Taming a Highland Stallion: A Scottish Medieval Historical Romance (Beasts Of The Highlands Book 8) by Adams Alisa

Author:Adams, Alisa [Adams, Alisa]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-07-19T16:00:00+00:00

Gillis walked out of the stable when she was through checking her patients. She stopped at the sight that she beheld.

The courtyard was full. There was a line of men and horses just in front of her. Waiting for her. She raised her chin and proceeded to the first new patient.

One after another, she patiently looked at the horses and listened to the men’s descriptions of what was wrong with their horse.

Some of the men had come with legitimate questions and concerns. Others had come to challenge her with medical issues, or even training problems.

Gillis had looked in horses’ mouths when asked about mouth pain due to the incorrect size or shape of the steel bit in its mouth. She had called the blacksmith over and was able to describe to the blacksmith the type of bit that certain horses may need. The blacksmith proved to be very willing to try some new ideas and went away, eager to start.

She had checked the eyesight of several of the old warhorses, for Kinloch Castle also had its own army and warhorses. These riders also trained the up-and-coming young warhorses and a few were quite opinionated, Gillis thought.

She had seen many saddles that were the cause of terrible pain to the horses and had immediately sent these horses and their riders to Aria.

A particularly huge man came forward. A bushy, wiry beard seemed to take up almost his entire face. It was grey and his eyebrows were bushy and grey as well, reaching up like tendrils to touch the tousle of grey hair that fell over his forehead. The man was as round as he was tall. Beside him, he led an enormous black draft horse with four white-feathered feet. The horse’s face was grey and his eyes looked soft and old and very wise. Gillis knew this pair had seen many years together.

“Big Bertie cannae walk straight,” he said briskly in a deep, baritone, gravelly voice.

Gillis had already noticed that the horse could not walk evenly; one of its hind legs seemed weaker than the other. “Was he injured?” she asked politely.

The big man made some sort of deep growling sounds. She could barely see his mouth. It was covered by his enormous, bushy, wiry beard, but it was moving. He was talking in the deepest voice Gillis had ever heard. So deep and gravelly was his voice that she found it hard to understand.

Gillis stepped closer. She looked up at the huge man and studied his mouth. She could see his lips, just barely, and what she saw explained why she found him hard to understand. He had an injury to his mouth; it was horribly scarred, the lips distorted off to one side. And he was missing many teeth on that same side. She concentrated on watching his lips to help her understand what he was telling her.

“...so the other horse on the team was killed. Turrible, it was. The battle was getting closer and closer and men and horses were dropping all around me.

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