John’s eyes gleamed. “Superman?”
She took Tulip’s lead rope and headed to the stall to feed the horse a little grain. “No, it was Gil. He’s walking up to the house right now. Should be here any minute.”
John’s face paled. He looked at her as though she’d hit her head on a rock in the pasture and given herself a concussion. “What are you talking about? Gil’s in Wisconsin.”
A hulking shadow appeared in the passageway of the barn. “No, Dad, actually, I’m not.”
FIVE
GIL SET HIS DUFFEL ON THE GROUND. “A FRIEND OF MINE GAVE ME A lift in his plane.” Gil jammed his hands in his jean pockets, feeling strangely awkward being back home. He studied the man he hadn’t seen for so long, surprised by how much he’d aged. What was his father now, seventy-two?
Not wanting to stare, Gil turned to the red-haired woman lingering in the horse stall. Pretty and strong-willed, as already evidenced by her dramatic welcome in the pasture, why would she befriend an old man like John McCray? At least, he hoped they were merely friends. His mother had been gone for a couple of years and no doubt his father suffered bouts of loneliness. It wouldn’t be the first time an old-timer hooked up with a girl less than half his age. The idea sickened him.
“I probably should have called, but with the game and all . . .”
“No need to explain.” With the help of a cane, his father moved closer, then stopped.
At this range, Gil saw the deep lines etched in the weathered face. Again, he looked away, this time at his brown leather loafers — not the worn cowboy boots he used to wear as a teen. Another reminder of how much things had changed.
“I’m surprised you came, considering how busy you are.”
Gil lifted his gaze to stare into eyes that mirrored his own. “I would’ve come sooner if I could have.”
His father scowled. “I’ve heard that before.”
The comment hit Gil harder than any linebacker ever had. “You know I had no choice then. I did everything I could to get home before she died.”
“Whatever you say.” His father waved his hand in a disgusted manner as Miss Evans eased her way from the shadows. “I guess you’ve met Mattie.”
“She’s a better watchdog than Hank.” Gil kicked his heel against the dirt floor and watched as the woman neared. “So, Miss Evans says she’s your friend?” He tried to keep the revulsion in the pit of his stomach from coloring his tone.
“Miss Evans is the vet I told you about. The one caring for your horse.” The answer came out clipped, a biting punishment for thinking the worst of his old man.
Gil’s jaw dropped from embarrassment and surprise, and he fumbled for his next words more than he’d ever fumbled a football. “I’m sorry . . . Dr. Evans . . . I didn’t realize.”
Mattie’s face lit with amusement. “That’s quite all right. It’s kind of nice to be recognized as a woman instead of the town veterinarian.”
Eager to recover from his blunder, Gil reached out his hand to greet her. “How’s Dusty doing? You operated on him, right? Are you sure you did everything you could?”
The doctor’s expression grew taut as she removed her hand from his. “Last I checked, your horse was still breathing.” She brushed past him without further explanation.
Gil noticed the steadiness in her gait as well as her petite frame and build. She rode a horse well too. “Tell me, was the operation a success? How bad were Dusty’s injuries? You’re a small woman. How many large animals have you handled, anyway?” He trailed the doc to a white Ford pickup that had a metal box in the back for supplies.
“I’m on my way to the clinic if you’d like to see for yourself.” She stopped at the driver’s door and turned suddenly to face him, closing the distance between them in seconds.
“Let’s get one thing straight, though.” She poked the center of his chest with a steady finger. “I graduated top in my class and own a respectable practice, despite men like you who shy away from female vets. Regardless of what you think, I know how to treat Dusty’s wounds, but until I have your cooperation, I’m not laying another finger on your horse. Do you understand what I’m saying?” She glared at him, her squared-off shoulders only reaching to his chest.
Not wanting to feed her anger, Gil tried to force down the grin that threatened to appear. She was cute when she got her dander up.
“You’re free to take Dusty to K-State. The veterinary college has better facilities than mine.” She spun on her heels to return to her truck.
Gil reached for her shoulder and felt the fragile bones beneath. “That won’t be necessary, Dr. Evans. I’m sure your care will be satisfactory. After all, my father says you’re the best.”
This seemed to mollify the doc’s irritation, but rather than concur, she climbed into the truck and slammed the door. “In that case, hop in.” She turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine.
Gil rushed to the other side and struggled to climb aboard as she spewed dust in the air with her tires.
He looked back to see his father raise his cane in farewell.
Gil gripped the door. “We’ll talk later,” he called out, all the while wondering about the mean-spirited woman who’d just tried to run over his toes. “That is, if I make it back in one piece,” he muttered to himself.
When they reached the end of the lane marked by a limestone fence, Gil decided to ask the question foremost on his mind. “You’re not related to Owen Evans, are you?” He knew the answer before the words were out of his mouth. How many Evans could there be in Diamond Falls?
“He’s my father.”
“You’re Bridgett and Jenna’s sister?”
“That’s right.” Mattie glanced at him, and he noticed her eyes. Wide set and a deep shade of green, like turf on a football field. “Didn’t your brother date Jenna? I remember him coming over when I was a kid.”
Gil nodded. “Yeah, they dated.” He faced the passenger window and shut his eyelids in an effort to block the painful memories.
“I’m sorry about your brother. Your dad speaks often of Frank.”
Animosity roused within. “I’m sure he does.” Frank and his father had shared a special bond ever since Gil could remember.
“I think he misses him and your mother more each year. Especially since his attack.”
Gil jerked to attention. “What do you mean, his attack?”
Mattie’s eyes narrowed. “Your father had a heart attack right before Christmas. Surely you knew that?”
A wave of nausea tore through Gil as he tried to mask his shock. He recalled his father’s cane, his frail condition. “I guess it wasn’t something he cared to share with me,” he said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “So, tell me about your sisters. Do they still live around here?”
“I’m the only one who had the sense to stay. My folks live in Kansas City near Bridgett, and Jenna moved to Texas after she married.”
Gil’s heart thudded. He wanted to know more about the oldest sister, but hated to ask. “What about the home place? Is that where you have your practice?”
“It sold at auction.” Mattie’s lips tightened, and he could have sworn she aimed for the next pothole with perfect precision, crowning his head on the roof of the cab.
“Go easy on those ruts. You’ll give this truck a flat tire, and I’ll have to change it.” Gil braced himself against the door in anticipation of the next jolt, but she surprised him by slowing down.
“I don’t need a man to do the work for me.” She frowned. “When I think about my parents’ ranch, my blood boils. Three generations of hard work, all for nothing.”
Gil studied the woman across the seat and wondered if she was anything like her sister. He never remembered Jenna being concerned about the land. “Where do you live?”
“I bought Doc Bryant’s place when he retired.”
The old vet’s practice had never been a thriving business. More like one about to crumble, and that was twenty years a
go. “Tell me about Dusty. Is he in a lot of pain?”
The truck jostled onto a paved road, and Mattie headed toward town. “Like I said, the damage was extensive. He lost a lot of blood and has substantial swelling. You’ll see for yourself soon enough.” Her cell phone chimed then, and she answered the incoming call.
As the doc’s voice faded into the background, Gil stared out the passenger window at the familiar landscape. He thought of the many times he’d driven this road, pulling Dusty in his trailer. Ever since he’d heard about the accident, Gil had been unable to stop the deluge of memories — of riding rodeo with Frank, of his mother — and of Jenna.
He rubbed his forehead and allowed the memories of his youth to rush back.
The people in the stands became a blur as Gil and Dusty broke from the box, Frank right behind in the arena. Swinging his lariat, Gil chased the steer less than fifty yards and nailed him on his first try. Frank heeled the steer immediately after.
Still on their horses, they both listened for the official time. Once announced, Gil glanced over at Frank. “Think we stand a chance at Nationals?”
Frank smiled, his pupils dark with their usual intensity. “Are you kidding? We’re undefeated.”
Mama waited with the others at the chutes, her hair pulled low in a ponytail. “I guess all the rodeos we took you to are finally paying off.”
“Those late night ropings didn’t hurt either, did they, Son?” His dad looked up at Gil and slapped his horse on the flank. “Even if it did interfere with your homework, or datin’, or even those darned football practices. I’d say making it to the National High School Finals Rodeo is more important than some football game, wouldn’t you?”
Frank jumped off his horse and into Jenna’s open arms. “No comparison in my book. Never have understood what you see in that sport.” Frank liked to tease, but Gil knew what attracted him to football. It was the one thing Frank didn’t excel at, the one thing Gil could hold over his brother . . .
The doc’s truck swerved onto the main street in Diamond Falls, and Gil’s forehead thumped against the passenger window, bringing him back to the present. Though tempted to run from the mounting complications, Gil vowed to see this visit through, even if it meant putting up with his father, the memories, and Dr. Mattie Evans, the sister of the girl he’d used to betray his brother.
SIX
MATTIE FOLLOWED GIL INTO THE CLINIC BARN, AND THE VOICES OF her employees hushed upon their entrance. Disregarding their adoration for the local superhero, she noted the emotion that flashed across Gil’s face when he viewed the chestnut gelding. Her throat tightened. Dusty lay motionless on the straw bedding, his chest swollen and his head wrapped in bandages. She’d witnessed scenes like this before, and in an effort to keep her sympathy from impeding her judgment, she’d learned to detach herself from the situation. With steady fingers, Mattie checked the horse’s IV and fluids, then turned to her technician to get a report on the last two hours.
Gil rested his cheek against the horse’s neck and whispered words she couldn’t make out. She grasped her clipboard and faced him.
“We’ve enucleated his right eye. I inserted an intraorbital prosthesis before sewing the skin shut. The fractures to his skull were significant. I repaired as much of it as possible, especially around the eye and sinus area.” Mattie gazed up at the hayloft where sunlight filtered in through the fractures in the wood. She wanted to be professional, collected, but the torment on Gil McCray’s face could not be ignored.
Mattie put the clipboard down and knelt beside him on the straw. “Look, right now my main concerns are Dusty’s kidneys and the injuries to his shoulder. He’s on heavy fluids and anti-inflammatories, but it’s too soon to know how extensive the internal damage is.”
“Will he live through this?” Hope cracked his voice.
Mattie shielded her expression to offer encouragement. “I’ve seen horses older than Dusty come out of worse conditions. It depends on his strength — his determination to live.” Some horses had all heart, went full blast until they breathed their last lungful. She prayed this patient might be among that rare breed.
“I raised him, you know.”
“John mentioned that.” Though the sun warmed the air outside, Mattie felt chilled in the barn and zipped her jacket. “You should know I recommended putting him down the night of the accident. Your father wouldn’t allow it.”
Gil returned his gaze to the horse resting with his nose to the ground. “How long before he’ll be up and walking?”
“I’d like to see Dusty stand within the next ten hours. If that doesn’t happen, we’ll try other measures.” She met the resolve on Gil’s face with her own. “I’m a firm believer in prayer. That and positive thinking. Maybe your presence will help Dusty heal.”
“You think he knows I’m here?”
“I know he does.” She stood to check the horse’s monitor and recorded the increase in heartbeat. “How long since you’ve seen him?”
“Two years ago August. I counted it up last night at halftime. The way my mind rambled, it’s no wonder we lost.” He got up and walked to the barn door, staring out at the graveled parking lot. “It was my mother’s birthday, and she insisted I go for a ride. She died two months later.”
Mattie wondered what drove Gil from the ranch. The shock when she’d mentioned John’s heart attack and his obvious torment suggested a soft spot in Gil’s heart for home. She knew better than to get involved but was intrigued.
“I’m sorry I never met your mother. From the stories your dad tells, she sounded like a wonderful woman.”
Gil turned back to her and jammed his hands into his jean pockets. “Mind if I stay with Dusty for a while?”
Mattie removed the near-empty bag of fluid and replaced it with a full one. “I’ll check back later.” She gathered her instruments and set them in a bucket. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re home.”
A momentary look of surprise creased Gil’s brow. Reminding herself to stay out of other people’s business, Mattie left her client to deal with whatever haunted him.
GIL RETURNED TO THE LIGHTNING M RANCH LATE THAT AFTERNOON. He knocked on the heavy, wooden door to his father’s room, and it screeched open. Gil stared at the man on the bed, his dad’s face more pallid and drawn than it had been earlier that day. Moving closer, he touched the wrinkled hand, surprised at how fragile it felt under his own.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the heart attack?”
John McCray’s thick lids opened, his eyes glazed from sleep. “What’s the matter? Afraid I might die, and you’d miss out on your inheritance?” He jerked his hand away. “Don’t bother.” His dad hacked out a deliberate cough and glanced at the door. “Did Mattie bring you?”
“One of her staff gave me a lift. Dr. Evans stayed at the clinic.”
“She’s a hard worker. Real serious about her job, especially with her run of bad luck.”
Gil’s interest perked like a horse’s ears at an unfamiliar sound. “What sort of bad luck?”
“Nothing that amounts to a hill of beans. ’Course, she don’t see it that way, but she’s young. She’ll learn.”
“You know she’s Jenna’s sister?”
“Do I look stupid? What does that matter?” His father sat up and reached for the glass of water on the nightstand. Gil noticed a prescription bottle of pills.
Some things were better left in the past. “I’m not here to fight.” He glanced up at the high ceiling and watched the cobwebs sway in the drafty currents.
“Why did you come? I’m sure you have more important stuff to do than visit a sick man on his deathbed. Don’t you have parties or press conferences to attend?”
“Not much to celebrate, remember?” Gil shifted his weight on the wingback chair. Thoughts of last night’s game resurfaced. If he’d kept a clear head, made better calls, his team might have gone on to the championship game. “My legs and arms aren’t as quick as they once were. I’m thinking it�
��s time to retire and settle down.”
The old man sipped his water. “You ever gonna marry and give me grandsons?”
“Don’t start that again.” Gil knew plenty of women, but his first mistake with love soured him on commitment. Besides, he’d never met a girl who could come within yards of his mother’s character and gentleness.
“What’s the matter? Don’t women hang all over you?”
“Some guys like that sort of thing.”
“Well, you’d better get a wife if you’re gonna retire.”
“I’m more concerned about getting you back on your feet so you can run this ranch. This place is falling apart.” It had pained Gil earlier to see the deterioration of the fence and barns. “Did you let go of all your hired hands?”
His father scowled. “Jake and Mildred are the only help I can afford. I ain’t got no sons to help me.”
Gil sucked in air from his dad’s verbal punch. “Been here five hours, and you’re already complaining. I should’ve known you wouldn’t change.” He took a deep breath and worked to hold his temper. “I know it’s not easy. Jake’s old, and your health’s poor. I’m not surprised the place looks like it does.”
The man shifted restlessly on the bed, his thick brow even more furrowed than before. “Thanks for your expert opinion. Remind me to compensate you at the end of the month when I write out the paychecks.”
“Oh, come off it, Dad. The fence needs repaired, the machine shed’s about to collapse. I’m scared to think about the pasture. Have you grubbed off all the bluestem yet?”
His father shook his fist in the air. “Boy, this land’s been in the McCray family for four generations. My great-granddad settled here in 1885, and we’ve taken care of the pastures ever since, grazing it the way it’s meant to be.” He wiped the spit from his mouth, his face growing redder with every word. “You go off and move to California without one care for us folks here, and then show back up out of the blue to tell me I don’t know how to take care of this land. Boy, you got no right.”
Snow Melts in Spring Page 3
