Showing up. Facing Isaiah. Treating his horses.
In the end that’s what it came down to. Risking the confrontation for the good of the horses. And if Dr. Hirsch wasn’t up on the latest findings, her hesitation could spell even more disaster for Isaiah’s family.
Corrie patted her shoulder lightly. “I’m taking Ava and Annie for a stroller ride up to the sheep. They love seeing those woolies, and it does me good to hear them laugh. You go and do what you’re trained to do, sweetness. And if you happen to show up a man or two on the way, I am all right with that.”
Char picked up the phone and took it off speakerphone. “Liam? I’ll be right there, honey.”
“Oh, thank you, Char! Thank you!”
If nothing else, at least the boy would know she cared, that his entreaty didn’t fall on deaf ears. She grabbed her bag, stowed her meds and headed for the van as Corrie released the brake on the oversize stroller.
The two blonde babies batted their arms and laughed at the thought of going uphill and seeing a yard full of sheep.
Their pure joy was contagious. Happy with so little. Happy with life.
A merry heart doeth good like medicine, but a broken spirit drieth the bones. Wise words from an old Proverb. Could all the anxiety and mean behaviors spring from a broken spirit? And could that spirit ever be mended in a person?
Char didn’t know. She’d had twenty-six years on the planet and found that self-absorbed people tended to stay that way, while horses and dogs were more forgiving.
She started the van and headed south, and when she turned into Dancing Meadows a quarter hour later, she put a stern restraint on her emotions.
She was here to do a job. An important job. And if they refused her offer, so be it.
But when she saw Isaiah come out of the broodmare barn, chin down...when he paused and scrubbed a hand to his face and then his neck...
Her heart leaped.
She shoved that reaction aside and drove forward.
The sound of the wheels brought his head up.
He saw her.
His face...oh, his sweet face, lined with worry and dark with concern.
If her help could lessen his burden, she’d give it, because Corrie was right. The strong don’t run and hide or hold a grudge. They stand and fight and help as needed.
She rolled to a stop, shut the engine off and jumped out of the van. Like it or not, she was here to do a job at the request of one of the owners. He might be small, but Liam held a 25 percent stock in this enterprise. She aimed to see that he didn’t lose it.
* * *
“You came.” Isaiah moved her way. “Char, we’ve got to talk.”
“We don’t.” She spoke in a soft but firm voice as she donned a disposable biohazard suit. “One of your co-owners called me that you’ve had a viral outbreak here. Is that correct?”
He frowned. “A co-owner?”
“You came!”
A shout from the old barn up the driveway loosened his expression. “Liam called you.”
She pulled on boot covers once the suit was in place, taking extra precautions. Then she opened the side of the van and withdrew her med box and a biohazard bag. “Foal loss?”
“Two so far.”
“Stupid disease, going for the most vulnerable.” She scowled, then asked, “Other symptoms?”
He reached to take the case from her.
She didn’t let him, and that made him feel like even more of a crud. “Fever, nasal discharge. No neurological problems as yet, but we’re expecting them.”
“Not if I can help it.” She walked to the barn quickly, spread a disposable cloth on a stack of hay, then set the med case down. She opened it as John came their way. “Subcutaneous heparin helps block the virus from attacking the nervous system. It’s experimental and there are no guarantees, but at this point you have little to lose. We might be able to save the mares. Do I have your permission to treat the symptomatic group twice a day?”
Did she just hand him a lifeline? Because it sure sounded like it.
“Char—”
“Yes or no?” She held his gaze with a flat look, a look he deserved after the scene he created a few days before. She kept it clinical and impersonal because he’d been an absolute moron and had spent too long believing what Braden wanted him to believe. The flowers he’d ordered a few hours ago weren’t nearly enough of an apology...but he hoped they would be a beginning.
“Absolutely. I didn’t know there was an option.”
She turned her attention to the meds. One by one she injected the mares. When she was done and her used vials were stowed in the bag, she looked at her watch. “We want to do this again in eight hours. Then we’ll start a morning-evening regimen for the next few days. And then we’ll see. I’ll be back at nine o’clock.”
“You think this can help, Char?” John asked. “It would be a mighty fine thing to save these mares.”
“We’ve had no neurological involvement at Carrington’s so far,” she told him. “And that outbreak is days ahead of yours. If we’ve treated it in time, the heparin fights off the replication of virus. But we’ve just got to wait and see. I’ll be back tonight.”
She didn’t hang around. She removed the biohazard suit and boot covers out in the yard, and then used the sink in her van to scrub up.
Quick. Effective. Up on current medical finds. And he’d insulted her by assuming her guilt in something that wasn’t her fault.
She waved to Liam and gave him a thumbs-up, then got into the van.
The boy waved back.
Liam, eight years old and unsure of himself, had the courage to go above Isaiah’s head and call Char himself. And if Char’s treatment staved off the deadly side of the virus, they’d still have their brood mares.
Yes, they’d have to breed again, but that was a whole lot better than years spent raising fillies to mares.
John came over and clapped him on the back. And none too lightly, either. “Some advice from an old man,” he told Isaiah. “Figure out a way to get that girl to marry you, son, because this whole family could use a daily dose of whatever it is she carries. And that’s all I’m saying about that.”
“Not as easy as you make it out to be,” he told his father. “Not after what I did.”
John made a skeptical face. “Courting a woman isn’t as difficult as you’re making out.” He stated the words plainly. “You start with an apology for being stupid, do some well-deserved groveling and end with a proposal. And it never hurts if there’s a good dose of chocolate and flowers in between.”
“I sent flowers this morning,” Isaiah answered.
“It’s a start. But a smart man wastes no time, because a woman like that is the kind of woman a man wants by his side. And I’m not even considering the advantage of free veterinary care.” John laughed for the first time in days, then went to do his own scrubbing up at the far sink.
It couldn’t be that simple.
But that didn’t stop him from calling the Rocky Mountain Candy Company and ordering a two-pound box for Pine Ridge.
Char had wasted no time coming to his aid. Now he needed to be just as decisive about winning her heart.
Chapter Fifteen
Two dog calls, one kitten call and a stop at Carrington’s to assess progress.
One horse was doing badly. Her deteriorating condition left Char no course of action, but seven horses showed signs of improvement, and that was a huge step forward.
“And no sign in the other barns?”
“None,” Ty reported. “Char, I can’t tell you how grateful we are. Me, my brother, my dad.” He scrubbed a hand to the back of his neck and yawned. “They’re knee-deep in running the family business but they love this ranch and these animals. They’ll be relieved to know what’s happening. How you turned the tide in our favor.�
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“It’s my job, cowboy.”
He laughed. “You do it well. Thank you.”
A good outcome. Not perfect, but way better than it could have been.
Would she have the same results at Isaiah’s place?
Time would tell.
She went back to Pine Ridge. Jace washed the van down for her. She grabbed a shower, and when she came downstairs to fill a to-go cup with sweet tea, a brightly hued summer bouquet brightened the kitchen island. “Stunning arrangement,” she noted as she poured the tea. Lizzie was placing a supply order from her laptop, and Corrie was snuggling Ava in a comfy old rocking chair. “Did you do this?” she asked Corrie. She motioned toward the flowers with her free hand.
“No. They arrived a little while ago,” Corrie replied. “There’s a card, I believe.”
There was, tucked between two blossoms. Char leaned closer. Read her name. And then she wasn’t sure she even wanted to open the card. But she did.
“Forgive me. Please. It will never happen again, little lady.”
No signature, but then it didn’t need one. Only one person called her little lady.
The florist hadn’t gone all millennial by using unscented flowers. The heady mix of fragrances filled the air surrounding the bouquet. Not too much. Just enough. Kind of like how life should be.
“A nice gesture, but lacking in chocolate.” Lizzie looked up without raising her chin. “I’d be okay if you make him suffer a little more. Nobody picks on my baby sister.”
“But they are real pretty,” noted Corrie. She flashed a smile Char’s way as Ava’s eyes grew heavy. Pale lashes fluttered against ivory cheeks, but then the baby’s eyes popped open. Startled, she looked up, recognized Corrie and reached up to pat the kind nanny’s round cheek. And then she cuddled back in and fell sound asleep.
“I’m a big fan of forgiveness,” Corrie went on. “But a little penance can be good for the soul.”
“It takes more than flowers to regain lost trust,” Char told them flatly.
“Honey, that’s where the candy comes in,” noted Lizzie. “And it’s always wise to send enough to share.” She closed the laptop and sent Char a smile. “But that’s just me.”
“The good Lord wouldn’t have put chocolate on the planet if He didn’t want us to eat it,” said Corrie. “He wants his people happy. But then we knew that.”
Did they?
Lizzie and Corrie always seemed secure in their faith, even in the rough times. Was it simplistic?
No. Because there was nothing one-dimensional about either woman.
But there was something inspirational in the way they handled things. Melonie, too, and she’d been walking a tightrope for years, striving to please too many people.
Mel wasn’t like that now and she seemed happy. So happy.
Char got into the van and drove to Dancing Meadows a little after eight o’clock. Deepening shadows split the fading light. As she pulled up to the barn, the dusk-to-dawn lights flickered on.
She donned her protective suit and secured the head covering.
She’d have preferred to stride into the barn looking like Veterinarian Barbie, but tonight she looked more like Hazmat Hazel.
Oh, well.
Isaiah was coming her way from the barn. She put her heart on total lockdown, but hearts are fickle things and hers refused to obey.
He looked tired. So tired. But strong, too, as if facing potential disaster in his herd was just another hurdle in life. Maybe after losing people you love, it was.
His gaze softened, and those eyes—those beautiful brown eyes—brightened at the sight of her. “You’re early.”
“I wanted to have time to suit up and see you.”
He squinted slightly in an almost smile. “Wish granted.”
“Not exactly a wish,” she told him smoothly. “More along lines of necessity. You’re a horse owner. I’m a veterinarian. Let’s stick to basics here.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels as if she was right, and suddenly she didn’t want to be right. Stupid fickle heart.
“Got it. How are Ty’s horses doing? I left him a voice mail. I’m sure he’s worried.”
Concerned for his friend, more than himself. Why did that touch her? Because it hadn’t existed in the men she’d known.
“Better than expected,” she replied. “One horse didn’t make it, but the rest are showing signs of recovery.”
“Those are way better odds than other ranchers have faced with a herpes breakout.”
They were. “Nothing at Scoville’s as yet, so maybe they dodged a bullet. And the state is monitoring our progress. The same state—” she turned to face him more fully “—that granted me reciprocal permission to practice here because my name was cleared of any wrongdoing in Central New York. In case you haven’t taken the time to discover that yet.”
He winced.
Good.
She started to walk past him.
He reached out to take her arm, but she stopped him with a look. The look didn’t stop him from talking, however. “Char, I was wrong.”
He sure was. And he’d assumed the information Braden fed him was correct. Even if it looked legit, he should have come to her. Asked about it.
Or disbelieved the whole thing because you’d never do anything like that.
She liked the mental advice best.
She kept walking. She had a job to do and she’d come to do it. She didn’t have to impress him. Or anyone, for that matter. Not anymore. Those days were long gone.
He’d set up a sturdy table for her supplies. He draped the table with gloved hands and stood quietly while she got things ready. And when she finished, she pointed to her watch. “I’m taking first shift tonight.” When he started to argue, she tapped it as John came their way. “You two look dreadful. You haven’t slept right in days and it shows. Go. Sleep. I’ve got this. It’s not the first time I’ve monitored a barn and it sure won’t be my last.”
“I’m not about to refuse that offer,” said John, relieved. “I could use a good four or five hours. You could, too,” he told Isaiah. “People talk stupid when they’re tired. Maybe a little rest will smarten us men up.”
She took a seat on the stacked straw they used for bedding.
John started out of the barn.
Isaiah didn’t.
He turned her way. And when he took a spot on the straw, almost close enough to touch her, but didn’t...
He tipped his broad-brimmed hat down over his eyes and leaned back. “I’ll rest right here, little lady. If you don’t mind.”
She did mind.
She minded a lot, but they were his horses in his barn. She pulled out a book of crossword puzzles. “Suit yourself.”
“Will do.”
He fell asleep almost instantly. He snored, just a little, and she wasn’t sure why she found that endearing, but she did. And when she got tired of crosswords, she did a quick check of the horses.
All was calm. All was bright...
And then it wasn’t.
A whinny sounded outside.
She moved to the paddock area.
The noise came again, an equine call for help.
The old barn, out front. Ginger. And both men sound asleep and her in the infected barn.
The mare cried again.
Char reached for her phone to call J.J. The girl would be in a better position to help the mare than the two exhausted men. She started placing the call, then paused.
A figure was hurrying toward the barn. Short. Somewhat stout. She moved on quick feet, and when she passed beneath the dusk-to-dawn yard light, Stella Woods’ features flashed briefly. And then she was in the far barn.
Char stared at the barn, torn. What was going on? What was Isaiah’s mother doing there,
at this moment?
Stella hated that horse. She’d made that plain. Was she in there to do harm while everyone slept? Would she do such a thing?
Char didn’t know, but Isaiah would. She started back toward the broodmare barn, then paused when she heard a voice. Not an angry voice. A soft, melodic voice, almost crooning, and on the night breeze came the words Char knew so well. Only this time it was another mother singing them, and it wasn’t to a lonely little girl.
The old words were being sung to a pregnant old horse. “Hushabye... Don’t you cry... Go to sleep, little lady. When you wake, you shall have all the pretty little horses...”
Stella came into view again. She’d haltered Ginger and was walking her around the small grazing area. And as she and the aged mare plodded along, she softly and sweetly continued the song.
She hadn’t come to hurt the horse.
She’d come to help. And at that moment, across the expanse of grass and gravel, she raised her eyes. Saw Char watching. And when she did, she raised one hand in salute, reassuring Char that all was well.
And as Char slipped her phone back into her pocket, she was pretty sure she was right.
* * *
Isaiah’s arm had fallen asleep over an hour ago, about the time Char nodded off beside him.
He didn’t move it. Didn’t try to shift to ease the strain. Letting her rest was more important.
A horse moved.
The shadows shifted and Char jerked up. She blinked, saw the dawn breaking and him watching her, and sat up more fully. “I dozed off.”
“Wasn’t much to see at that point. Everything’s quiet.”
She realized that he’d had his arm around her, supporting her. She started to pull away as her phone buzzed a message. She picked it up.
A picture came through. Ginger and a long-legged chestnut foal with white legs, a perfect image in an imperfect world. She held up her phone for him to see. “Look.”
Healing the Cowboy's Heart Page 16
