Emilia was all too familiar with the problem. Owners, who rarely saw the real cost of human medicine, failed to appreciate how much their medical insurance covered, and then there was the fact that vets paid just as much for vet school as human doctors did for medical school, only to make a third, if not less, of their salary. To say vets were in it for the money was to confess complete and total ignorance of the American medical system.

•   •   •

They had just finished eating when Morgan’s pager went off.

“Noooo.” Stevie slumped in her chair.

“At least you got dinner. And hey, maybe it will be an easy one,” said Angie.

The rest of them stared at Angie in horror.

“She’s been out of the field too long,” Stevie said with a wide-eyed expression. “She’s forgotten the curse.”

“The curse is bull—”

“It is not bullshit and you know it. The veterinary gods are cruel and unforgiving. We’ll probably be stuck out all night now.”

“Then at least you got dinner.”

“Don’t make me get the hose again.”

“It’s Abby Killmore.”

The name meant nothing to Emilia, but Stevie broke off arguing with Angie and blinked at Morgan.

“One of her sheep?”

“No. It’s Olive.”

“Olive?” Emilia asked.

“The horse Stevie’s in love with,” said Angie.

Morgan whipped out her cell and called Abby while Stevie explained that Olive had been a teenage girl’s barrel racing prospect, only to develop stringhalt and get dumped at her mom’s cousin’s. Emilia’s heart twinged. Shelter dogs and cats had it rough; horses, perhaps, had it even worse. Long-lived and expensive to keep, they got passed around from owner to owner, and so many ended up as pasture ornaments before their time, out of shape and bored, or at slaughter.

“All right,” Morgan said as she hung up. “Emilia, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I knew you were on call. How’s the horse?”

“Colic.” Morgan turned to Stevie. “Is the truck gassed up?”

Stevie nodded, and Emilia felt words bubbling up in her chest. She tasted them, but she wasn’t sure of their meaning until they left her mouth.

“Need a hand?”

Morgan’s eyes widened in surprise, and Emilia felt her own face like a mask. She didn’t know what her expression revealed about just how much those words had taken her unawares. This was a disaster in waiting, wasn’t it? Hadn’t she sworn to take a few months off from the field to think about things? She knew what a bad case of colic might mean: euthanasia. Could she handle that?

“We’d love a hand,” said Morgan, and Emilia didn’t know whether she was grateful Morgan hadn’t questioned her decision or terrified. “Need a pair of coveralls?”

Emilia considered her shirt and sandals. “Maybe a pair of boots if you have them?”