Lois Greiman - [Hope Springs 02] (22 page)

But the mare remained as she was, glassy eyed, barely breathing. Behind her, the foal stumbled back onto his feet, took a tottering step forward, and shambled helplessly into another wall.

Freedom remained completely unaware.

“What now?” Sophie’s tone was small and broken.

“Try the vet again,” Casie said.

She dragged her phone back to her ear. They waited breathlessly as more fluids pumped into the mare’s system.

“Answering service,” a voice responded.

Sophie flashed a hopeful glance to Casie. “I need to speak to Dr. Sarah!”

“I’m sorry.” The voice on the other end of the line was cool and remote. “This is the answering service for Dakota Equine Veterinary Hospital. Dr. Sarah is not available at this time.”

“I need her to call me as soon as possible.”

“Can I get your name and pertinent information?”

“It’s life or death!”

“Please give me—”

But in that second the mare’s eyes blinked closed.

“No,” Casie breathed.

“Freedom!” Sophie rasped, and dropping her phone onto the straw, stroked the mare’s pretty face. “Don’t. Please. Not now. Listen. Things will get better. They will. Don’t give up.” The mare spasmed, head jerking. “Don’t—” she sobbed, but suddenly Emily lurched toward the foal. Squatting awkwardly beside him, she wrapped her arms around his barrel and dragged him toward his mother’s head.

“Emily . . .” Casie began, tears already blurring her vision. “I don’t think—”

“Just help me!” she rasped.

Dropping her hands from the mare, Casie jerked to her feet. The colt was slippery, ears drooping heavily, eyes half closed.

Emily relinquished the foal’s torso. They each grabbed a foreleg and dragged him forward.

“I’m sorry,” Casie said. “I’m so—”

“Farther,” Emily panted. “A little farther.”

They heaved the colt in front of the mare’s unseeing eyes. She remained exactly as she was, thin and broken, flat against the straw, life depleted.

“Wake up!” Emily ordered.

Nothing happened.

“Get up, mare!” Emily said and squatted beside her to slap her neck. The chestnut body remained entirely flaccid.

Emily swore between her teeth. Scooting over to the foal, she swiped her hands across his ribs before slathering the slime on the mare’s nose. “It’s your baby!” she snarled. “Don’t wimp out now. He needs you.”

The world was absolutely quiet, and into that silence, the colt nickered. The sound was as old as the earth, as sweet as life, filled with yearning, and hope, and despair.

And to that sound, Freedom opened her eyes. She blinked once and then her ears shot forward. She answered back. The sound was low and shaky, but in an instant she was scrambling awkwardly to her feet. Casie skittered out of the way, still holding the IV bag. Stumbling forward, Freedom reverently lowered her muzzle to her baby’s damp back.

It was a moment Casie would never forget, a space of time when all was well with the world, when things were as they should be. The mare, unsteady but determined. The foal, even more so, a beautiful dance as old as time as they found each other. There were tottering steps and soft nickers, wide limpid eyes filled with instant adoration and audacious hope.

Eventually, the pair was nestled together in the golden straw. Freedom’s muzzle was resting on her baby’s silky head. He was stretched out on his side, ribs rising and falling, long-lashed eyes closed to the world.

It was then that Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony began playing from the depths of the bedding. Freedom cocked her head in that direction but did little more as Sophie dug through the straw for her lost phone.

“Dr. Sarah?” she said, breathless.

“This is Dakota Equine’s answering service calling back.” The operator’s tone was more than a little snooty. “I’m afraid I need more information than ‘this is life or death.’ ”

“Just have her call me,” Sophie snapped. “Or there’ll be another life on the line.”

“S
o she said, ‘Get your ass in gear, or it might just be
your
death.’ ” Emily stood narrow-eyed near the stove, spatula raised and pointed with deadly accuracy at the milk pitcher. Pancakes bubbled on the skillet behind her.

“I didn’t say that,” Sophie said and shifted her gaze to Ty. He felt its impact like an arrow to his soul. Her cheeks were pink, her lost girl eyes as bright as shooting stars. If she were any more awe-inspiring, the sight of her would tear his heart clean from his chest.

Emily scowled, canted her head for a moment, then turned to flip a pancake and consider the situation anew. “Maybe it was, ‘If she doesn’t call me back, you’ll
wish
you were dead.’ Or—” She paused again, one hip cocked, studying the ceiling as she reconsidered. “Maybe I should be an equine practitioner. I bet they make the big bucks.”

“You’re afraid of horses,” Colt said.

Emily sighed. “It’s a conundrum.”

Colt chuckled. He sat next to Sophie. The three of them were tucked close around the kitchen table. Casie was filling mugs with coffee. The dark aroma was strong enough to taste, whispering of comfort and peace and a world of emotions Ty couldn’t put a name to. The steam wafted lazily into the air, haloing their heads like morning mist. “Way to put the fear of God into someone who has her hands completely tied,” Colt said.

Sophie scowled a little as she took her first sip of coffee. “I thought Freedom was dying.”

“She
was
dying,” Casie said. “She’d given up. Checked out. Then Em dragged her baby up to her.” She shook her head, remembering, and the sight of the pride in her eyes caused goose bumps to pebble up on Ty’s arms. “It was as if an electric current went off. As if the scent of her newborn went straight to her heart.”

“It wasn’t because of me,” Emily said. “You’re the one who pumped two gallons of electrolytes into her.” She turned toward Colt, spatula still in hand. “You should have seen her, shouting orders like the sergeant general. ‘Get the IV, find me a vein, STAT!’ ”

“I didn’t say ‘stat,’ ” Casie said, tone embarrassed.

Ty watched her settle her hips against the counter and self-consciously sip her coffee just as Sophie tasted her own. Two women. They couldn’t be more different, and yet . . .

“Emily butchered the story completely,” Sophie said.

“Are they always that . . .” Linette paused in the doorway. “Spindly?” she asked and skimmed her gaze from one face to the next.

They all turned toward her, conversation interrupted.

“Foals,” their guest explained. “He’s so . . . knobby.”

“Spindly!” Emily sputtered the word as if she had birthed the colt herself. “Knobby? What are you talking about? He’s spectacular.” There was fire in her eye, a threat in her raised hand.

There was a moment of stunned silenced before anyone spoke.

“Let this be a lesson not to cast aspersions on
Em’s
baby,” Casie murmured against the lip of her coffee mug, but the words were easily heard. Colt chuckled and Emily finally grinned.

“And it might be wise to remember who does the cooking around here,” she added.

They did a little salute with their coffee mugs.

“She’s right, though,” Sophie said. “He’s a cutie. At least
I
think so. And he’s strong. He was up in . . .” She snapped her fingers. Her hair swung in rhythm to the motion. Her fingernails were perfectly clean. Ty didn’t understand how that could be. “Thirty seconds. And with the crap . . .” She paused, glanced at Casie, and adjusted her terminology. “Considering his mother’s deprivations, that’s amazing.”

“Yeah,” Emily said. “And he—”

“All right.” Linette laughed, holding up a hand as she slipped into an empty chair. “My apologies. I’ll know better than to slander any of your equine friends in the future.” She glanced up. “So you think they’re doing well?”

Casie shrugged, looking worried. “Seem to be right now. The vet’s supposed to stop in as soon as she can to check on them.”

“How could anyone have treated that mare so heinously?” Linette asked.

“The guy’s psychotic,” Emily said and shivered a little as if disturbed by the thought of him.

They all turned toward her.

“So you’ve met him?” Linette asked.

Casie tensed. Sophie’s eyes went wide, but Emily just flipped a pancake and calmly corrected her mistake. “I don’t have to
see
psycho behavior to recognize its effects,” she said. “Maybe I should be a psychologist. Or a psychic. Or, hey, I could be a judge. They’re still looking for a replacement for that hang-’em-high gal who resigned recently.”

Linette took a sip of coffee, studying her before turning toward Casie.

“I saw you bought the mare a new halter and lead rope.”

“
I
did,” Sophie said. “I didn’t want her to have any memories of her old life.”

Linette nodded. “I think green’s her color. What did you do with the old ones?”

“The old halter?” Sophie scowled.

“Yes. I just . . .” The older woman shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “I’d kind of like a memento of the Lazy.”

“You want a ratty old halter?”

“It’s more the lead I’m interested in,” she said. “It was leather, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Sophie said. “I put it in the trash out back.”

“And you don’t mind if I take it?”

Sophie shook her head, looking bemused.

“Thanks,” Linette said, then smiled her thanks at Emily as the girl slid a trio of pancakes in front of her. “And can I hang around when the vet comes to check out the new arrival?”

“Of course,” Casie said. “You’ll be around the farm?”

“I have a riding lesson, of course,” Linette said. “We’re trying bareback today.”

“That’s—” Casie began, just about to take a sip, then, “What!” Her gaze snapped to Colt.

“Riding bareback,” Linette repeated, then widened her eyes as she chewed. “Em, what is in these pancakes?”

“You like them?”

“They’re fantastic.”

“Bareback?” Casie said.

Colt shrugged, but his expression was sheepish. “What can I say? She’s a prodigy.”

“Aren’t prodigies . . .” Emily shifted her dubious attention to Linette’s lined face.

Silence settled in for a full heartbeat.

Ty shifted his gaze from Em to Linette, nerves already cranking tight. “Taller?” he guessed.

The laughter started with Linette, spread to Emily, then caught on like wildfire.

In the end Ty himself could do nothing but laugh. It felt odd—frightening and soothing and helpless all at once—warming his belly, loosening something in his chest he hadn’t known was tight.

The sounds were just beginning to dissipate when tires crunched on the gravel outside.

Still chuckling, Casie turned toward the door. “That must be Dr. Sarah now,” she said, but Sophie was already on her feet and hurrying around the table.

“I’ve got it,” she said.

“Ask her in for breakfast,” Em said.

“Be nice.” Casie’s voice was very quiet as the girl passed her, but even Ty heard it.

Sophie slashed her glance to his, cheeks pink again. “I hardly ever eat anyone,” she said.

Casie raised her brows in mock fear as Sophie disappeared from sight. The door opened. There was a murmur of voices.

Emily shrugged. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Sometimes death threats are extremely effective.”

Casie grinned and turned her mind back to Linette. “You’ll be careful, right?”

“Careful’s for kids,” she said. “If I’m not going to take risks now, when will I?”

“After you leave the Lazy perfectly healthy and happy?” Casie suggested.

Linette laughed. “I
am
happy, and sometimes that’s all you can hope—”

“Case.” Sophie appeared in the doorway. “There’s someone here for you.”

“What?” She straightened and turned toward the entry.

“It’s not Dr. Sarah?” Emily asked.

Sophie shook her head as she retrieved her coffee mug. “Some guy with a briefcase.”

“A briefcase,” Colt said and chuckled a little as he leaned back in his chair. “He must be lost. Hey, Em . . .” He motioned to his plate. “Someone stole my breakfast.”

“Geez,” she said, building a new pile of pancakes onto a platter. “We could feed a thrashing crew for less than—” But her words stopped abruptly as Casie stepped back into the room. “What’s wrong?”

They turned toward Casie in unison. Her face was pale. There was a manila envelope in her hand.

Colt rose to his feet. All humor had been leached from his face.

Ty felt his gut clench, felt premonition curdle like old milk in his stomach.

“Casie,” Colt said, eyes narrowed as he stepped toward her. “What’s in the envelope?”

“A subpoena.” Her voice was ghostly.

“A subpoena?” Linette glanced from one to the other. “For what?”

“I don’t . . .” Casie glanced down. Her hands looked unsteady. “I can’t even guess.”

“Because you haven’t done anything wrong?” Linette asked. “Or because you can’t narrow it down to a single event?”

Casie laughed. The sound was shaky. She turned her gaze to Colt, and in that second Ty felt that awful knot of jealousy twist tight in his stomach again
. He
wanted to be there for her.
He
wanted to save her. Make her smile. Make her face light up like a spring morning. Instead, he made her life harder at every turn.

“I don’t know . . .” Casie began brokenly, but Colt stopped her.

“It’s going to be all right,” he said. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be all right.”

“But . . .” she began and brought her gaze to Ty’s. There was no accusation there. No animosity whatsoever. And maybe that’s what made the situation unbearable.

Rising woodenly to his feet, he pushed away from the table and escaped.