by Marta Perry
“Not breathing, but there’s a heartbeat.” He squinted. “It’s faint, but it’s there.” With a great amount of gentleness, the man opened Wing Crosby’s beak and swept the inside of the goose’s mouth with one of his fingers. “Did you see him choking on anything, or were you feeding him something when this happened?” The man kept his attention on Wing Crosby while he asked the question. His fingers combed over the bird’s white feathers for injuries.
“I don’t know what happened.” Her voice took on a desperate tone. “I found him in the water. I didn’t see anything.”
He wrapped the jacket back around Wing and tucked the goose into the crook of his arm so the bird was snug against his body like a football. With his head tipped down, the man’s dark hair fell across his forehead. The stranger rolled his shoulders as he took a deep breath.
Shannon dropped down in front of him so their knees touched. She just wanted to be by Wing. “You know what you’re doing?”
The man glanced her way, the intensity of his blue eyes startling her again. He cocked an eyebrow. “You want me to save him, right?”
“Of course.”
He nodded and focused his attention back on the goose. He wrapped a finger over the holes in Wing Crosby’s bill, then put his mouth over the goose’s bill and blew into the bird’s mouth five times.
The man repeated the process three times before letting out a frustrated growl. “We’ve lost his heartbeat.”
“Wait.” Shannon laid a hand on the man’s arm. “He’s dead? Are you saying he’s dead?” Her voice pitched up.
A muscle in the man’s firm jaw ticked. “Not on my watch.” He tugged open the jacket. Using three fingers, he pressed down on Wing’s chest rapidly ten times. He followed that with five breaths and kept switching back and forth.
“I’ve had him since he hatched.” Tears slipped down Shannon’s cheek as she watched Wing being worked on. “He’s not even a year old yet, but he’s really important to me,” she said. “I can’t lose him.”
She had lost too much.
Too soon.
They had just passed the one-year anniversary of her father’s sudden death, and hitting that first milestone had left her feeling raw all over again. He had been hit by a car; the driver had been focused on their phone instead of the man in the crosswalk. But that wasn’t the only thing weighing her down. Her mother’s Alzheimer’s kept advancing, so every day it felt as if she was losing her all over again. Rhett had returned to the ranch exactly a year ago to claim his inheritance, but he had married right away and taken over the ranch house, which meant Shannon had been moved to a staff bunkhouse where she was living alone for the first time in her life. Her twin brother, Wade, who had been assumed dead for five years, had returned to the ranch last summer. Which was positive, but it had still been traumatic coming to terms with his betrayal, the fact he was still alive and forgiving him for letting them believe otherwise, only to find out he had cancer and they could lose him all over again. While Wade was considered cancer-free now, there was always a chance it could return. Being his sole support during that time had been stressful.
And then there had been Cord.
Who had gifted her the negative track of thoughts that played on repeat in her mind.
The boyfriend who had left bruises on her arms.
Scars on her heart.
At least the experience with Cord had broken Shannon of her childish daydreams about relationships and love. There wasn’t a perfect someone out there waiting for her. Maybe for others—people like her brothers and their wives—but not for her. She needed to pick herself up, be strong on her own and figure out what a life without anyone else in it looked like.
Because despite how much she loved being around people, loved connecting and had always wanted a family, alone might be what God had for her.
And she was determined to be okay with that.
No matter how much it hurt.
While breaking free of Cord had ultimately been a good thing, it had sent her world reeling. With her brothers busy in their new marriages and her mother no longer capable of being her confidante, Shannon had been entirely left out and alone. The only thing that had gotten her through the worst of it had been raising the little abandoned goose, because he had been completely dependent on her for survival. He had given her something to focus on.
He had needed her when no one else had. He had nestled up to her and gazed at her adoringly when her family had treated her as if she was weak, as if they expected her to fall apart. Whenever their eyes met hers, the pity they held was too clear to stomach.
For once she just wanted them to see her as strong. She wanted a reason for them to be proud of her. She would give anything to be seen as more in their eyes than the little sister they all had to watch out for, to constantly protect.
All of a sudden, Wing made a horrible half honk, half gasping sound and his whole body trembled. In one swift motion the man set the goose down, grabbed Shannon’s arm and hauled her to her feet a few steps away.
“If you’re right in their face sometimes they’ll bite when they come to,” he said. His gaze fell to where he gripped her arm and he immediately let go of her. “Even people they know. Their body goes into a mode. Thinking something is latched onto them—that’s usually the behavior of a predator, not someone trying to save them.” He shoved a hand into his almost black hair and let out a long, loud breath. “And geese have shockingly painful bites.” His laugh was soft and self-conscious.
Wing Crosby’s eye blinked open and drooped shut, then flew open again. The goose tried to lift his head but set it back down again. He opened his bill and wheezed a few times.
He was alive.
Shannon squealed and threw her arms around the man. “You saved him. I don’t know how to thank you. I can’t believe you were able to save him.” She hugged him tightly. He was so much taller than her. His chest was solid, his shoulders wide, and he smelled of something delightfully spicy. She was breathing deeply when she realized he wasn’t hugging back.
In fact, upon contact, the man’s body had gone completely rigid.
Shannon was so used to the freedom of hugging her brothers, she hadn’t stopped to think before tossing herself at the poor guy. Then again, she never nuzzled for extra whiffs of her brothers, either.
She extricated her arms from around his torso. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” His lips tilted into something that looked like it wanted to be a smile when it grew up. He scooped his coat off the ground and offered it to her. “You’ve been shuddering the whole time. It’s a little wet from him, but it’ll be better than nothing. I’m guessing I won’t be able to convince you to leave him to go change.”
Wing gave a loud snuffle as he finally sat up.
Shannon slipped on the man’s coat right before she picked up Wing.
The man leaned closer to the goose. “I’d call your vet and get him looked at. They often need to be intubated after something like this.” He tentatively petted Wing’s head. “You’ve got a beautiful bird there. Looks like a pilgrim gander.”
So not only did the man know his goose breeds, but the correct term for a male goose, as well. Not to mention knowing how to do CPR on one.
She opened her mouth to say something but wasn’t quite sure where to start.
“He needs to be warmed up while you wait for the doctor,” the man continued. “If you have a heating pad they work great. Just put a towel over it and put it in a carrier so he’s contained and on top of the warmth source. You’ll want to minimize any stress for him.”
“I will.” Shannon offered him a smile. “I’m Shannon, by the way.” And between charging into the pond and crying, she probably looked a wreck, but thankfully, the man was treating her as if this had all been a normal, everyday interaction.
“Carter Kelly. New head wrangler.” He t
humbed toward the large barn situated at the front of the property.
“And apparently goose saver,” Shannon said. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
He shook his head. “Don’t mention it. It was nothing. Seriously.”
Shannon hadn’t been paying much attention to the man’s looks while she was worried about Wing Crosby, but now that she was looking at Carter he was hard to glance away from. Dark, almost black hair and blue eyes that matched Wing Crosby’s. In his boots, jeans and white T-shirt, Carter Kelly could have been the image that popped up on an internet search titled World’s Handsomest Cowboy. A few jagged scars along his neck and jawline only added to his appeal.
“You should call the vet,” Carter repeated.
His voice snapped her back to normal behavior. First she had hugged the guy and now she was very obviously gawking at him. Great first impression.
Shannon nodded and stepped backward. Her arms tightened around Wing Crosby as he tucked his head onto her shoulder. “I’m going to. Right now.” She took another step back. “What are you going to do?”
“Me?” Carter chuckled. “Probably go gargle antibacterial hand soap a few times. Birds are germ magnets.” He shrugged. “Then finish unpacking.” He pointed at her as he backed away. “But let me know what the doc says, okay?”
“I will,” she said and then rushed Wing Crosby into her bunkhouse to warm him up, change into something dry and wait for Dr. Spira to arrive. While she waited, she tried to think of an appropriate way to thank Carter Kelly. The man had saved her pet. She had to do something to thank him.
Seeing his blue eyes and chiseled jaw again had nothing to do with it.
It didn’t.
Because Shannon Jarrett was done with men.
For now, certainly, but maybe for good, as well.
“Well, except for you, of course.” Shannon patted Wing’s head and he honked quietly from his perch on the blanket-covered heating pad. His eyes closed again.
She no longer trusted her heart when it came to these things, so the fact that she found Carter attractive meant nothing. Her heart only ever got her into trouble. So it had been demoted. Every choice from here on would be logical. Thought through. No emotions. No heartache.
But it was logical to thank someone.
* * *
Living a life without roots meant Carter Kelly had never owned much, but the generous bunkhouse he had been given as one of the perks of his new job at Red Dog Ranch dwarfed his meager possessions even more than usual. It was almost embarrassing, but it would be the biggest place he had lived in since his stepdad had tossed him out on his ear all those years ago. At least the place had come furnished. If it hadn’t, his new home would have looked really pathetic with nothing in it.
Not new home.
Temporary.
Temporary home.
He couldn’t afford to think of places as his or grow attached to anything. It wasn’t his style. Getting attached meant getting involved, meant hurting when he left or was told to move along. It meant missing and longing for a place and people who probably wouldn’t think about him after he was gone.
No, thank you.
Going down that road once had been enough for him. He would work here a year or two, tops. Pay down some of his school debt while he enjoyed the free room and board and then move on to get experience elsewhere. Carter would gather as many different learning experiences as he could. If he stayed on course, he could one day achieve his dream of saving enough to begin his own practice. Then when people and animals were solely dependent on him, he would be prepared. He wouldn’t let any of them down or fail them.
It was a solid plan. The perfect plan.
One that had worked for him countless times before.
One that had kept him safe.
Still, he thanked God for at least the twentieth time that day for providing him this job at Red Dog Ranch. Nowhere else he had applied to had offered room and board along with a decent salary. Some offered a place to stay but charged a small rent. Not to mention the fact that the other prospective employers had all asked probing questions about why he would want to work grunt jobs for them when he had a DVM degree.
You’re a doctor, son. Why would you waste that here at my farm?
Of course I could use a veterinarian on staff, but I don’t have the money for one and this is a lowly position at a pig farm, so I have to ask myself what you’re trying to pull here.
But his new boss hadn’t seemed all that concerned or impressed with Carter’s credentials. All Rhett Jarrett had wanted to know was what experience he had with horses, what leadership roles he’d been in before and who his references were. So many years spent working any job he could find at the ranches that dotted both the West and Midwest had paid off. Rhett had been impressed with his horsemanship and the quality of the ranches Carter had worked at.
Carter flipped a switch and can lights nestled across the ceiling buzzed to life.
He had thought about touring the ranch after he finished unpacking, but with it still being only early spring, evening had draped the area quicker than he had anticipated. He would save his exploring for tomorrow.
Sighing, Carter tugged the folder full of his loan paperwork from his backpack and tossed it onto the kitchen table. When it landed, the folder slid a bit. A small dog-eared notecard peeked out the edge. He picked it up and ran his thumb over the Bible verse he had written there. But Thou, O Lord, art a shield for me; my glory, and the lifter up of mine head. He had carried this for twelve years. Ever since Audrey.
Most of the time, Carter put a lot of effort into not thinking about Audrey, but a reminder as he started at a new place wasn’t a bad thing.
A warning to be careful—not to let his guard down with anyone—no matter how much his extrovertly wired brain begged him to connect with others. Connecting only ever got him burned.
Audrey was his cautionary tale.
A lesson he never needed to learn again.
So why had he told the woman today—Shannon—to keep him updated on the gander?
Carter scrubbed his hand over his face and shot out a long stream of air.
He was a veterinarian who had performed a procedure on an animal and he wanted to see if he had done the right thing, learn if there was something else he could have done in the situation. Grow as a professional and be better prepared for the future he one day hoped to have. That was all.
The fact that Shannon was beautiful wouldn’t—couldn’t—factor in. Though with her short, wavy blond hair, curvy frame and wide eyes, she was impossible not to acknowledge. Even dripping water from a pond overrun with algae, she had caused him to be flustered for a moment there.
He tucked the verse card back into the file.
He ruined people’s lives when he got involved.
He was a liability and always would be.
Someone knocked on the door and Carter rushed to answer it. Even though he wasn’t set to officially start working until Monday, maybe his new boss wanted him to take care of something today.
He opened the door to find Shannon smiling beside a bald, hunched-over man with age spots peppering his face and hands. She held a teal-colored plateful of what might have been cupcakes. They were certainly baked in cupcake wrappers, but whatever frosting there had once been had melted and pooled onto the plate in a shiny puddle.
Shannon grimaced. “These were supposed to be a thank-you.” She glanced down at the plate. “I’m not the best cook. Not like Cassidy—she’s our head chef, and these would make her faint.” Shannon pressed the plate toward him. “They’re just from a box and I think—okay, I know I didn’t wait long enough before frosting them but...” She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug.
Frosting sloshed onto Carter’s thumb when he took the plate. He looked down at the offering and his chest felt tight. He swallowed hard
. “You made me cupcakes?”
“Well, sort of.” Her laugh was quiet, a little nervous. “I wanted to do something nice for you but you totally have my permission to throw them away when I’m not looking. I probably should have just picked you up something from the bakery in town tomorrow.” She reached to take the plate back. “In fact, let’s do that. Let’s pretend you never saw these and I can just toss them myself.”
He protectively moved the plate to his side, away from her so she couldn’t reach them. “No, it’s not... I, ah—” Carter cleared his throat. Get it together, man. Baked goods weren’t supposed to make a person emotional. He swallowed once, twice. “It’s just no one’s ever made something for me before. Thank you. I want to keep them.”
Shannon tilted her head. “I find that hard to believe.” She rolled her hand. “I mean, someone at some point has baked you cookies. That’s pretty standard. Your family or—” her eyes narrowed as she assessed him “—I’d guess a girlfriend.”
No, but his last girlfriend had called him trash. Did that count for bonus points?
He shook his head. He had already been too vulnerable and he needed to reel the situation back to somewhere comfortable for him. Carter motioned for them to follow him into the bunkhouse. With great care, he set the plate of cupcakes on his table.
The older gentleman braced his hands on the other side of the table. “That was some fine work you did on Wing Crosby, if I do say so myself. You’ve got some great instincts.”
“Wing Crosby?” Carter looked between them for an explanation.
“My goose.” Shannon frowned. “Well, I guess if I’m talking to animal people I can call him a gander.” Then she added, “I like old movies.”
“I’m going to bring him back to my clinic to monitor him overnight, but he looks great. Your quick thinking definitely saved our little friend.” The other man held out his hand. “I’m Dr. Spira.”
