Chapter 2 - Walker

I watch as the vet, this Naomi woman, prepares her supplies for dealing with Rebel"s abscess. She moves silently but with confidence, checking and double-checking her equipment like she"s done this a thousand times before.

I"ll admit, I was a bit taken aback when she first showed up—she"s younger than I expected and can"t be much past twenty. But there"s a steady, no-nonsense air about her that puts me at ease.

"Alright, Mr. Jameson," she says, turning to face me. "I"m going to give Rebel a sedative to help keep him still while I work on that hoof. You"ll need to hold his head for me."

I nod curtly.

Stepping up to Rebel"s shoulder, I take the lead rope from her and give the big horse a firm pat on the neck. He"s been a part of my life for almost fifteen years now - one of the first foals born on this ranch after I hung up my uniform for good. We"ve been through a lot together.

Naomi administers the sedative through Rebel"s jugular vein with practiced ease. As the drugs take effect, his big brown eyes grow heavy, and his head starts to droop. I brace myself, steadying him.

"That"s it, boy. I got you," I murmur.

The vet moves around to Rebel"s opposite side, picking up a set of hoof testers. She runs them along the sore hoof, applying pressure at various points until Rebel flinches, indicating the source of pain.

"Yep, it"s this one," she confirms, marking the area with a marker. "I"m going to numb the whole foot up before I start cutting."

I watch intently as she systematically injects a nerve block up Rebel"s leg. Once the anesthesia has taken effect, she turns her focus to the afflicted hoof. With a small, motorized drill, she begins scoring a line across the hoof wall.

The acrid stench of infected tissue hits my nostrils, making my lips curl in disgust. But Naomi doesn"t seem fazed. She works quickly yet meticulously, paring away the hoof wall until a pocket of green-yellow pus is exposed.

"There it is," she says grimly. "Hold him steady."

I tighten my grip on Rebel"s halter as Naomi begins flushing out the abscess with a sterile saline solution. The big horse stamps his foot restlessly, even with the numbing agents. I murmur soothingly, keeping him as calm as possible.

"Easy, boy. Just a little longer."

Naomi works diligently, repeatedly squirting the solution into the infected pocket to flush out every last trace of pus and debris. Finally, she seems satisfied and steps back, stripping off her latex gloves.

"That should do it," she says with a curt nod. "I got it all drained out and cleaned up good. He"ll need antibiotics and regular hoof soakings for the next week or so until that closes up completely."

"Much obliged, doc," I reply gruffly, relieved to see Rebel"s ordeal is over.

I"ll sleep better knowing that the infection is taken care of.

She scribbles out a few instructions on a prescription pad and tears off the sheet, handing it to me.

"I"ll get you set up with the meds. Just follow the dosing on there and bring him in again if it"s not improving after five days or so."

I scan the note briefly. "You got it."

Gathering her tools, Naomi heads back to her pickup to retrieve the antibiotics, leaving me alone with Rebel.

"You hear that, buddy? Good as new in no time, thanks to the Doc." I say, scratching the gelding's forelock.

I"ll be damned if that little lady didn"t handle herself - and a thousand-pound animal - with confidence. First impressions can be deceiving, I reckon. She didn"t let Rebel"s size or my own brusque manner rattle her one bit.

Maybe there"s more to Naomi Barrett than meets the eye.

She reappears with the medication and syringes, quickly showing me how to administer the antibiotics and hoof soaks. I watch and listen closely, committing the instructions to memory. I don"t need to be calling her back out here just because I screwed something up.

"You got all that?" she asks once she"s finished explaining.

I give her a curt nod.

"Alright then." She glances around the barn, surveying her work area. "I think that"s everything. I"ll get out of your way."

Without another word, she turns and heads for her pickup. I trail after her, Rebel plodding slowly behind me on three legs.

"Hey," I call out, stopping her before she can climb into the cab. She pauses, eyeing me expectantly. "Thanks for, uh, comin" out on such short notice. And for fixin" up my horse."

A faint smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

"Just doing my job, Mr. Jameson."

"Walker," I correct her gruffly. "And you did good work today...Naomi."

She holds my gaze for a beat longer, then gives a nod, "Walker. I"ll see you around."

With that, she ducks into the driver"s seat and fires up the engine. I step back as she pulls away, kicking up a cloud of dust in her wake.

Turning back towards the barn, I find Rebel watching me with those liquid brown eyes. I shake my head ruefully.

"Don"t start," I mutter, guiding him back towards his stall. "She"s just doin" her job, like she said."

But even as the words leave my mouth, I know there"s a small part of me that wants to believe otherwise.