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Hunter lifted the horse’s lips to examine the gums and he breathed out heavily. Shit. They were supposed to be a salmon pink.
Beauty’s were a dark red. Isobel’s head swung toward Hunter, eyes wide with fear.
If a horse’s gums turned all the way purple, it meant the impaction in the gut was cutting off so much blood flow to the intestines that they shut down. At that point, the horse’s death was likely imminent within fifteen to thirty minutes.
“We have to get her to surgery.” Isobel’s face went white as she backed up quickly, banging into the stall door. She barely seemed to notice. Her hands went to her hair and she spun around. “Oh my God. The trailer. We’ve got to get the horse trailer. It’s not hooked up to anything. But if I go get the guys, they can help and then we can—”
“Isobel.” Hunter ushered her out the stall door and then he put a hand on her arm. She was so emotionally involved but they had to be realistic. And safe.
“I’m not sure that’s the best idea. I don’t have the set up for large animal surgery at my clinic. I contract out with the large animal hospital in Casper when I need to. But Casper’s an hour and a half away on a good day.” He gestured out the open stable door to where it was still coming down in buckets. “With the storm.” He shook his head. “I don’t like hauling a horse trailer in weather like this.”
Isobel’s features went livid and she threw his arms off her. “We have to try. She’ll die if we don’t do anything. I’ll pay for everything, I don’t care how much it costs.”
“That’s not what I—” He’d pay for it if it came down to that.
“You’re wasting time Beauty doesn’t have arguing about nothing.” Isobel turned and stalked off into the rain.
Hunter threw up his hands. Goddamned infuriating woman.
He jogged through the rain to catch up to her, his boots squelching into deep mud with every step.
Chapter 15
ISOBEL
“Can’t this thing go any faster?” Isobel leaned over to glare at the speedometer. “Forty-five miles an hour? Seriously?” She glanced out the narrow back window at the trailer they were pulling behind them.
Please let Beauty be okay.
Hunter didn’t look her direction but she saw his jaw clench. “Don’t push it.”
He’d been grouchy ever since she refused to stay behind at the ranch while he rode off with Beauty in the trailer.
She shook her head. What the hell had he been thinking? He’d barely been willing to do the surgery in the first place. Like hell she was going to let him go off alone with her horse.
She bit her lip. Okay, that wasn’t fair. She trusted Hunter’s skills when it came to his veterinary practice. But still.
She’d had to threaten to drive behind him in her own car before he relented, his jaw tight. Between the boys bringing the trailer around, getting it hitched to Hunter’s truck, and getting the distressed Beauty into the trailer, almost forty-five minutes had passed, just at the ranch alone.
If Isobel was honest with herself, though, she knew it wasn’t him she was angry with. How had she not seen Beauty was sick earlier? And then she hadn’t called him right when she finally realized there was a problem. And God, if she’d only checked Beauty’s gums right away…
Her eyes pricked and she blinked rapidly. She would not cry. Beauty was going to be fine. She was going to have the life she deserved. A life full of long afternoons grazing in the fields under the wide, blue Wyoming sky.
Isobel glared out the windshield at the unrelenting downpour. The truck’s windshield wipers were on their highest settings and rain still poured down the glass. There weren’t many other cars out on the small rural highway—they’d even seen a couple pulled off the road, like they were waiting for the rain to slow down before continuing.
If only today was one of those ideal Wyoming days. For Christ’s sake, almost every day she’d been there had been clear weather. Then the one day Beauty got sick and they needed to get somewhere fast—
Three low beeps sounded over the radio. Hunter rolled the dial up—he’d had it on his normal country station, but it had been so low she’d barely heard the music playing. The robotic announcer’s voice came through loud and clear, though.
“The national weather service has issued a tornado warning for Natrona and Carbon counties from 7:00 pm until 8:15 pm. A severe thunderstorm capable of producing a tornado was located ten miles south of Bessemer Bend at 6:55, moving southeast at thirty-five mph. Radar indicated rotation.”
“Shit,” Hunter said, turning the knob so the radio was louder.
“Impact: Flying debris will be dangerous to those caught without shelter. Mobile homes will be damaged or destroyed. Damage to roofs, windows, and vehicl
es will occur. Tree damage—”
“Isn’t that a little dramatic?” Isobel scoffed. “They just say this every time there’s a bad storm.”
