Cowboy Strong. Kelli Ireland

squeezed her hand harder. “Please, Kenzie.”

      “I’ll do what I can,” she answered, voice husky.

      “No.” His tears flowed faster. “Promise.”

      “You have to calm down, Mr. Covington.” The EMT pulled a syringe and loaded it. “I’m going to give you something for the pain before we transport you.”

      “Promise!” he rasped, grasping Kenzie’s hand hard.

      “I promise,” she choked out, but his eyes had already drifted closed, and she had no idea if he’d heard her before the drug hit.

      His hand relaxed. She clung to him, unwilling to let him go.

      “Where are you taking him?” she asked, standing as they lifted the body board.

      “Medevacing him to Baylor’s trauma center.”

      Kenzie looked at Cade. “Go with him. I’ll check in later after I take care of Gizmo.”

      “Take care of him how?” Cade demanded.

      “Don’t worry, I have a vested interest in ensuring the horse survives.”

      Cade’s fiancée narrowed her eyes. “Ty didn’t mention anyone else having a vested interest in Gizmo.”

      “Have you talked to Ty about his business dealings since he’s been here?” Kenzie asked with feigned arrogance.

      Cade arched a single brow. “No.”

      “Then, I don’t expect you to know that I bought into the horse here or that I’m funding part of your brother’s breeding program.” Any other time it would have bothered her how easily she lied. Not right now, though. Too much was at stake. “I won’t let my investment fall apart.”

      “Gotta go, folks,” the EMT called.

      “Do what you can,” the short-haired woman said, grabbing Cade’s hand and hauling him toward the ambulance. They hopped inside, the ambulance driver slamming the door closed behind them before racing for the driver’s seat. The ambulanced chirped and, with lights flashing, took off.

      Kenzie turned to the rodeo vet. “What’s the prognosis?”

      “Unless you own the horse—”

      “I have a vested interest, yes.” How many lies would a cowgirl issue if a cowgirl could issue lies? The answer was simple: as many as it took. “Let’s consider the broken parts mine, so tell me what I’m facing here.”

      “He’s torn ligaments and tendons in his fetlock, and I’m going to wager he’s also fractured his cannon. We’ve got a Kimzey leg saver on its way, but the damage...” He shrugged. “He’ll require serious surgical intervention. If he’s worth anything at all, get him to Ohio State University.”

      Eli’s wife paled. “You’re talking thousands just in transport.”

      “Make it happen,” Kenzie said, crossing her arms and widening her stance.

      The vet arched a brow. “You realize that between emergency transport and initial treatment you’re looking at fifty to eighty thousand dollars?”

      “You signing the checks?” she asked quietly.

      “No.”

      “Then, don’t worry about the costs.”

      “We have to, though,” Eli murmured.

      Kenzie shook her head. “No, you don’t.” Facing the vet again, she tucked her hands into her jeans pockets and did the one thing she hated doing. She threw her name at the doctor with the force of a major league pitcher’s fastball. “I’m Mackenzie Malone, Jack Malone’s daughter.” The vet’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something, but Kenzie shook her head. “There are only two things I want to hear from you. First, I want this horse’s flight number to the airport nearest Ohio State University. Charter a plane if necessary. Second, I want the in-flight pain management plans for him so I can clear that plan with my own vet.”

      The rodeo vet stiffened. “I assure you—”

      “I listed the two things I need, Doc, and your assurances weren’t on the short list.” Dismissing him to do his job as she’d seen her father do a thousand times, she faced the Covingtons. “Ty’s being lifted to Baylor. You two go there. I’ll stay with Gizmo.”

      “Don’t let them put him down. Please, Ms. Malone.” Eli choked on the words and looked away, but not fast enough to hide the sheen of tears in his eyes.

      “Just Kenzie, and I give you my word I’ll do my best to avoid that very thing, Mr. Covington.”

      The woman pulled out her admission ticket and grabbed a pen from a vet tech. She scribbled on the back, then handed the card to Kenzie. “I’m Reagan Covington, large-animal vet and Eli’s wife. Call me with the drug names and I can explain what they’re giving him.”

      “Will do. Now you two go on. Ty needs you, and frankly, I can make things happen faster if I have a little room to play the bitchy heiress.”

      Both Covington and his wife issued their thanks before jogging toward the nearest arena exit.

      Kenzie went to her knees by Gizmo’s head. She stroked his jaw and murmured soft words of encouragement. It took her several moments to summon the courage to meet his gaze. When she did, her heart broke for him. His nostrils blew hard, froth decorated his lips and neck, and the whites of his eyes showed clearly. He hurt. Worse than the pain, though, was his obvious fear. It was as if he had some inkling of just how bad off he was, and he was terrified.

      That made two of them.