Terri stepped out of the truck and over to where the two men were standing. “Whose is he?” she asked.

“He’s a mustang,” Tom was still looking at the colt. “He came in with the old-timers. He doesn’t belong to anyone.”

“He’s hurt.” There was concern in her voice. “If he doesn’t belong to anybody, can we get him out of there and into a pen of his own?”

This was the very thing Tug was trying to avoid. The last thing he wanted to do was to be playing nursemaid to a crippled, wild horse right in the middle of all the fall chores. “Well, now ma’am,” he said in the most diplomatic voice he could muster. “That there’s a wild animal, and he’s hurt to boot. Most any wild animal will turn on you when injured like that, but them mustangs is the worst. It’d just be a matter of time ‘fore someone ‘round here gets hurt. Keeping him around, well, we’d just be askin’ for trouble. I believe the best place for him is up in them hills, yonder, not cooped up in a stall. Besides, we ain’t really set up to doctor no mustang.”

“He’s got a point, hon,” Tom nodded.

“He doesn’t look that vicious to me,” Terri shrugged. “Besides, we wouldn’t really need to doctor him. Just put him in a pen by himself where he didn’t have to fight for his food and water. I bet given a chance he’d heal himself just fine.”

Tom knew by the tone of her voice that this was already a lost cause. One way or another, the gray colt was going to need to stay with them, or Tom wouldn’t hear the end of it. Terri understood the workings of the ranch better than anyone gave her credit for, including Tom. She knew how much land they had, how many acres it took to feed one cow/calf pair, and how many it took to feed their horse herd. She knew how much hay they made every year, and how much they needed to feed the stock year round, even in the years of drought. She understood about equine nutrition, tooth, foot and eye care and she understood about horse behavior and temperament, although she seldom rode.

Terri had done her homework long before they bought the place, not just when it came to land and livestock, but also when it came to the help. From everything she could gather, Tug Caldwell was one of the best stockmen around. He may have been “old school” but when it came to any and all ranch animals, there were few better or more knowledgeable. She knew even though he didn’t want the horse around, he’d take good care of him. Yes, Terri knew the answer before she even asked the question. Of course they had a pen. Not only that, but they had the means to feed and care for the colt indefinitely if they so chose. She looked at Tom and smiled harmlessly. Tom gave a weak smile back, then turned to Tug. “Have we got an extra pen?”