Page 103 of Spindrift

“What?”

“AskAbby if she’ll sign her over to me.”

“Toyou?”

“Yes.”

“Stevie—”

“I’vedecided to get into mounted archery.”

Morganlooked at Emilia, who shrugged.

“Mountedarchery?”

“Yep.”

“WithOlive?”

“Yep.”

Morganrubbed the back of her neck and looked over her shoulder at Abby, who stoodwith the air of someone going to their execution.

“Shecan’t afford this, and she feels guilty,” Stevie said in a rush before Abbycould enter hearing distance. “I can stable her at the house.”

“OrOlive could die, leaving you in debt.”

“Idon’t care.”

“Stevie—”

“Please,Morgan.”

Morgansearched Stevie’s face and then shifted her gaze to Emilia, who felt a shadow passover her. She didn’t want Morgan thinking she’d pressured her friend into arash decision. More than that, however, she didn’t want this animal to die forthe same reasons that had shadowed her work in shelters: finances. It wasn’tthe animal’s fault she’d been discarded by one owner and dumped on another whohad never asked for a horse and could not afford to take her to surgery.Neither was it Abby’s fault. Sometimes, though, the right person was in theright place at the right time, and if she could help Stevie save a life, she would.

SavingOlive would not bring back her father.

Itwouldbe a tribute to his memory.

“I’lltalk to her,” said Morgan.

Bythe time they got Olive on the trailer, the sun had long since set and thelights of distant fireworks lit their faces with reds, blues, whites, andgreens. Stevie’s laughter buoyed them, and Emilia couldn’t help joining in.

• • •

Emilia layawake long after Morgan fell asleep. Morgan’s dark hair was damp with sweat,and the relaxed curve of her body warmed Emilia’s, which hummed in contentmenteven as her mind roamed. She stared at the stars out the window. They’d arrivedback sometime after 3 a.m. after situating Olive at the surgeon’s where Steviehad remained, and then she’d tumbled Morgan into bed before Morgan could askher the questions she could see hovering around her lips. A breeze from thenearby ocean blew in through the open window and ruffled Morgan’s hair. Shetrailed her fingers through it and twisted a curl around her middle finger asher heart beat in her too tight chest.

She’dpracticed today. Technically, of course, it had been Morgan’s case, and all shehad done was assist, but she’d offered up differentials and assisted in atreatment plan, and she hadn’t panicked. She hadn’t shut down. Instead, she’dwitnessed good medicine in practice and played a role in it, and thecomplicated roil of emotions that had brought to the surface now assaulted herfrom every quadrant.

“You’reawake,” said Morgan.

Shehadn’t noticed Morgan’s breathing shift into wakefulness. “You shouldn’t be. Youmight get called in again.”

“I’llbe fine.” Morgan stroked the bare skin along Emilia’s hip. “Do you want to talkabout anything?”

“No,”Emilia said.

“Ithought you were Italian.”

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