Page 67 of Trickster King

“Good with a caveat. Everything is treatable, and I think we can figure out a pain management plan if we can get him through the next two weeks.”

Well, there went any hope of Eddie having free time again for the next six months. “There you go. He’s your problem now, kid. Gina, I promised he could have the gelding if he could be saved, and doing the work with him is his responsibility. I’m going to stand off to the side, agree to pay the bills, and make sure the other vets know the plan. The brat here is going to have to make all the difficult decisions. He can ask for help if he doesn’t understand what needs to happen or why.”

The vet eyed Eddie, unlocked the stall door, and opened it. The gelding remained in the medical sling, and since the last time I’d seen him, had been casted to make certain the fracture wouldn’t turn to a full break. “All right, Eddie. This poor boy has a spiral fracture of the cannon bone.” Gina pointed at the horse’s foreleg in the appropriate spot for the injury. “A spiral fracture essentially means he hit the ground while in movement with that leg, likely in a twisting motion, and due to his weakened state, the bone broke. He may have been trying to turn or he had bucked. There are a million and one ways the fracture could have happened. While you were out with your father, we took him to the animal hospital down the way, operated, and made certain the fracture was attended to properly.”

Hmph. I turned my glare to Randy, the one man in the RPS who’d dare overstep me on horse care.

My RPS agent smirked.

Reaching out and covering Eddie’s eyes with one hand, I used the other to display my middle finger. “Well played, Randy. Well played. If he didn’t make it, the effort was made, and I wouldn’t have to make the decision.”

“Correct, Your Majesty.”

“The operation was mandatory for him to have any chance of survival,” the vet assured me. “It went better than we anticipated. I figure he’s roughly four years old and his bone development is not quite complete. This is good, as it means his bones may heal a little more than we anticipate solely because he still has a little growing left to do. He’s been broken to saddle, and it was done too early for his breed. He’s a purebred quarter horse. We figure he was broke when he was a year and a half to two, judging from the spinal damage. That has already been corrected. You are not being charged for the spinal work, as the bone menders we called in were already doing harder work on the foreleg break. Because of his poor condition, we opted for more magical than mundane treatments. The infections have been purged, but he will need to be put on some strong antibiotics. His recovery window should be three months.”

I raised a brow at that, as I had expected six months at a minimum for the entire lot of them. Uncovering Eddie’s eyes, I ruffled his hair before asking, “You follow, Eddie?”

“I do. We’ve been talking about early breaking injuries in classes at school. He’s going to be difficult once he’s ready to be trained and ridden.”

“We’ll teach you how to train him,” I promised, pleased the boy understood that abused horses often came packaged with severe behavioral issues.

The vet stepped into the stall and gestured for Eddie to follow her. “All right, kid. Here’s the deal. He’s going to be pretty docile and sleepy for the next few days. We’re keeping him sedated while the nerves heal from the mending work done. He’s going to need hourly care for at least six weeks. Sometimes, it will be as simple as offering him a handful of grain. He won’t be able to eat much at first. Sometimes, he’ll just need reassured. Being in a sling is hard on them, and he’s so weak we’re going to have to take care with his rehabilitation. Every session, you will have to check him for signs of infection. That’s our biggest concern at this point.”

For the next twenty minutes, we endured a rather thorough lecture of every pitfall he might encounter rehabilitating the gelding. Once she finished, Gina herded Eddie out, closed the stall door, and asked, “There is only the matter of giving him a name. We will not be using the name on his papers. This horse is getting a fresh start with a new name.”

“Is his color going to change?”

The vet winced. “Underneath the dust and dirt, he’s a smokey black. We color tested him. We cleaned his leg for the operation, but we didn’t want to get him wet and chilled in his current state.”

I eyed the gelding, who was more of a dingy brown than a black of any type. We hadn’t done much in the way of grooming any of them, and most were in dire need of a bath.

Chilling them in a barn with a known fungus infection begged for more infections—and sicker horses. “Tell me when we can wash them down, and I’ll make sure they’re properly groomed.”

“It’s no problem, Your Majesty,” the vet said, and she offered me a smile. “They’ll be ready to be brushed soon enough, and right now, we’d do more harm than good with their condition as poor as they are. Tomorrow, I’ll call in a favor from a waveweaver and a flameweaver, and we’ll give everybody baths, dry them off, and make sure they stay toasty warm.”

“Eddie, you’re off the hook this afternoon because we need to check the other property, but afterwards, when you aren’t doing your schoolwork or activities you’ve gotten permission to do, you’ll be taking care of your horse. Take your time thinking about his name, and once you’ve decided on something, tell Miss Gina, all right?”

“I can do that!”

“I’m going back to bed. Have fun, don’t pull the barn down around our ears, and I’m issuing a Royal edict: no more bad news for the rest of the day.”

SIXTEEN

I loved when the red tape worked in my favor.

After bagging six hours of extra sleep, I hauled my new bay to the rundown ranch, which had a team of four helicopters in flight overhead. While I saddled my new mare, I rolled my eyes at the excess, excess I would ultimately pay for. “Four, Randy?”

“Senator Padrino is piloting one of them, as he wanted to come visit your rescues personally. He’s got space for more cattle if we need to get these animals off the ranch, and he’s ready to get his transports on the move if needed.”

“That doesn’t explain the other three.”

“RPS training,” Randy admitted. “It was the best use of resources. These training flights needed to happen anyway, and it’s a good exercise. According to the accountants, it cost an extra thousand to bring all three over, and they’re writing it off as they’re doing visual checks of the other properties, which are RPS required.”

Ah, I loved when the red tape worked in my favor. “Have they done their first sweeps yet?”

“They have done six sweeps, and you have a mix of good and bad news.”

“I already banned bad news for today.”

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