Colton Christmas Rescue

by Beth Cornelison

  Somewhat mollified, Amanda hitched her chin for him to accompany her as she continued toward the stable. “So you’re a new hand?”

  “Who’s asking?” Slade fell in step beside her, his long-legged strides outpacing her so that she was nearly jogging to keep up.

  “I’m Amanda.” When he sent her a look that said, So? she added, “Amanda Colton. Dead River Ranch belongs to my family. It’s my sister’s horse that has colic.”

  He gave a little nod. “I see. Well, ma’am, I promise to take good care of the horse. You can go back to the house and stay warm. I’ll be sure someone keeps you posted on how the horse is doing.”

  His patronizing tone grated her already-stressed nerves, and she barked an ill-humored laugh. “I also happen to be a vet.” She held up her medical bag. “I’ll be the one treating Peanut.”

  He gave a dismissive scoff. “Unnecessary. Any ranch hand worth his salt has dealt with colic before. I don’t need your help.”

  Her eyebrows shot up, and she gave him an incredulous look. “Oh, really? Who died and made you king?”

  “Not king. Foreman. Which means decisions about the livestock and horses are my call.”

  She slowed to a stop, stunned by his audacity and his job title. “You’re our new foreman? Since when?”

  He stopped when she did and faced her. “Since Dylan Frick hired me.”

  “Dylan?” She cocked her head, suspicious. “Dylan moved out of town.” To be precise, he’d entered Witness Security with his fiancée, but Slade didn’t need to know that.

  Slade gave her an impatient glance. “He made the arrangements before he left. I have an employment contract with his signature I can show you if you need proof. But later. Right now, that horse is my only concern.”

  He spun on his boot heel and continued up toward the stable.

  Clamping her mouth in a line of frustration, Amanda ran to catch up again. “Foreman or not, I’m the one with the veterinary degree, and I’m in charge of medical issues with the animals.” She panted for a breath, irritated to be winded from keeping pace with him. A white cloud formed in the frigid December air as she puffed out a deep breath. “That includes colic.”

  Slade reached the stable first and grabbed the large slide bolt that secured the alley doors. “A degree is no substitute for experience.”

  When he opened the heavy door, she scooted past him and sent him a smug grin. “Then it’s a good thing I have plenty of experience, as well.” Spotting Trevor and Gabby in the center alleyway walking Peanut in circles, she hustled toward them. She dug an elastic band out of her coat pocket and finger-combed her hair into a ponytail. “How long has he been symptomatic?”

  Relief eased the worry in Gabby’s face when she saw Amanda had arrived. “He was acting edgy when I was in here after dinner, and I couldn’t sleep, worrying about him. I got up a little while ago to check on him and found him like this.” She waved a hand at the sorrel gelding, who tossed his head, fighting the lead clipped to his halter and kicking at his abdomen with a rear hoof.

  “Have you taken all the water and feed out of his stall?”

  “Yes,” Gabby answered.

  Amanda set her medical bag on a bale of hay and retrieved her stethoscope. When she turned around, Slade had taken the lead from Trevor and was stroking Peanut’s neck. He leaned close to the horse and made a low soft noise meant to calm Peanut.

  Amanda opened her mouth to tell Slade to butt out, but she caught herself and swallowed the words. She needed his cooperation in calming Peanut while she examined him more than she needed to win a battle of wills with the new foreman. She introduced Slade to Trevor and her sister and learned Trevor had already met the new foreman earlier that night.

  Peanut pawed the ground restlessly, and Amanda sent Slade a hard look. “Keep him still. I need to listen for gut sounds.”

  Trevor and Gabby helped Slade calm the horse while she moved the stethoscope from one spot to another on Peanut’s abdomen, checking for sounds of intestinal motility. “It’s pretty quiet in there, but I do hear some movement, which is good.”

  “Can you give him something for the pain?” Gabby asked, her eyes full of tears. “I hate to see him suffer.”

  Amanda moved the stethoscope to listen to Peanut’s lungs and heart. “I’ll need to sedate him before I insert the naso-gastric tube. That and a dose of Buscopan to suppress the intestinal spasms will help him feel better.” She returned to her medical bag and dug out the case where she kept a small selection of drugs for the most common emergencies. She prepared injections of both an appropriate sedative and the anti-spasmodic. Knowing she needed to perform a rectal exam, she gave her sister an errand to keep her busy. “Gabby, can you get me a pair of long gloves? I want to check for impaction.” She caught Slade’s raised eyebrow as she turned back to her patient and cocked her head. “Unless you want the honor of doing that exam.”

  He slid a pack of peppermint gum from his pocket and calmly stuck a piece in his mouth while he gave her a level look. “I will if you’re too squeamish.”

  “Oh, brother,” she grumbled under her breath. She refused to rise to his baiting. Now was not the time to lock horns with the new foreman.

  Nickering testily, Peanut tried to lie down again, and Slade walked the horse forward a few steps, then crooned to him. “Easy, fella.”

  Gabriella returned with the long examination gloves. Taking them, Amanda sent her sister off on another errand, this time for the mineral oil and naso-gastric tube she’d need once Peanut responded to the sedative.

  Feeling Slade’s watchful gaze on her, Amanda removed her parka and snapped the long latex glove into place, covering her arm past her elbow.

  Stepping to Peanut’s hind end, Slade pulled the horse’s tail up and held it out of her way.

  She cut a side glance to him, prepared to thank him for his helpfulness, but the smug challenge in his eyes stopped her. Did he think she would balk? That the less pleasant aspects of veterinary care would stop her from doing what was best for an animal in need? Amanda gritted her back teeth. A rectal exam was not her favorite way to spend an evening, but she was no shrinking violet. She’d never shied from doing the dirty work involved in either large animal veterinary care or ranching.

  She squared her shoulders and flipped her ponytail over her shoulder, silently accepting his challenge. The sooner the new foreman knew who he was dealing with the better.

  Chapter 2

  Amanda Colton was a piece of work. Bossy, brash, sarcastic.

  Slade studied the furrow of concentration in her brow as she palpated the horse’s colon and admitted silently that she also knew what she was doing. He let his gaze slide over her, from her long average-brown hair, pulled back in a messy ponytail, her rumpled Snoopy nightshirt, only half tucked in her jeans, and her makeup-free, pillow-creased cheeks. She looked like what she was—a woman called to an emergency in the middle of the night. Yet despite her disarray and the fact that she was up a horse’s behind to her elbow, she was also...sexy.

  When they’d reached the lighted stable and he’d gotten his first good look at her, he’d been caught off-guard by the fire in her gold eyes and the tantalizing pout of her full, if slightly chapped, lips. He might be grieving Krista and Emily, but he wasn’t dead. And a man would have to be dead not to notice Amanda Colton.

  She stepped back from the gelding and pulled off the latex glove. “I don’t believe he’s impacted. Surgery shouldn’t be necessary.”

  “Thank God,” Amanda’s redheaded sister said. Gabriella—he needed to start learning names around the ranch, figuring out who all the players were. Especially the ones named Colton. Until he proved otherwise, everyone was on his suspect list.

  Amanda’s pale brown eyes met his. “Will you help me get the tube in him so I can administer the laxatives?”

>   Slade jerked a tight nod. “At your service, doc.”

  Over the next couple of hours, Slade worked beside Amanda, feeding the horse mineral oil through a nasal tube into his stomach and waiting for the gelding to pass the obstruction.

  Trevor was able to convince Gabriella to return with him to the main house around 4:00 a.m. after Amanda promised to call if there was any change for the worse.

  At first, conversation between Slade and Amanda centered around their minute-by-minute progress with the task at hand. But after they removed the nasal tube and were left with the tedium of waiting for the horse to take a dump, Amanda sent Slade a curious look and said, “Tell me about yourself, Slade. Where did Dylan find you? And why hadn’t I met you before tonight?”

  Slade settled on the ground with his legs stretched out in front of him, and she sat across from him on a bale of hay just outside Peanut’s stall. He met her gaze and considered his answer carefully. The last thing he needed was to give himself away or ring any warning bells with a Colton before he’d accomplished what he’d come to Dead River Ranch to do.

  “I met Dylan through a...mutual acquaintance.” The new chief of police for the Dead River Police Department, actually, not that she needed to know that detail. “And I only arrived at the ranch tonight around 11:00 p.m. My plane was late, and I was told the family had gone to bed. I’d planned to introduce myself in the morning.”

  She waved a hand toward the window where a thin gray light crept across the ranch property. “Well, it’s morning, and we’ve got time on our hands. Who is Slade Kent? Where are you from?”

  Slade rubbed the two-day bristle on his jaw. “I’m fully qualified for the job, if that’s your concern.”

  Amanda tipped her head. “I don’t doubt it. Dylan wouldn’t have hired you if he didn’t think you were top-notch. But I’d like to know more than where you’ve worked and what skills you bring to the job.”

  Slade leaned back against the stall partition and folded his arms across his chest. “I came here from Jackson. I grew up around ranches and got my first summer job working as a hand when I was sixteen. I used to ride bulls on the PRCA circuit—”

  Her face brightened. “A bull rider? Me, too.”

  He snapped his eyebrows together in disbelief. “You rode bulls?”

  She laughed. “Yep. Well, saddle bronc actually. But I gave it up when I got pregnant with my daughter, Cheyenne. Naturally. Now, since I’m a single mother, it’s just too great a risk. I miss it sometimes, but...” She took a deep breath and smiled warmly. “Cheyenne’s worth it.”

  Slade quickly squashed the flash of memory that jabbed his heart. He refused to let ancient history interfere with the job he’d come to do.

  Amanda nudged his boot with her own. “You said used to. Why’d you give it up?”

  He gave a dismissive shrug. “Life got in the way. New priorities. Didn’t have the time for it anymore.”

  “What about family?” she asked. “Was that one of the priorities?”

  His gut quickened, and he shoved to his feet, grabbing his Stetson from a tack hook where he’d hung it earlier. “Say, where can a guy get a cup of coffee around here?”

  Amanda checked her watch. “The kitchen staff should be up by now. Our cook, Agnes, will have coffee ready.” She looked up at him with sleep-deprived eyes. “You know where the main kitchen is?”

  “I’ll find it.” He jammed his hat on his head, pleased his distraction tactic had worked. “Can I bring you some? You look like you could use a jolt of caffeine.”

  She arched a manicured eyebrow. “Such flattery.”

  He scowled at her. “I just mean that it’s been a long, tough night, and—”

  “Yes,” she interrupted with a chuckle. “Cream and sugar, please.” He was almost to the stable door when she called, “Oh! And socks!”

  He turned. “Excuse me?”

  “I was rushing when I came out here and didn’t bother with socks. But now my feet are frozen. Would you have Fiona or Mathilda get a pair of thick socks from my room and bring them back with you?”

  “Socks.”

  “Mmm-hmm. And maybe a bagel or sweet roll. I’m starved.”

  He hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets and cocked his head. “Anything else, ma’am?” he asked, not caring if she heard the derision in his tone. He’d been hired as the foreman, not her personal butler.

  “No, that should do it.” She sent him a smile that was either oblivious to his frustration or maddeningly uncaring how spoiled and bossy she came off.

  He huffed a humorless laugh as he headed out in the cold gray morning, his boots crunching in the thick layer of Wyoming frost. When he reached the main house, he followed his nose, and the tempting aromas of bacon, cinnamon and coffee, to what was clearly the employee dining area. House staff and ranch hands already buzzed around a long trestle table filled with cinnamon rolls, scrambled eggs, thick sliced ham and steaming coffee. Slade’s stomach growled.

  “Can I help you?” A woman with short silvery-blond hair and a high-collared black maid’s uniform dress approached him, giving him an appraising look.

  “Yeah, maybe.” Slade removed his hat and offered his hand to the woman. “I’m Slade Kent, the new foreman. Amanda and I are working with a sick horse and could use some coffee. She also asked that I send Mathilda or Fiona to her room to find a pair of warm socks.”

  “Well, I’m Mathilda,” the woman said, shaking his hand with a welcoming smile, “but as you can see, things are rather busy for me at the moment. How soon does she need the socks?”

  “About three hours ago, if you ask me.”

  “I’ll see if Fiona has a minute to run upstairs and get them, but we’re a bit understaffed at the moment.”

  When Dylan had hired him, he’d filled Slade in on the recent firings and staff resignations that had left the ranch short-handed. Of more concern to Slade were the murders. Something sinister was afoot at the Colton ranch, had been for many years, and he intended to get to the bottom of it.

  Mathilda cast a glance around the bustling kitchen and motioned to a brunette finishing a bowl of oatmeal at the table. “Fiona, a word?”

  The maid, a woman about his own age, approached with a wary look. Mathilda explained Amanda’s request, and Fiona visibly relaxed.

  Man, the staff around here was tense. Although with all of the recent killing and attacks, he supposed he couldn’t blame them.

  As Fiona set off to retrieve Amanda’s socks, Slade glanced past Mathilda and eyed the bounty of food again. “We could also use a few of those cinnamon rolls. We’ve been up since about three with a colicky horse.”

  One of the ranch hands glanced up from his plate with a worried look. “Which horse?” he asked around a full mouth of food.

  Slade sized up the young hand. High on his list of duties today was a meeting with all the hands to introduce himself and lay out his ground rules for how the ranch would be run under his leadership. “I believe his name is Peanut. We could use a hand out in the stable when you finish eating.”

  The hand shook his head. “Sorry. Can’t. George and I are headin’ out to Vegas for the National Finals Rodeo in just a few minutes. Stewie’s already there. He was competing in an event yesterday.”

  Slade frowned. “And you are...?”

  The cowboy stuck his hand out. “Jared Hansen.”

  Slade shook the young man’s hand. “Slade Kent—”

  “The new foreman. Yeah, I heard.” Jared turned back to his plate, shoveling in large bites of eggs and bacon.

  Slade tamped his irritation with the brash kid. Jared didn’t look much older than twenty, which made him a kid in Slade’s book, especially when he showed so little respect for his new boss. “Who’s staying here to take care of the ranch?”

  The cocky ranch
hand gave him a blithe look. “Cal’s around somewhere. Miss Amanda helps out. And there’s you, I guess.”

  Slade clenched his teeth. Having most of his hands disappear for the rodeo finals was not the best way to establish himself as the foreman or to get an insight on who might be behind the attacks at the ranch. But the PRCA Nationals was a big deal in the cowboy community. He’d even competed there himself before his career took another road.

  Trevor walked into the dining area at that moment, a baby in his arms, and paused beside Slade. “Any news from the stable? Gabriella’s a wreck waiting for a report.”

  “He’s holding his own, resting, but we’re still waiting.” Slade eyed the drooly-mouthed baby in Trevor’s arms, and his pulse quickened. “Is that Amanda’s daughter?” The Colton heir targeted by kidnappers.

  Trevor wiped the baby’s mouth with his sleeve and shook his head. “No, this is Avery. My daughter.” A fatherly pride warmed Trevor’s face as he gazed at his child. “That’s Cheyenne in the next room with Tom.” He hitched his head toward the large kitchen just through an open doorway. He saw an older man with graying hair holding a baby with one arm while he sipped coffee from a mug in his other hand. He wondered who this Tom was and what his connection to Amanda and her child could be.

  Mathilda nudged his arm. “It’s all right for you to go in the kitchen, so long as you don’t get in the way. You can ask Kate to bag up some rolls for you. Coffee is there.” She pointed to an electric urn on a banquet behind them. “You’ll find a thermos in the cabinet underneath. Help yourself.”

  Slade gave Mathilda an appreciative nod as she hurried off, gathering an armload of dirty dishes as she returned to the kitchen. The stack wobbled and rattled as she lifted them, and Slade swooped in to steady the pile of plates before one could topple off.

  “Oh, thank you, young man.” Mathilda gave a gracious, if somewhat embarrassed, smile. “I guess I’m not as young as I used to be. I can’t carry loads as heavy as I once did.”

  “Can I take that for you?” he offered.