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“What happened?” Rhys asked as he reached up and Callan gently handed the animal to him.
“Someone cut the fence,” Callan said with a snarl as he dismounted. “Found him hung up in it.”
Rhys felt blood seep into his shirt as he carried the animal into the barn. He guessed the calf weighed less than a hundred pounds, but the slick blood made it difficult to maneuver and he was glad when Callan appeared next to him and tossed a horse blanket on the cement floor of the aisle and helped him gently put the calf down on it. Finn appeared with a cordless phone in his hand. He was pale as he dropped down to the floor next to them.
“How long till he gets here?” Callan asked.
“He’s not coming. His office said he’s booked all day.”
Callan dropped his eyes and Finn crossed his arms as if in pain. “Did you tell them it was an emergency?” Rhys asked in growing irritation as they both just sat there.
“It won’t matter. He won’t come,” Callan said dejectedly. He got up and went back to his horse. He reappeared seconds later, a rifle in his hand.
“No! No fucking way,” Rhys snarled as he picked up the animal.
“Rhys,” Finn said softly.
“Get the truck, Finn,” Rhys ordered. When Finn didn’t move Rhys yelled, “Get the god damn truck!”
Finn shifted his eyes to Callan, but Rhys wasn’t sure if the other man gave his permission or not. Frankly, he didn’t care. He started walking toward the front of the barn. Finn pulled the truck up and Rhys hurried to the bed of the truck. Callan appeared next to him.
“Give him to me,” Callan said. Rhys hesitated, then passed him the calf so he could climb into the bed of the truck. Callan handed the animal back to him, then picked up the rifle from where he’d leaned it against the truck. He gave the gun to Finn and said, “Can you get the herd back and start on the fence? Only a few had crossed it when I found him,” Callan said, motioning to the calf.
Finn nodded and lifted his gaze to Rhys’. Rhys could see the regret in the other man’s eyes, but he forced himself to focus on the too quiet animal in his arms.
Rhys had to admire Callan’s driving skills because they managed to make it to the vet’s office on the outskirts of town within ten minutes, a trip that had taken much longer when Rhys had hitched his way out to the ranch two days ago.
The vet’s office was a ramshackle building with a small shed along the side and some dog kennels in back. There were only a few cars parked in the lot and Callan didn’t hesitate to pull right up to the front door, barely missing a little old lady that came out of the entrance, a small brown dog in her arms.
“Sorry ma’am,” Callan mumbled as he took the calf from Rhys so he could climb out of the bed of the truck. The woman opened her mouth in surprise as he and Callan brushed past her and he guessed that the sight of the calf along with the blood staining Rhys’ shirt weren’t an everyday occurrence.
Rhys opened the door and Callan hurried in, his voice bellowing, “Need some help here.” He’d expected people to jump into action, but he was sorely mistaken. Two patrons sat in the lobby, their eyes widening at the sight. A young woman - a technician Rhys guessed - started to come around to the lobby but the woman behind the desk stopped her with a sharp look, then turned her frosty gaze on Callan.
“Mr. Bale, as I explained to your…associate,” the receptionist said in distaste. “Dr. Sanders is completely booked up.”
Rhys had gone completely still when the woman had referred to Finn that way and the disgust actually had him reaching over the counter towards her when Callan used his body to stop him. “Are you for real?” he snapped at the woman. He glanced at the technician standing next to the woman, but she stood there mutely, her eyes wide and unsure.
Rhys started to go to the side door when it opened and an older man in a white coat stepped out, his thinning, silver hair slicked off to one side. His eyes narrowed when they settled on Callan.
“Is there a problem here, Anita?” he asked the receptionist, though his smug gaze never left Callan’s.
“I’ve informed Mr. Bale that you aren’t available,” the woman said snidely.
“Dr. Sanders,” Rhys said. The man’s haughty gaze settled on him. “As you can see, this animal is badly hurt-”
“Mrs. Parsons, why don’t you come on back?” Dr. Sanders said to one of the women sitting in the lobby, though his eyes remained on Rhys.
“Rhys, let’s go,” Callan said coldly, clearly unsurprised by the reception they were getting.
“Jesus, are you fucking kidding me?” Rhys shouted. “You’d actually let this animal die just to spite someone you don’t like?”
“Rhys!”
Rhys turned to look at Callan, frustrated that he wasn’t doing anything. But then reality set in – what was happening wasn’t new for him or for Finn. They lived this everyday – had been living it for two years.
“Mr. Bale?”
All heads turned to see the old woman from the parking lot standing just inside the doorway, the brown dog cradled lovingly in her withered arms. “You’re Dolly’s nephew, right?” she asked Callan.
