He’s in distress, and he’s breathing rapidly. I don’t need to recheck to see that he’s feverish.

“This colt needs to survive,” Abe says again. He’s in his late forties and looks exhausted. We usually wear a Bridger Ranch shirt as a pseudo-uniform, but now he’s sloppy in jeans and a misbuttoned shirt. The other hand doesn’t look much better.

I can relate.

“Does he have a name?” I ask.

“No. Not yet.”

Such a lovely animal should have a name. In my mind, I call him Beau, because he’s so beautiful.

“Like you suspected, it’s an infection,” I tell Abe, “but I’m not a veterinarian. I can’t administer medication.”

“You have to do something.”

“Let me get some saline. I can wash out the wound and apply some antiseptic. Lexie’s sutures are holding and they look good.”

“I tried Lexie again,” the other hand says. “She’s still not answering.”

I furrow my brow. “That doesn’t sound like her. I hope she’s okay.”

He shakes his head.

She spent most of the day with me dealing with the dead body and then the questioning sheriff. Maybe she turned her phone off to get a good night’s sleep. Maybe she went back to the bar and found that cute cowboy for a little fun. I don’t have time to dwell on where my boss might be. I have a colt to help.

I rise. “I’ll be right back.”

I head to the vet’s office located in the next stable and I grab some saline, some antiseptic and gauze. On the bookshelf sit several books about treating equines. I wish I had the time to leaf through them, but the internet is quicker. I sit at Lexie’s desk and do a quick search.

Sulfadiazine seems to be the antibiotic of choice for equine infection. It’s given orally, which means I’ll have to shove a syringe down the poor thing’s throat. Side effects are rare. Does Lexie even have any here? The next entry mentions Gentamicin, but it’s generally given intravenously, and while I’ve watched others do it, I’ve never started an IV. Procaine penicillin is another option and is given as a shot, but it can cause an anaphylactic reaction and even death in rare cases. Yeah. No thanks.

I check the shelves and the refrigerator to see what Lexie has to work with. I may not be qualified to give medicines to animals, but I don’t have much choice now. It’s giving antibiotics, not the actual hernia surgery.

Thank God!

She has sulfadiazine. I check Beau’s chart for dosage, grab some anti-inflammatories for the fever as well, and then I hurry back to the stable.

Time is paramount, so I begin with the antibiotic and anti-inflammatory. I draw in a deep breath before administering the medication.

Trust yourself, Carly. You have to do this. If it doesn’t help, at least you did something.

After giving Beau the meds, I clean the wound with the saline and antiseptic.

“Now what?” Abe asks, looking to me.