The knowledge made Tucker even more determined to save Tabasco. She’d suffered enough pain and disappointment in her young life. He didn’t want to see her endure anything more, especially not at Steve Fisher’s hands.
As the night deepened to black just before dawn, the ambient temperature inside the stalls grew chilly. Tucker was freezing and hadn’t thought to bring a coat. As he entered Tabasco’s stall for another listen to the horse’s heart and respiration, he chafed his arms through his shirtsleeves.
“Damn, there’s a bite in the air,” he said to Samantha.
She had draped Tabasco with a blanket, but she sat without cover on the straw, her slender shoulders pressed to the wall. In the yellow glow of the stall night-light, she looked frighteningly pale and fragile, and he worried that staying up with the horses had exhausted her to the point of illness. She looked dazed, and when she met his gaze full-on, she had a hollowed-out appearance. Rosary beads were twined through the slender fingers of her right hand, yet another thing about her that was different from any other woman who’d ever interested him. Samantha Harrigan was devoutly religious.
Tucker had admired the lady’s courage from the first moment he’d seen her, standing toe-to-toe with a ham-fisted drunk twice her size. But now his respect for her deepened even more. Except for the silent tears he’d glimpsed on her colorless cheeks a few times over the course of the night, she hadn’t wept. Instead she’d worked tirelessly to make her horses more comfortable and had helped him in any way she possibly could. He’d lost track of how many times she’d cleaned Tabasco’s stall. Every time the young stallion urinated, which he was doing frequently because of all the fluids that were being pumped into him, she forked up the soiled straw and brought in fresh. When there was no task for her to perform, she sat and kept a constant vigil.
If love and prayer could perform miracles, and Tucker believed they could, Tabasco would beat all the odds and survive.
As the sky lightened to a steel blue streaked with rose, Tucker’s own exhaustion got the better of him, and he nodded off. He had no idea how long he dozed, only that the soft, choked sounds of muffled sobs jerked him awake. He blinked and brought his bleary vision into focus. Samantha stood with her arms wrapped around her stallion’s neck, her face pressed against his mane. She was weeping as if her heart might break.
Tucker tried not to move or reveal in any other way that he was awake. Years ago, when his sister, Bethany, had been paralyzed in a barrel racing accident, he had wept just that way, and he understood her need to grieve in privacy. A lump rose in his throat as he watched her through lowered lashes. Her pain was so intense, he could almost feel it. He wanted to go to her—if only to press a comforting hand to her shoulder. But he instinctively knew she would reject any such overtures, just as he would in the same situation.
Sometimes the hurting ran so deep, it wasn’t for display.
Somehow she sensed his gaze on her. Tucker didn’t know if he inadvertently moved, or if she simply noted a change in his breathing, but she suddenly gulped, grabbed for breath, and hurriedly wiped her cheeks. Her expression once again became deadpan. Her effort to project stoic strength touched him even more than her tears had.
She began stroking the horse with a trembling hand, making no attempt to explain her temporary lapse of composure. She loved her animals and was devoted to each of them in a way most people reserved for mates, parents, or children.
Just after dawn, Frank Harrigan returned, Jerome trailing behind him. The foreman’s forehead was swathed in bandages. Samantha stirred from her stuporlike vigil to meet the two men at the gate. “How did it go?”
“They just stitched me up and gave me a lollipop,” Jerome replied. “I reckon I’ll live.”
Frank shook his head. “Ornery, I guess,” he said with a smile. Then he settled a concerned gaze on his daughter. “Honey, you look like you were dragged through a knothole backward. Why don’t you go to the house and get some sleep?”
“No. Tabasco is going to be transported to Tucker’s clinic in a bit. I want to go with him.”
That was news to Tucker. “That’s really not necessary,” he interjected. “I’ll ride in the trailer with him. And I’ll keep you posted by phone on how he’s doing.”
Samantha sent him a burning look. “I’m going with my horse,” she said, her tone brooking no argument.
“Sweetheart.” Frank rubbed his mouth. “You need to get some rest. Then you can drive to the clinic later.”
“No. I was with Tabasco when he was born. I’ve been with him through every illness and sprain and little cut. I’m going to be with him now. I’m not coming home until Tabasco does.” She looked at Jerome. “I need you to look after things here. Parker, Quincy, and Zach will be coming over soon to take care of the chores. Once you get some rest, I want you to make as much use of the security system as possible and watch these horses constantly. Will you do that for me?”
Tucker approached the gate. “You know, Samantha, I don’t really have accommodations for owners at my equine center. The only cot in the whole place is used by the night tech, who stays to monitor the animals.”
“I don’t need accommodations, just a blanket, pillow, a few changes of clothes, and some toiletry items. It’ll only take me a few minutes to throw everything I’ll need into a duffel bag.”
Frank lifted his eyebrows at Tucker, his expression conveying more clearly than words that there was no point in arguing. Taking his cue from the man who probably knew Samantha better than anyone, Tucker shrugged and said, “Fine, then. Just don’t expect Best Western. You aren’t going to be very comfortable there.”
“Good. It’s settled, then.” To Jerome, Samantha said, “The lab work came back. Tabasco has been poisoned with arsenic, Blue with morphine. Whoever did this may try again. Lock the paddock doors at night so no one can enter any of the stalls from outside. Make sure all the other doors are locked as well. And set the security alarm.”
“No problem,” Jerome assured her. He shifted his gaze to Tucker. “What do I watch for in the horses—for early signs of arsenic or morphine poisoning, I mean?”
Tucker quickly listed the symptoms, and Jerome nodded his understanding.
Frank said, “The boys will be over soon. We’ll divide the stable into sections and examine every horse in here. If any others have been poisoned, it’ll help to catch it early.”
Tucker wished he’d thought to examine the other horses himself. His only excuse was that he’d been so busy caring for the two sick animals that he simply hadn’t had time.
At eight o’clock, Isaiah showed up. He backed the trailer into Tabasco’s paddock, extended the ramp, and waved hello to Tucker. “You need a shave, bro. You’ve bypassed five-o’clock shadow and moved up to half-inch stubble.”
Tucker didn’t doubt that he looked like hell. “Unlike some people, I haven’t had the luxury of a hot shower.”
Tucker tossed Samantha’s duffel bag at his brother, smiling when the overstuffed satchel struck Isaiah’s chest, then plopped at his feet. When he turned to collect his patient, he was surprised to see that Samantha already held the stallion’s lead rope.
“I’ll load him,” she said. “All I need is for you to carry the fluid bag.”
Tucker wasn’t inclined to argue. He had a feeling she could lead the horse through fire. He pulled the aluminum tubing free of the earth, unhooked the IV pack, and followed behind her and the horse as they exited the stall.
Tabasco needed three starts to make it up the ramp, even though the trailer was low to the ground and the grade slight. Samantha stood patiently at her horse’s head each time he needed to rest, and then she encouraged him to go a few more steps, her urgings soft and gentle, until the sick stallion finally made it inside the trailer.
Tucker remained outdoors to speak with Isaiah. Then he gave Frank the keys to his Dodge. “If somebody can drive it to the clinic, I’d appreciate it,” he said. “I’ll give whoever it is a ride back.”
Frank looked into the trailer at his daughter. “I wish you’d turn loose of this idea, honey. Tabasco will be fine without you there to fuss over him every minute.”
She shook her head, black curls dancing over her slender shoulders. “I’m staying with him. That’s final.”
Frank shrugged and shook his head. “You remind me so much of your mother sometimes.”
“That’s a fine compliment if ever I’ve heard one,” she replied.
Frank shrugged and nodded.
Regardless of the difficulties, Tucker decided not to point any of them out until a better moment presented itself. He had a mom and sister. Experience had taught him that when a woman set her mind on something, arguing with her only made her more stubborn. He collected his medical bag and paraphernalia, stowing the latter in the bed of Isaiah’s truck. Then he climbed into the trailer, joining Samantha at the front. He set his bag at his feet.
“You don’t need to ride in here with us,” she protested.
Tucker braced his shoulder against the reinforced aluminum wall. “Isaiah has the driving end of it covered. Why not?”
In truth, Tucker was afraid to leave her back there alone. Tabasco was none too steady on his feet. If he went down, Tucker wanted to be there to look after not only the stallion, but Samantha as well. He estimated Tabasco to weigh approximately eleven hundred pounds. That was no small amount of horseflesh, plenty enough to crush a human femur or shatter several ribs if the stallion fell.
The trailer rocked forward just then, forcing all three of its occupants to struggle for balance. Tucker never rode in a horse trailer that his respect for equines didn’t go up a notch. How they managed to remain standing during long rides without bracing themselves against a wall totally amazed him. Maybe having four legs gave them better balance.
An instant later the whole trailer bounced, telling Tucker that Isaiah wasn’t watching for potholes and that the fun had just begun.
“Hold tight,” he warned Samantha. “My brother’s a fabulous vet, but his mind is seldom on what he’s doing unless he happens to be treating a patient.”
Her mouth twitched. “Are we going to get to your clinic in one piece?”
“We will if he doesn’t forget we’re back here.”
“I want to thank you,” she surprised him by saying.
“For what?”
“For not arguing about my coming. If you had, my father would have jumped on it.”
Tucker thought about that for a moment. “Truthfully, I think you’re going to be very uncomfortable staying at my equine center. But you’re a big girl. That’s your choice to make.”
Her mouth twitch became a full-blown grin. “Thank you again. In my family, it’s not often anyone gives me credit for being a big girl. Clint thinks I’m still a three-year-old.”
Tucker wanted to ask questions so she might elaborate, but he was quickly coming to learn that Samantha Harrigan was a lady with closely guarded secrets. If he pushed her to reveal them before she was ready, she would just get that wary look in her eyes again and shut him out.
Chapter Eleven
By that afternoon Samantha was settled in at the equine clinic with her horse. Her father had brought her a snack basket filled with fruit, crackers, cheese, and a bottle of sparkling cider, and he’d promised to replenish the supplies if she stayed longer than expected. Clint stopped by with a six-pack of her favorite carbonated water, a bag of red licorice ropes, and two small boxes of jelly beans, which he handed over with a hangdog, apologetic look that earned him a hug and the forgiveness he was seeking, whether he could bring himself to ask for it or not. Her other three brothers also made brief appearances, mostly just to stand in Tabasco’s stall for a few minutes, looking uneasy and out of place, but Samantha appreciated their show of support nonetheless.
“You sure you won’t see reason and come home for the night?” Parker asked. “You aren’t going to be comfortable here.”
Samantha couldn’t disagree. Just like at home, the stall had a dirt floor and was lined with clean straw for her to sit on, but there all similarities ended. Monitors decorated the walls of this enclosure, and Tabasco’s body now sported shaved spots, onto which were affixed electrodes with protruding wires that carried electrical pulses to the machines. Just outside the chamber, people bustled back and forth in the hallway and came into the stall on a regular basis. It was either time for another injection, another blood draw, or a urine output check. And every once in a while, the monitors buzzed a warning, which brought the techs running. Even though it always seemed to be a false alarm, Samantha’s heart rate accelerated each time.
“I need to stay,” she told Parker, the words to explain eluding her. “It’s just something I have to do.”
Parker sighed but didn’t argue. He and her other two brothers remained for a few more minutes, and then they shuffled away, promising to drop by again the following day to see if she needed anything. Samantha wasn’t worried on that score. Up the highway within walking distance was a McDonald’s. She could get breakfast, lunch, and dinner there, if necessary. She’d also seen a pizza parlor and a full-scale restaurant nearby.
As the hours mounted, Samantha’s brain became too fuzzy with exhaustion to remember just how long she’d gone without rest. She only knew that every part of her body ached and felt heavy. To pass the time, she said her rosary. Whispering the prayers over and over comforted her in a way that nothing else could.
At some point she grew so weary that she fell asleep with her eyes open. When a sound suddenly wakened her, she discovered that her eyeballs had grown so dry it was difficult to blink.
“Are you all right?”
She was so tired that not even the unexpected sound of Tucker’s voice jangled her nerves. “I’m sorry?” She rubbed her eyes closed with knotted fists and then batted her lashes back open. “What did you ask me?”
As he slowly came into focus, she saw that he wore a blue lab jacket. From the hem down, faded denim jeans and scuffed Tony Lama boots preserved his cowboy image.
“At least I went home and crashed for a few hours last night,” he informed her. “If you don’t get some rest, you’re going to get sick.”
She glanced at her watch. “I thought it was evening.”
“No, ma’am, six o’clock in the morning. You’ve gone two days and nights without sleep. Why don’t you take a break and try out the cot down the hall? Housekeeping changes the linen every morning, and no tech will need to use it again until tonight.”
Samantha had set out to stay with her horse, just as she had once set out to stay with Steve, and exhaustion wasn’t going to push her off course. “I’m fine right here.”
“Like hell. You’re a zombie.”
She worked to bring his face into focus again. Even as exhausted as she felt, she thought he was deliciously handsome. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not fine.” He came to crouch in front of her, all worried blue eyes, bronzed skin, and broad shoulders. “You need to sleep. Just for a while. I promise to wake you up in four to six hours. How’s that? In the meantime, Tabasco will be okay. I’m doing everything possible to help him get well.”
“I know.” And Samantha meant that with all her heart. If anyone could save her stallion, she believed it would be this man. She pushed at her hair. “Do you have a shower here?”
“Cleaning up isn’t what you need, honey.”
Samantha’s heart skipped a beat. Honey? When had they moved from a first-name basis to endearments? “Pardon me?”
He sighed, and his shoulders went lax. “Has anyone ever told you you’re more stubborn than a Missouri mule?”
Missouri. She tried to picture where the state was located on a map. All she needed was to get her brain working again. “Not all mules are stubborn,” she settled for saying. “It’s a myth.”
“Okay,” he said with a ring of determination. “If you won’t go to the cot, the cot will come to you.”
In what s
eemed like mere seconds, Tucker reappeared with a metal-framed bed. A stocky man in a green lab coat helped to carry the contraption. They settled it at the end of the stall opposite the gate, and the next thing Samantha knew, Tucker had grasped her wrist and was pulling her to her feet.
“Lie down,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t argue. If you don’t get some rest, I’ll call your father to come get you.”
Indignation tried to break through the haze of unreality that surrounded her, but the foggy layer had grown so thick, not even anger could penetrate it. “He may come to get me,” she managed to grump. “Doesn’t mean I’ll go.”
“You’ll go if I kick your butt out of here. My clinic, my rules. You have to lie down and get some sleep.”
He gave her a gentle push, and she found herself lying on the mattress. “But what about the night tech? Where will he sleep?”
“It’s morning. I’ll send Riley to town for another cot. Don’t worry. Just rest.”
Moments later a wonderfully soft pillow appeared under her head. Shortly thereafter a light blanket fluttered down over her.
“How is Tabasco?” she asked.
“Better than you are, sweetheart. Just go to sleep. I promise to keep an eye on him for you.”
Samantha groped with her hand. She wasn’t sure for what. She found his warm, hard fingers, and drew comfort from his strong grip. “I don’t want him to die. If I go to sleep, I’m afraid he’ll die. I need to keep saying rosaries for him.”
A gentle hand brushed lightly over her hair. “You’ve said enough rosaries. Just go to sleep.”
“But I—”
“Just go to sleep. I’ll pray for him. I don’t know how to say a rosary, but I do know how to say a Hail Mary. I’ll just keep saying them, one after another, until you wake up.”
Sun Kissed Page 16
