Free McKettricks of Texas: Austin by Linda Lael Miller Page B

with the effort to breathe, and the look of sorrowing hope in her eyes as she gazed at Austin sent his heart into a slow, backward roll.
    â€œYou’re going to be all right now, Molly,” he promised the mare.
    She nickered, the sound barely audible, then nuzzled him in the shoulder.
    The backs of Austin’s eyes stung. He stood and got out of the way, feeling worse than useless, so Garrett and Tate could get the mare to her feet, a process that involved considerable kindly cajoling and some lifting, too. Molly stumbled a few times crossing the barnyard, and they had to stop twice so she could rest, but finally she made it into her new stall.
    Some of the other horses whinnied in greeting, watching with interest as the mare took her place among them.
    Molly had spent her strength, and she immediately folded into the thick bed of wood shavings covering the stall floor.
    â€œFarley’s on his way,” Garrett said, standing behind Austin in the breezeway, laying a hand on his shoulder.
    Farley Pomeroy was the local large-animal vet; he’d been taking care of McKettrick livestock for some forty-odd years. When their dad, Jim, was ten or twelve, he’d fallen off the hay truck one summer day and splintered the bone in his right forearm so badly that he required surgery. It had been Doc Pomeroy, who happened to be on the ranch at the time, ministering to a sick calf, who treated Jim for shock and rigged up a splint and a sling for the fifty-mile trip to the hospital.
    Austin nodded to let Garrett know he’d heard. If ever a horse had needed Farley’s expert attention, it was this one.
    Tate came out of Molly’s stall, took off his hat.
    Austin realized then that Libby and Paige were standing nearby.
    â€œYou’ll wait for Farley?” Tate asked, meeting Austin’s gaze.
    Once again, Austin nodded. “I’ll wait.”
    He was aware of it when Tate and Garrett and Libby left the barn, aware too, even without looking, that Paige had stayed behind.
    Austin opened the stall door and stepped through it, dropping to one knee beside the little mare.
    He didn’t ask her to do it, but Paige found a bucket, filled it from a nearby faucet, and brought it into the stall. Set it down within Molly’s reach. Austin murmured a thanks without looking back at Paige and steadied the bucket with both hands, so the animal could drink.
    â€œSlow, now,” he told Molly. “Real slow.”
    When she’d emptied the bucket, Paige took it and went back for more water.
    Molly drank thirstily, then rolled onto her side, thrusting her legs out from under her and making both Austin and Paige move quickly to get out of the way.
    Shep peered into the stall from the breezeway, Harry at his side.
    The dogs made such a picture standing there that Austin gave a ragged chuckle and shook his head. Molly didn’t seem frightened of them, but he stroked her neck just to reassure her, told her she was among friends now, and there was no need to worry.
    â€œShall I take them into the house?” Paige asked.
    â€œMight be better if they weren’t underfoot when Doc gets here,” Austin answered, not looking at her. “Thanks.”
    She left the stall and then the barn, and while Harry was cooperative, it took some doing to get Shep to go along with the plan. He wanted to stick around and help out with the horse-tending, it seemed.
    Insisting to himself that it didn’t matter one way or the other, Austin wondered if Paige would come back out to wait with him or stay inside the house.
    She returned within five minutes, handed him an icy bottle of water.
    He thanked her again, unscrewed the top and drank deeply. His back didn’t hurt, but he knew he’d be asking for it if he continued to crouch, so he stood, stretched his legs, finished off the water.
    Paige looked almost like a ranch wife, standing there in that horse stall, her arms folded and her face worried. Maybe it