Waiting for Morning (The Brides Of Last Chance Ranch Series) Read Online Free

of the question, but—”
    “Purchasing!” She narrowed her eyes. “This is my horse and there’s something wrong with him. I summoned Dr. Masterson to tell me what it is.”
    Caleb rubbed his chin. It seemed like a day for misunderstandings. “I . . . I fear there’s been a mistake. I’m a medical doctor. I treat humans.”
    “If you are indeed what you say you are, then you treat infections and disease. This animal is suffering from one, if not both.”
    Caleb could see that. The horse looked at them with dull eyes, nostrils flared. He also appeared to be trembling.
    “He’s not eating and he’s been lying down,” she added.
    Just then one of the cowhands joined them. Miss Walker introduced Caleb in a no-nonsense voice. “Fairchild, meet Ruckus.”
    “That’s Fairbanks,” Caleb said, shaking the man’s hand. “ Doctor Fairbanks.”
    “This man claims to be a doctor, though he’s only thirty,” Miss Walker added.
    “The same age as the Lord was when he started ministering,” Caleb said.
    Ruckus grinned. Obviously, he was used to the cantankerous ranch owner. Caleb guessed from the man’s strong grip that he was somewhere in his midforties, though his craggy face and leathery skin made him look older. He had a horseshoe mustache and a crooked nose, most likely the result of someone’s misplaced fist.
    “What happened to Doc Masterson?” Ruckus asked.
    “Retired,” Miss Walker said. “Can you imagine anything more ridiculous?”
    Ruckus shrugged. “I reckon more people would retire if theylived long enough, but out here if a bullet don’t get you the weather likely will.”
    Caleb hoped the ranch hand talked in jest, though nothing in his demeanor suggested it.
    Miss Walker ran her hand along her horse’s neck. “Well? Don’t just stand there. Do something.”
    Caleb set his bag on the ground away from the horse and opened it. Dr. Masterson had warned him about the old lady and told him to get on her good side. He wondered if such a thing existed. Out of habit he reached for his stethoscope, then thought better of it.
    “Let’s have a look.”
    He ran his hands along the roan’s sweaty flanks. A horse’s pulse is normally slower than a human’s, but Baxter’s pulse was elevated.
    Ruckus hooked his thumbs onto his gun belt. “You won’t find anything. No founder, no nothin’.”
    That’s what Caleb was afraid of. Carpeted with a thick layer of fresh straw, the stall was spotless with plenty of hay and water. This was a well-cared-for horse and his caretakers weren’t likely to let a common disorder slip by without notice. Whatever ailed the gelding was probably something uncommon.
    He’d doctored many animals in his youth and once considered going into veterinary medicine. He soon learned, however, that working with animals took a great deal of guesswork. He much preferred working with patients able to voice complaints and describe symptoms.
    He flexed each leg and examined each hoof, watching Baxter’s reaction. Nothing.
    He checked the horse from one end to the other. None of the animals he worked with in the past had anything seriously wrong with them, and he hoped the same was true for Baxter. It wouldn’tlook good if the first patient he treated upon arriving in Cactus Patch should die.
    Miss Walker watched him with observant gray eyes, measuring his every move and no doubt comparing him to Dr. Masterson.
    One by one Caleb dismissed the possible diseases that came to mind. The best he could do was make an educated guess based on a slight, almost imperceptible swelling of the lymph nodes around the neck and a watery discharge from the nose.
    “I think your horse has the early stages of strangles,” he said.
    “That’s not possible,” Miss Walker exclaimed. “None of the other horses are infected.”
    “What about the new horses?” Caleb asked. He’d passed a corral of wild mustangs.
    “We keep the new horses isolated from our regular ones,” Ruckus said.
    “Then I