Storm Warrior (The Grim Series) by Dani Harper Page A

situation was beyond bad—what Jay would describe as a red-hot mess.
    “What have I got for help?” Morgan asked the dispatcher. Any accident involving a horse required as many skilled hands as possible. The big animals usually panicked, making things worse for themselves and endangering the humans around them.
    Knowing this, the dispatcher had automatically paged Jay and Grady, plus all three of the clinic technicians as well. Jay and Russell were already up to their armpits in a bovine C-section—apparently someone had forgotten to notify the dispatcher that Morgan was taking her own shift tonight. No one else was answering their pages, and she remembered why: Grady had taken the other two techs, Cindy and Melinda, to a distant farm fair, not for fun but for further training.
Murphy’s Law
, she sighed inwardly. She thanked the dispatcher and flipped her cell closed.
    Normally a veterinarian would draft the owner at the scene, but she knew that this particular farmer would be of little use. She needed to find somebody else and fast—
    “What troubles you?” asked Rhys.
    —and the universe had plunked a
very
able body right in front of her. Morgan shoved the phone into her jeans as she stood up. “I’m sorry, guys, but I’ve got one hell of an emergency. Leo, I need to borrow your
man in demand
.”
    “Seems to happen a lot these days,” the old man chuckled. “I’ll put your groceries in the fridge for you before I go, but I warn you, I may have to eat some more of these cookies first.”
    She gave him a quick hug. Then turned her attention to his companion, who had stood up when she did. He towered over her, all rugged power and muscle, but she was assessing his usefulness this time, not his appeal. Morgan had a patient waiting, and she was all business now.
    “Rhys, I need your help.”
    “My sword arm and my shield are yours to command,” he said solemnly.
    Uh-huh.
“Actually it’s your hands I’m going to need.”

    The only thing in their favor was that the Kendrick farm was just a few roads over from her own. Morgan was grateful for that and for the double suspension in the clinic truck as she drove as fast as she dared over potholes and gravel.
    She spotted the horse as she turned into the Kendricks’ driveway. The big dapple-gray Percheron was on her side in a drainage ditch by the machine shed, thrashing wildly as an older woman, Julie, stood by in helpless tears. Instantly Morgan was out of the truck and had the rear hatch open, grabbing pliers, bolt cutters, and two sets of rope hobbles. Finally, she snatched the big blue gym bag of medical supplies for large animals.
    She ran for the scene, only to find that Rhys had gotten there first. To her amazement, he was seated on the ground with the horse’s head in his lap. He gripped one of the horse’s ears in his hand while his other hand stroked the sweat-lathered neck. The big mare was quivering as he spoke soothingly to her in a language that sounded somewhat like Welsh, yet Morgan didn’t recognize the words. Whatever he was saying, the animal must have been listening because, miraculously, she had stopped thrashing.
    Rhys looked up and nodded at Morgan. “Her name is Lucy. She’ll not move now,” he said.
    Morgan approached cautiously, instinctively kneeling in a spot where she was less likely to be kicked, and surveyed the damage. It was bad, very bad. She glanced over her shoulder at the owner’s reddened eyes. It would do her no good to watch this. “Julie, why don’t you go to the house and put on some coffee? We’ve got a handle on things here, but it’s going to take some work, and we’ll need a break afterward.”
    The woman fled gratefully.
    “You did that woman a kindness,” said Rhys.
    “It’ll be kinder if I don’t have to put her horse down.” Morgan took a deep breath and took up the hobbles. “I’ve got to restrain the legs so I can work on them.”
    “The mare will be still, I promise you