Main Street Merchants
Book 6: In the Stars
by Paige Timothy
Cover design copyright © 2015 by Jenni James
This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Copyright © 2015 by Paige Timothy
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter One
People always asked Alana Spencer if she was psychic. The question made her laugh—if she were psychic, she could have avoided a whole lot of pain and heartbreak in her life. No, she was merely intuitive, paying attention to what people said and what they didn’t say, their body language, their auras. She had a gift for understanding people when they didn’t even understand themselves, but that’s about as mystical as she got. Well, if you ignored the star charts and crystals.
She stood at the front window of her herb store, Thyme in a Bottle, and gazed out at the drizzling rain that had been coming down since sometime in the night. She’d woken up to mountains blanketed in gauzy gray fog draping the trees and making everything look surreal. On days like this, she wanted to go out into the woods and experience it, but she knew that the closer she got, the less magical it would be. It was best enjoyed from a distance. She tugged her sweater a little closer around her shoulders. Winter would be beautiful when it came.
The only problem with this kind of weather was that it kept people in their nice warm houses and not out shopping. That left Alana far too much time to think, and she didn’t want to think. She especially didn’t want to feel the portent that had come with the rain, the feeling that something was about to happen, something was about to change. No, she wasn’t psychic, but the air was definitely shifting.
She stepped behind the counter, took her tea kettle off the hot plate, and made herself a mug of chamomile and rosehip tea. After stirring in a little extra honey and grabbing a couple of lemon rosemary cookies, she settled into one of the overstuffed chairs in the corner. She had some new bottled herbs to inventory, but today wasn’t meant to be wasted with worry. Today was for calm, peace, and introspection. But introspection meant thinking, and she didn’t want to think.
She most definitely didn’t want to remember.
* * *
Seventeen Years Ago …
“I’ve done everything I can, Alana,” Bud Spencer told his daughter, squatting on his heels and wiping his hands on a rag. “This calf is breech, and I can’t turn it. We’re going to lose them both if we don’t call the vet.”
Alana wiped tears from her eyes with her wrist, her hands covered in blood too. “All right. We can call.” She knew she’d been too stubborn. When Flossie went into distress, she’d thought this was her chance to show what she’d learned, but it was far beyond her skill level, and now it was beyond her dad’s years of experience. If Flossie died because of her stupid pride . . .
Bud stood and nudged her with his elbow, careful to hold his dirty hands away from her. “I’m proud of you, Alana. You did everything right, and if this had been an ordinary situation, you would have been able to stop the hemorrhaging and we’d be celebrating another live birth right now. But we’re blessed with vets for a reason—same as we go to the hospital when we chop off an arm.” He winked. “Some things are just too serious and urgent to rely on herbs, honey.”
Alana nodded. “I’ll make the call.”
She wanted to scrub up before touching the phone, but that would take too long. The vet’s office phone number came to her mind easily, and she dialed, hoping Dr. Jensen would be able to make it out right away. Bud stroked Flossie’s head, murmuring tender words. If Alana were a farm animal, she’d want to belong to Bud Spencer—he put his heart into his land, his family, and his animals.
“Dr. Jensen’s,” a man’s voice finally said on the other end. He didn’t sound like Dr. Jensen—maybe there was a new helper at the office.
“This is Alana Spencer. We have a breech presentation, and the cow is hemorrhaging.” “When did all this start?”
“We discovered the breech two hours ago, and the bleeding began about an hour ago. We’ve done everything we can.”
“All right. I’ve got your address.”
The phone went dead in her hand, and Alana looked at the receiver with an eyebrow raised. This nameless stranger sounded like he planned to give Dr. Jensen the message, but it would have been nice if he’d said so.
“On his way,” she called out to her dad, and he nodded. “Want any coffee?” He nodded again.
Alana scrubbed down at the small sink in the corner, rinsing until the water ran clear. Then she grabbed some disinfectant wipes and cleaned the bloody fingerprints off the phone. “Be right back,” she called as she left the barn and walked across the broad lawn to the kitchen door. She tapped on the wood-framed screen, and Betty, her mother, opened it.
“You’re covered in . . . Well, thanks for not coming in the house like that. What can I get you?”
“Coffee for Dad and spearmint tea for me, please?”
“Sure.” Betty disappeared into the kitchen, and Alana heard her closing the cupboard door and pouring hot water into mugs—Betty always kept a kettle on when Bud or Alana were working with the animals. Alana breathed deeply, looking out across the landscape. This was Spencer land, her home, the only place she ever wanted to be. She’d learn how to manage it as well as her father did. She’d learn how to keep the animals healthy. This was her destiny, her calling. Her brothers didn’t seem very interested in running the place, and that was just fine with her. Less to argue about.
“Here you go.” Betty handed two mugs through the door, and Alana thanked her. The warmth of the liquid seeped through the ceramic of the mugs. Alana hadn’t realized how cold her hands were until then.
“Oh, Alana? Vince left a message. I found it on the machine just now. Says he’d like a call back.”
Alana tried not to roll her eyes. Vince had been trying to get her to go out with him for a couple of years, but she just wasn’t into the muscle-bound meathead type. Her friends all thought she was crazy for turning him down—he had been considered the catch at their high school, and now that they had graduated, the catch of their town—but that wasn’t important to her. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll call him back. Maybe. I’ll think about it.”
She sipped her tea while carrying Bud his coffee, and together, they sat on a hay bale and watched Flossie struggle, neither of them knowing what else to do, but wanting to be there for her.
“Hello?”
A man’s voice called from the barn door, and Bud stood up to greet the newcomer.
“Hi! I’m Rusty Michaels. I’m the new vet in town.”
What? Alana turned to face their guest. He was tall, with a shock of dark auburn h
air, probably about ten years older than she was. “I’m sorry—did you say you’re the new vet?”
Rusty stepped forward and shook her hand. She was glad she’d just washed up. “That’s right. Dr. Jensen’s retiring next week, and I’m taking over his practice. Let’s check out this little lady.” He ran his hands along Flossie’s sides. She’d been rocking back and forth, sometimes kicking at the wall. A board in her stall was now loose from one of those kicks. Rusty managed to avoid those flying hooves as he looked her over. Alana spent that time examining him. He looked too young to be a vet. Dr. Jensen was in his early sixties, and this guy couldn’t be thirty. Can you even graduate from vet school before you’re thirty?
And why hadn’t Dr. Jensen said anything? He was a fixture of their community. In fact, his opinion often held more sway than the mayor’s or anyone else’s. They depended on him to keep their ranches going. For him to just up and sell his practice like that . . . Alana knew this would impact everyone. This new guy had better be good.
“Tell me what you’ve done so far,” Rusty said after a moment, turning to Alana. She didn’t know why he was asking her—Bud was the owner of this ranch.
“I’m an herbalist—well, I’m studying to become an herbalist,” Alana said, feeling heat rush to her cheeks. “I gave her some cayenne to stop the bleeding, and also some astringent compresses of shavegrass, plantain, and shepherd’s purse.” She was even more flustered to find him looking at her intently. “Um, what’s kind of weird is that another name for shavegrass is horsetail. Kind of a coincidence. I mean, cows and horses . . .” Why was she still talking? Shut up! Shut up!
Rusty blinked. “Um, yes, that is a coincidence. All right, because the herbs didn’t work, I’ll need to step it up a notch and give her some injections. This one will numb her, and this one will help the bleeding. Then I’ll try to turn the calf. If I can’t, we have two choices. I can perform a C-section, or we could let nature take its course. The situation could right itself—I’ve seen it happen—or we could lose both cow and baby. Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Bud stepped back and gave Rusty some room. Alana wanted to watch, though. She followed Rusty’s movements as he prepared the first syringe and injected it into the cow along her spine, and then the second. Flossie didn’t seem to feel a thing from the needles—she was still stepping around, rocking a bit on her hooves, trying to ease the discomfort of her labor.
Alana watched as Rusty withdrew the second needle. “When did you graduate from vet school?” she asked.
“Last year. I’ve been apprenticing here and there since then.”
“You just seem young to be a doctor.” She winced. That question had sounded a lot better in her head. It might be time for her to stop talking altogether.
He flashed her a smile. “And you seem young to be an herbalist.”
She wasn’t sure how to take that. Was he just turning the question back on her, or was he saying she had no idea what she was doing, and the herbs she’d used might have made things worse for Flossie? “I’m eighteen, and I’m not fully trained yet,” she said at last, wondering if she could possibly feel any more awkward.
Rusty turned again and met her gaze squarely. “I’m sure you’ll be very successful when that day comes. You’ve taken good care of this animal.”
Relief coursed through her. “I have? I mean, thank you.”
He gave a quick nod. “Would you like to assist me?”
Alana couldn’t believe what he’d just asked. “Um, did you say you want my help?”
“Only if you’re willing.”
Her heart froze for a second, then took three quick beats to make up for it. “Of course I am. What can I do?”
“First off, please show me to a sink or water pump so I can get scrubbed up.”
Alana’s knees trembled as she led the way over to the sink. She couldn’t believe she’d actually get to help. Rusty washed from his elbows down to his fingertips and put on a pair of rubber gloves from his bag, telling Alana to do the same. Then he returned to Flossie. Putting one hand on her side, he palpated until he discovered the position of the calf, and then he reached inside the birth canal with his other hand. He put pressure on the outside while maneuvering the calf from the inside. Flossie began to pitch and kick, and Bud came over to hold her head and calm her.
“Alana, can you push right here?” Rusty indicated a spot farther down on the cow’s abdomen. “We need to keep the baby from moving back up.”
Alana knelt at Rusty’s side and pushed where he showed her. She could feel the calf moving under her hand through Flossie’s skin.
“I was afraid of that,” Rusty said after a long moment. He sat back, one gloved hand covered in blood. “The calf’s stuck. I tried repositioning it, but I couldn’t. It’s time for us to make that decision. I recommend a C-section, but this is your animal, and I won’t proceed without your permission.” He looked at Bud.
Bud nodded. “Flossie’s Alana’s cow. It’s her call.”
Rusty turned his gaze to Alana, and she took a deep breath. They were letting her make this decision? It was her fault they had taken so long to call for help, and she didn’t know if she trusted herself to make the right choice this time.
She looked at Flossie, and while she knew the cow was in tremendous pain and probably wasn’t think about her humans at all, she could have sworn they made eye contact. “Let’s do the C-section,” she said. “We can’t wait on this any longer.”
Rusty bobbed his head. “That’s what I think too. We’ve got to move fast. Alana, put on some rubber gloves. Mr. Spencer, you stay at Flossie’s head, please.” Rusty rummaged around in his bag and pulled out a razor and a pair of clippers. “The first thing we’re going to do is shave her. I need an area of smooth skin for the delivery.”
Alana watched, fascinated, as he guided the battery-operated clippers down Flossie’s left flank. Her mom had a pair of clippers like that, but she used it to cut the boys’ hair. Tufts of Flossie’s hair fell to the side as Rusty worked. He buzzed until he had created a bald patch that was about two feet long and a foot wide. Alana wondered how long it would take to grow back.
Rusty set the clippers aside and then brought the razor down Flossie’s flank in quick, sure motions. “Now we’ve got to get these finer hairs off,” he said. “Any idea why?”
“I’m guessing that by exposing the skin and working directly with it, you’re reducing the chances of infection, and you’re making it easier to know where to cut and to get the stitches in place?”
“That’s right. If I just went in there and cut her open without preparing the area, I’d be setting her up for a whole host of complications later on.” He finished removing the last little hairs. He was working meticulously, but he was also fast. “Now we’ll wash her down.”
He bathed the area with some antiseptic solutions, then injected her a few more times along her spine. “This will get her good and numb. It’s sort of the cow’s version of an epidural.” He grinned, and Alana noticed smile lines in the corners of his mouth. “Okay, now we’re ready for the really gross—er, really exciting part.”
He took a moment to change out his gloves for fresh ones, and handed Alana a new pair too. She didn’t think hers were contaminated, but she took note anyway—it was better to take the extra minute to be sure.
“All right, now we’re going to incise down her flank.” Rusty took the scalpel in his right hand and felt around on Flossie’s side with his left. “We’ll take this in stages. First we’ll cut through her skin, and then we’ll determine the exact position of the calf before we cut through the uterine wall. Have you got her, Mr. Spencer?”
“It’s Bud. And yes, I’ve got her lead rope pretty tight.”
“Is this going to hurt her?” Alana asked.
“She’ll feel some tugging and she’ll definitely know we’re doing something, but it’s not going to cause her actual pain,” Rusty explained. “Are you ready?”
> Alana ran her finger under the cuff of her opposite glove. She hated wearing rubber gloves, but she knew how important it was. “Yes.”
“Do you see where my finger is?”
She nodded.
“I’m going to feel with my finger as I’m cutting to avoid hitting the calf,” he said. His hands moved as he spoke, and within three seconds, the incision was made and Alana could see inside her cow. “At this point, I’m trusting my instincts. If we take too long to second-guess ourselves, we could lose both mother and baby. You’ve got to have confidence in your decisions.”
Alana wondered how he’d known that was the very thing she struggled with.
The cow’s flesh separated the last few inches, and Rusty passed the scalpel off to Alana handle first. “Keep this ready.” Then he reached into Flossie’s body cavity with both hands. The cow tossed her head, and Bud spoke into her ear.
Intestines tumbled out, and Alana winced. She hadn’t exactly planned on seeing that. It reminded her of the scene in Star Wars when Luke’s freezing and Han slices open the tauntaun and puts him inside it to save his life. Her little brother Rory was completely obsessed with Star Wars.
“Got it,” Rusty said a moment later, bringing the uterus to the opening. “See how the membrane is somewhat transparent? We can determine where the calf is and cut in such a way that we lessen the risk of nicking it. Ideally, we’d cut near the hooves.”
Rusty located a hoof and cut in that spot, then guided the scalpel along that trajectory. Then he handed the scalpel back to Alana and reached inside the cow with both hands, just as he’d done a moment before. He grasped two of the calf’s hooves and pulled. It took a moment and a little bit of energy, but then the calf came tumbling out and landed on the hay at Flossie’s feet.
“Alana, go ahead and toss that scalpel into the plastic sack in my bag, and then start rubbing the calf down with new hay. That will stimulate him into breathing, as well as clean him up.”
Alana put the scalpel away and grabbed two handfuls of sweet-smelling hay, then got to work on the baby. He was a big boy, all right. “That’s probably why you couldn’t turn around, huh? You were just such a big boy?”
In The Stars (Main Street Merchants Book 6) Page 1
