Tennessee Vet. Carolyn McSparren

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       CHAPTER THREE

      STEPHEN MACDONALD GLANCED at the pieces of his grille lying on the tarmac of the parking lot. Small price to pay to save this living creature. He now understood what an eagle eye was. The bird had glared at him as though to say, “This is your fault. Fix it!” He was already too involved, as though his life had become intertwined with the eagle’s. He’d been helpless to save Nina, watching her fade away. And he hadn’t been able to heal his own injuries, either. Somehow, he had to help this wounded creature. That was nuts, but it was the way he felt.

      He followed Barbara toward the back door of the clinic.

      He’d managed to hold the eagle’s feet until the doctor had the bird free. He gave thanks for his fancy driving gloves. The thing’s talons looked as long as a grizzly bear’s and twice as sharp.

      The motion-sensor lights stayed on, so they could see where they were walking.

      “Hey,” Dr. Carew called, “I need a hand here. Open the back door of the clinic, turn on the lights on the left, open the door to exam room one and help me get this sucker on the table. Now! Before he kills me.”

      And he thought his daughters were bossy. He hobbled as fast as he could and opened the back door of the clinic, then realized he’d left his cane in the car. He felt for the light switch, found himself in a hall with doors on either side, opened the first one, turned on that light and got out of the vet’s way.

      “I had no idea they were this big,” Stephen said. The eagle wasn’t fighting at the moment. It was, however, dripping blood from a gash in one of its legs—what would have been the drumstick in a turkey.

      “Here, hold him still.” Barbara brought up some sort of plastic mask and stuck the eagle’s beak into it. Amazingly enough, it had not dislodged the towel covering its eyes, so it was lying quietly.

      “These guys are not as tough as you’d think,” Barbara said. “When people talk about bird bones, they aren’t kidding. We need to x-ray that wing and see if anything else is busted. Internal injuries, fractured skull. I’m amazed he made it this long. Come on. Help me carry him to the X-ray room. He’s heavier than he looks.”

      Together, they managed to get the bird situated on the X-ray table. Barbara pulled an X-ray shield over her shoulders and handed one to him.

      “Do we have to wait while you develop the pictures?” Stephen asked as he settled the shield in front of his chest.

      “Comes up on the screen right here. Animals don’t wait while you develop anything. Want to see what you did?”

      “I keep telling you it hit me.”

      “I know. You’re the innocent victim. Hold him down. I have to stretch that wing out far enough to see the bones. We don’t dare let him go. See that?” she said and pointed to the screen. “Looks like a clean break to that left wing. I’m not seeing any other breaks, but that cut on the thigh needs to be cleaned and stitched. He needs antibiotics. Too soon to talk about internal injuries, but I don’t see anything obvious. Maybe a concussion, but apparently not a fractured skull. You, sir—” she nodded to the eagle “—are one lucky bird.”

      “How do you fix the wing?”

      “I’ll straighten it as much as I dare, try to line the bones up, fold it correctly and tape it tight to his body for tonight. Then tomorrow, if he makes it, we’ll see whether he can get by with a splint or whether we’ll need to pin it. Come on, he’s waking up. We need a trifle more happy gas, then we stitch, give him antibiotics, strap that wing in place, put him down in a nice tight cage so he doesn’t flail and worry about him all night.”

      “Isn’t there anything else you can do to stabilize the wing right now? You have the X-rays. Can’t you at least splint it?”

      She glanced at him from under her eyebrows. “Ever hear of swelling, doctor? Birds are notorious for going into shock and dying on you. I’m not about to put more pressure on him until we’re sure he’s going to survive the night. How many eagles have you worked on?”

      “None. But...”

      Barbara turned to him. “I would suggest you say a few earnest prayers he survives, because, if we lose this eagle, you owe the United States a big fat fine for hitting him.” He started to speak, but she held up her hands to forestall him. “Who are you, anyway? And how do you know Emma?”