Lover Unleashed - J. R. Ward [161]
Putting himself in the way, he said, “Is there any kind of suspension we could get her into? To relieve some pressure?”
“We’ve had her strapped for a couple of hours each day.” As the vet replied, he inched to the side until Manny had to follow with his torso to keep blocking the view. “I don’t want to run the risk of gastrointestinal or breathing problems.”
Bored with the tilting thing, and wanting to spare Payne where the conversation was heading, Manny took the guy’s arm and moved them off to the side. “What’s our next step?”
The vet rubbed his eyes as if to give his mind a second to unscramble. “To be honest, Dr. Manello, I don’t have a good feeling about where we are. That other hoof is foundering, and although I’ve been doing everything I can to treat it, it’s not responding.”
“There has to be something else.”
“I’m so damned sorry.”
“How long until we’re sure—”
“I’m sure now.” The man’s stare was positively grim. “That’s why I came in tonight—I was hoping for a miracle.”
Well, didn’t that make two of them.
“Why don’t I give you some time with her,” the vet said. “Take all you need.”
Which was doctor talk for Say your good-byes.
The vet put his hand on Manny’s shoulder briefly, and then he turned and walked away. As he went, he looked in every single stall, checking his patients, patting a muzzle now and then.
Good guy. Thorough guy.
The kind who would exhaust every single avenue before laying down a stop-loss scenario.
Manny took a deep breath and tried to tell himself that Glory was not a pet. People didn’t have racehorses as pets. And she deserved better than suffering in a little stall while he worked up the courage to do right by her.
Putting his hand to his chest, he rubbed his cross through his scrubs and had a sudden urge to go to church—
At first, all he noticed was the shadows getting stronger on the wall across the way. And then he thought maybe someone had turned the overhead lights up.
Finally, he realized that the illumination was coming out of Glory’s stall.
What . . . the . . .
Skidding around, he recoiled . . . and then had to catch his balance.
Payne was on her knees in the fluffy sawdust, her hands on his horse’s forelegs, her eyes closed, her brows tight.
And her body glowing with a fierce and beautiful light.
Above her, Glory was stock-still, but her coat was twitching and her eyes were rolling back in her head. Little chuffing whinnies rolled up her long neck and came out her flaring nostrils . . . as if she were overcome by a feeling of relief, an easing of pain.
Those injured front legs of hers were softly aglow.
Manny didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t blink. He just held his cross even harder . . . and prayed that no one would interrupt this.
He wasn’t sure how long the three of them stayed as they were, but eventually, it became obvious Payne was straining from the effort: Her body began to vibrate and she started to breathe unevenly.
Manny broke into the stall and pulled her free from Glory, holding her lax body against his, and moving her out of the way in case the horse spooked or did something unpredictable.
“Payne?” Oh, God—
Her eyes fluttered. “Did I . . . aid her?”
Manny stroked her hair back as he looked at his filly. Glory was standing in place, lifting one front hoof and then the other and then going back to the first as if she were trying to figure out what had caused the abrupt comfort. Then she shook herself . . . and went over to nip at the hay that she hadn’t touched.
As that wonderful sound of a muzzle tip working at dry grass filled the silence, he looked back down at Payne. “You did,” he said hoarsely. “I think you did.”
Her eyes seemed to struggle to focus. “I wished not for you to lose her.”
Overcome by a gratitude he didn’t have enough words for, Manny curled her up closer to his heart and held her for a moment. He wanted to stay like that for so much longer, but she wasn’t looking well, and Christ knew who else may have noticed the light show. He had to get them out of here.