scrubs standing with his back towards her. He was looking through the glass window into the operating room, and he glanced over his shoulder at her as she entered the room.
She approached him. “Hi. I’m Kendall Waters. I’m here to check on a horse named Chancellor. I heard he was in the operating room.”
The man nodded at her. “Yeah, they wheeled him in a little while ago,” he said with a slow drawl.
“Do you know why he’s in surgery?”
The man nodded as he turned back towards the window. “He has a chest wound and a punctured lung.”
Kendall walked to the window and looked down into the operating room. She had observed more than her fair share of equine medical procedures, but surgery was never an easy sight for her to see.
Chancellor lay on his back on the operating table in the center of the room, with all four legs up in the air. His hooves were covered with plastic OB sleeves and a massive band of white tape secured an IV line to his neck. A respirator tube protruded from his mouth, and an anesthesiologist sat on a stool near his head, monitoring the equipment. The anesthesiologist said something to Ned Carey and gave him a thumbs-up sign, and Ned lowered the scalpel to Chancellor’s chest.
“I can’t watch this part,” Kendall said, turning away from the window.
The man smiled but didn’t shift his gaze away from the surgery. “Are you his owner?”
Kendall shook her head. “No, his owner is in the hospital. His wife asked me if I would come over here and find out how Chancellor is.”
The man didn’t respond, and Kendall studied him as he stood observing the surgery. She had heard that the EMC had hired a new vet who had just finished his residency at Cornell, and she wondered if that’s who he was. His age seemed about right; she guessed he was in his early thirties. He was tall, probably over six feet, and looked lean and fairly muscular, although it was hard to tell because of the baggy scrubs he was wearing. His skin was tanned a golden brown, and his hair was sun-streaked and a bit unruly. He had a rugged air about him, and Kendall noticed he was wearing cowboy boots.
“How is he?” the man asked after a few minutes, turning to half face her. She noticed that his eyes were a very pale blue. And expressionless. Not unfriendly, but not warm, either. “Chancellor’s owner. He was the guy driving the rig, right?”
Kendall sighed and ran her hands up her bare arms. “Yes, he was the driver. He’s in critical condition. He’s hooked up to a million machines and he’s in a coma. They were moving him to intensive care when I left.”
The man grimaced. “I figured he was in pretty bad shape, from the condition of his vehicle.”
“You saw it?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Then it dawned on Kendall that he was probably the horse ambulance’s driver. “Oh, you must be Steve. I’ve heard great things about you.”
“Nope, I’m not. But I agree with all the good things you’ve heard about Steve. He did a terrific job today.”
“Why were you there?”
He hesitated for a moment. “I was just passing by and I stopped to help.”
“Are you a vet?”
“No.”
“You’re just a Good Samaritan?”
His eyes narrowed and he regarded her with a long gaze. “You’ve got a lot of questions.”
There was an edge to his tone, and Kendall flinched, then hated herself for it.
This man wasn’t Peter. He wasn’t going to hit her
. She took a deep breath and sat down in a chair against the wall, suddenly feeling painfully out of place in her linen dress and pearls.
“I’m just trying to put two and two together,” she said. “I don’t know any of the details of the accident, and since you’re here watching the operation, and you’re wearing scrubs, I figured you were a vet. Or a technician, or something.”
He glanced down at his clothing. “No, I’m not a vet.” His manner was somewhat friendlier. “My clothes were soaked from the rain and a nice young lady
She approached him. “Hi. I’m Kendall Waters. I’m here to check on a horse named Chancellor. I heard he was in the operating room.”
The man nodded at her. “Yeah, they wheeled him in a little while ago,” he said with a slow drawl.
“Do you know why he’s in surgery?”
The man nodded as he turned back towards the window. “He has a chest wound and a punctured lung.”
Kendall walked to the window and looked down into the operating room. She had observed more than her fair share of equine medical procedures, but surgery was never an easy sight for her to see.
Chancellor lay on his back on the operating table in the center of the room, with all four legs up in the air. His hooves were covered with plastic OB sleeves and a massive band of white tape secured an IV line to his neck. A respirator tube protruded from his mouth, and an anesthesiologist sat on a stool near his head, monitoring the equipment. The anesthesiologist said something to Ned Carey and gave him a thumbs-up sign, and Ned lowered the scalpel to Chancellor’s chest.
“I can’t watch this part,” Kendall said, turning away from the window.
The man smiled but didn’t shift his gaze away from the surgery. “Are you his owner?”
Kendall shook her head. “No, his owner is in the hospital. His wife asked me if I would come over here and find out how Chancellor is.”
The man didn’t respond, and Kendall studied him as he stood observing the surgery. She had heard that the EMC had hired a new vet who had just finished his residency at Cornell, and she wondered if that’s who he was. His age seemed about right; she guessed he was in his early thirties. He was tall, probably over six feet, and looked lean and fairly muscular, although it was hard to tell because of the baggy scrubs he was wearing. His skin was tanned a golden brown, and his hair was sun-streaked and a bit unruly. He had a rugged air about him, and Kendall noticed he was wearing cowboy boots.
“How is he?” the man asked after a few minutes, turning to half face her. She noticed that his eyes were a very pale blue. And expressionless. Not unfriendly, but not warm, either. “Chancellor’s owner. He was the guy driving the rig, right?”
Kendall sighed and ran her hands up her bare arms. “Yes, he was the driver. He’s in critical condition. He’s hooked up to a million machines and he’s in a coma. They were moving him to intensive care when I left.”
The man grimaced. “I figured he was in pretty bad shape, from the condition of his vehicle.”
“You saw it?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Then it dawned on Kendall that he was probably the horse ambulance’s driver. “Oh, you must be Steve. I’ve heard great things about you.”
“Nope, I’m not. But I agree with all the good things you’ve heard about Steve. He did a terrific job today.”
“Why were you there?”
He hesitated for a moment. “I was just passing by and I stopped to help.”
“Are you a vet?”
“No.”
“You’re just a Good Samaritan?”
His eyes narrowed and he regarded her with a long gaze. “You’ve got a lot of questions.”
There was an edge to his tone, and Kendall flinched, then hated herself for it.
This man wasn’t Peter. He wasn’t going to hit her
. She took a deep breath and sat down in a chair against the wall, suddenly feeling painfully out of place in her linen dress and pearls.
“I’m just trying to put two and two together,” she said. “I don’t know any of the details of the accident, and since you’re here watching the operation, and you’re wearing scrubs, I figured you were a vet. Or a technician, or something.”
He glanced down at his clothing. “No, I’m not a vet.” His manner was somewhat friendlier. “My clothes were soaked from the rain and a nice young lady
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