The Surgeon and the Cowgirl (Harlequin American Romance)

by Heidi Hormel

  “We need to talk, and it can’t wait, no matter what you said.”

  “Of course, Payson Robert MacCormack knows what’s best and the rest of us should just fall in line.”

  “I never said that. But even you have to admit that we need to set parameters and metrics for the current relationship moving forward. We cannot have another incident like last night.”

  “Is it possible to get more pompous?”

  “Ignoring problems doesn’t make them go away.”

  “I know that. I’m not stupid.”

  “I never said you were stupid.” He slowly unclenched his fists. No one else in the world could make him so mad so quickly. “An hour of your time will net us a workable rapport.”

  “Unlike you, I don’t have a bunch of minions. An hour of my time right now isn’t possible.”

  “You have volunteers and staff, Jessie. What specifically do you have to do that they can’t?”

  “First, there’s all of that paperwork you people insist I fill out and then there are new students coming in today that I need to assess. It’s my program. My people are good at following orders, but they can’t take on new patients.”

  “That’s not a sustainable operating procedure. You need to have a chain of command and cross training.”

  “I’m sorry that I don’t live up to your standards.”

  Dear baby Jesus and his little angels, as he’d heard Jessie’s mom say more than once. How had this conversation fallen off the rails? “That’s not why I wanted to speak with you. The program is a separate issue—”

  “Really,” Jessie said slowly and with a touch of menace. “You think something is going on here, other than Hope’s Ride and the hospital’s endorsement?”

  He’d never believed that people actually wanted to pull their hair out in frustration. Well, he’d been wrong, because he wanted to rip out every follicle right now. “Even you have to see that your little ‘experiment’ must be addressed properly...” As soon as the words left his lips, he knew he’d stepped into it.

  “Again with the stupid.”

  He looked at the sky for divine intervention before his gaze dropped and landed on the parking area visible over Jessie’s left shoulder. He sighed with relief. Keeping his voice neutral, he said, “Your people are here.” Time to make a strategic retreat.

  Chapter Six

  “Jessie?” her sister, Lavonda, called from the door of a little-used barn where broken tack and old hay littered the floor.

  “Yes,” she answered after a moment more of sweeping. It was Friday, days after she and Payson didn’t talk. If she could just get through the rest of the day, she knew that she’d be okay.

  “I didn’t want to say anything in front of anyone else, but I was the first one in today and found this on the front gate.” She slapped a sheet of paper into Jessie’s hand. “This is just a mix-up, right?”

  Jessie glanced at the official-looking sheet and her heart stopped. She tried to smile reassuringly as she said, “Absolutely. Thanks for keeping this quiet. I just need to make a call, and it’ll all be cleared up. Don’t say anything to Mama and Daddy. It’s nothing.”

  “If you say so,” Lavonda said, giving Jessie a good long stare. “This program is amazing. Don’t mess it up because you won’t ask for help. These kids are getting better, because we’re...you’re...making a difference for them,” she said with pride.

  Lavonda had loved horses just as much as Jessie when they were little, but then she decided that rodeos and ranch life weren’t for her. She’d gone off to conquer the corporate world but that didn’t matter because now she was back home. Lavonda had told the family that she’d been given a great severance package and was taking time off to consider her options. Mama and Daddy had insisted she come to Hope’s Ride. She hadn’t shown up regularly, but she’d shown up. Of course she had to be here today of all days.

  Jessie jumped when Lavonda gave her hand a squeeze. “We all want to help. We know how important your program is.”

  “Everything is fine.”

  “Jessie,” her sister started. “I know you’re a tough cowgirl, but even you—”

  “Really. We’re good.”

  “Saying it again and again doesn’t 'make it so,’ as Jean-Luc Picard would say.”

  Jessie smiled a little. She’d had a bit of a crush on Captain Picard, bald head and all. She and Lavonda had watched the show faithfully, even when they’d been on the road with Mama and Daddy. For a second or two, Jessie saw the little sister who’d won the junior bronc-riding championship and who never told when Jessie did forbidden riding tricks. The girl she’d shared a bedroom with, not the petite woman with the sleek bob and subtle makeup she was now, the kind of woman who’d have fit perfectly into Payson’s family.

  “I can’t expect my family to step in every time I hit a little bump.”

  “First, that’s what family’s for. Mama always said so. Second, we’re offering. Third, asking for help makes you stronger, not weaker.” Jessie shook her head and Lavonda snorted, almost making Jessie laugh because she sounded a lot like Molly. “Let’s take a walk down Memory Lane. Exactly how many times when you went it alone did it turn out well? That would be zero. Like when you bought your first trick horse by working yourself into a case of mono. Then the divorce—”

  “We’re not talking about that—”

  “We wanted to help. We wanted you to lean on us sometimes. It makes it tough to come to you for help when you never ask for it yourself.”

  Lavonda’s comment stopped Jessie’s mouth. Could it be that being the strong, silent type didn’t help her family and friends?

  “Asking for help doesn’t make you a failure. You know that now, right?” Lavonda asked seriously.

  Her little sister’s gaze stayed glued on her until Jessie wanted to squirm. “Sure,” Jessie said with conviction she didn’t feel because asking for help meant she couldn’t do it on her own and if she couldn’t do it on her own...then what?

  “I can see the wheels turning by the smoke coming out of your ears. I won’t tell Mama and Daddy about the paper because I’ll believe you that it’s a mix-up and that if you need help, you’ll ask for it.” Lavonda walked off without saying more, her slight form outlined by the sunlight coming through the barn door.

  Jessie watched her sister for a moment, then refocused on what had been making her palms sweat in the dry heat. The foreclosure notice. She’d already received one, but that had been sort of a warning. That’s the way the internet said it worked. She’d checked after she hadn’t made the balloon payment. So even with this notice, she had weeks to come up with the money before the ranch would go up for auction. Her timeline for figuring out a better plan for saving Hope’s Ride had been bumped up, that was all.

  For a second, she considered speaking with Payson about the situation, but she didn’t want him to solve her problems. They were divorced. He’d said that he didn’t believe in the program, or something close to that. On the other hand, when they’d been married, sitting down and talking with him had made her feel steadier and better able to cope—at least, that was the way it’d been when they’d first married. She missed that part of being a couple. She’d gone to Payson to talk out her problems. She hadn’t always followed his advice, which he had argued meant she wanted to do everything on her own.

  And maybe he was right. The past three years had been tough because she’d refused to ask her family for anything beyond that first bit of money for the down payment on Hope’s Ride. Her problems had been of her own making and she’d solve them on her own, just like now. Still, at times, she’d ached for Payson because she needed someone to lean on—just a little.

  She spent the rest of the day avoiding Payson and an annoyingly deep-seated impulse to ask him for help with her bank problem. Next thing she knew, there he was.
It was as though her thoughts had conjured him up. She kept up her slow sweeping.

  “Jessie,” Payson said sharply as he stepped closer. “You need to get out here and talk with these people.”

  “Who?”

  “The Humane League is here and planning to take all of the animals,” he said.

  Sure he was needling her, Jessie looked over her shoulder to tell him to stick it where the sun don’t shine. Then she saw his expression and bolted from the barn, running as fast as her knee allowed. The large parking area was overflowing with horse trailers. She approached the cluster of strangers in khaki uniforms. She could hear the children crying and adults shouting. Molly trotted around, loose again, nipping at men with ropes.

  “Stop,” Jessie yelled in a voice that easily carried over the noise.

  “Miss Jessie,” one of the teen riders came hurrying to her, followed by her staff and volunteers. They all talked at once, but Jessie zeroed in quickly on the important words: the Humane League had arrived to confiscate her ranch stock. She saw a woman who looked as if she was in charge near the gate. Jessie paused when she felt Payson’s hand on her shoulder. “Let me call Spence,” he said softly so no one else could hear.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t need an attorney,” Jessie said, scared that he might be right about needing his brother’s lawyering skills. “I’m sure this is all a mistake.”

  “Jessie, let me help.”

  She kept moving to stop herself from turning to him, leaning on him. She couldn’t. This was her problem and her responsibility. She had to handle it. How would anyone, including Payson, take her seriously now if she didn’t handle this? “Excuse me,” she barked as she approached the woman with the clipboard and badge. “I’m Jessie Leigh.”

  The woman looked at her paper. “I’m looking for Jezebel Leigh MacCormack.”

  “That’s me,” Jessie said.

  “I’m goin’ to need to see ID before I present these papers. With all of these people riled up, I don’t wanna get this wrong.”

  “Ask anyone here. This is my ranch and these are my animals you’re stirring up.”

  Molly, on the loose again, squealed her displeasure. Jessie heard Bull bugling from his stall and pounding on the walls with his hooves. Stomps and snorts from other horses as well as barking from the two ranch dogs added to the deafening noise.

  The woman in khaki didn’t budge. “We’re not trying to upset the animals. We’re here for their welfare. I need your ID.”

  Jessie hurried to the house for her wallet. When she got back and handed her identification over, Jessie finally got to read the paperwork. Signed by a judge, the intent was clear. The Humane League had won the right in court to take the animals as “protection for their welfare.”

  “If you have any questions call our attorney. His name is on the documents. My job now is to help these animals,” she said, trying to step away from Jessie. “Your cooperation would be appreciated, but it’s not necessary.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re taking the animals. You can see that they’re healthy. The vet is out here regularly. I have staff and volunteers to take care of the barns. Look at them. They’re probably cleaner than the house.”

  Jessie’s throat tightened in fear. She glanced at the papers again, searching frantically for the mistake. This had to be a mix-up. Maybe they’d inverted the numbers of the address.

  The stiff-backed leader said, “You don’t want me to have to call the sheriff, do you? Because if you obstruct our taking of the animals, that’s what we’ll have to do.”

  “You have no right. The animals are treated well. The children rely on this program. If you take the horses, you’ll set them back months. Can’t you hold off until I can get this all cleared up?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s not my decision. Once I get the paperwork, it’s my legal obligation to fulfill the order,” the woman said. She wouldn’t even look Jessie in the eye. Instead she nodded to one of the other Humane League workers.

  Jessie tried again, “I’ll talk to your attorney, whoever I need to. You can’t take my animals.”

  “Ma’am,” a burly man said as he walked up behind her. “We need you to step out of the way so we can do our work.”

  “Can’t you do this later? You’re upsetting the children. A lot of them are emotionally fragile,” she said, trying to stay calm and keep her eye on the khaki crew.

  “Ma’am,” he said again and stepped closer. “We need you to step over here.”

  “No,” she said. He wasn’t the law. What could he do to her? She had to protect the animals and the children.

  “Her attorney is on his way,” Payson’s authoritative voice cut through the din. “Until he arrives and can thoroughly review the paperwork, you are trespassing, according to Section 125 of the Arizona property seizure code. He suggests that you wait in the public right-of-way at the end of the drive.”

  She’d never admit it, but relief overwhelmed her when Payson stepped in to help. She kept her mouth clamped closed on anything that might come spewing out.

  “I’ve never heard of Section 125,” the woman in charge said.

  “Obviously or you would not be so blatantly violating it,” Payson said. He stared the woman in the eye as he spoke. It only took a moment for her to turn and walk back to the others. They all got in their vehicles and moved to the end of the lane. As soon as the dust settled, Jessie walked to the cluster of children and adults. She explained in a bright, firm voice that there had been a mix-up and it might take some time to straighten out. Then she had to tell them that therapy was canceled for the day and possibly Monday. A stab of pain and guilt went through her as children cried or turned red and yelled in fury. With the help of the shocked adults, Jessie got all of the children into their cars and on their way. She was aware of Payson talking with the youngsters and answering his phone, working alongside her the whole time.

  With all of the children on their way and the Humane League at the end of the drive, Jessie took a deep breath for the first time in half an hour. She had to gather herself to speak with the staff and volunteers. She also needed to talk with Payson and find out if Spence was really on his way and what blood money his brother would expect. She’d never been Spence’s favorite person. First, she had to get her feet to move, to carry her toward the milling group of men and women who believed in Hope’s Ride, too.

  “Jessie,” Payson said quietly. “Spence’ll be here as soon as he can.”

  “Is there really a Section 125?”

  “Not exactly. Spence figured it would slow them down until he could get here and see exactly what the paperwork said.”

  “Oh.”

  “Maybe you should talk with everyone,” Payson said, speaking soothingly. “They need assurance. It’ll be fine, Jessie. Spence’ll figure something out.”

  She wanted to snap at him to stop treating her like a crash victim. She didn’t want to need his soothing words, but she did. His touch, the sound of his voice steadied her. Beside Payson, she found the guts to step toward the small crowd. She explained that an attorney was on his way and everything would be taken care of as soon as possible. She asked them all to get the horses and ponies comfortable and then head home.

  The end-of-the-day chores were nearly done when a big diesel-burning Ford F-150 came roaring into the yard.

  “There’s Spence,” Payson said and walked to the truck before the dust had settled. “Thanks for coming.”

  “No problem, pardner,” Spence said. As tall as Payson, but broader through the chest, he looked like an ad for an all-American blond male with his dusty blue eyes and hint of a dimple. “Let me get on my workin’ clothes.” He reached into the cab for a cowboy hat and a Western-style jacket. He was as much a cowboy as Payson was. She didn’t know him well. He’d been a couple of years behind them
in school and then gone East to college. After their marriage, Payson and Jessie were not exactly the MacCormacks’ favorite guests. But the one thing she did know about his family was that nothing they did came cheap. No way could she afford Spence, and she could hardly expect a family discount.

  “Jessie, can you get the paperwork they gave you?” Payson called to her.

  “It’s been a long time, but you’re still the same Jessie. Gettin’ my brother deep into it.” She stiffened, ready to tell him to take a flying leap, then, like an unpredictable stallion, he switched tactics. “Now, I hate to cut the reunion short, but they did give you papers, right?”

  Before she could open her mouth, Payson answered, “Maybe it would be best if you just went and talked with them?”

  “I could do that.” Spence squinted down to the end of the drive. “Get any paperwork you think I need, and I’ll be back directly.”

  Spence sauntered toward the group from the Humane League, his boots making small puffs of dust. Payson said, “He’s either been in Texas too long or he’s been watching a Justified marathon.”

  “What?” Jessie asked, trying to take in what had just happened.

  “He picked up the whole damned cowboy thing when he was in Texas. He says it puts his opponents off their game.”

  “Texas ain’t Arizona,” Jessie said, and then got to the meat of the problem. “I can’t afford him. I can only guess what he charges.”

  “Forget about the money. Let me help you,” Payson said, obviously exasperated.

  Everyone needed help. Isn’t that what she told the kids all of the time? Isn’t that what Lavonda had said to her? Accepting any help from Payson, though, had always been a painful balancing act. When they’d married, she’d had so little and he’d already had so much. She had wanted him and his family to respect her. In her world, people got respect by standing on their own two feet. “Thanks for calling Spence,” Jessie said quietly. “I’ll pay you back. It may take a while, though. Keep track.”