Will pinched his lips together. "Gaining credibility is never easy."
Liza nodded. How true. "None of my cows have had psychology courses."
"That wasn't very funny, number forty-two! Now get your big self up there or it's no more Mr. Nice Guy." Another sickening smack sounded through the hallway. Andy hopped on one foot while holding the opposite shin. "Doggone it, I ought to shoot you for that."
Liza huffed in exasperation. She pushed a sprig of hair from her eye with the back of a hand. "I guess I should give him a break."
Will nodded his agreement. "Before a cow gives him one. If you put them in the chute, I'll operate the head... thingie."
Andy appealed Liza's verdict. "But I'm making progress. There's some deep bonding going on."
Her uncompromising voice was diplomatic, yet firm. She gouged at her cuticles as she talked. It kept her from grabbing him by the throat. "That may well be. But cow bonding is not the goal."
"Just one more chance." Andy rubbed his shins while he whined.
Liza sighed and shook her head. Testosterone had ruined the minds of many. "Will, he wants to try again. Have you got a few minutes to spare? I really think he deserves to be back here."
"Sure."
Five minutes later, Andy had been kicked seven more times, stepped on more than a dance instructor on the first night of classes plus body slammed into a gate once. No cows had entered the chute. Slumped against the wall, he appeared to need twenty-three additional hands to rub all the sore spots on his body. "Next time they'll know me and it'll go smoother."
"I guess you'll want to do this your way." Liza spoke to Will after Andy left to work on a toaster disabled by the storm.
The corners of his eyes crinkled as he grinned. "It's nice of you to offer, but I need to admit something."
"That being?" She propped against the wall, one leg crossed over an ankle, hands anchored on hips. Keeping a buffer between them seemed practical.
"I haven't done any cattle work since I graduated. In fact, I haven't done any besides bleed your two cows. Small animal surgery, that's my specialty."
"I heard you had an interesting case at the Grim's." A faint smile massaged her lips. Though there wasn't a logical explanation, he was comfortable to be around. "You needed water wings if what I heard was true."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "I doubt the truth made it off the farm. I'm saying to feel free to tell me how I can do things better. You have more experience at working cows than me." He paused, arching his eyebrows and half-smiling. "I heard somewhere that you've put millions through here."
She pushed away from the wall, grinning at the return dig. If she could be half as polite as he, she would double her capability. He might not be so stubborn after all. "You did fine the other day. Won't be any different today, 'cept there's more to do."
Chapter 29
A routine of catch, bleed, and tag was quickly established. An occasional lost snatch of breeze detoured through, barely moving thin layers of dust kicked up by the waiting animals before drifting away. While he was here, she might as well ask questions. Starting with brucellosis.
"Where could my cows have gotten it? We haven't had any new additions."
"That's hard to say." He looked like he might say more, but didn't. He squirted the blood into a test tube. "Did I hear you have a loan deadline coming up?"
She cleared her throat. Though not sure what she wished him to feel about her, sorry wasn't it. "Who told you that?"
"I'm not sure. Miss Effie might have mentioned. Is it true?"
"Yeah. Have about ten days."
He paused as he raised the next cow's tail. "That's not long. Are you going to be able to do it?"
"God is going to provide a way." She waved her hand. Talking about it depressed her. "Enough about my problems. Who is Sally? I heard her name when you were praying in the graveyard. Old girlfriend?"
Blood flowed into a tube as he answered. "Mid-twenties."
"You know what I mean. Is she someone you're serious about?" She kept her voice light, avoided eye contact. Though she had never asked a man such personal questions, nothing could have stopped her.
He climbed onto the top board of the chute so another cow could come in. "Wrong tense. Was. How about you?"
"Hardly." Why had he asked? For the same reason she did? Not wanting to discuss her lack of dating experience, she changed the subject. "Any more news about your uncle? Doesn't sound like the rumors are dying down."
"Case is still closed. According to the sheriff. But I'd rather not talk about it."
While they worked, Liza bombarded him with more questions about brucellosis, what he thought of the Springs, was he going to stay, what his goals were, what his background was.
Three hours later, the job and day completed, she could pass an exam on the disease. Other questions concerning him had been artfully evaded, deftly turned into questions about her. She had talked a lot.
More than anytime since her dad's death. With his easy manner and perceptive insights, it was a relief to dump some of her anxiety, but she feared she had shared too much. Why had she mentioned her mother's abandoning them? At least talking, even laughing at his quirky comments, provided her mind a brief furlough.
Several times, she had fleeting thoughts about how his arm felt across her shoulders during the storm. She shooed them away as quick as they came, intent on giving them no place to roost. Life was complicated enough. Especially while striving to be independent. Who might find herself on the street in ten days.
He gave no indication he would remain in the Springs. And he certainly didn't seem interested in her. Not once had she seen or felt his eyes observing her as anything more than part of the landscape. She had tried to catch him, turning without warning several times after putting herself in perfect position to be checked out. She had done it often enough that he probably thought she had a nervous condition. Though a bruise to her ego, it was a welcome change from Andy's staring. His eye muscles needed a massage and Ben-Gay at the end of the day.
They stepped from the stifling barn into the cooler late afternoon heat. Isolated stacks of thunderheads offered a lottery's chance of a shower. When they reached the gate, he opened it for her. The display of politeness made her feel special for a twinkling. And sad for longer.
A slight breeze ruffled the grass as they walked toward the house. With the job finished, an awkward silence descended. There seemed to be no reason to continue a conversation.
The upcoming days would pass as slow as old folks hobbling on walkers. She didn't wait well. Give her the results now. She might make some noise, kick up some dust, but she would deal with it.
Will broke the silence. "Maybe it won't be as bad as you think."
"Maybe." That would leave it just short of being tossed a plugged in toaster while soaking in the tub. She squared her shoulders. "I'm hungry. How about you?"
"I could eat. If Andy fixed the toaster, we could make toast. Or I'd be happy to take you someplace if you prefer."
Liza's eyelids fluttered in mock horror. "If he hasn't scattered the parts over three counties, I'll need oxygen."
"I think he's quite taken with you."
"I suppose. But his hanging around is worse than having the itch." She stopped, lips scrunched as her hands dug into pants pockets. She waited for him to face her. Large segments of her mind went numb when he looked at her with speculation. She dropped her eyes for space to compose her thoughts. "Would you do me a favor?"
He placed the water bucket containing the dirty syringes on the ground. "Maybe. What is it?"
"When we see Andy, I'd like to tell him you're staying for supper so we can discuss my options concerning the cows and that I'd prefer to do that without him staying to eat so that maybe he'll get the hint and go on home to his momma before he drives me around the bend into the nut house." The statement gushed like a syllable spraying geyser. She grabbed a quick breath. "Would you do that?"
Confusion registe
red on Will's face. What was he thinking? That she was pursuing him? Would that be a logical assumption? Sure it was. He could already be wondering how he would pay for their kids' college. And if there would be any money left to live on after orthodontic visits. The Halls didn't have the straightest teeth and his mouth looked a bit overcrowded.
"One thing. Do you really want me to stay for supper? Or am I serving a strictly utilitarian function?"
Liza tried to decipher his deadpan expression, uncertain how to respond. Again, she was struck by the difference in men and women's thought patterns. Did he really want to stay? Did she really want him to stay? Was excess estrogen driving her behavior? She stammered an answer through her sigh, hoping she didn't appear a fraction as foolish as she felt. "Well, no, I don't guess you'd have to stay, though you could if you wanted to. Won't be anything fancy. It's up to you, I reckon."
They resumed their walk toward the house. "Wouldn't it be easier to thank him for what he's done, then tell him you can take care of the rest?"
"If I was terribly crude and direct, I suppose that would be an option." She blurted the words, exasperated with the entire situation. Since when did she need help? Better to have kept quiet. Look in the mirror. "Forget it."
Will touched her arm. She stopped, not flinching away. Not this time. Fusion-level heat ricocheted through her body. Was he a human Taser? "Whoa up. You go from zero to agitated quicker than anyone I ever saw."
She turned her face upwards to offer an insincere smile. "That's most encouraging."
Her snideness didn't faze him. "I'll help you out. But in the long run, the best policy would be to tell him how you feel. You seem to have a real gift for that."
She swallowed her initial reply. It burned going back down. "Thanks, Dear Abby. Sorry I was snippy. It's just..." She fell silent a few steps. He couldn't possibly understand. And why did she even want him to? And why did he wear cologne that provocative? She should wear a haz-mat suit when he was around. Could he hear the heat pounding through her system, clanging like hot water radiators in old buildings? "Thanks. Lets go on in and get this over with."
Andy looked up from the dining table, where he sat humming the theme from 2001: A Space Odyssey. From his frustrated expression, he might have been trying to sequence the human genome with common kitchen utensils. "I never realized a toaster had so many parts."
Liza stepped to the table, looked down at Andy. For a moment, the parts reminded her of her jumbled feelings. "Will and I need to discuss my options over supper. In private, if you don't mind."
"Okay." A petulant frown revealed his opposition. "I'll finish this first thing tomorrow morning. In time for breakfast."
Liza glanced at Will. He retreated to the living room and collapsed on the sofa. Leaning over, he picked up a stack of pictures from the coffee table. She turned back to Andy. Do or die.
The sound of toaster parts being swept from the table into a box made forty-seven individual noises. Wow, I was just spontaneous. The graceful part needed refining.
"What are you doing?" Alarm capoed Andy's voice to a tenor.
"It's Dumpster bound. And please don't come back tomorrow. It doesn't look right, you being here real late and then again early. I know you'll understand."
There, she had said it. And except for having to witness Andy's eyes bugging out like an electrocuted frogs while his thick lips chewed on unvoiced questions, it hadn't been so bad. But if she desired independence, there would be casualties.
"But-"
"I am so relieved you understand." She turned and ducked into the kitchen. She entered the pantry, grabbed several jars of vegetables. It was difficult, trying to be nice all the time.
Turning back, she watched Andy, hands palms up in supplication, approach Will. Maybe their interaction would reveal Will's feelings about her. "Did I do something wrong?"
Will's eyes seemed locked on the photo he held.
"Well, did I?"
Will looked up. "Did you what?"
"Did I do something wrong helping her?"
"Beats me. She seems to be a bit independent."
Liza's eyes narrowed. Independent? Work to support yourself, tend to your own business, don't take welfare, and that adds up to independence? No, it's called personal responsibility, thank you very kindly. She cocked her head. Why did independence sound so bad coming from someone else? Especially Will?
"Hard-headed is more like it." Andy's voice escalated. "I like her but she sure makes me mad. What happens next?"
Will filled him in, though his attention remained on the picture.
"Bummer." Andy stared toward the kitchen. She busied herself with pouring green beans into a pot. "I'm still going to help her. She needs to replant. And I'm trying to get my dad to extend her loan deadline. She needs a keeper. "
A keeper? What was she, a Cocker Spaniel?
Will glanced at him from over the photo. "I think she feels like you're smothering her."
"Did she say that?"
Will half-shrugged. "It's just my impression."
"I see. Pour yourself out for someone and what do you get. The big D."
"The big D?"
"Dump city. Down the drain. Dah-dah, dah-dah, dat's all folks." Andy paced the room, shaking his shaggy head, disgusted sighs blowing through slack lips.
Will shifted on the sofa. "Can I ask you something?"
"I guess."
"Is your motivation right if you're helping out in hope of a reward? Wouldn't it be better to do it just because it's worth doing?"
Liza did a small jig step. Preach on. Bring him under conviction, send him out repentant, but at least send him out. A stray thought drew her up short as she stirred bacon grease into the beans. Was that the way she approached God, seeking to impress Him through her works? Troubled, she didn't yield the idea space. This was about Andy.
Andy appeared stung by the comment. "Are you a shrink or something? You need to mind your own business."
"You asked."
Andy stomped to the kitchen, squared off by her side. "I'm leaving now. I've busted my tail for you the past few days. And I don't appreciate the way you've treated me."
She stirred the beans, recalling her pledge to be a better person today. If not for instances like this, she might have a chance. "I'm sorry. I appreciate what you've done. But I didn't ask for your help."
Offense smeared Andy's face with anger. "Don't be counting on me to talk to my dad about your loan either."
Setting the spoon aside, she turned to face him, chin out. "I don't recall that I did. What kind of girl do you think I am?"
Andy leaned closer. "The same kind my dad says your mom was."
She stared at him as he stomped out of the house. The screen door slapping closed brought molten tears to her eyes. Snippets of similar comments in school raised fresh bruises. What did he mean about her mother? She braced against the sink. Severe loneliness carved a hole in her heart, pulled up a chair, joined by rejection.
Will walked into the kitchen, halted a step away. "Are you okay? I couldn't help overhearing. Anything you need to talk about?"
Turning, she stepped towards him, leaned her head against his chest. He held her lightly, absorbing her convulsive sobs. Five minutes later, she could speak again. "Like I told you, my mom ran off when I was two. I always thought it was because of me. But I found a letter in the box you brought down after the storm. She didn't run off because of me."
"That's good." He shifted his arms, maintained a polite distance, though his heat bridged the gap. The tender gesture liberated a savage yearning for him to draw her closer than skin.
"She had a one-night stand with somebody. When she was mad at my daddy. I was the result. My dad isn't my dad. And my mom hasn't been my mom for twenty years. I don't know to feel about her." She moved back a fraction, peered into his sympathetic eyes for any trace of acceptance. Fearing she might see rejection. "I don't know who I am. And I'm not sure I want to."
His blue eyes soaked u
p her pain and replaced it with hope. He smiled down at her, that same goofy yet enticing smile from days ago. "I do. Liza Hall. The most amazing farm girl I know."
Her insides trembled. Despite the grief that brought her into his arms, she didn't want this moment to end. "Can I ask you something? You've had scientific training, so you're logical and such. You could give an unbiased assessment of things."
"Sure."
She edged back a bit more, though not enough to break free from his embrace. "Are guys attracted to girls who don't know who their parents are? Orphans?"
He seemed flustered but recovered quickly. "Andy seemed attracted to you."
Her lips flinched. What about you? "For the wrong reasons. Now, if you can, be serious."
"I think so. And God doesn't have orphans. He has children."
Silent, she remained pressed against him. Felt his heartbeat. Heard hers. Minutes later, she stepped back. If this lasted any longer, the beans would be like her, burned beyond recognition. "I'm sorry for acting like such a...I don't know what."
"Like a human. Words hurt."
She looked up at him. "Like Dr. Will Kill?"
A wistful smile accompanied his soft chuckle. "Like Dr. Will Kill."
"I don't even want to show my face in town. I'll be staring at people to see who I favor."
She wiped her eyes with her hands, dried them on her apron. Cooking Up a Storm was emblazoned across the front. "Mucho thanks for the advice about Andy. It wasn't much worse than getting a nose job with a stump grinder."
She took Will's over-amped smile as an apology. "You didn't hear me say it'd be easy."
Green eyes rolled in mock agreement as she faced him. She tugged at the inside of her lips with her teeth. "Thanks for helping. It still beats tripping over him all day."
"I didn't do much."
Although impressed by his humility, being ignored as a woman was irritating. He could at least boost her self-esteem by appearing interested. A stray ogle would be nice. If he possessed the instincts of an action character, he would have already kissed her lips off during their embrace next to the kitchen sink. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
X's and O's (Will Kilpatrick, DVM Mystery Series Book 1) Page 22
