Her Cowboy Boss. Arlene James

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       Chapter Three

      As tired as he was, Stark had a difficult time dropping off to sleep between the hourly alarms set on his phone. He’d been too long without rest and knew his judgment would be impaired without it, but he couldn’t get Meredith Billings out of his mind. If she’d been male or fifty or as ugly as a mud fence, he’d have hired her with gratitude last night, but he had no room in his life, such as it was, for a pretty little thing like her.

      No, the last thing he needed underfoot was an attractive female like Meri. He couldn’t afford to take a chance that one or the other of them might form an attachment. After losing Cathy, he was never going there again. He’d never survive a second loss like that. Truthfully, he hadn’t really survived the first one. All that was left of him was an empty husk and the work. He tried to concentrate on the latter and ignore everything else.

      The horse seemed unchanged when Stark checked around four in the morning. He considered belting back one of the energy drinks that he lived on but decided against it. Instead, he stretched out on his bedroll again. The next thing he knew a woman’s shrieking voice woke him.

      “Stark! He’s not breathing! Stark!”

      The smell of strong black coffee cut through the odors of the stable, but he didn’t have time to think about it as he all but vaulted the stable gate. Meredith stood at Soldier’s head, her expression one of sheer horror. The horse’s head hung almost to the floor. Only the sling kept the animal upright. Stark grabbed his kit and found his stethoscope. After a quick examination, he was able to think.

      “His heart’s still beating, but I don’t know how long he’s been without oxygen.” Stark began palpating the horse’s windpipe and giving orders. “Quick. I need a trach kit. Right side of the bag. And lay out a sterile sheet. Blue.”

      Kneeling in the stall, Meredith worked swiftly, pulling on gloves and following instructions to the letter while Stark suited up. They had the tube in place in less than two minutes. Immediately Soldier twitched his ears and rasped in air. Holding the tracheotomy tube with one hand, Stark reached up to mop his brow with the other wrist, but Meredith beat him to it, blotting his forehead with a gauze pad. When he looked down, she had the suture kit open. As soon as he picked up the curved needle with the sewing silk threaded through it, she squirted antiseptic around the incision holding the breathing tube. It was as if the woman could read his mind.

      Working quickly, Stark secured the breathing tube, while a lightly sedated Soldier swayed on his hooves, occasionally flicking his ears. Finally, Stark stepped back, satisfied with the work and the result.

      He peeled off his gloves and tore off the coverall, saying grimly, “Get your brother while I clean up.” Shucking her gloves, Meredith dropped them onto the blue plastic sheet. “Meri,” he said, as she edged past him. She paused. It cost him, but he had to say it. “Good work.” She shot him a smile. “That doesn’t mean he’s out of the woods,” he warned.

      Nodding soberly, she took off at a trot. Stark used the stethoscope once more, listening to the faint rattle in Soldier’s lungs.

      By the time Meredith returned to the stable with Rex, Stark had bundled up the detritus from the tracheotomy and deposited it in the trash. He’d also zipped up his kit and performed a more thorough examination of the horse.

      “Swelling in the retropharyngeal lymph nodes.” He showed Rex the bulging on the undersides of the horse’s jaws. “It doesn’t always happen with encephalitis, but it’s not that unusual.”

      “So what do we do now?” Meredith asked worriedly.

      Stark rubbed his chin, rough with three days’ growth of beard. Meredith had been a great help. She’d kept a very cool head during what had been a true emergency and had СКАЧАТЬ