Page 1 of The Cowboy Who Stayed

ONE

Vivica

Animals don’t waste time pretending they’re okay.

A horse limps. A cow quits eating. Sheep separate themselves from the herd.

People, on the other hand, can spend years insisting everything’s fine while their lives gradually fall apart.

“Easy girl,” I murmur, reaching for the bay mare’s halter. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to make you feel good again, okay?”

She snorts, shifting her weight away from me.

I keep my hand steady against the warm curve of her neck until she settles.

Her temperature is sitting at a hundred and two, and her breathing is shallow; not exactly dire, but also not good enough to leave unmonitored.

She has the glassy, fatigued look of a horse that feels under the weather and, unlike people, won’t pretend otherwise.

I check her gums and then listen to her gut sounds using my stethoscope. She’s mildly dehydrated, and her gut motility is sluggish, but thankfully nothing points to colic or another serious condition.

Likely a low-grade infection. Maybe respiratory given how she’s breathing. A little antibiotics and fluids and she’ll bounce back within the week.

“You’re going to be fine, girl,” I coo gently, stroking the flat plane of her forehead. “You trust me, don’t you?”

She blinks at me with big, dark eyes as though understanding every word. Animals always seem to know when someone means it.

“Dr. Murphy?”

I turn to find two men approaching the stall—one older with thick gray hair and a mustache that belongs on a Western movie poster. The other younger with dark hair and blue eyes that mark him immediately as the older man’s son.

Andy and Ridge Harvey.

I spoke to Ridge on the phone when he hired me, and I’ve exchanged a few emails with Andy, but this is the first time I’m meeting either of them in person.

“Vivica, please,” I say, stepping out of the stall and pulling off my gloves. “Dr. Murphy sounds a little too formal among colleagues.”

Andy’s handshake is firm as I offer him my hand. “Welcome to Silver Creek. Ridge here tells me you drove all the way from Texas for this gig.”

“Fourteen hours from Dallas to a town I had trouble finding on Google Maps,” I say with a small smile. “Exactly the kind of place I was looking to move to.”

Ridge grins in return and shakes my hand next. “We’re glad you’re here. Dr. Giles and I have been splitting time between the practice in town and the ranch, and needless to say, we’ve got our hands full. The animals deserve as much attention as possible.”

“Then I’m happy to help take the load off.”

Andy nods, giving an approving dip of his chin, as if I’ve passed a test I didn’t know I was taking.

“How’s she looking?” Ridge asks. He’s stepped toward the mare with hands on his waist and a concerned furrow of his brow.

“Low-grade fever, sluggish gut sounds, mild dehydration. I’d like to run bloodwork, but I’m leaning toward a respiratory infection. I’ll start her on fluids and antibiotics today and monitor her through the week.”

Ridge listens carefully, following up with a couple questions. It’s immediately obvious he’s an excellent vet who’s good at what he does.

His concern is genuine, and he wants to make sure the mare is receiving proper care.

“Rhett won’t be happy his girl’s under the weather,” he says. “But I’m thinking you’re right. It isn’t too serious, and she’ll bounce back in a few days.”

“Rhett?” I ask.