Off to the Races: A Small Town Enemies to Lovers Romance (Gold Rush Ranch Book 1)

Wow. Monumentally stupid. Like, so fucking stupid.

Did I seriously just suck on the finger of the man who signs my paychecks?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But also:

Hot, hot, hot.

My panties are ruined. So is my job, probably, but I’ll focus on that later.

I jog down the barn alleyways, trying to get back to DD’s stall. I’ve been away longer than I intended and now I’m feeling guilty for leaving him.

When Patty the Prick hopped off his back and left him with Violet, he’d been alright, but as soon as he got into his stall, he froze on the spot and trembled. We whipped his tack off, and started cleaning him, covering him up with warm fleece blankets. Hank ran to get the track vet to come check on him, worried that maybe he had an injury. The poor thing was in shock.

And I’d torn out of there like a bat out of hell with a major bone to pick.

I almost couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Patrick all washed off and changed into some fresh douche bag outfit while his winning mount was melting down in his stall. It enraged me. All I saw was red, and his shitty smug miniature face.

I had been clear with him. Precise. Forceful, but specific. And he had outright defied me, and now an animal who trusted us enough, against his natural instincts, to do what we asked of him was the one paying the price. That fucker was lucky I only hit him once. I was ready to turn him into a spit roast on that whip. Especially after spilling everything about my sordid past in a room full of people.

But I can’t focus on that right now.

I finally get to our aisle and see Violet and Hank standing outside of his stall, looking in. When I get there, I’m huffing as I come to stand between them and peer into the stall. DD is hooked up to an IV and a young woman with a thick dark ponytail is checking his legs over.

“Is he okay?” I blurt out, breathless.

“I think he’s alright. Just had himself a bit of a panic attack, I think. Legs all seem fine.” She rises and gives him a soothing rub behind his ears. “Didn’t ya, big guy?” DD lets his eyelids droop and neck relax under her ministrations.

He’s not shaking anymore. But he looks exhausted.

“I’ve got him hooked up to the IV for some extra hydration. Nothing seems swollen or sore, but we haven’t been able to get him out of the stall to see him move either. I think he just needs some TLC and rest.”

A warm hand lands on my back, rubbing in small, sure circles. I peek over my shoulder and give Hank a watery smile, fighting the hot tears welling in my eyes. They threaten to spill out, but I’m not really a cry-in-front-of-other-people kind of gal. I’ll save that for when I’m alone.

When I peer over at Violet, I expect to see puppy dog eyes and a tear-stained face. But her eyes are like dark sapphires and her pouty lips are frozen in an angry frown. She looks like an angry little sprite. And it honestly lifts my spirits. She’s such an enigma, there’s still so much I don’t know about her. But I like her. A lot. More than most people.

“Thank you so much for helping us out,” I say, barely above a whisper, to the vet.

“Absolutely, any time. I’ll give you my card, and I’ll call for an update on how he’s doing tomorrow.” She returns a firm handshake and tries to force a comforting smile, but I can tell it’s not really part of her natural persona. Her eyes dance with intelligence, but she’s not the rub your back type of veterinarian. She’s the facts and science type which is fine by me. But I hug her anyway and she returns it woodenly, patting my back with quick slaps as she peels me off.

“Alright then,” she says, pressing her lips together.

“Thank you so much, Doctor…?”

“Mira Thorne. And you’re welcome.” She pulls a card from her pocket and hands it to me. “If anything changes, I’m on call tonight.” She unhooks the IV from DD’s neck, packs up her kit, and heads out with brisk strides.

Hank, Violet, and I stand in silence. Awkwardly. Like we don’t know what to say to each other. We won tonight, and it was a big win. The points from winning this race means if we pick our next race carefully and win, he could qualify for the Denman Derby. The crown jewel of racing on the west coast of the continent, and the first leg of the Northern Crown.

But at what cost? Would DD want to run again after this? Would it even be fair to ask him to? He was supposed to have a fun night, play around on the track, and get some experience. Not be traumatized.

Just thinking about it makes me feel sick and ramps my heartbeat back up. Heats my blood. I am terrible at letting things go, and I can already tell this will be a night that sticks with me for years to come.

In more ways than one.

“I’m going to kill that arrogant little fuck,” Violet spits out.

Hank and I both turn to look at her with jaws unhinged and flapping in the breeze.

“Vi… did you just swear? Are you sure you’re old enough to talk that way?” I ask, trying to infuse some humor into the moment.

“That’s rich coming from you, B,” she barks back. “You swear like a sailor daily.”

“She behaves like one too,” Hank adds with a chuckle. “Or at least that’s word on the street around here.”

Violet arches one dainty eyebrow my way, shooting me a questioning look.

“Patty may or may not be nursing a big old whip welt across his ass,” I explain with a cringe.

“You hit him?” she shrieks.

I tip my head from side-to-side and pull at the neckline of my blouse. “Yeah. Hard. Like… I wailed on him.”

Violet stares at me, blinking slowly like she can’t quite process what I’ve just said. Hank covers his mouth and laughs silently into his hand, shoulders shaking and amused shock on his face.

“Billie! That’s assault! They could arrest you,” Violet squeaks out.

I pull her into a side hug. “They could. But it would be worth it. You’ll bail me out, right, little Vi?”

Her laugh is strangled but she hugs me back. “I love your wild side, Billie.”

With the mood lightened, and with Hank and Violet’s help, I manage to get the trailer all loaded up and DD ready to ship. I make the long dark drive home on my own. Both Violet and Hank offered to ride with me, but I need some space. Some quiet.

After a little pick me up of sweet feed, a molasses covered grain, DD started moving around again. We confirmed he was not in fact injured anywhere and loved on him as much as we could. Hugs, pets, massages, cold boots on his legs–full spa treatment. He loaded up into the trailer quietly, probably exhausted from a trying day.

When I unload him at the cottage, I walk him to his paddock like he might break. I unlatch his halter and he stays right in front of me, so I wrap my arms around his big warm neck and hug him. I stroke his shoulders and he drops his neck down to rest his head along my back. Like I even still deserve his affection. I should have fought harder to pick my own jockey, someone I knew I could work with. I could put a chimp on this horse and he would win. I know it in my bones. And the weight of my failure makes me almost nauseous.

I stand there for I don’t know how long and cry. I cry so hard I feel like I’ll never catch my breath. I cry for more than just tonight. I cry because I miss my family. I cry because I’m sure Vaughn will have to fire me after everything tonight. And I cry because this beautiful soul who is standing here, letting me rub snot and mascara all over his perfect coat, still loves me despite it all, which is more than I can say for almost anyone in my life. No one has ever chosen me. It’s always money, reputation, work, and then I’m somewhere further down the line.

Except horses, their love in my life is an unwavering constant.

And I’ve never felt so undeserving of that love as I do tonight.

My broken sleep is short. I set an alarm to check on DD every two hours, and when I finally decide to just get up for the day, I catch sight of myself in the mirror and startle. I look downright scary.

I shuffle out the back door and rest my forearms on the bannister of the back porch where I have the perfect view of DD’s pen. I expect to see him standing by the gate, waiting impatiently for his breakfast, but he’s not. My eyes dart around his pen until I finally find him in the back corner by his shelter. He’s covered in mud and lying flat out on his side groaning.

My heart jumps into my throat, beating wildly. Horses rarely lie flat on their sides, particularly nervous ones like DD. It’s just not a good defensive position. When you’ve been around horses long enough, you know almost immediately what this kind of behavior can mean. Equine colic, which sounds silly and common with babies, is emergent and deadly in horses.

My morning fogginess vanishes as I jam my feet into the slip-ons I leave at the back door. It’s drizzling rain, but I don’t bother with a coat and barrel down the few steps off the back deck, calling out to DD, trying to keep the panic I’m feeling from overwhelming me.

Grabbing his halter and lead rope off their hook, I duck through the middle part of the fence and am at his side in no time. He raises his head a few inches at my arrival before dropping it back down to the muddy ground with a groan.

“Hey, little man,” I murmur, rubbing his big round cheek bone. “You gotta get up. You’re gonna feel so much better if you get up.”

Gravity doesn’t work as well on their digestive tracts as it does on ours, based on shape. I drop my head to his stomach. Gut sounds would be good, dead silence is not what we want.

But it’s what we’ve got.

I gently lift his head into the black leather halter in my hand, attaching the buckle down beside his ear, constantly telling him what a good boy he is, rubbing him, patting him, covering myself in dirt and mud. I step away, gently tugging his head a few times before he lifts it and comes into more of an upright position. He’s breathing hard now, uncomfortable. But I know the sooner I can get him up and moving, the sooner I can get him over to the farm for medication and veterinary attention.

Then we will walk. We will most likely spend the entire day walking. I’ll walk him until I pass out if I have to. We just need to get that intestine straightened out.

I move to stand behind his back, pushing on his ribs and giving his haunches a gentle tap. “Up we go, DD. Come on, baby. You can do it.”

He sticks both front legs out in an attempt, but gives up and rolls back down into the mud. Sweat soaks his neck and chest, and I am having a hard time keeping my panic at bay. Worst-case scenarios race through my head. I want to keep a positive outlook, but I’m a realist, and this is not looking good.

I pull his head back up and get behind him again, pushing desperately now. Pleading with him to get up. He’s groaning and sweating but is stuck with his front legs out.

I’m wishing we were at the farm. There would be someone there to help me. The medication would be closer. He’d have a better shot. But I’d been emotional and selfish and kept him down here at my house instead.

Fear courses through me, and I give him a good poke between the ribs while shrieking, “DD get up!”

And he does.

With a tremendous groan, he finally gets up. I get moving immediately, opening the gate and heading straight towards the hills behind my house to cross the soggy fields leading to the stables.

I pull out my phone and dial as I walk.

“Hello?” a groggy voice answers.

“Hank, DD is colicking. Badly. I need you to call our vet and get him down here right away.”

The sound of rustling sheets filters through the line. “Okay, Billie girl. Deep breaths. I’m calling him right away, and I’m coming to you. I’ll be at the ranch in twenty minutes.”

“Okay, great.” My voice shakes.

“It’s going to be okay. If anyone can take care of that horse, it’s you. Just keep him walking. I’m on my way.”

Hank hangs up, and we continue our slow walk across the field. Every time DD nips at his rib cage or kicks at his tummy, I urge him forward.

When we crest the hill, I see Violet in her pajamas, running towards us with a big syringe in hand. Obviously, Hank called her. The relief I feel at seeing her there ready to help makes tears spring to my eyes. My nerves are frayed, my emotions are running rampant.

She reaches out to DD. “Hey, poor boy. Aunty Vi is here with your medicine,” she coos, coming around to his neck with the needle. I’m a tired, shaky, sad mess and no one should trust me with a pointy object right now. Thankfully, Violet finds a vein, and I am so grateful for her at this moment.

“Hey, B.” She turns to wrap me in a hug. “You look like shit.”

I laugh, and it makes me cry. I drop my head into the crook of her neck and take a few centering breaths.

“Want me to take him while you go get some coffee or something?”

“No, I think I’ll just head to the indoor arena and keep walking. I want to get him somewhere warm and dry. Could you bring some brushes and a fleece blanket, though?”

“Of course,” she replies, spinning on her heel and jogging to get our supplies.

We get inside quickly and begin our march. The more he walks, the better, so my plan is to walk in a big oval all day long.

“Billie!” Hank calls from the other end of the ring. “Dr. Thomas has been up all night with other emergencies. He’s still in surgery and won’t be able to get here anytime soon.”

Anxiety wells in my throat. I feel like the edges of my vision are blurring. There are only so many vets out this far. Fucking fuck. I holler back at him, “Okay. Call Dr. Thorne from last night. I know she’s in Vancouver, but just see what she says.”

“Got it!”

“And Hank!” He stops to look back at me. “I don’t want Vaughn here. I know you have to tell him, but I’m too mad at the Harding brothers right now to deal with their shit. Please, whatever you can do to make that happen.”

Hank gives me a terse nod before he spins on his heel to leave. He doesn’t like my request, but I know he loves me enough to respect it.