“Okay,” she said, easing the first stall open before turning around. “Was it the front ankles?”
“Yes,” he said, and she ran a hand soothingly down Sage’s delicate leg as she lifted up one of the front hooves and moved it gently.
Sage neighed in protest, and my heart went out to the mare for the obvious pain she was in.
“Shhh, girl,” she said, her voice toned low as she continued to soothe the horse with the t-touch method. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” She turned back to Austin, her eyes steady. “How have you been exercising them?”
“We run them around the paddock most days,” he said. “Some of them get jumped, but both Rosie and Sage have been reluctant lately. I noticed that Rosie was favoring her right leg a little ways back, but initially I thought it might just have been a strained muscles, since she didn’t have an obvious abscess or anything.”
“That makes sense,” she said, moving out of the stall carefully before heading over to Rosie’s stall to examine her feet. “I can’t think of any owners that jump straight to laminitis at the first sight of some limping.”
She did a little more examining, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her as she murmured sweetly to Rosie. Her head bent forward as she concentrated on her work, and I couldn’t help studying the way her face moved as she thought through next steps. I felt myself getting more and more impressed by the moment as I heard the questions she asked.
“Okay,” she said, standing up and turning back around to look at the two of us. “Is there anything that I can give them as a treat?”
Austin picked up the little pail of apples that we kept on hand, and she fed one to each of them. “So, the good news is that we’ve caught the founder very early on, so we should be able to reverse it if we take immediate action.”
We both nodded. “Okay,” Austin said, and I could tell that he was a little bit aggravated by the explanation. “So, what would you suggest?”
“There’s an anti-inflammatory that I can prescribe to the two of them. It comes in a powder form that you can mix into their feed, and it doesn’t change the taste. I’d advise against mixing it with their water, though.”
Austin nodded. “Is there anything else we need to do?”
“Actually,” she said, walking back over to me, “I brought these new foam supports for the two of them. They’ve been proven very successful with a lot of the ranch owners I’ve seen in reversing founder, and it’ll help their ankles maintain the correct position while the anti-inflammatories can work.”
Austin bit down on his lip, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know if those supports are necessary,” he said. “They seem like they’re going to be obstructive.”
She blinked at him once, and then again.
“Doc’s always used heel wedges with our horses when founder comes up, and it’s worked well. I just don’t understand why we’d need to change something that seems to work.”
She nodded, holding his gaze steadily, and I had to hide my smile as I saw the way her weighty gaze began to make him squirm, just a little.
“Heel wedges are a great way to go, but sometimes more freedom of movement can do more harm than good when it comes to these ankle issues,” she said, “especially when their connective tissue is at risk. Given Sage and Rosie’s ages, it’s going to be best to keep them as still as possible for the next few weeks. I promise that you’ll be happy when you see how quickly they recover.”
I had to turn away from the two of them at that as I saw Austin’s eyes practically bug out of his head. Austin was one of the most stubborn people I’d ever met, and sometimes, putting him in his place was one of my favorite things to do. So, to see Lucy—petite, shy, nerdy little Lucy—being the one to practically grow a foot in stature due to sheer pride and knowledge in what she did….
My respect and attraction seemed to have multiplied exponentially for her. She was truly something special.
11
LUCY
“You look beautiful, sweetie.”
I looked at my mother from where I was sitting in the back seat, giving her a smile as I tucked a strand of hair around my ear. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Is that a normal thing that you started to do in Utah?” my dad asked, looking at me in the rearview mirror as he carefully maneuvered the streets toward the Kents’ ranch.
“What?” I asked, raising my eyebrow at him.
“Matching your sweaters to your makeup,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before, so I just figured I’d ask about it.”
I rolled my eyes at him, checking the office schedule that I was able to access through my phone. “No, Dad, it’s not a Utah thing.”