Page 44 of Texas Made
“They don’t know. He doesn’t—I’m the only one who can really handle him. He—he tolerates Damaris but…”
“Let’s go. The sooner you get back the sooner you’ll know how serious his injury is. None of the people were hurt? And what about the rest of the animals?”
“No. The people are fine. All the other animals are okay.”
“It’s going to be okay, Marshall.”
“I hope so.” God, what would he do if Cappuchino—
He made himself stop thinking. Things were bad enough without him thinking the worst.
*
Jaclyn was reallyworried about Marshall. At his request, she’d written a note to the inn’s owners and dropped it along with the room key into the mail slot in their front door. Twenty minutes from when Marshall had gotten the call, they took off with Marshall driving way too fast. She wasn’t about to say anything to him. She’d just pray they made it back without an accident. She tried to talk to him but he either ignored her or gave monosyllabic answers so she soon stopped.
Luckily, at four in the morning there was no traffic and they made it back to the Walker ranch in record time. Marshall drove down as close to the barn as he could get. Not very close since the fire engine, fire truck, and ambulance were still there and there were several other vehicles parked nearby. Some of the neighbors who had seen the fire or heard the sirens must have come over to see if they could be of help.
Marshall went to find Damaris and Cappuchino immediately. She asked Ella what she could do to help.
“Ruthie’s making coffee and some breakfast tacos for everyone. If you don’t mind, I’m sure she could use the help.”
“Of course.”
Jaclynn found Ruthie in the kitchen, stirring a bowl of something, probably eggs, with tears running down her cheeks. “Oh, Ruthie. Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m just upset. That fire took years off my life.” She set down the bowl and got out a tissue, sniffled into it and dabbed at her eyes. “I’m worried about Marshall.”
“Why? He wasn’t here.”
“Exactly. And Cappuchino is hurt. If I know Marshall, and I should, that boy’s gonna blame himself for that.”
Ruthie tucked away her tissue and washed her hands. Picking up the bowl of eggs, she dumped the mixture into a cast-iron skillet. Another skillet sat on the stove, full of crackling and sizzling bacon.
“What can I do to help?” First help, then ask Ruthie what the heck she was talking about.
“Thanks, I’d love some help. The bacon’s almost done. You can take it out and put it on that plate.” She nodded at a plate covered with paper towels. “Once you’re done with that you can start another batch. When the eggs are finished I’ll start filling the tortillas. We’ll have to make several batches but we can take the first batch with the coffee down to everyone. And get an apron from the back of the laundry room door. You’re gonna need it.”
When Ruthie began assembling the tacos Jaclyn judged it time to talk to her about what she’d said. “Why would Marshall think it’s his fault Cappuchino got hurt?”
“Because he wasn’t here. That horse thinks Marshall hung the moon. Everyone else, not so much. Lucky Damaris was here or it could have been even worse. At least Cap kind of likes Damaris, but even she can’t handle him like Marshall does.”
She digested that. He was feeling guilty about not being here when the fire broke out? Surely not. But she admitted he’d been awfully quiet. She’d put it down to worry but maybe there was more to it. When the first batch of tacos was ready Ruthie sent her down to the barn with them. Someone Jaclyn didn’t recognize had already come for the coffee.
There were a lot of people there, including the Whiskey River Volunteer Fire Department. She heard that the Last Stand Fire Department had also been called out but they’d left by the time she and Marshall had arrived. She hoped that was a good sign that they hadn’t needed more fire departments deployed. She looked for Marshall but didn’t see him. Seeing Chase and Ella in the round pen with several horses, she went out to talk to them.
“Can I do anything for y’all? How is Midnight?” she asked Ella, who was stroking the big black horse’s nose.
“He’s all right. And Chase’s horses are in the pasture, thank God.”
“Do you know how Cappuchino is?”
Chase shook his head. “No. All we know is Damaris said he got injured during the fire. But Jason Barrett’s here,” he said, referring to the vet. “He’s with Marshall and Cap in another corral behind the new barn structure.”
“Thanks. I won’t bother him then. It sounds like he has his hands full.”
Much later most of the extra people had left. The family, the vet, and the builder, Harlan Sullivan, were still there. She’d spoken to Marshall, briefly. He said Cappuchino had sprained or tore a ligament and also had a nasty gash, both from trying to kick out of his box. The vet thought he’d be fine with some care and rest. Possibly quite a lot of rest, Marshall had added with a frown. The other stud, Thunder, had been out in the pasture but he was unhurt, as were the other horses who’d been pastured.
Jaclyn wanted to stay longer but she had an important meeting early the next morning and she was certain changing it wouldn’t work. It had taken them weeks to find a time they were both free.
