Page 47 of When We Were Us
I slide from my bed, grab the cardigan from the back of my door, and pull it on over my tank top and sleep shorts. Padding down the hall, I pull back the thin curtain covering the window that overlooks the side and partial drive in the front yard, but I can’t see shit from this angle.
The pounding sounds again, making me jump and drop the curtains. I continue down the hall to the stairs. Pausing at the top, I can hear thudding footsteps on the porch. It sounds as if someone is pacing.
More pounding. It’s not frantic, but it is insistent.
I quietly descend the stairs in the dark. I’m having a hard time deciphering the voice on the other side while my heart is thundering in my ears. Making my way on tiptoe to the door, I try to peer through the semi-sheer curtain covering the window in the door without revealing myself.
I can’t make anything out because it’s too dark. I also make a mental note to check the porch light in the morning because I am almost positive that I left it on when I’d gone upstairs to bed. Maybe the bulb went out again?
My blood goes cold when the doorknob jiggles. Thank God I started locking it at night.
More pounding, and then, “Wren!”
I immediately reach out, flick the dead bolt, and wrench open the door to find Hank on the other side, with his hand poised to pound again. His hair is sticking up in the front like he’s been pulling on it. He’s either very drunk, or clearly upset. Given that his truck is parked outside, I’m hoping he isn’t drunk. Though, the alternative isn’t great either.
“Hank? What are you— Is everything ok?” I blink out at him standing there in the dark, sleep still clouding my eyes. The porch light flickers on, then off, and then back on.
I shield my eyes and squint out at him. His eyes have dropped to my body. The way he’s just zoned out, he has to be drunk.
I yank my cardigan closed around myself like a wrap dress, sufficiently cutting off his view of my now-hard nipples. “Are you drunk?”
“What? No,” he finally stammers, running a hand through his hair.
“Then what?—”
“It’s Apollo. He’s…something’s wrong. He–he won’t stand.” He swallows hard. “I mean, he will, but when I leave his side, he just lays down again. He’s so lethargic.”
“Is Apollo?—”
“Sorry, my horse. He’s six. I’m not sure what to do. We’ve had this sort of thing happen before, but—” He shakes his head. “Can you help?”
Without hesitation, I nod. “Of course.” I swing open the screen door and he steps inside. “I’ll get dressed. You can tell me what happened on the way.”
“I didn’t know where else to go, or who else to call,” he says, his voice just above a whisper. “Doc Channing is out of cell service, but Apollo can’t wait until morning.”
I nod and turn for the stairs. “I’ll be quick.”
“All right.”
He watches me go and that’s when it hits me that I don’t have my medical bag, supplies,anything. However, I am one of the best damned veterinarians I know, and I will not let anything happen to Apollo if I can help it.
When I come back downstairs three minutes later, Hank is just hanging up from a phone call.
“That was Penny, Doc’s vet tech, but she’s just starting out. She doesn’t—” He swallows. “You have to help him.”
Crossing to the living room, I pull open a box of items I cleared from my granddad’s end table. I quickly locate the bag with a blood pressure cuff and stethoscope. Unzipping the bag, I pull out and loop the stethoscope around my neck, and then move back to the foyer. Grabbing my keys and my bag off the hook by the door, I shove my feet into my shoes.
I throw him a determined look and nod. “Let’s go.”
“Penny said she’ll meet us at the ranch. Said to call her and she’ll bring whatever you need.” He hands me his cell as we clamber into the truck.
He cranks the engine and pulls out from the circular dive.
“Can you tell me what happened?” If he can give me a quick rundown, I will have a better idea of what to have her bring to the ranch.
“I didn't get a chance to ride this morning, so I went out after dinner. He’d been out all day, but one of the guys had put him back in his stall to eat. When I went in at eight, his hay hadn’t been touched and he was layingdown. He wouldn’t move. Took five or six minutes to coax him up.
“I could tell something was off, so I took him out to the ring to work him a bit, but he kept biting at his sides. I thought maybe the halter was too tight, so I did a few adjustments.” He glances at me, and I nod, encouraging him to give me all the information he has.
