed his eyes for a second, and leaned into my touch. After a moment, he opened his eyes, and smiled.