Called veterinarians.
Used dewormers when needed.
Treated infections.
He was not a mystic pretending nature solved every problem.
What he distrusted was habit without observation.
The attitude that every pasture, parasite, drought, animal, and season required the same answer because the answer came in a familiar bottle.
Claire reached Garza Ranch shortly before sunset.
The bull was unloaded into a quarantine pasture separated from the main herd.
Mateo had already called the veterinarian.
Dr. Elena Salazar arrived forty minutes later.
She took one look at the bull and stopped.
“That’s impressive.”
Mateo folded his arms.
“Not the word I used.”
The veterinarian approached carefully.
The bull raised his head.
Dr. Salazar examined his eyes and gums.
“Anemic.”
Claire nodded.
“Bad?”
“Moderate to severe.”
The veterinarian continued inspecting.
“Dehydrated.”
She listened to his breathing.
“Tired.”
She stepped back.
“But still standing.”
Mateo asked:
“Can we treat?”
“We are treating.”
Dr. Salazar looked at Claire.
“Water first.”
“Electrolytes.”
“High-quality forage.”
“Mineral support.”
She looked toward the bull.
“And we reduce parasite load without over-stressing an already compromised animal.”
Mateo pointed.
“There are thousands.”
“I noticed.”
He looked at Claire.
“So chemicals.”
Dr. Salazar nodded.
“Carefully.”
Claire said:
“I don’t want him thrown straight into a full dip.”
The veterinarian agreed.
“Neither do I.”
Mateo looked between them.
“Why?”
Dr. Salazar answered:
“Because he’s weak.”
“Transport stress, dehydration, heat, handling, then an aggressive treatment protocol all at once can create another problem.”
Mateo nodded reluctantly.
“So what?”
“Quarantine.”
“Support him.”
“Start the treatment plan.”
“Monitor.”
She looked at Claire.
“And report the infestation.”
Claire had expected that.
Texas took cattle fever ticks seriously.
There were inspection and quarantine requirements in affected zones.
A badly infested animal was not something responsible ranchers casually released into a herd and hoped birds fixed.
Claire had already isolated him for exactly that reason.
“We document everything,” she said.
Dr. Salazar nodded.
“I’ll make the calls.”
Mateo asked:
“And Claire’s bird idea?”
The veterinarian looked over.
“What bird idea?”
Claire gave Mateo a hard look.
He ignored it.
“She says we’re waiting for birds.”
Dr. Salazar smiled.
“Caracaras?”
Claire nodded.
“Maybe.”
The veterinarian looked toward the mesquite line.
“You still have quite a few around here.”
“That’s why Granddad never cleared the whole eastern brush line.”
Mateo frowned.
“I thought that was because clearing equipment cost money.”
“That too.”
Dr. Salazar laughed.
Then became serious.
“Birds may remove some external parasites.”
She pointed at the bull.
“But they are not replacing veterinary treatment.”
Claire nodded.
“I know.”
“Good.”
Mateo raised both hands.
“So we are doing both.”
“Yes.”
Claire said:
“We use everything that helps.”
That night the bull ate very little.
Claire checked him at eleven.
Again at two.
Then before sunrise.
She stood outside the quarantine fence holding coffee while the animal remained beneath a mesquite tree.
He looked miserable.
Mateo joined her.
“You sleep?”
“Some.”
“Liar.”
Claire took another drink.
Mateo looked toward the bull.
“You really saw something at the auction?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
She considered.