“Doc,” she called, racing out to the dark-red mobile veterinary clinic on wheels. She’d changed into jeans and running shoes the moment she’d gotten back to the house.
“Hey, Casey, girl,” Doc said, pausing beside the open door of his vehicle. “Are you still worried about the mister?”
She shook her head. “No. Well, yes, but I trust your judgment. What I’m really worried about is Red. He’s at least fifteen pounds lighter than the last time I saw him. Doesn’t he look gaunt to you?”
Doc’s bushy brows furrowed above his nose. “He’s had a lot on his mind lately.”
“I know. The turkeys. But he barely touches his food. If it weren’t for the calories he gets from the whiskey, I don’t know how skinny he’d be.” She said the last lightly, but, in truth, Red’s drinking worried her, too.
Doc let out a troubled sigh and looked toward the house. “You need to be asking your dad, Casey, not me. If he hasn’t told you—”
“Told me? Told me what?” she cried.
Doc got into the truck. “Ask him.”
“No, wait. You know Red. He never tells me anything. Please, Doc, I’m worried sick here. Is something wrong with him? Is it his heart? His liver? He used to smoke. Please tell me it isn’t lung cancer. I watched my aunt die of cancer, Doc. I don’t think I can do that again. Oh, God—”
“It’s his prostate, Casey. Most men have to deal with this at some point in their lives. Red’s known about it for a while, but you know your dad. Told his doctor he had to put off treatment until the ranch was out of danger.”
Casey grabbed hold of the open door to keep her balance.
“How bad?”
“I’ve said enough. He’s probably gonna come after me with a shotgun as it is,” Doc said. “Ask him. And while you’re at it, maybe you can make him get on the stick and let those doctors do what they want to make it go away. You wait too long and…well, you know.”
She did. Too well. Even with an annual mammogram, by the time doctors discovered the lump in her aunt’s breast, the cancer had spread to a point that made it difficult to be sure they’d gotten all of the tumor. Meg had had a radical mastectomy, radiation and chemo. The bad cells had gone away—for a few years. The second round of treatment bought them a little more time, but not nearly enough.
Casey couldn’t lose her father. Not now. Not yet. But she knew the only way Red would ever agree to back off from this fight with the turkey growers and seek the medical attention he needed was if she agreed to jump into the fray, heart and soul. Not a war she could wage from her apartment in San Francisco.
What would happen to her marriage with Casey staying at the ranch and Nathan working in the city by the bay? Especially when there was a barracuda in the water?
CHAPTER SEVEN
NATHAN PICKED UP the empty cardboard bucket and paper napkins and walked to the kitchen in search of a trash can. He was checking under the sink when he heard the sliding glass door open. He assumed his wife had returned.
“Your dad doesn’t give his dogs chicken bones, does he?”
“Hell, no,” Red answered.
“Didn’t think so— Whoa,” he exclaimed, pressing his back against the counter when a dog he’d never seen before charged toward him. “Good lord, what is that? A dog or a moose?”
Large was too euphemistic a description of the animal with a head the size of a beach ball, from which strings of white drool swayed like moss on a cypress tree. “Stay. Back. Down. Help.” The last came out an octave higher when the animal thrust its wet black nose into his crotch.
“Betsy, be polite,” Red scolded. “Remember what the trainer said about inappropriate behavior.”
Nathan, who hadn’t for a second taken his eyes off the dog, could have sworn he saw the animal sigh with regret just before she backed away and sat down, almost ladylike, in front of him.
Nathan let out the breath he’d been holding. “Thanks, Red, I owe you. My life was just starting to flash before my eyes.”
“Aw, Betsy’s harmless. She’s fifteen. Her previous owner was a lady friend of mine whose children decided she needed to downsize to one of those independent living places. No room for Bets, though, so I brought her home with me.” He patted the dog on her broad head and she gave Red a worshiping look in return. “She spends most of the time back in my room ’cause the other dogs don’t like her much.” He leaned in and whispered, “She doesn’t know she’s a dog.”
“Pretty big for an indoor dog, isn’t she?”
Betsy made a whimpering sound and walked to the far corner of the room where an oversize faux-sheep-skin dog bed sat. She collapsed with a loud sigh.
“She’s sensitive about her size,” Red said reproachfully.
“Sorry. I didn’t know.”
“But she’ll forgive any slight if you rub her belly and tell her she’s beautiful.”
It took Nathan a moment to realize that Red meant that as an order, not an explanation. “Now?” Nathan croaked.
“What better way? Come on. She won’t bite. I can’t make that same guarantee about a couple of the yard dogs, but Betsy is a sweetheart. Aren’t you, girl?”
The dog rolled to her back and stretched out her neck, making her look like a drowned scuba diver.
Nathan swallowed. He knew he had every right to refuse, but that would label him a coward in the eyes of his father-in-law, so he walked to the hearth and sat down—within arms-length of Betsy-the-moose.
He slowly reached toward her. “Hi, there, Betsy. Sorry we got off on the wrong foot. Which I’m sure you could take off in one bite if you wanted to, couldn’t you?”
The dog stopped wriggling, her amber-brown eyes following his every move.
Nathan wasn’t a dog person. His mother had never allowed animals in the house or in the yard for that matter when Nathan was growing up.
Taking a deep breath for courage, he placed his hand on the dog’s chest. Betsy’s hair wasn’t overly long and he could feel her warm skin, the pointy nubs of nipples and the fast thud of her heart beating. The smell of warm dog was in the air, and Nathan found he didn’t mind it. He rubbed his hand in a slow circle. Betsy squirmed, her head canted back in a way that made her upside-down jowls look as though she was smiling.
The sensation wasn’t unpleasant. Who knew something so simple could be so gratifying?
“She’s a good dog, isn’t she?” Red asked.
Nathan looked up, a bit surprised. “Yes.”
“Do you want a puppy? Betsy’s granddaughter had a litter a couple of months ago. I heard there are two left. A couple of the cutest little critters you’ve ever seen.”
“No,” Nathan said reflexively.
“Yes,” a second voice said from the doorway.
Casey appeared like a magical wraith on a fresh breeze. Her hair was messy from the wind, her cheeks pink. Although she had a wide smile on her face, Nathan could tell she was upset about something. “We’ve had this debate ever since we got married,” she told her father. “Nathan’s not a dog person.”
Nathan didn’t like the way Red’s bushy brows came together—as if she’d just announced her husband was the leader of a cult or something. “We live in the city,” he stated. What was wrong with his ears? Why did that excuse suddenly sound so lame?
“I’ll admit that’s not the best place to raise dogs or kids, but that can be fixed,” Red said, pushing to his feet. “I’ve got a special piece of land set aside. It was the original homestead. The people Casey’s mother and I bought the ranch from wanted something closer to the road so they tore down the old house and built this place. All that’s left out there is a crumbling old foundation, but when I was at the planning department a few weeks ago checking on the turkey thing, I asked whether or not you and Casey could build on it.”
Build on it? Nathan looked at his wife, who was obviously as surprised by this announcement as Nathan was. “Dad, we need to talk. I appreciate the gesture, but don’t you think—”
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sp; Red cut her off. “I bet you don’t even remember where it is, do you? Come on. Let’s go for a drive. I’ll show you both.” He stood up before either could respond. “Betsy, let’s show ’em what paradise looks like.”
The lethargic animal scrambled to her feet and charged to the door, her paws slipping on the tile like Bambi on ice. Nathan recalled the image all too well because he and Casey had babysat for a friend’s toddler one afternoon and that movie had been their saving grace.
Casey didn’t follow with nearly as much enthusiasm. She reached up as if to touch the wound on his forehead but stopped her hand. “Maybe you should stay here and rest. I don’t know if knocking around in a truck will be good for you.”
Her obvious concern made him feel better, but he wasn’t about to sit here alone while his father-in-law tried to lure Casey home with promises of free land and a building site.
“No, I’ll go. Didn’t the paramedic say people with head injuries aren’t supposed to sleep right away? Besides, I came here to see you, and we’ve barely had a minute alone.” He didn’t mean to sound so whiny.
Casey covered her face with her hands and let out a deep sigh of frustration. “I know. And it’s only going to get worse.”
Her dire tone made him frown, but she didn’t give him time to ask her to explain. She put her arm through his and tugged him toward the door. “Come on. Maybe if you’re with me, Dad will give me some straight answers. You’re a guy, after all.”
I am. A guy who hasn’t made love with his wife in nearly two weeks. Casey had taken the last doctor they’d spoken with at his word. “Step off the fertility roller coaster for a few months,” the man had suggested. “Give your bodies time to rebuild, reposition and renew the lust that you feel for each other.”
Lust. An odd choice of words, Nathan had thought at the time, but now he understood. The pressures of packing, tying up loose ends at work and moving had robbed both Casey and Nathan of any desire to make love. The time change had interfered with Casey’s sleep pattern and she’d taken some over-the-counter pills to help her get back on track while they were settling into their apartment. Then she’d come to the Valley for a visit. The days without sex had piled up.
Following after his wife as she led the way to her father’s monster truck he couldn’t get his gaze off her bottom displayed quite nicely in a pair of tight jeans. She was a knockout in a power suit with her hair up in a twist, but this wholesome cowgirl image had its own appeal. And Nathan wanted her. He only hoped this trip down memory lane was a short one.
CASEY SAT in the backseat of her father’s four-door Dodge truck so Nathan could ride shotgun. The Powerslide rear window was open, affording Betsy the opportunity to pop her massive head inside and drool on Casey’s shoulder any time she liked.
“Red, shut this window.”
Her father glanced back at her. “Naw. Betsy’s feelings would be hurt.”
Casey undid her seat belt and moved forward on the seat so she could wedge her upper torso between the two men. “Fine, then I’m sending you my laundry bill. What’s in that drool of hers? Slime?”
Her father laughed. He seemed happy and relaxed and…healthy—unless you looked closely at the grayish tint to his skin around his eyes. Why hadn’t she noticed sooner? I should have visited more often. What kind of daughter am I? A self-absorbed one, she thought, guiltily.
“So, Red, where are you taking us? I don’t remember another house on the property.” She wanted to ask him about his health but decided to hold off until she could look him in the eyes.
“Like I said, there’s not much left. Just some old footings and a depression where the well was. But you can see the outline of the yard by the trees that remain.”
A memory made her say, “You mean where the two palms are? That was a homestead? Really? High school kids used to go out there and party, you know.”
“Yeah. Got to be such a nuisance I put up a good fence. They kept leaving their garbage around. No respect for the land and private property,” Red muttered.
“You might have been looking at some liabilities issues, too,” Nathan said. “Even if someone trespasses, the landowner can be held responsible if someone gets hurt. The culpability goes down if you can prove that you made a reasonable effort to keep them off your property.”
Casey listened to her father and her husband debate the inequities of the current legal system. Nathan’s sharp legal mind proved an interesting challenge for Red’s practical but equally quick wisdom. Before she knew it, they’d reached the far corner of her father’s property.
Opening her window, she put her head out and took a deep breath of spring. “Can you get the gate, Casey T.?” her father asked.
Her running shoes sank in the soft soil and dense weeds beside the green metal gate. She walked it inward and hooked a wire loop over the post to keep it in place until they were ready to return. A low braying accented by sharp yips told her the rest of the dogs were following not far behind. Normally, Red took the animals with him wherever he went, but apparently Betsy got special treatment.
Red drove through the gate and stopped under a fully leafed-out California buckeye. She reached the truck just as Red was helping the old dog to the ground. “Good girl,” he said, patting her head.
Casey hated the tiny burst of jealousy she felt. How pathetic was it to need her father’s approval so badly she was envious of a dog?
“So, Red, what’s this about—”
“In a minute, Casey T. I want to show Nathan the place before the other dogs get here. I know he’s not a dog person, and they’re gonna be excited.”
Stifling her frustration, she joined the two men on a faint path that led between the two palm trees. Casey didn’t know the species, but the two weren’t the tall, skinny Dr. Seuss type that she associated with L.A. These were thick, stately pillars, at least four feet in width. Their fronds provided a deep green canopy that spread evenly in a circle so wide the two orbs almost touched.
Beyond the trees was a slight knoll. Casey hadn’t realized this section of land was at a different elevation from where the main house sat, but as they climbed past jagged chunks of crumbling concrete she saw the view change dramatically.
“Wow. I don’t remember this place being so cool. You can see the foothills from here,” she said, turning Nathan’s shoulders so he could look where she was pointing.
“Last night’s wind blew the smog away,” Red said. Betsy had moved to Red’s side, but her attention was directed toward the road where the barking was growing in volume.
Red made a sweeping motion with his hands. “Your mother and I kinda hoped one of our children would build out here someday.”
One of our children. A cruel reminder of just how unfair life was. Red had lost his wife and son on a day much like this. Sunny. Beautiful. Spring bursting forth in all its glory.
“Hold on to the saddle horn and don’t let go, Casey T. You slow me up and your mother could die. Do you understand, little girl?”
As if he could sense her inner turmoil, Nathan put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. She was five-eight, but his extra inches made her feel small and protected.
She pushed the haunting voice from the past out of her mind and said, “It’s a lovely spot, Dad, but I’m so mad at you at the moment I wouldn’t move here if it was the last place on the ranch that you could stand and not smell turkey poop.”
Red’s mouth dropped open. “What are you mad at me for now?”
His emphasis on the word now reminded her that they’d never really settled their other issues. Casey could feel Nathan’s shock, too, but he didn’t say anything.
“When were you going to tell me about your prostate?”
Red’s mouth closed as soundly as the tailgate of his truck. “That’s nobody’s business but my own.” His eyes narrowed. “Doc blabbed, didn’t he? Damned old fool.”
“He’s a kindhearted fool who could see I was worried about you. Why didn’t you tell me?
I’m your daughter. Don’t I have a right to know when you’re not well?”
He stomped toward the truck. “I feel fine. Just ’cause it takes me half an hour to pee doesn’t mean I’m on death’s door. I’ll last till I git these dang turkeys out of my hair.” He whistled for Betsy, who was sniffing around the base of one of the palms. She trotted to his side and he helped her into the cab of the truck then hopped in, started the engine and slammed it into reverse.
Casey and Nathan started toward the truck, but it made a quick turn, nearly getting stuck in a muddy furrow. Red stepped on the gas, and the four-wheel-drive transmission dug in, sending a shower of mud in every direction.
“Red,” Casey cried, throwing up one arm to dodge the hail of sludge. “Wait for us.”
How he heard her over the roar of the engine was anybody’s guess, but Red rolled down his window. “You can walk back. Do you both some good.”
A second later he was gone. Casey and Nathan stood shoulder to shoulder, watching as the taillights glowed for a moment. Not to let them catch up. No, her father had paused to permit the dogs that had been following them to jump in the back, courtesy of the tailgate that had been left down.
“I don’t know about you, Case, but I’m thinking Red doesn’t want to talk about his health problems.”
Casey looked at her husband. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. So, she did both.
CHAPTER EIGHT
EXCEPT FOR the soft sniffles made by Casey—muffled somewhat by his shoulder—the thing that struck him most was the lack of sound.
As he comforted her, he looked around at the palette of greens, blues and browns. Real earth tones, he realized. Not the designer kind.
He expected to feel anxious, put out—even worried. After all, it was a long walk back and he was supposed to be resting, but, instead, he felt…glad to have his wife all to himself for a few minutes.
“It’s okay, Casey. He’ll calm down and either come back or send someone to get us.” She looked up, her eyes wet with tears. “Won’t he?”
A Baby on the Way Page 9
