Renegade Ridge

by Arabella Steedly

  “I am certain that she was fine beforehand. I take excellent care of my horses.”

  “I’m sure you do,” she replied.

  He watched as she went back to her examination, obviously content to ignore his disdain rather than attempting any further apologies. After a few moments of deliberation, the doc put the hoof down and stroked Tamara’s coat with her hand before looking up at him.

  “Well?” he prodded impatiently.

  “She tore a ligament. It’s nothing that won’t heal, but I’ll need to stop by and keep an eye on her over the next few days to make sure she isn’t placing too much weight on it or aggravating it in any way.” The doctor glanced back down at the mare. “I don’t see any skin tears, so there shouldn’t be any worry of infection, just some discomfort for her while it heals. I’ll give her an injection to help with that now and when I stop by to check in on her. That should keep her comfortable.”

  “Good,” Jake replied. “I’ll let you tend to her then. Tucker will see you out when you are done.”

  Jake turned and walked away without another word. She didn’t call him back. He wasn’t even sure why he had been so short with her other than it hadn’t set well with him that somehow he’d been cruel enough to allow a thing like this to happen to an animal in his care. Who did Doctor Vanessa Hart think she was? Her skills as a vet remained to be seen, but her sense of diplomacy was shit.

  2

  The following day was business as usual around the ranch. Jake woke to find that the new vet was already there to check on the horse. It was barely six-thirty a.m. when he walked out of the house to find the beleaguered old camper van sitting in front of the barn.

  “A bit early isn’t it?” he said as he walked toward the large stall where Tamara was being kept while she healed.

  “Not for me,” Vanessa replied curtly.

  Jake watched for a moment as she examined the horse’s hoof and leg, then inserted a long needle containing whatever medication she was administering. Tamara balked a bit, her sideways dance work pushing the doctor against the stall’s wall and sending Luke into action to steady the horse. Jake lunged forward and caught the doc just as she edged sideways and lost her balance. Jake’s face was inches from the doctors as he knelt down and held her just above the hay-strewn floor of the stall. It seemed like much longer than a few seconds between the moment she landed there, and the time he was able to pull away from her.

  “I . . . Uh, are you okay?”

  He mentally kicked himself for stammering like a hormonal teenage boy. Taking a deep breath, Jake lifted the doctor to her feet and let her go. Stepping back, he redirected his gaze toward the needle lying in the straw. He was pleased that Tamara had settled down.

  “It’s okay. I got it into her before she got spooked,” she said, still a bit out of breath.

  “Sure you’re not hurt?” Jake squinted his eyes as he glanced down at her body.

  “I’m fine. Not my first skirmish with a nervous horse. Most of the time, they don’t even feel a shot, but that one was close to sensitive tissue, and she didn’t like it. I should have taken more precaution. I’m just not used to larger animals.”

  Jake sucked in his breath. “What!”

  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How old was this vet, and did she even have any experience? Great, Dr. Hart was getting on the job training with his prize horse.

  “What?” she repeated.

  “What do you mean you are not used to large animals?” Jake stepped back and crossed his arms over his half bare chest.

  “I have clinical experience,” she assured him rolling her eyes.

  He could sense the insolence in her voice, but that didn’t change the fact that she knew nothing first-hand about horses, or apparently any of the livestock on his ranch, for that matter.

  “Look, I’m perfectly qualified to treat your horse. I’ve been a licensed veterinarian for five years.”

  “Wow, five whole years and never with large animals?”

  “I don’t appreciate your sarcasm,” she said placing her hand on her hip.

  Jake moved his arm in a sweeping gesture and asked, “Why did you come here? Why would you come to the middle of nowhere to take over the large animal practice of a man who had been caring for rancher’s stock in this county for decades?”

  “You mean the one who could barely see anymore? Who had trouble breathing? The one that sold me his practice and his house for almost nothing so that he could get away from this place and relax from the years of constant emergency calls and middle of the night treks down back roads he could scarcely follow in the dark? That vet?”

  “Maybe he was past his ‘best sold by’ date, but at least he knew what he was doing.” Jake rebutted.

  “Sure, he knew what he was doing, but he was just not able to do it anymore! Now, you have me. I have a license to practice. Would you like to see it? I have a copy in my mobile unit.”

  “No, that’s not necessary,” he replied.

  Jake looked at her. Dr. Hart’s face was red and splotchy with anger. He knew he had pushed her too far, but he wasn’t about to back down; even though he was beginning to feel terrible about his own behavior. This wasn’t about her qualifications, and he knew it. She was hot, to say the least. It was about pushing her away, not giving her any ideas. Of course, there had been no sign that she had any ideas other than treating Tamara, anyway. She dusted herself off from having brushed against the dirty stall wall and looked at him defiantly.

  Damn, she was beautiful. Even flushed with anger, she was stunning, Jake thought.

  “I’m done here, for today! I will be back tomorrow morning and every morning this week, same time. If you don’t want me here, then say so. Otherwise, I will finish treating Tamara, and you can send Tucker out here to sign off on the visit.”

  Dr. Hart turned and stomped away.

  Jake knew that he had no choice. Even if he could get a vet to come from another county, they weren’t going to arrive early every morning to check on his mare and ease her pain as necessary. He would be left tending to Tamara in the interim the best he could or would have to transport her for miles in the horse trailer, neither of which were optimal.

  “I will see you tomorrow,” he finally shouted.

  Dr. Hart said nothing. Instead, she climbed into the old camper, started the engine and drove away.

  “You’re a dick,” Tucker said from behind him.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” Jake replied, walking out of the stable and across the pasture to the machine barn where he kept his ATV. “I’m going to go up to the top pasture and check out things up there.”

  “Alright, boss,” Tucker called back.

  It always seemed funny for Tucker to call him that. They had known each other since they were children. Tucker had begun working on the ranch when they were teenagers. It had not been by choice. He had lost his father to a drunk driver and needed the money. Jake’s parents had taken him into their home during the week while his own mother drove into the city and worked long hours.

  He had helped Jake tend things in the mornings before school and in the afternoons after school let out. They slept in rooms down the hall from one another and were much like brothers. On the weekends, Tucker went home to spend time with his own mother and gave her the money he had earned during the week to help with bills. Once they graduated, Tucker had come to work on the ranch full-time.

  When Tucker’s mother died only a few years later, tragically at her own hand, the lanky guy with scraggly blond hair had moved out of their rented house and into a small cabin that adjoined the property. He tried to pay rent but was always late. Instead, Jake’s father had promoted him to ranch foreman and sweetened the deal with room and board. Tucker was content here. He loved the ranch. Jake did too as a kid but never had envisioned himself as a successful rancher.

  While Tucker helped out with the needs of the ranch, Jake had gone to college and then joined the military. He wanted to ge
t away from this small town and its narrow circle of people. That is exactly what he had done, stationed in multiple locations before being sent to the Middle East to fight ISIS. It had been a mistake. The experience was one that he would carry with him for the rest of his life. At times, it caused Jake to jump out of his skin even if a car backfired. Then he would lose himself in episodes of panic that took him back to a place he never wanted to see again.

  PTSD is what the doctors called it. He had done his time, done what he was supposed to do. But when his tour of duty was up he had severed his ties with the military without hesitance, returning to the ranch to help. His reaction to his father’s condition upon his return had been nothing short of shock. He had aged ten years and was drawn. His father had a secret that he had kept from Jake, from everyone. Cancer had taken him less than six months later.

  Shaking the memories free, he tried to focus on getting the ATV up the side of the hill that led to the upper pasture. He always found peace up there. There was no doubt that Tucker knew that, as he usually offered to go along and help with whatever Jake was doing. Except when he went up to the upper pasture to get away from things. Tucker seemed to know he needed space and didn’t go with him unless he was asked to do so.

  Reaching the pasture, he looked around. There were only a few cows up there. Most of them stayed below, but a handful of them always seemed to wander up. It wasn’t a problem unless foul weather was on the way and he needed to get them down to the stalls or perhaps into the pen for shelter.

  The thought of their care made him think again about the new vet. He was attracted to her in a way that wasn’t usual for him. The turn of events of the past year had been less than desirable, so he had pretty much given up on women. He had little time for them with the ranch on his hands now, and even if he could find the time, he just wasn’t in the proper state of mind to carry on a relationship. Still, it was unlike him to be so caustic with the fairer sex.

  Jake climbed off the ATV and walked across the meadow. It was always beautiful that time of year. The Arkansas spring had created an incredible symphony of color, with the trees turning a vivid green and fresh young buttercup sprouting in playful bundles along the fence line. Fragrances filled the air, reminding him of trips there with his mother. She had loved to have picnics once the warm weather approached there away from the hustle and bustle of the ranch below.

  Melancholy had fallen over him. It happened a lot these days. He had seen far too much loss over the past four years, both for others and himself. It was a funny thing to find oneself without parents, even as an adult. One expected to lose their folks when they were old. Instead, Jake had lost his mother the summer after his college graduation, an unexpected heart attack and the catalyst for his joining the army.

  Jake had been running. It was what he always had done. He had run away from the ranch to a college that was far enough away that he didn’t see home too much, but close enough that he could get there if he wanted without a lot of hassle. He had run again after his mother died, getting as far away from the place that was filled with her smile and her laughter as possible. He would have run again after his father died, but he felt guilty for not spending more time with them...if only he had known what was to come?

  “Fuck,” he muttered, realizing that there was no peace to be found there that day. The sights and smells only brought him back to the emptiness he so often felt. Perhaps that was why he had been so horrible to the lovely Dr. Hart. She was the kind of woman that he could only hope for, but never have. He was just too screwed up to try to bring a special lady into the fold.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he reached for it, glancing at the number as he brought it closer to his face. Just what he needed. If there were ever a chance of peace, it wouldn't come from a call from Hank Kessler. He was one of the vilest men Jake had ever encountered. But he was tied to him like an unwitting hostage until he could find a way to free himself from the mess he had landed himself in.

  “Yeah?” he said into the speaker.

  “Jake. I need to see you. Tomorrow…two o’clock.”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, ending the call from his end before Jake could even respond. Grumbling, he stuck the cell back in his pocket and walked back to the ATV, climbing on to start it and heading back down toward the main part of the ranch. He gave little thought to his parents or the vet the rest of the day. Instead, he found himself feeling anxious about whatever Kessler would want from him when he arrived at his place the next day.

  Jake was surprised to see the old camper sitting in front of the barn when he arrived. He made his way over and went inside to find Dr. Hart slowly walking Tamara around in a circle and grimacing down at her hoof. He felt irritated again, despite having cautioned himself to mellow out.

  “What’s going on here?”

  “Tamara fell,” Tucker said from nearby.

  Jake turned toward him. He hadn’t noticed Tucker standing there while his attention had been focused on the doctor and the horse.

  “Fell?” Jake clarified.

  “Yes.”

  Jake turned toward Dr. Hart with a scowl on his face, but she was paying him no attention. Instead, she focused on Tamara’s leg bending it slightly as she examined it for any further damage.

  “I thought you said this wasn’t very serious and all she needed was a little time to heal? Why would she fall like this?”

  “Because she is a large animal and a bit off balance with her injured leg and perhaps numbness from the medication?” She replied.

  “Are you asking me or telling me?” he barked at her.

  “I…I’m telling you,” she stammered.

  “Right! Maybe I do want to see that license to practice veterinary medicine after all!” Jake snapped.

  “If you don’t trust my professional abilities then you are welcome to find another vet, Mr. Morrow. I have other people who need my services without coming way out here daily to get yelled at,” she growled back at him.

  “Tamara should be getting better, not worse. She should be gaining strength, not falling down and possibly…Did she injure herself more?”

  “Perhaps aggravated, but no additional injuries,” she replied. Her tone was cool, only a shade lighter than his words had been earlier. Jake could tell she was just as angry with him as he was with her.

  “I think that a vet should know if an animal is in danger of harming itself because it hasn’t been given the proper treatment,” Jake huffed.

  “So, you are saying that I’m incompetent?”

  Jake squinted and put his hands on his hips. “I’m saying that it appears that you might be so far out of your comfort zone that you can’t admit you should be back in an office looking at poodles that need to be spayed.”

  “If you think poodles are easy to treat, then you obviously don’t know much about animals yourself. At any rate, I really don’t need this. I’ve got issues of my own. I came back out here because Tucker called me. I dropped everything I was doing to help you with your prize mare. If that isn’t good enough for you . . . If my care of your horse isn’t satisfactory, then you can find another vet.” Dr. Hart stomped her foot. “I won’t be talked to like this!” She yelled.

  Jake watched as she retrieved the small black bag and threw her things in it. She handed the mare’s lead rope to Tucker and turned to walk away, stomping toward the large wooden double doors. Jake growled under his breath and looked at Tucker, who stood wide-eyed with the lead rope in one hand. For a moment he seemed frozen there, but Tucker finally handed the rope to Jake, then ran after the doctor. “Dr. Hart…Dr. Hart…please, wait! What am I supposed to do about Tamara?” he hollered.

  Vanessa turned and looked past Tucker. Assured Jake could hear her she said, “Put her in her stall. She will be fine until you get another vet in to look at her. You know, someone qualified . . . with gray hair and a penis.”

  Jake turned and walked Tamara back into her stall, disregarding the apparent insinuation th
at he was somehow sexist or ageist toward the good doctor. Tamara was limping noticeably, even more so than she had been when they had left the rodeo arena.

  Tucker strode back toward the barn and said, “What the hell was that all about…cool it, man!”

  Jake looked away and shook his head. “I’m just afraid she doesn’t know what she’s doing. Surely, there’re enough cats to keep her busy down at old Mrs. Muldrow’s shelter.”

  “You do know that now we don’t have a vet to look after any of the animals here?” Tucker hollered.

  “Yep. I’ll find another one,” Jake said while readjusting his Stetson.

  “Where? There isn’t another one for miles, and we can’t afford to keep a vet on staff as some of the larger ranches do.”

  “Maybe we can share one with one of the locals. I’ll figure it out,” Jake explained as he slid Tamara’s halter over her ears and hung it on a peg.

  “You best figure it out quick, Jake. Tamara still needs care, and the other animals will be due for yearly checks soon.”

  “I’ll take care of it, Tucker. Now, you get back to the fencing down on the south range. Did you hire the extra hands we need to get it up before we lose any head down there?” Jake asked.

  “Yeah, I got a couple of the teenagers from town to come in and help me for two days while they are out of school for the weekend. Hopefully, we can knock it out quickly.”

  “Let me know if you need me down there.”

  “I will.” Tucker’s voice was reassuring.

  Jake nodded and left the barn, returning to the house. He sat down in a chair and scowled at the blank television screen in front of him. He felt like his head was going to explode as anxiety kicked in and rendered him useless for nearly an hour. Finally, he forced himself up, talking aloud as he did so. “Get a grip, Jake. You need a vet. Get on the phone. You can’t shut down. You can’t freak out. Come on, man. Don’t be a wuss.”

  It was stupid, but his counselor had told him to talk himself through the anxiety, to coax himself as if he were standing in front of his own body giving it strength. Sometimes it worked, most of the time. But every once in a while, he ended up in the bed with the covers pulled over his head — a six-foot-two lump of distress.