Veterinary Partner

by Nancy Wheelton

  Lauren sighed. How could she explain her spinning thoughts to Ian without looking like the wimp she was? “Bulldozer?”

  “He’s their biggest bull.”

  “Would it be too much to hope the dozer part of his name is because he’s a sleepy little guy?” Lauren crossed her fingers and prayed.

  Ian chuckled. “He weighs twenty-five hundred pounds. They called him Bulldozer because he flattens anything in his path.”

  “Okay.” Lauren squared her shoulders. She wasn’t afraid of bulls. Proper facilities would keep her safe. It was Heinz and Kyle Kruger who unnerved her.

  “You’ll be fine. They have an adjustable squeeze chute, big enough for bulls.”

  Lauren had used the squeeze at Kruger Farm at an earlier visit for some cows. The chute resembled a cage of solid steel bars designed to hold cattle. Heinz’s headgate was top quality and opened far enough to let an animal’s head through before closing to encircle their neck. The headgate wasn’t tight around their neck, but it restrained the animal and kept it from moving more than a step in any direction. The steel bars along the side of the chute protected Lauren if the animal kicked.

  “No problem, Ian.” Determination pumped through her veins as Lauren packed her gear and switched her lab coat for coveralls and boots. When she arrived at Kruger Farm, Kyle and Tommy were waiting for her. Tommy stood with his arms at his sides and the same inscrutable expression on his face as always. Since Tommy’s wife left him and had taken their three children, she’d heard that Tommy only spoke when he had to.

  Kyle lounged against the farm gate with one foot on the bottom rung and smoked a cigarette. Lauren parked, collected her medical kit, and walked toward the brothers. Kyle was five feet eight inches of grease, dirt, and yellow teeth. He made her skin crawl.

  “How ya doing today, Doc?” Kyle spat into the dirt.

  Lauren walked toward the big squeeze chute. “Good, thanks. I’m here to see Bulldozer.”

  “Wrong way, Doc.” Kyle snickered. “Chute’s broke, but we got Bulldozer locked in his pen.”

  Lauren skidded to a halt and squinted skyward for five seconds. She took a deep breath, determined not to show any fear. “No problem. Let’s go.”

  They had locked Bulldozer in the headgate located in the corner of his pen. His pen led to a barn with a door to allow them to move the bull inside without handling the dangerous animal. The headgate prevented Bulldozer from escaping, but there was no other protection for Lauren if he kicked out. She glanced at the laceration on the bull’s shoulder. Could she treat it and keep out of the way of its hooves?

  She stuffed gauze and a bottle of iodine in her pocket and entered the pen, staying as close to the bull’s head and shoulders as possible. “It’s not too bad.” Lauren cleaned the wound, unable to hide the relief in her voice. “It’s just a deep scratch. It’ll heal well, if you keep it clean. No need for sutures.”

  “Bulldozer’s a good bull. He gave Callie those free calves her heifers are having. Those should be mine,” Kyle whined.

  Lauren scrutinized the huge bull. The poor heifers wouldn’t have been half his size when he jumped on their backs and bred them. No wonder there were so many dystocias at Poplarcreek. She continued to clean the wound, relieved that Kyle wasn’t standing behind her for once. But that in itself was strange. Kyle was fussing near Bulldozer’s head and telling him he was a good bull. Maybe he cared about his animals? He certainly didn’t give a shit about people.

  A second later, Lauren was in midair. She flew ten feet backward until her back smashed into the barn. The impact knocked the breath from her, and dazed, she slid down the wall into the dirty snow. When her vision cleared, she gasped at the sight of Bulldozer lumbering toward her.

  The bull lowered his massive head and pressed down against her chest as if he intended to grind her into the ground. Lauren couldn’t do anything to prevent him from crushing her. Too stunned to scream or cry, she waited, expecting something to break inside. But then Bulldozer raised his head and sauntered off to the corner of his pen to munch on a bale of hay. He acted as if he’d swatted an annoying fly.

  The men charged into the pen, with Tommy dragging Kyle by the arm. Kyle tiptoed between Lauren and bull. “Hurry, bro, before he sees us,” Kyle muttered between clenched teeth.

  Strong arms lifted Lauren and carried her from the pen. Tommy looked as if he might cry. Perplexed and disoriented, Lauren wondered why. She was the one flattened. She deserved to cry, and as soon as she could, she would, but right now her chest wouldn’t move. Every breath was agony. Tommy lowered Lauren gently to a bench and kneeled to peer into her face.

  Kyle slunk toward them. “What a hit. You’re lucky he’s got no horns.” He didn’t look in the least concerned, and there was no question that the look he gave her was a reminder of his earlier threats.

  “Kyle, shut up and go away.” Tommy’s voice was full of anger and a hint of danger. Kyle held up his hands and scurried away. Tommy focused on Lauren. “Are you all right, Lauren? Can you speak? Your back’s bleeding.”

  Lauren shifted an inch and gasped in pain. “A nail or something sharp stuck me when I hit the barn. I think it cut my back when I slid down the wall.” Her words emerged as a croak. Every word and every breath were painful. “It’s probably what cut Bulldozer. Fix it so he isn’t hurt again.” It was ironic that she wanted to protect the health of the animal that attacked her.

  “Do you want an ambulance?”

  “No, thanks. It’d take them thirty minutes, and I don’t think anything’s broken. I’m only bruised. Help me to my truck?” She would have insisted on an ambulance for anybody else, but she refused to wait. All she wanted was to escape from Kruger Farm.

  Tommy helped Lauren to her feet and half carried her to her truck. She spread a pair of clean coveralls on the back of her seat to keep the blood off it and crawled into the cab. Her back and chest ached, but her head was clear.

  Tommy said, “Sorry about that, Lauren.” Then gave her one last concerned glance and shut her door.

  While Tommy collected her equipment and stowed it in her truck, Lauren called PVS and explained the bull had knocked her to the ground. She told them Bulldozer would be okay and promised she was only sore and winded and would go home for the rest of the day. Tommy, his hands stuffed in his pockets, stood there watching her drive away. She watched in her rearview until she turned onto the road, but there was no sign of Kyle.

  At home, Lauren swallowed a couple ibuprofen. She stripped off her clothes and staggered into the shower. Her back stung, and pink water swirled around her feet. Peering at the water was a mistake as it nauseated and disoriented her. She steadied herself against the wall of the shower until her head cleared. Bulldozer’s attack was mild compared to what it could have been.

  It was always a danger treating an animal that size without it in a chute. Had Kyle let Bulldozer out of the headgate on purpose? There was no way to know, but she wouldn’t have put it past him. One second, she was treating the animal, the next, his massive head was slamming into her chest. She dried off and crawled into bed.

  As her eyes fluttered closed, a small warm body stretched along her legs. “Hey, Digi. Hey, big guy, stay off my back, please.” When she slept on her stomach, Digit often curled between her shoulder blades to sleep. Today, he didn’t. It was as if he sensed she was sore.

  Lauren woke to concerned blue eyes gazing into hers and a hand stroking her face. “Lauren, Lauren, wake up, baby.”

  Baby. She called me baby. Lauren pressed her cheek into Callie’s warm palm and closed her eyes. She longed to slide closer to Callie’s heat and the comfort of her.

  “Get her to sit on the side of the bed.”

  The deep booming voice shattered the fantasy, and Lauren shot awake as the male voice invaded her bedroom. She half rose and jerked toward the voice, causing a shooting pain to slice from her neck to her lower back. With a groan of agony, she collapsed on the bed. She took a second to focus. It was the lo
cal doctor in her room, with Callie beside him.

  “I can get up.” She cleared her throat and blushed. “I can get up, but I’m not wearing anything.”

  “Get her a towel or something, Callie. Lauren, hold it in front of you and sit so I can examine you.”

  When he left the room, Callie passed Lauren a robe. Lauren held it in front of her and sat on the edge of the bed, groaning with every movement.

  When the doctor returned, he examined her back and neck, and listened to her lungs. With the robe lowered a few inches, he listened to her chest and inspected her arms. “You should go to the hospital.”

  “I’m just sore.”

  He probed her ribs. “Nothing broken. Lie on your stomach.”

  She turned over and winced when he started dabbing at her back. “That stings.”

  “I’m cleaning the wound and then I’ll bandage it.”

  “Thanks,” Lauren said.

  “There. That’s done. Callie, can I talk to you?” he said.

  Callie bent until her eyes were on level with Lauren’s. “I’m going to talk to the doctor and come right back. Okay if I stay for a bit?”

  “I don’t want to be annoying.”

  Callie ran her fingertips over Lauren’s cheek. “You’re not annoying.”

  “I’m surprised to see you.”

  “Val called me. She couldn’t get away from the clinic and was worried about you. She told me where you hide your spare key.”

  “Thanks, Callie.”

  Callie straightened and pointed at Lauren. “Now stay right there. Back soon.”

  “I’ve nowhere to go.” Her body was one giant ache. All she wanted to do was sleep. She’d planned to stay away from Callie, but for some reason, Callie was there, and as she drifted off again, the thought that Callie was nearby helped soothe some of the pain.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The doctor motioned Callie to follow him into the kitchen. “No broken bones. Her ribs are okay, I think. A nasty gash, but not deep enough to require stitches. Her thick winter clothing must have protected her. She should bend as little as possible for the next three days. No showers until then. Keep her wound dry. Here’s a prescription for antibiotics. Watch her, Callie. If she has any problems breathing, or the pain worsens, take her to the hospital. I’d send her now, just to be certain about those ribs, but she’s stubborn.”

  Callie had been surprised not only when Val rang to tell her about the attack, but when Tommy had as well. If anything, he’d sounded more upset than Val, and though she wasn’t certain what he meant by, “He shouldn’t have done it,” she had a pretty good idea it wasn’t a total accident. “I’ll look after her.”

  After the doctor left, Callie entered Lauren’s bedroom. She was lying on her stomach with a twelve-inch bandage stretching down the middle of her back, between her neck and waist.

  Callie had turned her back when Lauren sat up, but not before she’d glimpsed Lauren’s large, firm breasts and delicate pink nipples. Quit ogling her. She needs help, not lusting after.

  Callie sighed. Lauren’s shoulders were finely muscled and her arms strong. She tilted her head and grinned at the abundance of freckles on Lauren’s shoulders. How long would it take her to kiss them one by one?

  When Lauren shivered Callie snapped out of her reverie. She tucked the sheets and the comforter over Lauren, caressing her shoulders as she did. Lauren moaned softly in response to her fleeting touch.

  When Callie opened the bedroom door, a gangly orange cat bolted into the room. It jumped on the bed and stretched along the side of Lauren’s legs as if it belonged there. Callie closed the door, leaving a gap to allow the cat to leave when it was ready.

  Callie tiptoed back to the kitchen and stared out the window. Lauren was injured and could have been killed. Callie frowned. Val’s garbled and evasive explanation about not leaving the patients at PVS hadn’t rung true. Was Val trying to push her and Lauren together? Lauren wouldn’t have asked for Callie’s help. It had to be Val. Callie shook her head. It didn’t matter. Lauren was her friend and she needed help. That was enough for now, and it had to be enough when there was nothing else.

  Callie explored the little house. This was her first visit, and she surveyed the rooms with interest. There were two bedrooms with the bathroom between them. The second bedroom had a desk, a rowing machine, and hand weights set at forty-five pounds. Lauren’s kitchen was small, with a two-seat table tucked into one corner. The living room led off the kitchen. There was room for a couch, armchair, television, stereo, and bookcase. It was cozy and warm, and it fit Lauren perfectly.

  Callie expected a bookcase packed with veterinary textbooks and medical journals. She grinned as she perused Lauren’s extensive collection of lesbian romance novels. On the third shelf, there were books written by or about famous women, including Jane Goodall, Birute Galdikas, and Dian Fossey. Callie perused a shelf with an atlas and books on history. A woman’s book collection was a window into her personality, or so she’d heard it said.

  Callie had never read Gorillas in the Mist. She lifted it off the shelf and set it on the coffee table for later. The romance novels were tempting, but Dian Fossey’s book was educational and she needed to be smarter. Besides, she didn’t need some sweet romance reminding her of everything her life was lacking.

  She studied Lauren’s veterinary degree hanging on the wall. It was a reminder of one of their differences. Below her, tucked into one corner of the couch was another orange cat. It was mature, but no bigger than the first one. Callie stroked it and her reward was a delicate purr. The cat raised its head and curved its neck for more contact with her hand.

  While Lauren slept, Callie cleaned the house. Lauren had said she could stay, and that meant making herself useful. She tossed a load of smelly work clothes in a basket and put it in the basement. Then she washed the dishes. She hunted in Lauren’s kitchen for something to serve for lunch. The freezer held many individual meat pies and stuffed chicken breasts from the local farm store. Ketchup, mayonnaise, a jar of natural peanut butter, two apples, and a bag of mini carrots summarized the contents of the refrigerator. In the cupboard, she discovered a loaf of fresh bread and twenty cans of tuna. She found no oil, salt, sugar, butter, or spices.

  When she had finished her chores, Callie curled on the couch with the little cat and phoned PVS.

  “Prairie Veterinary Services, Val speaking. How may I help you?”

  “It’s Callie.”

  “How is she?”

  “Sore, but asleep. The doctor didn’t send her to the hospital, and she didn’t need stitches.”

  “I was worried.”

  “What about tonight? She shouldn’t be left alone.”

  “Can you take her home with you?”

  Callie grinned and scratched the little cat under the chin. “Thought you might suggest that.” No doubt about it, Val was matchmaking. “Can you keep Becky for the night? I want to be able to run Lauren into the hospital if she starts feeling worse and I can’t leave Becky alone. I’ll drop some clothes off later for her.”

  “No problem. Gwen and Becky are great pals. Pajamas aren’t an issue, but I don’t have any jeans to fit Becky. What if I washed hers tonight and loaned her a clean shirt for school? Save you a trip back into town.”

  “Awesome. Thanks, Val.”

  “No problem. I’ve got to go. Take care of Lauren.”

  “I will.” Because that’s what friends did. Even after a stupid fight. She picked up the book and flipped to the first page. After twenty pages of gorillas, her eyes slid to Lauren’s collection of lesbian romances. Lauren was tough on the outside but had a soft heart. She saw it in Lauren’s eyes when she patted the heifers before surgery and said, “Sorry, girl, I’ll finish as soon as I can.”

  Callie lifted the cat off her lap and rose to her feet. They might not belong together, but Lauren was special, and she’d look after her. She had just finished preparing lunch when she heard footsteps in the bedroom. She kno
cked on Lauren’s bedroom door.

  The movement inside ceased, and a hesitant voice responded. “Hello? Who’s there?”

  “It’s Callie. May I come in? Can I help?”

  “Just a second.”

  Callie winced as Lauren groaned and shuffled around the bedroom. When Lauren yelped, Callie opened the door and rushed into the room. Lauren stood by the closet, her eyes full of pain. She was wearing a pair of loose sweatpants with the matching sweatshirt held in front of her chest. Callie gasped when she saw large areas of purple bruising on Lauren’s bare shoulders. She hadn’t noticed them when the doctor had been there, but they were certainly visible now.

  “I can’t get the top on by myself. It hurts too much to lift my arms.” A tear slid down Lauren’s cheek.

  Callie’s eyes watered in sympathy. The vulnerability in Lauren’s eyes was heartbreaking. “Let me help, please.” She took hold of the sweatshirt and gave it a little tug, but Lauren didn’t let go.

  “Um, I’m not wearing anything.”

  Callie struggled to keep her features neutral. A joke about roasting marshmallows on Lauren’s cheeks would be unkind given the circumstances. “What if I keep my eyes closed?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  Callie closed her eyes and stuck out her hand. When the sweatshirt landed in her hand, her mouth went dry. Lauren was half-naked in front of her. She squeezed her eyes shut against temptation and, heart hammering, set to work. After a few minutes of attempting to slip the sweatshirt on Lauren, without touching her breasts, Callie abandoned the task and turned her back. “Do you have something with a zipper or buttons?”

  “Oh, good idea. In the closet.” Ten minutes later, they had Lauren in a cotton button-down shirt and a fleece jacket that zipped up the front. Lauren hobbled into the kitchen and sank into a chair. Callie had prepared a tuna sandwich with apple slices and carrots on the side. “Thanks for your help today,” Lauren mumbled before biting into the sandwich.