Warm Nights in Magnolia Bay by Babette Jongh (best fantasy books to read TXT) 📕

tried to step over it to get to some tasty overhanging leaves, and ended up with the wire tangled around his legs. Elijah bellowed in fear, his eyes rolling, his nostrils distended. He tried to rear, but the wire around his legs hobbled him. Miriam, the other donkey, stood nearby, wailing in sympathy.

Abby approached Elijah, one hand out. “Shhh,” she soothed. “Be still, baby.”

Quinn rushed up, breathing hard. “Don’t try to help him yet, Abby. You’ll both end up getting hurt.”

“Well, I don’t know what you expect me to do,” she hissed without sparing Quinn a glance. She rubbed Elijah’s nose. “I’m not going to walk away and leave him like this.”

“Do. Not. Move. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Why hadn’t Abby paid more attention to where Quinn left the old bent-up wire and posts? Because he’d promised to take them to the recycling place the next morning, and he hadn’t done it, that’s why.

Quinn came back with a halter and lead rope in one hand, and a pair of stout bolt-cutters in the other. He handed over the halter. “Here. Put this on him and hold him still.”

She buckled the halter—it didn’t fit but was better than nothing—and gathered the lead rope into short loops so she could hold it close to Elijah’s chin and keep him from rearing. She hoped. “Why didn’t you take that wire away like you promised?”

“My bad.” Quinn started clipping the wire strands that held Elijah captive. “I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“Elijah better not get hurt because of this.” Abby knew that her accusing tone wasn’t fair; she’d been as responsible as Quinn for this trap they’d set. She should have paid more attention when he told her where he’d left the wire. She should have reminded him to take it away. She shouldn’t have released the donkeys—and the goats, for that matter—into a field that wasn’t safe.

“I said I’m sorry.” Quinn clipped more strands and separated the wires that wound around Elijah’s left back leg. “I take complete responsibility, and I’m doing my best to fix the problem.” Quinn pulled away a wadded section of wire, releasing Elijah’s leg, which he promptly used to kick out at Quinn. “Would you hold him still, please, before he kills me?”

Abby knew that a well-placed donkey kick could be lethal, and Quinn had no choice but to bend over, putting his skull in too-close proximity to Elijah’s flashing hooves. “I’m trying,” she griped. “Maybe you should get his front legs free first, so he can’t kick out.”

“Eventually, I’ll have to free all of his legs,” Quinn reasoned. “I’d like it if you’d just keep him still so he can’t decide to kick my damn teeth in.”

“I’m doing my best.” She jerked down on the lead rope. Elijah rolled his eyes and plunged up and down on his front feet. “Be still, you bad donkey. We’re trying to help.”

“For God’s sake, don’t rile him up more,” Quinn fussed. “Pet his nose or something.”

“I can’t pet his nose or something,” she retorted with irritation. “I need both hands to hold on to this lead rope so he doesn’t kick your thick head in.”

Quinn moved around to free Elijah’s front legs, doing what Abby had suggested by leaving the remaining back leg for last. He didn’t, of course, give her credit for a good idea—it might not end up being a good idea anyway. The test would come when the last leg came free.

Georgia, who’d been who-knows-where for the last few minutes, came in close to sniff out the problem. She inspected the tangled wire, and then sniffed Elijah’s newly freed back leg. “Georgia,” Abby hissed. “Go away.”

Quinn flicked the bolt cutters in her direction. “Move, dog. You’re not helping.” He pulled free another section of fence. “Two legs down, two to go.”

Miriam came close to sniff a section of fence that Quinn had cut away and tossed aside. Quinn half stood and flapped a hand at the curious donkey. “Shoo.”

Abby heard the bleat of goats in the distance, followed by the unmistakable sound of the entire herd coming this way at a fast clip. “Hurry up, Quinn.” Abby imagined the hullabaloo that would occur with a dozen animals milling around this operation. The goats’ heads and horns bobbed up over the hill’s horizon line, then the whole herd galloped into sight. “Shit. Here they all come.”

Quinn pulled aside another section of wire, and with another couple of quick clips, he had entirely freed the donkey’s front legs. “One left.” He moved around to the still-ensnared back leg. “Pull him forward so he doesn’t have room to kick out. Then hold him still.”

Goats had begun to nibble at the discarded wire. Gregory chewed at Abby’s shoelaces, and Esmeralda bit at Quinn’s jeans. “Georgia,” Abby said, “aren’t you supposed to be a herding dog?”

Georgia looked up at Abby, then immediately chased the goats away, nipping at heels and expertly keeping stragglers from turning back. When the goats had all disappeared behind the hill, Georgia came back and sat, panting. Abby’s stress level dropped, and she relaxed her hold on the lead rope.

“Okay,” Quinn said. “This is it.” He clipped the last wire holding Elijah’s leg and pulled the chunk of wire away.

Elijah brayed with joy and plunged forward as if Abby wasn’t standing right in front of him. She landed on her butt. Cradling her rope-burned palms, Abby watched Elijah run over the hill with the lead rope flapping out behind him. “You’re welcome,” she snarked at the ungrateful equine’s backside.

“You okay?” Quinn put out a hand. When she hesitated to put her still-burning hand in his, he grabbed her wrists and tugged to help her stand.

She stood, keeping most of her weight on her right leg. When she shifted, her left ankle buckled, and a sharp, knife-edged pain shot from the sole of her foot to her knee. She sat abruptly. “Owww.”

Quinn knelt down beside her and took her booted foot in his hand. “Owww,” she complained. “Don’t.”

“Shit. That damn