Page 4 of Mistletoe Cowboy
“Sorry, Mom,” Teddie said, wincing. “Bartholomew ran away and I ran after him. . . .”
“Bartholomew?” Parker asked.
“Well, he needed a fancy name. He’s so pretty. Handsome.” Teddie cleared her throat. “He did.”
“He broke through a fence. I was on the phone trying to find a vet who’ll come out and look at him, and when I went out to tell you what I found out, the horse was gone and so were you!”
“I was afraid he’d run in the road and get hurt,” Teddie said defensively.
China blue eyes looked up at Parker. “Oats, huh?” she asked as she saw the feed bag over the horse’s muzzle.
He nodded. “Quickest way to catch a runaway horse, if he has a sense of smell,” he added with a faint smile.
“She’s Katy,” Teddie introduced. “I don’t remember who you are,” she added with a shy smile at the tall man with the long black ponytail.
“Parker,” he said. He didn’t offer any more information, and he reached out to shake hands.
“You work for Mr. Denton, don’t you?” Katy asked, and her expression told him that she’d heard other things about him as well.
“I do. I’m his horse wrangler.”
She drew in a long breath. “Teddie, you never leave the house without telling me where you’re going.”
“Sorry, Mom.”
“And obviously the horse doesn’t need a vet immediately, or he wouldn’t have gotten this far!”
“You know about horses, do you?” Parker asked her.
She nodded.
“Come here.” He smoothed down the horse’s leg and pulled up the hoof. “Have a look.”
“Dear God,” she whispered reverently.
“If they lock his owner up forever, it won’t be long enough,” he added, putting the hoof back down. “There are deep cuts on his hindquarters, and on one of his legs as well. One needs stitches. I imagine an antibiotic would prevent complications from the hooves as well, if you got Doc Carr on the phone.”
She made a face. “He’s on another large-animal call. I left my cell phone number for him.”
“Your daughter knows very little about horses,” he began. “An animal that’s been abused is dangerous even for an experienced equestrian.”
“I know. But she was so upset,” came the soft reply. “She’s lost so much. . . .”
“She can learn how to take care of him,” Parker interrupted, because he understood without being told.
“Yes, and I can teach her. But it’s going to take time. I’m in a new teaching job. I’m not used to grammar school children. I taught at college level. . . .”
“We have a community college,” he pointed out.
She gave him a long-suffering look. “Yes, I’m on the waiting list for an opening, but I couldn’t wait. There are bills.”
“I know about bills.”
“So I got the only job available.”
“You aren’t from here,” he said.
She nodded. “My husband’s mother was from here. She was a Cowling, from the Dean River area.”