She didn’t have time to fight.
Reece moved to the side of the trunk. ‘I’ll help you if you tell me what you need.’
More Good. Be helpful. The sooner Gordy was on his feet, the sooner Reece could go away. ‘I didn’t see him fall,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how much he could have jarred his insides when he went down, but I saw him thrashing to get up and that could have twisted his bowel. I don’t want him fighting colic while his body needs to be focused on healing his leg. We need a sling. And some way to hang it. I’ll work on the sling, you see if you can find a couple of pieces of lumber that will stretch across the top of the stall.’
He left immediately. Of course he knew the way. The circus might be somewhere new every week, but it was always set up in the same layout. And that layout hadn’t changed in the last ten years. She’d changed. He’d changed—God, had he ever—but the circus was the same.
A few minutes later Reece came back with two especially thick posts thrown over one shoulder and found her crouched in Gordy’s stall, stringing together belts and harnesses.
‘Lay them across the top. This isn’t a proper sling, but it should work until the vet gets here.’ She stretched the leather across Gordy’s chest, noting the labored breathing, and fought down another wave of panic. Once she had it in place over the shoulder she could access, she looked at Reece. ‘Think you can pick him up again? I need to get this around the other side and I need him on his feet, so I need you just supporting that place where his leg is compromised. Then I’ll climb the stall and get it all hitched to the lumber.’
He scowled at her. What did that mean? A longer look at her arm told her why he looked so sour, but to his credit he squatted beside Gordy and got him up again, just as she’d asked. Which didn’t make up for anything. He would probably pitch some kind of fit when this was over. He was a showman after all. Doctor. Showman. Jerkface.
She’d been upset with him for years, but had thought she’d finally let go of it a few years ago. The strength of her anger at seeing him now surprised her.
Not that she could spare time for reflection. To hell with Reece. She’d help Gordy—they’d help him. He’d survive. Get him up. Get the vet to cast his leg. Take care of him. Not a detailed plan, but it was as good as she had right now. And when Gordy’s leg was in a cast, she’d figure out what the next step was. And then the next. She had a job, and right now Gordy was it.
‘Hurry...’ Reece said through clamped lips, doing his best to keep his head away from Gordy’s mouth, should he get bitey again, but he managed to get the little stallion on his hooves and support his chest.
Jolie ducked around the other side and in a few seconds had threaded the makeshift harness through, clipped the ends together and thrown the long tail up and over the wood.
Good thing they were all pretty much acrobats...and that she was good at jumping. Her small stature made her the perfect size for tossing and flying, but made reaching objects in tall cabinets or shelves difficult. Made hauling herself to the stall top require a hop first.
She grabbed the top of the stall with both hands. Pain shot up her left arm and she let go again. It took a few seconds for the buzzing to subside so she could try again.
‘Jolie?’
‘I’m okay. It’s...probably not broken.’
He swore under his breath. Like he cared that much. Like someone who’d cut those he’d supposedly loved out of his life for a decade could care at all, let alone enough to swear.
A burst of anger at the bitter memory gave her the strength she needed to pull herself up on the second attempt. She maneuvered herself between the lumber Reece had slatted across the top of the stall, balanced and reached for the leather dangling over the lumber.
As she worked, she looked down and saw Reece scowling up at her again. ‘What?’
‘Hurry,’ he said.
‘You carried him all the way in there, is supporting one end such a chore now?’ She looked down, noticed red on Gordy’s white fur and howled, ‘Is he bleeding?’
‘Dammit, Jolie, that’s your blood.’
‘Oh.’ She swallowed back down another wave of hysteria and fastened the belts until the little horse was lifted ever so slightly from the floor.
‘Too high,’ he called. ‘His front hooves aren’t on the ground.’
‘I think the next notch will put too much weight on his leg, though... This is the best we can do. Maybe we can find a tile or bit of wood, something to slide under his good foot so he can stand but keep the weight off the other.’
‘After we clean your arm.’
Back to the arm. ‘Later. What happened out there? You saw it, right?’ Should she give him a sedative? Could she even do the math right now to figure out the right dose, or find a vein to inject it?
‘He hurdled a little leap and just landed badly.’ He let go of Gordy slowly, letting him test the sling, and she waited to climb down until she was certain she wouldn’t have to adjust the buckles.
Reece got to that decision before she did then stood and plucked her off the top of the stall. Picking her up again.
She’d forgotten he did that, just picked her up whenever he wanted to. And now that he was twelve gazillion feet tall, he might be even worse about it.
‘Good grief, put me down.’ Being this close to him made her feel more breathless than she wanted to sound. She wanted to sound angry. Angry was better than fragile and girly.
‘I’m helping you down.’
She couldn’t kick him because he might drop her and she already hurt. Though in a way she was grateful for the pain as having something else to focus on had to help keep her from thinking too hard about the past and just what Reece was there to do. ‘I climbed up on my own, I could’ve climbed down without your help too.’
‘You’re hurt, and you’re too stubborn to let me take care of you...your wound.’ He set her in the straw, and when Gordy whinnied and tugged at the sling, he lowered his voice. ‘It needs to be cleaned at the very least. Animal mouths...’
‘I know. But it’s waited this long. If I’m going to catch some dreaded horse-bite disease, then I’m pretty sure there is no difference in waiting fifteen minutes to clean it or fifty.’
Gordy thrashed about, trying to escape the makeshift sling, causing the lumber above to skid on the stall. Jolie watched the wood move enough to be convinced: Gordy definitely needed a tranquilizer. And she needed a shot of something too. Like whiskey.
‘Who’s going to take care of him if you’re sick?’
‘I won’t get sick. You’re the one who’s been looking like you were going to throw up.’
He ignored her vomit talk. ‘This is ridiculous. He is in the sling. There is absolutely nothing else you can do for him until the vet arrives. Come with me to Mom’s RV and let me treat it.’
‘No.’ She redirected his attention. ‘I have some sedative but I need some help with the math. You do medicine dosage calculations all the time, right?’
‘I don’t know the dosage for horses,’ Reece muttered, but reached up to hold the lumber steady.
‘I know the dosage for a big horse and the weight differences, so you should be able to figure out what to give Gordy if I tell you that, right?’
‘Fine, then we’ll deal with your arm.’ He looked at her, but direct eye contact did something to her insides and she had enough to worry about.
She looked away, told him the dosage for a full-sized horse and the weight differences, and then left him thinking and holding the lumber to run to her trailer where she had the medication in her fridge. When she came back, he stood there still and immediately