He gently prodded her belly. Pregnant or starved? “You’ve been on your own for a while, haven’t you?”
He looked at his truck. He wasn’t exactly set up to transport livestock— even one severely dehydrated and in shock, but he couldn’t leave her here to die or fall prey to the coyotes he heard every night.
Most donkeys that he’d run across were in the two-to-three hundred pound range. This one was either very young or extremely malnourished or both. He took a step and lightly tugged on the halter to see how she’d react. “I might be able to get you into the back seat, if you’re up for it. I hauled a microwave for Betty last week, and you’re not much bigger than that.”
She took one step, then another.
He blew out the breath he’d been holding, grateful to see she wasn’t limping too badly. He rubbed the top of her head and pulled a stick from her ear. “We’re gonna take care of you, little girl. Just be chill, okay?”
He’d learned from helping Betty with a sick cat—or ten—to always put the animal in “back end first,” but somehow that didn’t seem right for a donkey. Murmuring sweet nothings in one big, fuzzy ear, he managed to open the door. Luckily, he’d left the bench seat pushed back and the packing blankets he’d brought along were still on the floor.
To his complete and utter shock, the donkey climbed in on her own, as if trained for this sort of travel. Legs quivering from the exertion, she folded her front legs under her and sank to the thick padding. “Wow. That’s pretty amazing. Someone trained you right. Hopefully not the same person who left those marks on your hindquarters.”
She dropped her head and closed her eyes, which told him two things: she wasn’t a wild critter with no knowledge of people, and, second, the person she belonged to was a complete son of a bitch.
He laid his hand flat to the donkey’s hindquarters and felt the ridges of old whip marks. When she turned her head to look at him, he noticed the unusual white blaze near the top of her head. A perfect heart. He gently traced it with his finger. She closed her eyes, as if his touch were some kind of benediction. “You know, little girl, it’s almost Valentine’s Day. Maybe I should name you Miss Valentine. You’ll be a sweet surprise for Aunt Betty.”
But even as he said the words, a different face came to mind. A beautiful woman with sad eyes and, as far as he knew, no knowledge whatsoever of how to care for an abused—and if he guessed right—pregnant donkey.
Dang. His life was about to get more complicated and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.
Her Cowboy Valentine: Chapter 3
Betty trotted from the bedroom to the living area with Paige hot on her heels, heart pounding with anxiety. “You’re leaving now? Right now? Umm…did you leave written instructions? Feeding schedules? What about the livestock at the barn? I know absolutely nothing about llamas or goats.”
“They’re sheep,” Betty said, tossing her head. “You give them food and water; they eat and poop. That’s about it. I’m not big on schedules. If TJ ever shows up, he can walk you through the barn animal protocol.”
TJ. Who exactly is this TJ person she keeps mentioning? A neighbor? An old friend?
She waited until they reached the kitchen to ask her questions, but Betty spoke first. “You’ll get along just fine. I’m not worried.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, and on Valentine’s Day, each animal has a special treat. Rocky’s is low calorie,” she added in a whisper. “The bag’s in the pantry. There’s a little something for you, too.”
Valentine’s Day?
Paige knew it was coming. This was February, after all. But, she’d been so busy putting this ball in motion, she’d lost track of the date. “That’s very sweet.”
In the past, V-day—as her friends called it—was a big deal. Lunch with the girls; dinner at some new or impossible-to-get-reservations restaurant with Brad. Maybe—usually—before Sophia—the night would include making love. A sudden sense of emptiness hit her.
The giant dog…Titus…extended his head to nuzzle the palm of her hand with his big wet nose.
“Animals are so much easier to make happy than people,” Betty said, her attention on the coat closet beside the indoor utility room. “Do right by them and they will love you without comment or criticism. It’s pretty simple.”
Paige stroked the dog’s silky coat. His eyes closed and he let out a low humming sound of pure bliss.
Betty pulled a heavy-looking fleece-lined denim jacket with huge pockets from the squash of coats on the closet pole. “I can’t risk being in the high desert without this. It gets damn cold this time of year.”
Colder then here?
The coat nearly swallowed the much shorter woman whole, but Paige felt a pang of envy. Maybe I can order one like it online.
“Do you get deliveries here?”
“Got a PO box out on the main road, if you’re expecting any mail. But UPS and FedEx don’t come here anymore. Not since one of them lost a rear end on my road. I send everything in care of Ida Jane Montgomery at the Old Bordello Antiques Store in Prospect Creek. Great gal. She gives me a jingle when something comes in. You got things ordered?”
“Not yet. But I might.”
“Okay. Better be important since it means a trip to town. Just sayin’.”
Paige took a deep breath trying to calm her sudden anxiety. I can do this. I ran an entire production company and talked neurotic actors off the proverbial ledge every day. Taking care of a handful of animals will be a piece of cake.
Betty motioned Paige to follow her toward what looked like a walk-in pantry. Every shelf was wall-to-wall cans. “I forgot to show you this. All stocked up.”
Paige swore she spotted a few recognizable labels, despite Betty’s claim of being “brand name free.” “It’s clear I won’t starve. Thank you, Betty.”
“No problem.” She pointed at the stove. “The automatic lighter just stopped working. There’s a clicker in the silverware drawer. The coffee pot’s the old-fashioned kind. I bet you never saw one of these.”
Betty pulled a scratched and dented metal percolator off the stove and poured a thick, aromatic black liquid into a waiting thermos. “I’ll leave you some for later. I always need a two o’clock pick-me-up…or a power nap.”
A power nap. I could use one now.
She hated the fear and self-doubt that had started to creep up her spine. She still had so many questions she didn’t even know where to begin.
Betty finished screwing the lid on the thermos and shoved it into one of her coat pockets. Paige’s heart started pounding when Betty marched toward the back door, pausing at a wooden shelf with hooks beneath. Rain gear, hats, dog collars with leashes attached.
“I…I still have some questions, Betty.”
“Huh?” She stuffed a pair of broken-in leather gloves into the opposite pocket, and plucked a weathered brown felt cowboy hat off a hook. “Oh, no worries. You can ask TJ when he gets here. I was hoping that would be before I left, darn it. I don’t know what’s keeping him.”
TJ again. “Um, refresh my memory. Who is TJ? Not the llama, obviously. I heard they’re supposed to be smart, but…”
Betty’s loud guffaw made Rocky bark, which triggered a bass woof from the Great Dane. “A good sense of humor will serve you well around here. You probably don’t know this, but I originally called this place The Funny Farm. Had to change it to make the State happy. It’s Aunt Betty’s Refuge, now.”
Paige bent over to calm the nervous little dog. A ridge of hair rose on its back like a shark fin.
When she looked up, she spotted a satisfied smile on Betty’s lips. “In answer to your question, TJ stands for Toby John, but don’t tell him I told you. He hates the name. And he’s the closest thing to a kid I’ve got—even though he’s a full grown man, probably your age or a little older. I helped raise a dozen or more kids over the years, but TJ’s the one who always came back—even when he was a big time bull rider.”
Paige swallowed the lump in her throa
t. She really liked Betty, and her respect for the woman grew by the moment. I wonder if I could be a foster parent? Probably not. I didn’t make it as a regular mother to my baby.
“TJ’s got a place up the road. Gonna build himself a log cabin one of these days. Does some cowboying for an old friend when he’s not working his stupid gold claim.” She shrugged the same way Paige’s mother did when Karen encountered something too confounding to comprehend. “Big waste of time if you ask me. Maybe it’s his version of penance. Don’t ask. He’d be P.O.-ed if he knew I mentioned it.”
She turned, opened the door, and trotted down a second set of steps Paige hadn’t seen, yet. The dogs shot past Paige to follow on Betty’s heels.
Betty paused, head cocked. “Here he comes. I’d know that diesel anywhere.”
A few seconds later, both dogs took off at a full run toward the end of the driveway, barking like their lives depended on it. The roar of the engine changed as the driver downshifted, then a few seconds later a huge, dusty maroon truck with a scary-looking metal grill and the biggest tires she’d ever seen pounced to a stop—just inches from the Jag’s rear bumper.
Paige, who’d grabbed her coat from the back of the sofa before racing after Betty, watched from the deck, her heart pumping double-time, as a man in a black cowboy hat, dusty denim jeans, and a jacket similar to Betty’s leapt from the truck and dashed around the bed to open the rear passenger door.
When he leaned inside, his coat rode up to reveal a perfectly put together male behind.
Paige blinked in surprise. Since when do I notice a man’s butt?
Betty walked toward him, talking in a soft voice Paige didn’t know the brash older woman possessed. Paige didn’t catch their exchange, but she could tell by the frown on Betty’s face that TJ’s foster mom wasn’t happy about whatever sort of gift her almost-son had for her in the backseat of his truck.
Paige flew down the steps and hurried along the narrow strip of damp, weedy grass between them, straining to hear their conversation above the rumble of his engine.
“Damn it, TJ. How could you bring her here when I’ve got one foot out the door?”
Her?
When Betty stepped back, a packing blanket shifted to reveal the lumpy shape of an animal with small, mud-caked hooves.
Hooves.
A memory as cold and brutal as an icy knife plunged into her conscious mind. Dad and the horse’s owner arguing. A mare in distress. Young. Beautiful. Exhausted.
“You should have called me sooner.”
“Well, I didn’t. You’re supposed to be the best. Save her. That foal is worth more than you make in a year.”
Her normally unflappable father hadn’t looked well. Sweat rolled down his cheeks as he reached a gloved hand into the birth canal to try to reposition the foal. When another contraction came, Dad winced in pain and motioned to the owner with his free hand. “Get her up. Get her up.”
The owner tried, but even Paige could tell the animal was shutting down.
When the contraction passed, Dad rocked back on his heels and looked at Paige, his face contorted in agony. She didn’t understand why until he put his goopy gloved hand to his chest then toppled over, his head making a dull thunk on the straw-covered concrete.
A heart attack, Mom explained later. The mare and the foal both died, too. Not instantly. Paige still heard the poor horse’s cries in her dreams. Or were they her own?
“Paige? Are you okay, honey? What’s wrong?”
Paige blinked, instantly returning to the present. Her heart raced and her breath felt sketchy, but she shook her head and focused on the animal—a donkey—that apparently woke up to look around. The animal’s long ears cocked forward as if listening to every word spoken.
“Now, don’t you worry. I told TJ he couldn’t leave you with a new rescue on your first day. He’s calling Doc to make sure he’s home. He’ll run this little girl down the hill. I promise.”
Little girl?
A chill that had nothing to do with the weather passed down Paige’s spine. She’d already lost one ‘little girl.’ She didn’t plan to lose another.
The cowboy—tall, lean, and covered with a fine pinkish dust from the crown of his black cowboy hat to the soles of his mud-caked boots—pocketed his phone and looked at Betty…and Paige. “Sorry, Betty. Doc’s not picking up. His message says he’s in Stockton for a surgery.”
Paige went closer to the truck, still fighting the urge to flee. She had to know. Would the animal live?
The cowboy tried to explain what happened. “She was standing in the middle of the road. I thought I ran over her. She’s weak, emaciated. I don’t know how she managed to get out of the way.”
Betty edged past Paige to lean inside and press her stubby fingers to a pulse point in the donkey’s neck. “Not giving up, yet. Probably because she’s pregnant.”
Pregnant? Paige leaned closer to see.
The donkey’s body wasn’t much bigger than Betty’s dog, Titus, but its build was different: stocky middle, stubby legs folded daintily under her, and a thick, matted coat crisscrossed with red and white lacerations—some old, some very new.
“Someone has whipped this animal,” Betty said, pointing to a fiery red streak. “And not that long ago.”
A fury Paige hadn’t felt since a doctor told her that her newborn was on life support and wasn’t expected to live bubbled like lava inside her chest. “No.”
The word erupted with such force, even the donkey blinked. Paige ripped off one of her hundred-dollar gloves with her teeth and pressed her hand to the animal’s side. “How could anyone be so cruel to do this to a helpless animal?”
The cowboy, who’d opened the door across from them to check on the donkey, let out a frustrated huff of air. “Probably made him feel powerful at the time. Betty’s seen it a hundred times on dogs, cats, and horses she’s rescued.”
He pocketed his phone with a sober frown.
Betty looked at her, both dogs hovering just behind—Titus looking morose and Rocky dancing skittishly, as if expecting the worst. “More like a million.”
The fatigue in her voice made Paige want to do more than just feel outraged by another form of injustice.
“What did Doc’s message say? Is he coming back tonight?” Betty asked.
“Didn’t say. But Stockton’s a good three hours, depending on traffic.”
“Damn. Bad luck.” Betty thought a moment, and then made a face. “I forgot to introduce the two of you. Paige, this is TJ Huey. TJ meet Paige Jackson.”
Each made an awkward, half-mumbled, “Hello.”
Then Betty heaved a sigh that seemed to come from her toes. “I guess my trip wasn’t meant to be. I’d better stick around.”
Paige straightened, shoulders back. “No, Betty. Follow your gut. Do what you need to do and don’t apologize.” She put a hand on the older woman’s shoulder. “Is there a place for her in your barn?”
Betty didn’t jump at Paige’s offer. “Your mom told me how you feel about horses…and why. I don’t blame you for a minute. It’s why I’m taking Suzy with me. Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
She noticed the cowboy’s curious look, and the small animal between them stirred, too, as if listening for Paige’s answer.
Go or stay?
If the donkey dies, another baby dies, too.
Her throat so tight with emotion she could barely squeeze out the single word. “Yes.”
Betty looked at TJ, as if expecting him to veto the idea. His expression seemed to say, It’s your call. Then she added, “There’s fresh hay in the first stall. I don’t know why. Just had a feeling, I guess.”
TJ closed the door and walked to where the two women were standing. “Well, if you’re going, you’d better get on the road before something else happens. I’ll make sure Paige and the donkey are okay.”
“Oh, my boy,” Betty said, her voice even throatier than usual. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
&n
bsp; Paige watched them walk to Betty’s truck. TJ kissed her cheek and gave her a quick squeeze before boosting her into the truck.
Embarrassed to have watched such a private moment, Paige turned her attention to the donkey, head starting to nod again, as if all the activity had drained her energy. Paige pulled the extra material of the packing blanket over her withers. “It’ll be fine, little girl. We’re going to get you some help. Just hang on, okay?”
She sensed TJ’s presence at her side a moment later and scooted sideways to make room for him, but he didn’t move.
When she looked up to see what cues she’d missed, her gaze encountered a pair of crystal blue eyes that seemed to see to the deepest, darkest hollows of her soul. Kind eyes set in a handsome face with lines that told a story she suddenly wanted to hear.
And without so much as a blink, Paige fell in love.
♥ ♥ ♥
TJ couldn’t take his eyes off hers. In person, he spotted flecks of gold in her irises that hadn’t come through in her head shot. He’d heard it said that the eyes were a conduit to the soul. He never got what that meant until this moment.
Broken. Beautiful. Strong. Fragile. Haunted.
She broke the spell they’d somehow fallen under when she mumbled something about remembering an emergency blanket and ran to her car. He watched her go. Tall. Classy. A bit too skinny for his taste. And her clothes couldn’t be more out of place.
Why would a woman driving a late-model Jaguar need to take a job housesitting in the middle of nowhere?
Betty mentioned Paige was the daughter of an old friend. Something about starting over after a bad divorce. Is there any other kind? Not in his experience. His split from Mindy had been brutal and they hadn’t even said their vows.
He was willing to cut this woman some slack—as long as she made sure Betty still had a place to come home to when she got done traipsing around Arizona helping with a wild horse round-up. At age sixty. Who does that?
Cupid to the Rescue: A Tail-Wagging Valentine's Day Anthology Page 72
