When We Were Us (A Timber Forge Series Book 1), page 14
He lifts a hand and turns to go. “Hey, Hank?” I call as he reaches the driver side of his pickup.
“Yeah?” From across the hood, dark eyebrows come together over expectant hazel eyes as he turns back.
Maybe it's the way he looks at me, or the soul-crushing tenderness with which he held me just now. Or maybe it’s nostalgia for what we used to have. Hell, it could just be a case of temporary insanity. But I don’t want him to leave not knowing how I feel, or how much I appreciate what he did for my granddad, and what he’s continuing to do for me.
I grip the railing in my hands, willing the wobble out of my voice. “You’re a good man.”
His chest expands on a deep inhale, and he nods once. “Thanks, Wren.”
Then he’s gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
wrenley
A loud pounding wrenches me from sleep. A quick check of my phone tells me it’s one-forty in the morning. My heart racing, I lay still for a moment. The pounding stops and then starts again a few seconds later. It registers then that it’s coming from the front porch, but I can’t imagine who would be pounding on my door in the middle of the night.
I slide from my bed, grab the cardigan from the back of my door, and pull it on over my tank top and sleep shorts. Padding down the hall, I pull back the thin curtain covering the window that overlooks the side and partial drive in the front yard, but I can’t see shit from this angle.
The pounding sounds again, making me jump and drop the curtains. I continue down the hall to the stairs. Pausing at the top, I can hear thudding footsteps on the porch. It sounds as if someone is pacing.
More pounding. It’s not frantic, but it is insistent.
I quietly descend the stairs in the dark. I’m having a hard time deciphering the voice on the other side while my heart is thundering in my ears. Making my way on tiptoe to the door, I try to peer through the semi-sheer curtain covering the window in the door without revealing myself.
I can’t make anything out because it’s too dark. I also make a mental note to check the porch light in the morning because I am almost positive that I left it on when I’d gone upstairs to bed. Maybe the bulb went out again?
My blood goes cold when the doorknob jiggles. Thank God I started locking it at night.
More pounding, and then, “Wren!”
I immediately reach out, flick the dead bolt, and wrench open the door to find Hank on the other side, with his hand poised to pound again. His hair is sticking up in the front like he’s been pulling on it. He’s either very drunk, or clearly upset. Given that his truck is parked outside, I’m hoping he isn’t drunk. Though, the alternative isn’t great either.
“Hank? What are you— Is everything ok?” I blink out at him standing there in the dark, sleep still clouding my eyes. The porch light flickers on, then off, and then back on.
I shield my eyes and squint out at him. His eyes have dropped to my body. The way he’s just zoned out, he has to be drunk.
I yank my cardigan closed around myself like a wrap dress, sufficiently cutting off his view of my now-hard nipples. “Are you drunk?”
“What? No,” he finally stammers, running a hand through his hair.
“Then what—”
“It’s Apollo. He’s…something’s wrong. He–he won’t stand.” He swallows hard. “I mean, he will, but when I leave his side, he just lays down again. He’s so lethargic.”
“Is Apollo—”
“Sorry, my horse. He’s six. I’m not sure what to do. We’ve had this sort of thing happen before, but—” He shakes his head. “Can you help?”
Without hesitation, I nod. “Of course.” I swing open the screen door and he steps inside. “I’ll get dressed. You can tell me what happened on the way.”
“I didn’t know where else to go, or who else to call,” he says, his voice just above a whisper. “Doc Channing is out of cell service, but Apollo can’t wait until morning.”
I nod and turn for the stairs. “I’ll be quick.”
“All right.”
He watches me go and that’s when it hits me that I don’t have my medical bag, supplies, anything. However, I am one of the best damned veterinarians I know, and I will not let anything happen to Apollo if I can help it.
When I come back downstairs three minutes later, Hank is just hanging up from a phone call.
“That was Penny, Doc’s vet tech, but she’s just starting out. She doesn’t—” He swallows. “You have to help him.”
Crossing to the living room, I pull open a box of items I cleared from my granddad’s end table. I quickly locate the bag with a blood pressure cuff and stethoscope. Unzipping the bag, I pull out and loop the stethoscope around my neck, and then move back to the foyer. Grabbing my keys and my bag off the hook by the door, I shove my feet into my shoes.
I throw him a determined look and nod. “Let’s go.”
“Penny said she’ll meet us at the ranch. Said to call her and she’ll bring whatever you need.” He hands me his cell as we clamber into the truck.
He cranks the engine and pulls out from the circular dive.
“Can you tell me what happened?” If he can give me a quick rundown, I will have a better idea of what to have her bring to the ranch.
“I didn't get a chance to ride this morning, so I went out after dinner. He’d been out all day, but one of the guys had put him back in his stall to eat. When I went in at eight, his hay hadn’t been touched and he was laying down. He wouldn’t move. Took five or six minutes to coax him up.
“I could tell something was off, so I took him out to the ring to work him a bit, but he kept biting at his sides. I thought maybe the halter was too tight, so I did a few adjustments.” He glances at me, and I nod, encouraging him to give me all the information he has.
“Normally he’s a pretty chill guy. So, when he started pawing the ground, I got suspicious. I’d only walked him around the ring three times, but he was breathing so hard. Then, he just laid back down and started rolling around. I can tell he’s uncomfortable. It took me twenty minutes to get him back up. I’ve got one of my guys keeping him walking around the ring.”
I hit the call button and press Hank’s phone to my ear, waiting for Penny to pick up. “How about his gums? Did you happen to see what color they were?”
“No.” Hank shakes head. “We’ve had this kind of thing happen before, but it’s never been this bad. And never with Apollo.” His grip tightens on the steering wheel, and I nod.
Penny answers on the second ring. She’s calm, professional. I’m pretty sure I know what is wrong with Apollo. I’ve dealt with colicky horses hundreds of times, so I’m confident in my abilities. I just hope we’re not too late.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
hank
When I was a kid, one of the work horses came down with colic. I remember my mom saying Hayley was a pretty colicky baby, too. I had experience with it. It wasn’t like I didn’t know what it was, or what to expect. Hell, I’d even known to walk Apollo around, and to try to keep him moving so he could hopefully pass whatever was making him uncomfortable.
I was pretty confident that was exactly what was going on at the time, but the worse he got, the more my gut told me it was something more serious. Now, the more Wren talks, and the more questions she asks Penny, the more I realize Apollo could be in real danger.
As I listen to Wren talking to Penny, I hear words like enterolith, strangulation, and intestinal volvulus.
“Have you been able to reach Dr. Callahan?” She’s got my phone clamped between her shoulder and ear as she taps something into an app on her own cell phone. She scrolls, taps, scrolls furiously, and then nods at something Penny says on the other end.
“I don’t have anything but a stethoscope and whatever is at the ranch. As soon as I get there, I’ll check his vitals. At the very least, let's start with some Banamine or ketoprofen. Once I have a better idea of what’s going on, I’ll call you back.”
“We keep a cupboard stocked with basic medical supplies for the animals,” I tell her.
She glances quickly at me and nods, then looks out her window. She lowers her voice, and when she says the next words, I know it’s entirely for my benefit. “I doubt it will come to it, but while you wait, please prepare for exploratory celiotomy.”
She nods and thanks Penny before quietly clicking my phone shut and sitting it on her knee. She continues to click and scroll through something on her phone, but I can’t get a close enough look at it because I need to focus on the road.
The main ranch and stables are literally neighbors to Wren’s place. The ride takes all of five minutes, but it seems like we’re driving in slow motion.
By the time we pull up outside the stables and make it into the adjacent indoor ring, it feels like an eternity. I’m suddenly wishing for the semi-darkness of the moonlit night because I’m sure my distress is showing on my face, but I can’t seem to think about anything but fixing what is wrong with Apollo.
Jack has Apollo moving at a pretty good clip, his boots pounding the dirt as he moves in a wide circle. The ends of his hair and the neck of his shirt are damp with sweat. He’s been at this for, what? Thirty, forty minutes?
I wave him over and take the lead rope from him as he and Apollo stop in front of us.
“Thanks, Jack.”
“No problem, boss. I’ll just grab some water and hang around in case you need any more help.” Jack takes off at a jog across the arena, headed for the bunk house.
Wren steps up to Apollo, running her hand over his muzzle and up over his forehead.
“Hey, big guy,” she murmurs low, running her hands down his neck and over his back. She bends as she uses one hand to put her stethoscope into her ears. “Let’s see if we can’t get you fixed up, ok?”
Moving slowly, she moves down his body, probing with her fingers. “Good boy, Apollo,” she breathes as she presses the drum of her stethoscope to his belly.
She listens intently, her brown eyes fixed on Apollo’s dark brown coat. She moves the stethoscope around several times and then straightens. Moving to his chest, she does the same thing there.
Removing the tips of the stethoscope from her ears, she loops it around her neck and then pats his neck. Sliding her hands around to his mouth, she slips her thumb expertly between Apollo’s lips to expose his teeth and gums. Using the pad of her thumb, she presses lightly for a second or two and then removes it. She moves up his neck again and pinches a bit of his skin, keeping her eyes focused on the area. Moving to his rear end, she gingerly lifts his tail.
As she does, she says, “Hank, let Penny know we’re on the way with Apollo.”
To Jack, I nod, and we both jump into action, moving as quickly as Apollo will allow. Jack takes off at a jog again, leaving the ring to hitch a trailer. While Wren and I walk Apollo outside, I bring up Penny’s number and hand the phone to her.
She holds Apollo’s lead while Jack and I finish hitching up the small horse trailer. Once we’re finished, I lead him inside. We climb into the truck, and I try like hell to drive the fifteen minutes to the clinic as carefully as possible, while still getting us there as quickly as I can.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
wrenley
Two and a half hours later, Apollo is out of surgery and stable. It was a pretty standard case, and there were no complications, but I would be lying if I said that it didn’t feel like one of the most important surgeries of my life.
I pull off my blue surgical gloves and toss them, rolling my neck on my shoulders. Penny moves around the surgical suite, picking up and discarding used gauze, instruments, and soiled linens.
I’m immensely grateful for her help. Volvulus surgery is typically performed with two qualified veterinary surgeons. Since that was a luxury we didn’t have, I had to rely on her more than I would have liked.
It is a lot of pressure for anyone, but for a vet tech just starting her internship, it could have spelled disaster. But she’d been cool and collected through the entire process, skillfully performing every task I required of her. Even better, actually, than my own vet tech would have. I’m completely impressed by her, and I tell her as much.
“You did a great job, Penny. Thank you for your help,” I say as I check Apollo’s vitals one last time.
I am sure Hank is on pins and needles waiting for word of how it went. However, I want her to know how valuable she was to me, and how much I appreciate her quick thinking and knowledge of procedure.
“You were amazing, Wren. It was my pleasure,” she says with a grin.
I thank her and turn, opening the door to the surgical suite. I step out into the hall, and I suddenly feel exhausted. The initial adrenaline that coursed through my veins the second I knew I would have to perform surgery on Hank’s beloved horse—mixed with the very real possibility that we could lose him—has dispersed and left me feeling drained.
Leaning against the wall, I take a few steadying breaths. In through my nose, and out through my mouth. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I stand and push through the doorway to the waiting room.
Hank is seated in one of the hardback chairs, with elbows on his knees that are splayed wide and his head in his hands. His head jerks up when the door opens, and his features are a study in worry. He searches my face as I cross the distance to him, and he climbs to his feet. Jack sits next to him, watching me closely.
“How is he?” His voice is hoarse and gravelly. He’s standing rigid, with every muscle in his large form tense and unyielding.
“He’s ok, Hank. He’s still sleeping, but the surgery went well.”
The visible relief that sweeps through his body when he hears the words is undeniable. His shoulders drop, his fists unclench, and he lets out a long, slow breath. “Can I see him?” he asks, his voice tight with emotion.
I nod and motion to the chairs. “Let’s give Penny a few minutes to wake him, and then I’ll take you back.”
He turns and takes the chair he vacated, resuming the same position I found him in only moments before. Jack claps him on the back and stands, heading outside.
Hank looks over at me expectantly as I sit next to him.
“Apollo had a severely twisted large intestine.” As I speak, Hank drops his gaze to the floor between his boots. “Thankfully, we caught it in time, and I only needed to take a small section of the bowel. You did the right thing by coming to get me when you did. If you had waited until morning, it could have been a very different outcome.”
I have the sudden urge to take his face in my hands and force him to look at me. I need him to know that while I may have done the surgery, if Hank had not been quick to come get me, things could potentially have been much, much worse. But I keep my hands in my lap and press my fingers into my palms to keep from touching him, forcing my voice to stay steady. He’s got enough to worry about without adding my bullshit impulses, too.
He nods but doesn’t say anything.
“Do you have any questions?”
He shakes his head and blows out a breath. Leaning back against his chair, he scrubs a hand down his face.
“He’ll be ok?”
“He’ll need IV fluids for the next twelve to sixteen hours. I’m not sure of Dr. Callahan’s discharge procedure, but if all goes well, you should be able to take him home in a week or so.”
He just nods, so I continue. “He has a pretty large incision, which I’ve closed with surgical staples, and I’ve applied a tension bandage to his abdomen to help support his muscles. It’ll be a slow recovery. He’ll need stall rest for a couple of months, and at some point, he’ll need his staples removed. You’ll need to keep a bed of clean straw for him, and he’ll need close monitoring of his temperature and comfort levels for the first while. It’s likely everything will be fine, but he’ll be sent home with antibiotics and an anti-inflammatory, just to be safe.”
He continues to stare at the floor, so I decide to give him a few minutes alone. I stand and he tracks my movement. His eyes take in my scrubs and the surgical mask hanging around my neck, but his expression is unreadable.
“I’ll go and check on him, and then let you know when you can see him.”
I’m across the room when his voice stops me. “Wren?”
“Yes?” I ask, stopping in the doorway and turning back.
There’s a long pause before he lifts his eyes back to mine. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
Three hours later, Hank and I are alone in the clinic as the sun comes up. After we’d moved Apollo to a recovery stall, I sent Penny home. She could barely keep her eyes open, and I couldn’t leave Apollo alone. So, I’d assured her I was fine waiting until Dr. Callahan was back.
We’d finally been able to get in touch with him, and he is currently en route to the clinic from Joliet, where he had been doing vaccinations at a large horse ranch. He had been gracious, understanding, and even grateful that I—a virtual outsider—had taken over his clinic to perform a lifesaving surgery on Hank’s horse.
We’ve made ourselves at home on the floor of Apollo’s stall, with our backs against one wall. Two empty coffee cups and an empty Honey Buns package sit between us as I scroll on my phone and Hank sits. He’s running his hands over his horse, and occasionally talking to him in a soft voice.
The way we’re sitting so close, it’s hard not to take in every bit of Hank. He’s so big, I’m surprised he’s comfortable leaning against the wall, especially with Apollo taking up most of the space. He doesn’t seem to mind though. His long legs are stretched out next to mine, and I look over at him as he leans his head back and closes his eyes.
“You ok?” I ask, setting my phone down and turning to look at him. I want to take his hand, but I don’t. I’m sure it's just the stress of everything that has me longing to comfort him. At least, that's what I'm trying to convince myself of.
