Healing the Cowboy's Heart

by Ruth Logan Herne

  His father had spent a dozen years working for Braden while building his cattle ranch on the side. Before that he’d worked for another veterinary practice that had closed up shop long ago. He’d watched the science of animal care change over the years and he didn’t praise lightly.

  “Rising wouldn’t have made it with Braden,” his father finished softly.

  John was right.

  Braden was good in many ways, but surgical skills on small animals weren’t his forte. “We’ve got a ways to go still,” Isaiah answered. He eased the recliner into an upright position and stood, stretching. “But she was pretty impressive.”

  Char’s eyes blinked open when John stood to join Isaiah. She didn’t have to glance around and reorient herself. Her attention went straight to Rising and the vitals. “You let me sleep. After I told you not to. And his vitals look good.”

  “My bad.” Isaiah reached down and gave her a hand up. Once he had her hand in his, he didn’t want to let it go. But he did, of course. “You sound surprised.”

  “Not surprised. But happy about the vitals. And relieved. We’ve got to avoid infection and that means we monitor closely.”

  The injured dog gave her another reason to be here.

  You need a reason? Really?

  He tabled that thought as she pulled her hair into a faded fabric band patterned with horses. She saw his glance, then his expression, and put one hand to the band. “Occupational hazard. Corrie made these for me when I entered vet school. A dozen of them in different animal prints. The horse and dogs are my faves.”

  “Here you go.” Isaiah’s father handed Char a steaming mug of coffee. “Isaiah said you were a coffee drinker.”

  “Avid.”

  “With cream and sugar.” Isaiah set the cream—real cream, not milk or half-and-half—next to the sugar bowl.

  “One can never have too much sugar, regardless of what the magazines say. Thank you for letting me sleep,” she told him, then included John in her look. “Did we ever get properly introduced, Mr. Woods?”

  He shook his head. “John, please. And thank you for jumping in like you did, Doctor.”

  “Char,” she reciprocated. “We’ll see how it goes. I expect wolves have been causing problems?”

  His dad snorted lightly. “To several area farms. Sheep. Goats. Calves. The government just came in and removed three from a pack that had gotten too accustomed to farm livestock. That sent the rest of their pack northward, or so they thought, but the two I saw tonight weren’t heading anywhere. They were after a quick meal.”

  “The horses wouldn’t let them near the colts and fillies, would they?”

  “No.” Isaiah agreed as he set his mug down next to hers and tried not to think how nice they looked together. “But a pair of wolves can cause some major damage to a horse or a colt, so why take the chance? Usually it’s sheep they’re bothering but the sheep farms aren’t going into the hills like they used to. And if the food doesn’t come to the wolf...”

  “The wolf must come to the food.”

  “Exactly. They were chased off a couple of sheep farms the past few days.”

  “Clearly these two didn’t get the memo about leaving livestock alone.”

  “That doesn’t make my rash action any better, though.” John studied his mug gravely. “I didn’t wait until I had a clear visual, and the barking sounded like it was coming from behind, as if Rising was chasing a third wolf. And so I shot.”

  “The mountain plays games with sound some nights.”

  “I should have known better. It was a foolish mistake. An old-man mistake.”

  “Sixty isn’t old, Dad.” Isaiah rested a hand on his father’s arm. “We all make mistakes. We own them, learn from them and go on. A smart guy taught me that,” he added with a pointed look at his father. “Words he might want to take to heart.”

  His father’s quiet gaze rested on the prone dog. “He’s got to make it. I can’t even think how it would affect the kids if—”

  His voice choked. He went to sip his coffee, then held it there, midair, unmoving. Finally he set it down again without bringing it to his mouth.

  “He’s got a solid shot, John.”

  She didn’t baby his father. Isaiah loved that because John Woods wouldn’t appreciate being coddled. He faced his mistakes as needed, same as he’d taught his sons.

  “But he’s going to need some loving care for a while. I know it’s a busy time here.”

  “Not too busy to care for an old friend,” John told her.

  She gave him a firm nod. “That’s what I was hoping. Between you and your wife and Isaiah and the kids, I think you guys can handle this.”

  “You really think he’ll make it?” This time John didn’t watch the dog. He turned his attention to Char. She met his gaze full-on.

  “I hope so. But if he doesn’t, there are a lot of puppies and dogs looking for a place to call home. They might not have been your son’s, but they’re in need of love, the same as this guy was seven years ago. It would be sad to see that little boy without a dog at his side.”

  “Words to think on.” He stood. “If it’s all right, I’ll take my coffee over to your spot on the floor. That way I can sit and pray and put it in God’s hands.”

  “Where it should be,” said Isaiah.

  Char didn’t agree.

  She didn’t disagree, but her silence said a lot. He caught a glimpse of the hinted loneliness he’d seen before. Just a glimpse.

  His faith had been shaky once. He’d been full of himself and so sure he knew it all.

  Andrew had laughed at him. He hadn’t chided or scolded, but he’d laughed. And then led by example. And the year before he died, Isaiah had come to faith.

  Not easily, of course.

  There may have been some kicking and screaming on the way, but peace had eventually replaced that fruitless search for happiness. For joy.

  His brother used to say, “Let go and let God.”

  Isaiah finally got the gist of that, and when that phone call came—the one no family ever wants to get—he wasn’t the wayward twentysomething who was stuck on himself. He was a man. A man who now had two kids to raise.

  “How is he?” J.J. tiptoed out of her room. She hurried to his father’s side. “How’s he doing, Grandpa?”

  “Holding his own.”

  She curled up beside his father. John settled an arm around her shoulders. She laid her head against him, and the two of them sat, taking watch for an old friend.

  Isaiah looked to his right.

  Char wasn’t watching the dog.

  She was watching his father and J.J. with such an expression of longing that he wanted to reach out. Tug her close. Erase that look completely. Maybe forever.

  Rising stirred. He gave a soft, piteous whine.

  All business now, Char moved forward. She adjusted the meds slightly, then stepped back. “The sun’s coming up. I’m going to give Ginger a quick look.”

  He was about to go with her when Liam hurried down the hall. “How is Rising? Is he okay? Is he all right?”

  Isaiah lifted the boy and put a finger to his lips as Char slipped out the back door. “He’s sleeping so his body can heal. We’ll know soon, okay? For right now we have to be really quiet. And pray.”

  “I know.” Liam’s voice stayed somber. “I’ve been praying all night, mostly. I just don’t want anything else to die. You know?”

  Isaiah knew, but this wasn’t up to him.

  He looked toward his father.

  John Woods sat quiet and still, with one arm wrapped around his beautiful granddaughter, and his gaze locked on the injured dog. His stoic profile said nothing of the struggle he must be feeling inside, but one lonely tear snaked a path down his father’s cheek.

  Brokenhearted by one foolish action.

 
The stoicism was real, something he’d taught his children, but that single tear said that it didn’t come without pain.

  * * *

  Char had to get away.

  Not from the dog. Performing emergency surgery on an injured animal was what she did best. The reason she went into mobile vet services was because she loved the crazy pace and the travel that comes with big-animal care, and most facilities weren’t built to handle horses, cows, sheep and pigs.

  That part was fine.

  It was the absolutely selfless love that John Woods showed his grandchildren that grabbed hold of her heart and wouldn’t let go.

  The old ache wrenched open inside her.

  Tears threatened.

  She choked them back.

  No one got to see her cry. Not even back when she had hoped and prayed and wished for a parent to love her...

  Not when her boyfriend tried to make a scapegoat of her by using her sign-in accounts on the computer as he scammed horse lovers out of their pets...

  And not now.

  She strode into the old barn.

  Ginger flicked her head up. When she spotted Char, she neighed softly. Then she nodded twice, blew out a breath and came toward Char in a gesture of pure trust. A gesture Char sorely needed right now. She reached out and hugged the horse as the soft tread of footsteps sounded behind her. She turned as Corrie slipped into the barn with a fresh cup of coffee and a wrapped breakfast sandwich that was layered with egg, bacon and cheese. That was Corrie. She didn’t wait to be asked to help. She just did it, and it had been like that from the beginning.

  “You eat this and keep up your strength,” bossed Corrie as she came closer. “I can tend to this pretty lady. What needs doing?”

  “Food. Water. Cleaning the stall. J.J. will come out to do it. I just wanted to check her out before I go back to the dog.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Corrie didn’t buy it. She aimed a skeptical look at Char. “Let me say this, sweet thing.” She placed two firm hands on broad hips once she set the food down. “You have not been able to fool me for a very long time, Charlotte Mary. Not since you were brought into this world as a tiny baby, this big.” Corrie made a small basket with her arms. “I looked down at you and you looked up at me and we have loved one another ever since that day.”

  She was right. Char loved Corrie. Corrie had been there through thick and thin. She’d flown east last winter, when that whole debacle about selling horses hit the news. She’d stayed right there, too, until the truth came out and never uttered a word of reprimand or made Char feel stupid for trusting the wrong person.

  “But I can also tell when things aren’t quite right. And when things are just dreadfully wrong. And when that soul of yours gets to aching,” she added softly. She moved into the stall, murmuring soft words of comfort to the mare. “An aching heart is nothing to be brushed off, pretty girl.”

  “Just tired. It’s been a few long days,” answered Char. She should have known Corrie wouldn’t believe her.

  “Life sends long days on a regular basis.” Corrie kept her voice low as she brushed the horse with sweeping, gentle strokes. “Doesn’t matter where you’re hanging your hat or what sort of business you’re in. But that other look, the one you don’t let most see. Well...” Corrie didn’t look at Char. She didn’t have to because she knew she was spot-on. “That’s what concerns this old nanny.”

  “You’re not old, Corrie.”

  Corrie laughed softly. “I’m on in years. I started this job with your mama when I was in my thirties. Life has a way of turning a body around and I found myself in unexpected circumstances. And then I met your mama and we took to one another right off. When she hired me to help raise her babies while she got drawn into business things, it was a marvelous opportunity, one I’d never sought nor expected.”

  “You weren’t a nanny when Mom hired you?” Funny, Char had assumed that Corrie had come from an agency. It wasn’t all that long ago, after all.

  “I wasn’t. But when she handed Miss Lizzie over to me, I realized that maybe there was a reason for it all. Why we met. How we met. And maybe God put me in the very place to soothe my soul when it most needed soothing.”

  Char had unwrapped the sandwich. The combined scents wrapped around her as guilt swept over her. “I shouldn’t be out here eating while they’re all inside, caring for the dog.”

  “No worries on that. I dropped a half dozen sandwiches there first. They told me you’d come down to the barn and I followed. If one of my babies is in trouble, that’s where I need to be.”

  Total Corrie, showing them a love so kind. So true. She’d stepped into a void and filled it, so why did Char walk through life feeling abandoned?

  She wasn’t left with nothing or no one. She had a good life and Corrie’s love. Why wasn’t it enough?

  “Stop fretting and eat your food while you tell me what in the name of all that’s respectful in this world is going on with this poor neglected animal?” Corrie kept stroking the horse and kept her deep voice purposely soft. “I have never seen the like and I’ve been on the planet a long time. And she’s about to have a baby, too. What a shame,” Corrie added.

  “We don’t know what happened. Who had them. Or why they wandered in where they did.”

  “Well, horses are funny astute, aren’t they?”

  She meant they had an instinct for things, so Char nodded as she chewed. “They are.”

  “And they broke into a place where help waited.”

  Also true, so Char nodded.

  “And you happened to be called in because you’d just arrived.”

  “Accidents of timing, Corrie. No more. No less.”

  Corrie kept her attention on the horse, but didn’t look convinced. “Did you ever wonder why when things go well, we call it a coincidence, but when things go bad, folks blame God?”

  “I don’t wonder about that at all, actually.”

  A smile brightened Corrie’s dark face. “You do, but you’re not taken to admitting it, and it’s always been that way with you. That’s not a bad thing, sweetness. Asking questions, seeking answers—that’s what slated you to be an animal doctor. You love helping and you search for answers. Two wonderful qualities.”

  “Whereas I thought I just loved working with animals and the rest followed along. This sandwich is amazing, by the way, and the coffee is, too. Thank you.”

  The change of subject wasn’t lost on Corrie. She aimed a knowing look at Char, then resumed brushing. “God brought us here, child. All of us. Through the generosity of your uncle, yes, but it wasn’t an accident. It was a blessing.”

  “I can’t argue the blessing part. And we sure were blessed when you took us on, Corrie. I don’t know what I’d do or where I’d be without you.” She meant that sincerely. She had sought Corrie’s gentle counsel and shelter during no small number of Fitzgerald storms.

  “The feeling is mutual. How funny that the winding road brought us so far north, where things are different.” Then she went on in that nice-and-easy Southern voice that meant she was making a point and you better listen. “But then there’s folks, darlin’. And they’re pretty much the same anywhere. We friend some and we take care around others because not all are as they should be.”

  Char had messed up before. That was then. This was now. “I’m less naive than I was last year.”

  “Less naive is good, but we still want to trust when we can. Find that balance. Who to believe. And when to take a chance as we go forward.”

  Char made a face when she finished chewing. “Trust is precious, Corrie. When it gets betrayed on a regular basis, we tend to keep it in short supply.”

  “Then we trust with care,” Corrie told her, keeping her voice soft. “But we don’t stop trusting.”

  Char didn’t want to argue. She understood Corrie’s point of view. The older woman wore her faith
like armor and Char respected her. And loved her. Corrie had been with her through everything.

  But the whole “faith of our fathers” thing wasn’t on her agenda. She liked facts, not fiction, and trusting an intangible with no evidence went against the grain of an educated woman.

  Does it? The insistent tiny voice niggled her brain. Didn’t your fancy schooling prove that something never comes from nothing? So why couldn’t there be a God? Because everything you see, feel, hear or touch came from something, didn’t it?

  She shoved the voice aside and drank the coffee. She was too tired to make sense of it, and both the horse and dog needed her attention.

  “You come home to sleep tonight, all right?” Corrie directed that to Char, then stepped out of the stall as J.J. came into the barn. She flashed a smile at Isaiah’s beautiful niece. “Your dog, your horse and your family are in my prayers, child. Such a nice spot you have here, built with love and devotion.”

  J.J. sighed as she moved toward the horse with a slower step than normal. “It’s been a good place. A place where dreams were supposed to come true.”

  “And that’s a thing about life,” Corrie told her. “Dreams don’t always come true on our timeline. But that doesn’t mean they won’t. Sometimes they’re just different dreams. Ones we hadn’t hardly thought of.”

  “Like saving this horse.” J.J. ran her hands over the horse’s neck and Ginger preened forward, enjoying the light touch. “I’m glad Uncle Isaiah brought her home. Saving her is a good thing to do.”

  “Exactly like that,” Corrie agreed. “A major kindness like this doesn’t just save a life. It teaches us to watch for opportunities to help. We keep our eyes wide-open and see what’s put along our path.”

  “My mom used to say stuff like that.” J.J. had reached for the grain bucket. She turned toward Corrie. “‘Watch for opportunities, Jay,’ she’d tell me. ‘They’re everywhere, but if you go through life focusing on yourself, you’ll miss them. They’re not all plain as day. Some are subtle, hiding in the shadows.’”

  “Your mother and I would have gotten along fine,” declared Corrie. “Just fine. Because sometimes it’s the folks tucked in the margins of life we can do the most for. We just have to notice they exist.