Page 101 of Spindrift

“Rectalexam?” Emilia offered.

Morganworked through the exam methodically, her face taut with concentration, andEmilia marveled at the steadiness of her own hands against the horse’s flank.Sheep baaed in the distance. Hay and manure mingled in her nostrils, along withthe warm smell of horse. If Olive was badly obstructed, there were steps thatcould be taken. She ran through them, trying to recall her large animalrotations. Olive stood patiently while Morgan probed, and Emilia appreciatedthe steadiness of the animal’s temperament.This isn’t a shelter,sherepeated to herself.We can help her.Ican help her.

“Let’sget her some butorphanol and place a nasogastric tube,” Morgan said when shewithdrew. Emilia noted the grim set to her face and looked over at Olive again.The horse was clearly in severe pain; this was not a case of mild colic.

“Doyou think it’s an impaction?” Emilia asked.

“Ifit is, it’s further up than I can feel. We’ll see how she responds to fluidsand the lubricant. The butorphanol should kick in soon, too.”

Despitethe confidence in Morgan’s words, the pain medication had little impact onOlive. Her respiratory rate remained high, and after several hours with noincreased signs of motility, Morgan turned to Abby.

“Dr.Donovan?” Abby asked with fading hope.

“I’mworried she’s got a strangulating obstruction.”

“Whatdoes that mean?” asked Abby.

Emiliaknew the answer. It meant without surgical correction, the blood supply to therest of the intestine could be cut off, killing the tissue—and the horse.

“Itmeans we need to talk about next steps. I’m not comfortable waiting this out.”Morgan explained the risks to a white-lipped Abby Killmore. Emilia thought shesaw the shine of tears in the older woman’s eyes.

“Abby,”said Morgan, “is the horse in your name?”

“No.My cousin has the papers.”

“Wehave three options here.” Morgan spoke calmly, but with authority. “Myrecommendation is that we get her to a specialist for surgery. The nearest oneis Portland. Your second choice is to wait and hope it works itself out withlubricant, but I don’t recommend it.”

“What’sthe third choice?”

“Aquality-of-life discussion.”

Euthanasia. Emilia’s stomach writhed at thethought.Death follows me everywhere. She shouldn’t have come. Perhapsif she had remained behind, the prognosis would be better for Olive. She knewthe thought was superstitious. It didn’t change the clenched certainty insideher.

“Ineed to call my cousin,” said Abby.

Abbystepped away and pulled out her phone. Emilia studied the slump of hershoulders and felt Morgan’s hand on her back.

“Youokay?” Morgan asked her.

No, she wanted to say.I am notokay.Instead, she nodded.

Steviestroked Olive’s nose and crooned something into her ears. Olive’s flaxen manemingled with Stevie’s blond hair. The sight tightened Emilia’s lungs.

WhenAbby returned, her face had turned from gray to a sort of pale mustard color,accented by two bright spots of anger in her cheeks.

“Theydon’t want to pay for treatment. They’ll turn her over to me, but Dr. Donovan,I can’t afford to have her hospitalized.”

“Iunderstand.” Morgan and Abby stepped to one side and spoke in the low tones ofpeople making funeral arrangements. Morgan nodded sympathetically as Abbygesticulated, but Emilia saw the set of her shoulders and knew Morgan wasangry.

“I’msorry,” she said to Stevie.

“It’sokay. She’s not mine. It’s not my call, is it, sweet girl?” The last words werefor the horse.

“Iget it, though.” She stroked Olive’s strong neck. “Sometimes we just click withthem, and it hurts.”

Stevielooked up at her with overbright eyes. The jokester was gone. A woman in painsat before her, and Emilia’s heart broke. They both knew the outcome. She sawthe conflict twist Stevie’s face, and she knew what it was like to fall in lovelike this. It happened. Though she would never put it into words, she believedin soul mates. Not human soul mates, especially after Hannah, but animalssometimes reached out and touched a part of her that she could only identify assoul. That’s how she’d ended up with Nell, but there had been others: dogs andcats in her care who had wormed their way past her professional barriers.Animals she’d fostered and found homes for who still haunted her dreams. Animalsshe hadn’t saved. She rested her hand on Stevie’s shoulder as Stevie wiped ather eyes.

“Allergies,”Stevie said in an attempt at levity, but neither of them smiled.

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