Cutter (Gail McCarthy Mystery series) Read Online Free PDF

horse. At the rate I was progressing economically it wouldn't happen until I was about fifty. Practicing as a veterinarian on salary was just managing to pay my bills; even the payments on my definitely low-end cabin were stretching me.
    I looked back at Casey and my mouth dropped open. The peaceful, if active, tableau of cowboy, horse, and cattle had broken into a wild scene of disaster. Cattle were scattered in all directions and running through the middle of them, flat out, were Casey and the sorrel colt. The colt's head was stuck straight up in the air, clearly out of control, and he was running blindly. Casey was jerking on the left rein, trying to bring him around, but the horse paid no attention. He tore through the cattle and appeared to be headed straight for a steep hillside, where the ground dropped off abruptly and was littered with boulders.
    My hand tightened on the fence rail. There wasn't a thing I could do. Casey and the horse rocketed off the crest of the hill and lunged down in an uneven gallop. Casey still sat firmly in the middle of the horse, and to my complete disbelief, seemed to be able to guide him a little so that he missed the bigger rocks. For a minute I thought he would make it to the bottom and then the colt stumbled and things happened so fast I couldn't follow them.
    The colt was tripping and then the saddle lurched sideways and Casey was hurtling off as if catapulted. The horse was down and rolling, and Casey was lying on the ground. I started running toward him, feeling as if I were moving in slow motion.
    Casey's figure was crumpled and still; I ran, legs pumping, heart pounding. Casey moved a little-at least he was alive. I ran harder, stumbling on a rock. When I looked up, Casey was getting to his feet. I slowed to a walk.
    "Are you all right?" I was close enough to yell.
    He limped toward me. "Oh, yeah. Dumb son of a bitch." He looked back over his shoulder at the horse, who was galloping frantically around the lower pasture, apparently unhurt.
    I stared at the horse, too. The saddle was hanging under his belly. "What happened, did the cinch break?"
    "Must have." Casey was watching the colt gallop. "He's a pig. Tries that runaway shit every other time I ride him. Guess I better go catch him before he cripples himself, though."
    He started to limp in that direction and I touched him on the arm. "Save your leg. I'll get the horse."
    Casey looked at me and then shrugged. "Okay. He's liable to be a little touchy about that saddle under his belly."
    Nodding, I headed off toward the horse. His gallop had slowed to a lope out of pure exhaustion, I supposed. His whole body was wet with sweat and there was foam on his neck. His eyes were still rolling frantically, and periodically he would jump sideways when the saddle under his belly caught him by surprise.
    I walked toward him, talking meaninglessly in a calm voice. "You stupid horse, don't you want me to help you, you need to get that saddle off ... ," etc. I spoke matter-of-factly, my voice telling the horse that things were okay.
    He stopped and faced me, his eyes full of fear. He hated the saddle under him, he didn't trust me to help him, but he was also tired and running away hadn't done any good. I saw him hesitate; he thought of running again.
    "Whoa," I told him firmly.
    He looked back at me, his sides heaving, and I could see in his eyes that he would let me catch him. I walked toward him and took hold of the reins.
    The saddle was attached to him by the back cinch and breast collar only, hanging awkwardly and loosely under his belly. Moving slowly, I talked soothingly, and struggled with the buckles, trying to get it off of him. He jumped once or twice, but didn't attempt to bolt with any determination. Eventually I was able to pull the saddle free. Carrying it with my right arm, I led the horse with my left, and headed back toward Casey.
    He was already limping in the direction of the barn. I followed him, handing the sorrel colt's