Stalking Ground by Margaret Mizushima

I’ll stay with him.”
    Carmen murmured to the horse in Spanish while Cole approached. He blocked the jugular vein in Diablo’s neck with one hand while he inserted the needle. Leaving the flexible catheter in place, he withdrew the sharp needle and securedthe external part with tape. The stallion tolerated the procedure well, not moving after the first flinch. “I need to draw some blood before I set up the fluids.”
    “What are you testing for?”
    “I want to measure some enzymes and minerals in his blood. This amount of sweating might throw something off.”
    Cole drew the blood sample from the IV and then administered sedation. He squeezed a dose of anti-inflammatory medication through a tube placed into Diablo’s mouth. The stallion thrust his tongue against it and bobbed his head but swallowed the paste anyway. Cole hooked up a bag of fluid and held it high. “This will take a few minutes,” he said. “Go ahead and tie him now, and I’ll hang this up above.”
    After hooking the bag on top of the feed bunk, Cole stepped back to observe the horse. “Let’s give him a few minutes.”
    Still uncomfortable, Diablo shifted his weight as he stood with his back slightly hunched, the typical stance expected from rhabdomyolysis.
    “Does this horse get grain or sweet feed?” Cole asked.
    “Yes.”
    “I need you to put a hold on that, but keep some grass hay in front of him. We’ll try to make him feel better so that he’ll keep eating. You’ll have to keep him as quiet as possible.”
    “Shall we keep him tied up?”
    “No, let him move around on his own. But hold off on any other form of exercise. I’ll let you know what the lab results are tomorrow.”
    With a frown of concern creasing her brow, she studied Diablo. “This horse means a lot to me. I can do whatever treatment you recommend. Just tell me what you want me to do.”
    “I’ll leave medications and show you how to give them and what to watch for. Keep an eye on him and call me with anupdate around four this afternoon. Call sooner if he gets worse or if you have a question.” Cole picked up his stethoscope. “I’ll want you to count his heartbeats per minute.”
    “I have my own stethoscope. I’m used to what a normal heartbeat sounds like.”
    Cole thought Carmen appeared experienced enough to leave the stallion in her care; he was too sick to transport to the clinic anyway. Diablo’s heart still raced, but there was nothing more Cole could do for him now. He outlined a treatment plan with Carmen while the IV fluid finished dripping. Then he disconnected the tubing, recapped the end, and prepared to leave. Carmen accompanied him as he left the barn. The Doberman rushed to the end of the chain, coming to a hard stop and barking a fierce warning.
    Cold wind blasted, and Cole pulled his jacket close. Gray storm clouds filled the sky. At the truck, he put away his supplies and moved to get into the driver’s side where he took a moment to jot down a list of instructions for Diablo. He gave it to her along with a business card. “I should come back tomorrow or Sunday to check on him, unless he’s had a sudden turnaround for the better.”
    Taking off her glove, she offered another handshake, and this time it felt warm and soft and her hand felt small in his. “That will be fine,” she said. “Thank you for coming so far to take care of Diablo.”
    Cole said good-bye and climbed into the cab of his truck. Out on the racetrack, two men wrestled with a beautiful chestnut horse, its red coat glistening with sweat. It tossed its mane, reared, and struck out at the man who approached with a saddle. The guy dodged the flailing hooves, barely getting out of the way in time.
    High-strung thoroughbreds. Must be hard to manage .
    Cole did a three-point turn and drove down the lane to leave the property, pulling out his cell phone, intending to call Tess to tell her he was heading back to the clinic. No signal. He placed the phone back in his