“I do. And my definition of a ‘good time’ doesn’t include watching my jealous husband beat up two sophomores,” Peyton said primly.
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Lou said, sliding into the empty chair. “You should have told me the MacAllen girls were going out drinking.”
“It was a spur of the moment thing,” Peyton said. “I found this one in the parking lot and dragged her inside. How about two Ginger Rogers?”
“Don’t bring me whatever frou-frou concoction Peyton orders,” Brenne corrected. “You know what I like.”
“One shot of Patron tequila and a beer chaser.”
“That’s why you’re my girl, Lou,” Brenne said, leaning back in her seat. Her sister-in-law stood, heading back to the bar to give their order to her husband. Peyton’s cell phone, which she’d placed in front of her on the table, started to buzz.
She picked it up. “Yes?”
Brenne could hear the muffled voice of her older brother. Peyton listened, rolling her eyes. “That’s right. You’d remember what a good time was if you ever came out of your damn office.” She listened again, then interrupted. “You know where to find me.” Then she hung up.
Brenne laughed, clapping her hands. “You know you’ve got fifteen minutes tops now.”
Peyton scowled, raising her voice. “Then Lou better hurry up with those drinks!”
Lou carried her tray over, moving quickly. “Alcohol to the rescue!” She set the tray on the table, reaching for the glass of wine she’d poured for herself. Lifting it up, she made a toast. “To MacAllen husbands and their predictable possessiveness. May they never discover how we manipulate them!”
Brenne laughed, but in her mind, she was thinking of Alex. Would he come running if he thought I was chasing another man instead of him?
Then she thought about Emma and her good mood deflated. Brenne gulped down her shot of tequila, feeling like she deserved the burn.
CHAPTER 7
ALEX
Ryker Strong was the picture of a Texas cowboy. Skin burnished copper by the sun, a square jaw that always showed a little peppering of stubble, and lean muscles sculpted by a lifetime of hard work. He wore a checked shirt and dusty jeans, and his belt buckle featured two stallions running through a field of wheat. He pushed his hat back and eked out a smile as they approached.
“Doc Parsons, thanks for coming over,” he said, holding out a hand in Alex’s direction.
“Anytime,” Alex replied, glad that he could at least match the other man’s height, if not his ruggedness. “This is Brenne MacAllen,” he said, motioning in her direction. “She’s lending a hand at the clinic.”
“Miss MacAllen,” Ryker said, tipping his cowboy hat at her. “Your reputation precedes you.”
“Oh hell,” Brenne said, “what are they saying I’ve done now?”
Ryker chuckled. “I think you misunderstand. I heard tell you’re the finest horsewoman in the county. No one rides like you do.”
Alex felt a hint of jealousy ripple through him at those words. They were too close to what the roughneck had said the night the MacAllen brothers convinced him to hire their sister.
“Well shucks,” Brenne said, cracking a wide smile. “In that case, I’m happy to confirm it’s the truth.”
“I like her,” Ryker said with a nod to Alex. “How’s about I show you two the horse?”
They followed the cowboy around the barn stacked full of hay meant to keep the horses fed over winter. Alex knew it wouldn’t be enough and that soon Ryker would be making his round to local farms, hat in hand, asking for their surplus. The cowboy might look tough, but he had a soft spot for abused and neglected animals, especially horses. If called upon, he almost never refused, which meant his stables were always full. Alex stepped in when he could to help farm out the rehabilitated animals, convincing kindly souls like Jameson MacAllen to take them on.
The stables were always well kept, and not a thing was out of place as they followed Strong inside. Brenne paused for a moment to peek into the tack room, then hustled up behind them as they came to a stop in front of the stable on the end. Inside the stall, a large gray horse was pressed up against the back wall, as far from the door and the humans on the other side of it as possible. Its eyes rolled as they stopped to look at the creature, and it snorted a warning.
“Oh you poor thing!”
Alex looked in Brenne’s direction to see a heartbroken expression on her face. “How did this happen?” he asked Ryker softly.
“Neglect, pure and simple.”
Alex frowned. Without getting closer, he could already tell the horse was undernourished. Its coat seemed to suffer from a bacterial infection, and he could see crust around its eyes. “You did the right thing by calling me,” he said, just as the horse let out a mighty cough.
“Who could do this to a horse?” Brenne said, steel entering her voice. “Seriously. Tell me his name and I’ll have a half dozen MacAllens on his farm in an hour.”
Ryker smiled, slapping Alex on the back. “This one has spirit.” His gaze moved to Brenne. “I know how you feel, but unfortunately we can’t take matters like that into our own hands. The authorities are aware of the abuse, and the guilty party will be prosecuted and punished. Our focus is rehabbing the horse.”
“He better be punished,” Brenne grumbled. “If I got my hands on him—”
“Do you think you can fix him up, Doc?” Ryker said briskly, seeming eager to diffuse Brenne’s anger.
“I should be able to. He’ll need a full exam and likely some special food and medicine, as well as time to recover.”
“That exam,” Ryker said, his eyes flicking to the horse and back again. “It might be a little rough. See our guy isn’t exactly keen on humans, being as how the only human he knew treated him rough. Our friend here has a little trouble letting humans get close.” Ryker unsnapped his two top buttons and pulled his shirt to the side, exposing his shoulder. A raised red bite bulged there, the area around it puffy and inflamed.
“You’re going to want to get that looked at,” Alex said. “It looks like you’ve got a chance of infection.”
“I’ve got a date with a nurse this afternoon,” Ryker said. “She’ll clean me up good as new.”
Alex nodded, then took hold of the stall door. “I’ll see if he’ll let me get close. We might have to tranquilize him to treat him, although it wouldn’t be my first choice.” Gradually he opened the door and slid into the stall, making his movements small and slow.
The horse didn’t take the change in circumstances lightly. It reared, snorting and exposing large yellow teeth. Its hooves hit the ground heavily, and Alex froze, not wanting to agitate it further. He slowly backed out, then opened the bag he’d brought along with him. “Tranquilizers might be the easiest way to calm him down.”
“Shame,” Ryker said, shaking his head. “He’s a Tennessee Walker. They’re usually the most even-tempered creatures alive.”
“Let me try,” Brenne said, stepping up to the stall door.