Tempted by the Soldier

by Patricia Potter

  Clint stepped out of the van and waited as Stephanie grabbed a medical bag, then they both strode over to a weathered-looking man who walked up to meet them.

  “You got new help, Stephanie?” The rancher’s gaze measured Clint.

  “Nope,” Stephanie said. “A passenger headed for Covenant Falls. Clint Morgan. A friend of Josh.” She turned to Clint. “This is Hardy Pearson. He breeds the best cattle in this part of Colorado.”

  Hardy held out his hand. “The most troublesome, anyway. Good to meet you, son,” he said. Then he turned to Stephanie, his eyes worried.

  “She’s in the barn. My best heifer. Hasn’t been eating. I’ve seen this twice before. Pretty sure it’s a twisted stomach.”

  “How long since she ate?”

  “She didn’t look good yesterday, and I brought her into the barn. I put hay out and she wouldn’t have any part of it. Can’t tell you how unusual that is.”

  “Did she calve recently?”

  “Three months ago.”

  The questions and answers came quick. Clint observed the trust between the rancher and Stephanie. She was all efficiency as she threw him one question after another. He followed as Hardy led the way into a big barn where a large cow was tethered by a rope halter to a post. The animal stood on a pile of hay. Stephanie retrieved a stethoscope from the medical bag and examined the heifer’s stomach.

  She glanced up at Hardy, “You were right. It’s a twisted stomach. The ping is definitely there. There’s a lot of gas.”

  Hardy sighed. “What do you recommend?”

  She hesitated. “I think we should roll her stomach. It might not work, and it could be dangerous for the heifer, but the alternatives are worse.”

  “An operation would be just as dangerous, wouldn’t it?

  She nodded. “And expensive.”

  “Let’s roll ’er.”

  “You got anyone else who can help?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “My son’s at a cattle auction. And my wife’s been ailing.”

  Two sets of eyes focused on Clint. He sensed that wasn’t a good thing.

  “Sorry to hear that,” Stephanie said to Hardy even as she studied Clint. After a few seconds, she asked, “You game to help?”

  “Help how?” he asked cautiously.

  “Roll over that heifer. Putting it simply, she’s got three stomachs and one of them is in the wrong place. If it isn’t fixed, she’ll die.”

  He hesitated, then shrugged. “What do I do?”

  “We use some ropes to get her down. Then you help Hardy hold her down while I palpate her and move the wayward stomach into its rightful place. Then I suture it. Okay?”

  He met her challenging gaze, then studied the cow. It was a damned big animal. Hell, he didn’t have anything to lose. He nodded. “I’m a city boy, but I’ll give it a go.”

  She hesitated, tilting her head to the right. “Is there any medical reason you shouldn’t?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Hardy will help, but this really takes three bodies.” She looked at the old man. “Have a pair of muck boots he can use?”

  The rancher nodded and hurried inside the house, returning with a pair of worn, heavy rubber boots. “Here, son, try these. Don’t want to get those new shoes messed up.”

  Clint regarded the boots warily. Well, he’d worn worse. He removed his shoes and replaced them with the boots. What in the hell had he gotten himself into?

  Stephanie crouched and ran her hands over the heifer’s belly. “We’ll do this together, girl,” she whispered. “You’ll feel better. Trust me.”

  Her voice was surprisingly soft and gentle, and her hands stroked the cow’s stomach soothingly. Clint found himself envying the animal.

  Stephanie and Hardy unwound a rope. She ran it under the cow and Hardy passed the end to Clint. Stephanie pulled it tight under the cow while Hardy stood at its side.

  “We want to flip the heifer on its back,” she said.

  Clint wasn’t sure about that. But when she said “flip,” he flipped the rope and felt a certain satisfaction when the heifer landed on her back.

  Clint dodged two back hoofs.

  “Tie them together and hold them,” Stephanie said. She palpated the stomach, then nodded to Hardy. “Place a knee on the abdomen. Not there, to the right. A little more to the right. Good.”

  It took all of Clint’s strength to tie and hold on to the rear legs of a very unhappy and very big cow as Stephanie scrubbed an area of the stomach with what smelled like disinfectant. She gave the heifer a shot. “Antibiotic,” she explained. “And a local anesthesia. We should wait a few minutes until it starts to work. Can you two keep her in this position?”

  Hardy nodded. Clint wasn’t so sure. The heifer wasn’t happy. She wanted up. He couldn’t blame her. It was an indelicate position. He dodged flailing legs. Barely. A damaged chopper was easier to hold steady than this cow.

  After what seemed hours, Stephanie pulled on fresh medical gloves and took a deep breath. He remembered what she said about the procedure being dangerous.

  She nodded at him. “Keep her steady.”

  Hell of a lot easier said than done. She made a small, quick incision. Clint gagged as a nauseating odor escaped from the cow’s stomach, practically suffocating him. It was as bad a smell as any he’d experienced in Afghanistan. He held the cow’s legs tighter. He might not be able to do a lot of things, but, by damn, he could hold on to a cow. Hardy, a man twice his age and more, was doing just fine with his knee on the cow’s abdomen.

  Stephanie palpated the heifer’s stomach, then sutured the wound before standing. She nodded to Hardy and turned to Clint. “You can let her go.”

  As he did, the cow scrambled up, and before Clint could move out of the way, it stepped hard on the instep of his left foot. He fell, sprawling in the hay as his foot exploded in pain. “Damn!” The cow relieved herself on Clint’s leg, mooed indignantly and ambled away as if nothing had happened.

  Hardy looked on in horror. “I’m real sorry, son. I’ve never known Isobel to kick. She’s a pretty docile heifer.”

  “Can’t say I wouldn’t have kicked, too, if I was tackled, held down and had someone messing with my stomach,” Clint said. “Isobel, huh? I’ll have to be sure to avoid females named Isobel in the future.”

  Stephanie looked stunned. “Dang,” she said. “Josh is going to kill me when he finds out what happened to you.”

  Despite the pain, Clint started laughing. Two chopper crashes, several bullet wounds and a car crash, and he was ultimately felled by a cow. A heifer at that. No little irony here.

  Unfortunately, it followed the current trajectory of his life.

  CHAPTER TWO

  STEPHANIE WAS APPALLED at the sight of her charge clutching his foot in the hay. His obviously new clothes were stained with cow urine, the last indignity the cow bestowed on him. The fact he was laughing made her inwardly groan. Laughing.

  It was deep and rumbling, and that was the last thing she’d expected or wanted. He had to be the world’s best sport, and that annoyed her to no end.

  Josh was not going to be happy with her. To be honest, she wasn’t happy with herself. Fine. She had to admit she’d felt a certain satisfaction in enlisting him to help. She and Hardy probably could have managed alone, although there was no question that her passenger had helped.

  She sighed. Warning bells had sounded when she first saw him, standing alone on the street, a duffel next to him. Tall and lean with short dark hair, he had a definite presence.

  Those bells really pealed when he’d grinned and said she was pretty. She was familiar with charm, too familiar, and this man had it written all over him. It had been in his smile, as well as the compliment, in the warmth of his voice even though she had
been late picking him up, smelling like cow and dressed like a ranch hand. That charm scared her as little else did.

  That was of no consequence now. Guilt weighed heavily on her, and she didn’t often feel that particular emotion. He had come here directly from a military hospital. He experienced blackouts, which was why he had needed a ride. Her friend Josh was reticent about what had happened to him, but then he was about everything. Maybe that’s what she had expected when she’d volunteered a ride: someone like Josh.

  This man was nothing like Josh.

  She knelt beside Clint and helped him remove his boot. Having experienced the same injury several times, she knew how painful it could be. His body tensed, and his lips pressed tightly together. He released a long breath when his foot was free, but no other sound escaped. He looked directly at Hardy and quipped, “If Isobel is usually docile, I would hate to see one of your cows that isn’t.”

  Hardy chuckled. “You’re all right, boy,” he said.

  Clint removed his sock and studied his injured foot. It was red and already swelling, but the skin hadn’t been broken. He touched the skin, feeling around, as he’d had some medical training.

  “I’m really sorry,” she said, truly contrite now. She stripped the soiled gloves from her hands and pulled on clean ones from the bag, then she knelt next to him and examined his foot. “We’ll stop by the doctor when we reach Covenant Falls...” Her voice faltered. She was close to him, too close. His eyes were a rich, dark brown. Almost black. Challenging. Too challenging.

  “No need,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

  She shook her head. “I want X-rays,” she insisted, trying to keep her voice steady. “I might lose two good friends if I don’t take care of you, and so far I haven’t done very well.”

  “I’ve had a lot worse injuries,” he said. “Maybe not as humiliating. I have met the enemy, and it is Isobel.”

  Stephanie couldn’t help but grin.

  “You do smile,” he said.

  “Occasionally,” she replied. “Can you stand? I’ve been stepped on several times. It’s an occupational hazard. I know how much it hurts.”

  “But obviously not fatal.”

  Dang, but he was getting to her. No. No. No.

  She held out her hand. He took it, and heat ran through her like an electrical charge. He rose easily, even gracefully, although he gritted his teeth as he put weight on the injured foot. He took a step and nearly buckled, his face draining of color.

  His clothes were filthy. Hay tangled in his hair and dirt smudged his face. He smelled like the wrong end of a cow.

  Yet, he looked far more attractive now than he had standing in new clothes at the bus stop. The rueful half smile was all too beguiling.

  Didn’t make any difference. She’d worked too hard to get to where she was today. She was a terrible judge of men. Twice, she’d allowed outward appearances to blind her. A third would prove her the fool she’d felt at the end of both of her marriages. Now she ran like hell when her body tingled with even a little initial attraction.

  She couldn’t run right now. She had agreed to pick up Clint Morgan and now she felt responsible for what had just happened. Hell’s bells, she was responsible. Josh was not going to be pleased, and he and his wife were among the few people whose opinion she valued.

  She inwardly shuddered as she thought about telling him. Josh planned to be waiting at the cabin. Now the meeting would be at a doctor’s office.

  Hardy had watched with concern. “You’re welcome to come inside and clean up a bit,” he said.

  Clint inspected his clothes, and his eyes lit up with mischief.

  “I’m good,” he said. “Dr. Phillips and I will be a matched pair.”

  She groaned. She looked almost as bad as her charge. “We’ll stop at the doctor’s office just to make sure nothing is broken.”

  “Nothing is,” Clint assured her.

  “I would rather have a doctor tell me that,” she replied stiffly. “I’m responsible...”

  His gaze hardened. “You are not responsible. Hardy is not responsible. I’m responsible for being so damned clumsy. I volunteered, remember. I’m not a hothouse flower.”

  Anger, mixed with frustration, laced his voice. She nodded, backing off. She well knew the frustration of feeling helpless.

  “Okay. Can you get into the van?”

  He nodded, then shook Hardy’s hand. “I hope you don’t have more problems with Isobel.”

  Hardy grinned. “I’m afraid she needs a few lessons in gratitude. I, however, don’t. You need anything, you have a friend here.” He turned to Stephanie. “You should hire him. You could do a whole lot worse. And send me your bill for Isobel. Include any charges from Doc Bradley.”

  She stared at him for a moment. Hardy was usually cantankerous and argued about every bill. “Will do.” She eyed Clint. “Need some help?”

  “A shoulder, maybe,” he said, and she detected amusement in his eyes.

  She was trapped. She suddenly wondered whether he sensed her reluctance and had used his foot as an excuse to touch her. But she had offered, and she owed him. She put her arm around him and together they hobbled to the van. “Maybe I should change,” he said, peering at the wet stains on his pants and wrinkling his nose at the accompanying foul odor. “I have clean pants in the duffel.”

  Hardy had already headed for the ranch house. Had Clint waited until Hardy had returned to the house before making that decision? Maybe she was just too suspicious. “You can change in the back of the van,” she said. “I have a couple of calls to make.” She hesitated, then asked suspiciously, “Do you need any help?”

  “Maybe to get into the van. Not to change,” he said with that oddly attractive upward turn of the left side of his lips. The half smile was crooked and endearing. Vulnerable. And as tempting as forbidden fruit.

  She was in trouble. She needed to keep her distance from Clint Morgan. As soon as she helped him into the van, she closed the door without another word. She walked over to the fence, called Doc and told him she would be there in thirty minutes, then she called Josh for the second time.

  “We’re a bit more delayed,” she said. “There’s been a little accident and I’m taking Mr. Morgan to Doc Bradley’s.”

  A long silence at the other end, then, “What kind of ‘little’ accident?”

  “A heifer stepped on his foot.”

  Another silence.

  “And...” Josh prompted, inviting a fuller explanation that she was loath to give over the phone.

  “I’m pretty sure nothing is broken. Just want to be sure. He also...umm...kinda needs a bath.”

  “What did you do, Stephanie?”

  “You know Hardy Pearson. One of his cows was in trouble. A twisted stomach. Mr. Morgan offered to help. Isobel stepped on him.”

  “Who in the hell is IsobeI?”

  “The heifer. She’s one of Hardy’s prize breeding stock.”

  Still another long silence. It was Josh’s quiet way to indicate he was not happy. “I’ll meet you at Doc Bradley’s,” he said finally and hung up.

  Her passenger must have had enough time to change. Then she spotted the new-looking loafers near the fence. She picked them up and headed to the back of the van. She knocked. No way was she going to barge in.

  The door opened. Clint Morgan hadn’t changed his soiled shirt, but now wore a new pair of khakis. His feet were covered only by socks, and his thick dark hair was rumpled, as if he’d just combed it with his fingers. His eyes were the color of rich dark coffee, and they appeared far more alive than before the heifer affair. Instead of reflecting pain, they practically danced with mischief.

  An unwelcome warmth spread through her. She willed it away. She didn’t trust it. She didn’t trust him. Hell’s bells. She didn’t trust hersel
f.

  He stepped down on his good leg, then put an arm around her shoulder for the short hobble to the front of the van. Once again, she felt trapped. He was too close. Along with the lingering cow smell, she got a whiff of a tangy aftershave scent and, oddly enough, it was a sensuous mixture that probably only a vet would appreciate. His arm was warm. The air was also warm and getting warmer, and not just from the sun.

  They made it to the passenger side, and he stepped inside, using the door handle for support. She handed his shoes to him and hurried around to the other side of the van. As she settled into the driver’s seat, she was too aware of him, much more so than during the trip to Hardy’s. She was afraid she liked him now. Liked the way he had laughed after Isobel kicked him and his quick quips with Hardy. She was fascinated by his subtle and not so subtle challenges.

  Wow, she needed to get herself in hand. “I called the town’s doctor—Doc Bradley—and he’ll be waiting for us. Josh will be there.”

  To take Clint Morgan off my hands.

  His grin was just too potent. Whenever she saw handsome, smiling men nowadays, she searched for the treachery she was sure lurked within. Think Ted Bundy. Or her former husbands.

  Clint Morgan was good-looking with a beguiling smile. Dark, slightly curly hair, dark eyes, strong cheekbones, a cleft in his chin and a slight wry turn to his lips. In short, Clinton Morgan raised every single one of her red flags. But she tried to reserve judgment. All she really knew about him was that he couldn’t drive because of his blackouts, and he was ex-military. Josh had been characteristically uncommunicative. Well, it was none of her business, nor the business of Covenant Falls.

  She needed to keep it that way.

  * * *

  CLINT SAT BACK in the seat, shoved his good foot into a shoe and watched Stephanie drive. She drove with the same concentration she showed when treating the cow. He thought back to that moment she’d smiled. Openly. Not guarded as she had been since they met.

  He’d thought her pretty before, but when she smiled, she was stunning. And when her blue eyes had darkened with concern while she examined his foot, he’d felt a tingling interest he hadn’t experienced in a long time.