Page 7 of The Rabbit's Foot
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“Sir?”
A hand landed on Mal’s arm, and he instinctively jerked away with a snarl. When he saw the pixie-faced woman beside him, he swiped a hand over his eyes.
“I’m sorry. Haven’t been sleeping—the bunny!” Mal worried she’d come to give him bad news, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to handle that. Hell, he wasn’t sure what was wrong with him since the rabbit came into his life. Any other time, he wouldn’t have cared and would have just gone. Now? He was invested in the rabbit’s life.
“The doctor would like to see you. She’s in the exam room.”
Mal’s heart thumped hard. “Is… is it okay?”
She gave him a smile. “He’s in the pen, on an IV to replenish his fluids. He’s all right, but the doctor wants to talk with you. She’s finishing the paperwork and will be out in a few minutes.”
Mal stood. “Thank you. Again, sorry about being snappy.”
She grinned. “Most of our clients are snappy, and their dogs and cats aren’t a whole lot better.”
She laughed at her joke, then turned and went back to the counter. How exhausted must Mal be to not have sensed her approach? He sat down again and closed his eyes. The rabbit would be okay, and that knowledge lifted a huge weight from Mal’s shoulders.
“So your rabbit…,” said a voice from above.
The voice startled Mal, and he realized he’d again drifted off. He cursed to himself, because a wolf that was unaware of his surroundings was also known as a dead wolf. He jerked up.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” the vet said, as she stared at the paperwork in her hand.
But Mal didn’t care. He might be tired, but the vet was dead on her feet. Anyone could see that. Her brown hair, which had been in a haphazard bun earlier, was now sticking out like bits of straw poking out of a bale. Her honey-colored eyes were cupped by dark circles. And even more telling, the pinch of her face said she was in pain.
“It’s okay.” He glanced down at her feet and noticed she was favoring the heels. “I’m sorry about all this.”
“Sorry?” she asked, looking at him, obviously incredulous. “Why?”
“I woke you up and—”
“I wasn’t asleep. I’m usually doing my paperwork then, because it’s the quietest time around here, barking dogs and needy cats notwithstanding.”
“But you should have been asleep, and now you’ll be awake all day.”
She gave him a wan smile. “Do you know where you are?”
Mal blinked. “Geographically? Swenson.”
“Yup. At one time it was a bustling town. The military kept us all jumping as they came through. Then that dried up. Now? We have 175 people who live here, and about a hundred pets. Do you know how many of those are spayed or neutered? Lemme tell you. Probably not even a third. No time, no money, pets are replaceable for a lot less than the cost of a surgery. When someone goes to the trouble of bringing a rabbit in, that says something to me about their character.”
Mal wanted to tell her he wasn’t just a rabbit, but the less humans knew about shifters, the better.
“I have to ask, how did the rabbit get so hurt?”
“I don’t know,” Mal said. “I found it like that, and I couldn’t leave it.”
“Well,” the vet said, an edge to her tone. “I want to know who would dump such a precious thing. It’s emaciated, dehydrated, and don’t even get me started on that foot. It looked like someone went after it with a cleaver or something. There were shards of bone protruding from the leg and….” She dipped her chin. “I’m sorry, you don’t need to know all that. Let me just say that rabbit was lucky you found him, because without your help, he’d be dead right now. I’ve never seen an infection like the one he had. My strongest antibiotics barely helped. I was going to suggest putting him to sleep, to keep him from suffering. Then he seemed to rebound. If the thing didn’t have such a strong will to live, he’d be dead right now. As it is, he’ll sleep the rest of the day, and probably a good chunk of tomorrow.”
Mal sagged at the good news. “Thank you, doctor. Your daughter was right. You’re amazing.”
Her cheeks pinked. “My daughter said that?” She snorted. “I wonder what she’s going to be asking me for this time.”
“It’s obvious she cares for you. Though she did mention something about a finder’s fee.”
The vet laughed. “She must be low on stuff to make dinner. She wants me to invite her.” She let out a sigh. “I love her too. She’s my little black sheep of the family. My mama had a fit when Dinah came out. First she was a vegan. Then she was a vegan atheist. Now she’s a vegan, atheist, queer woman.” The vet chuckled. “Mama practically blew a blood vessel at each step. But as much as she hated it, she loved Dinah with her whole heart, and told her she needed to do what makes her happy.” She snapped her head up, her face red. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”
