was wearing odd-patterned jeans because of their light-dark patchiness. But the young vet walked stiffly and when he got closer, Sam noticed his jeans were coated in dry mud, some of which had flaked off, and his blue eyes looked red-rimmed and rabbity behind his glasses.
âIt appears to me youâve had a tough day already, Glen,â Mrs. Allen teased, but Dr. Scott wasnât in a joking mood.
âIrrigation system went haywire over in the pasture near Claraâs coffee shop. I noticed it last night on my way home because a blue roan colt had got himself stuck and half drowned. He was weak as a new-hatched chick. Each time I tried to let go of him and get back to my truck to radio for help, heâd fall flat down and his nostrils would fill up with mud. I knew heâd drown if I left him. So when the Slocum girl drove past at about two A.M . and her headlights hit us, I flagged her down.â
Sam couldnât imagine high-fashion Rachel picking her way across a boggy field to help the veterinarian and a colt. She guessed she should stop always thinking the worst of Rachel.
âShe didnât come too close,â Dr. Scott went on,âjust pulled to the side of the road and listened to me shout, but she promisedâabsolutely sworeâsheâd send someone.â
Held there by the vetâs story, even though heâd stretched his Achilles tendons in preparation for running home, Jake crossed his arms and grunted as if he knew what was coming next.
âAnd she didnât?â Sam asked.
âSure she did,â the vet snarled, âjust an hour ago, after the colt had already revived and Iâd slogged back to my truck to hear a message from yesterday that IââDr. Scottâs voice grew louder with each wordââin my capacity as an inspector for the Humane Societyâwas supposed to pay a visit to Blind Faith Mustang Sanctuary on an abuse complaint!â
Jake had tried to slip away unnoticed, but they all turned at the sound of his running shoes hitting the sandy soil as he jogged toward home. He gave a vague wave. Sam could tell he was glad to escape what was coming next.
âAn abuse complaint.â Mrs. Allen pronounced the syllables as if she could hardly stand them on her tongue. âWell, you neednât have bothered.â
âTrudy, I didnât have a choice,â Dr. Scott said, flatly. âEven if I wanted to draw my own conclusions without driving out here, I couldnât. A rural vet just starting out is glad for extra contracts like I have with BLM and the Humane Society. I take theextra training, do the extra work, and bank the salaries. That means I can take time to do a few things for freeâlike care forâ¦â The vet snapped his fingers twice, as if the animalâs name would magically come to him. âWhat did your grandson name our favorite mustang?â
âFirefly,â Mrs. Allen said, and her affection for the bay colt with the white patch over his eye showed in her smile.
âRight,â he said. Dr. Scott looked satisfied and relaxed, then his jaw dropped and his eyes closed in a yawn.
Dr. Scott had lavished weeks of care on the burned and traumatized colt and Firefly had responded to the kindness by bonding with Mrs. Allenâs grandson and helping him pass through the bitterness that followed his terrible injury.
But Dr. Scottâs enjoyment of the memory lasted only a few seconds.
âSo, Iâve got this complaint of abuse and neglect, and I need to take a quick walk around now. All your horses are in that pen and the pasture, right?â Dr. Scott asked.
Mrs. Allen gave a wooden nod. Sam wondered if Mrs. Allen was insulted, or covering for the hidden horse which wasnât, technically, hers.
âAce is in with Judge, andââ
The vet made a curt gesture to cut off her explanation.
âI saw him. I noticed most of the wild horses areclose in, on this end of