Another Chance

by Michelle Beattie

  "I swear if there were other places to drink, I wouldn't step foot in here," Steven grumbled.

  "She knows it," Bill said. "And she loves rubbing it our faces."

  "And now she's gone and made friends with the lady doctor."

  All eyes flew to Steven. He explained how Silver had helped Jillian the other day and how the two of them had gone to the saloon afterward.

  "Well it'll take more than a friend to keep her here. Have you heard of her getting any work?" Bill asked.

  "I haven't. But I know she did get to at least a few farms today," Robert said.

  Hell. That's all Steven needed, her going around making friends, making herself likable. He'd have a hell of a time getting her out of town if folks started to like her.

  "And?"

  Robert shrugged. "I can't speak for them all, but the ones I heard about didn't cotton to her being there and mostly told her to leave."

  "That's what I said when I found her at my place."

  Steven cut them a warning glance as Silver came back with their whiskeys. The sound of their coins jiggling in her hand was as irritating as her chuckle as she strolled away.

  "You told her to leave?" Bill asked as soon as Silver stepped far enough away.

  "I didn't have to. I gave her quite the fright when I arrived with some fresh meat. Then I told her what I'd do to any animal of mine that got sick."

  "You told her you'd kill it?" Steven asked, impressed with Harvey's gumption.

  Harvey took a drink, licked the moisture off his mustache. "I just told her I wouldn't be needing her services."

  Steven whistled, wishing he could have been there.

  "I don't think we have to worry too much. By now everyone's heard of Wade's cow dying. They won't be in any hurry to call on her," Bill said as he shuffled the cards. They snapped as he dealt each man five cards.

  "Still, dire situations sometimes make folks do drastic things. Look at Wade. We know he couldn't afford to call the vet but he did anyway. What if someone else finds themselves in a situation like that? Might be they'd end up calling on her."

  Steven had thought of the very same thing. It was like sitting on dynamite. Any minute there could be a real need for a vet and then where would they be? Forced to hand over their money to her the same way they were forced to patronize Silver's. Worse, Wade would once again be the damn savior.

  Over his Goddamn dead body!

  He signaled them to lean forward. "We can always encourage her into thinking that Cedar Springs isn't the best place for her."

  Justin frowned with understanding. "I'm not hurting a woman."

  "I'm not saying you have to hurt her. I'm just saying..."

  "That maybe we should show her that it would be in her best interest to mosey along?" Bill suggested.

  Harvey pulled in his cards, looked at them then tossed in his bet. "Sounds good to me."

  ***

  Jillian slid the barn door open and followed the sunbeam in. A firm thump came from her rabbit's cage when she stepped into his stall.

  "Now don't be rude, Whiskers, I'm bringing you a treat after all."

  Working around him, she replaced the soiled straw with clean bedding until the cage was clean. She'd picked some dandelions and placed them into the corner of the cage. He remained on the other end, his nose twitching madly.

  "One of these days you'll realize I mean you no harm."

  She'd barely turned her back before she heard him crunching the leaves. Smiling, Jillian grabbed her pitchfork with one hand and a handful of oats with the other before slipping into Hope's stall.

  "Morning, Angel. How was your night?" Hope nuzzled her shoulder, daintily took the handful of oats from Jillian's hand.

  "Once I get the chores done, we're going to town for a picnic. How does that sound?" Hope snuffled as though she thought it was a great idea.

  Humming as she worked, Jillian secured Zeke outside on the grass. By the time everyone was secure, fed, had clean, fresh water to drink and the barn stalls were clean, Jillian was dirty and smelled nearly as bad as the wheelbarrow full of soiled bedding. Once that was disposed of, she pumped two buckets of water and took them inside to wash.

  When she was cleaned and dressed, she strolled into the barn to fetch Hope's saddle.

  It wasn't there.

  She frowned, knowing she'd left it there last night. She looked around. The black halter and bridle were hanging on the same rusty nail they always were, the coarse brushes were side by side on the ledge of the dusty window. Even the saddle blanket her father had given her was draped on the rail, right next to where her saddle was kept.

  "Where is it?" she asked.

  Going stall to stall didn't produce any results either. It wasn't anywhere and it didn't make sense. She always put it in the same place. Could someone have stolen it?

  "But why?" she asked aloud.

  Though she would have been devastated had Hope been taken, it would have made more sense. She was a pretty little filly and worth much more than the saddle Jillian had used for years. Thinking she may as well check outside, though finding it there would make even less sense than having it stolen, Jillian stepped into the sunshine.

  It was a typical morning with birds flitting about, their songs joyous and carefree. The grass sparkled with the last of the dew and the sun warmed her face.

  She felt like a fool looking for a saddle in the long grass, especially when Zeke raised his head to watch, but she wouldn't be able to accept it had been stolen until she ensured it wasn't anywhere else.

  Having made a full circle around the barn, and of course finding nothing, Jillian shook her head. Then something caught her eye. There, straddling the railing of her porch, was her saddle. The brown leather shone with polish and the stirrups swayed gently from the brush of breeze. Stymied, she simply stood there. She knew she hadn't put it on the porch. Why in heaven would she unsaddle Hope then carry the saddle across the yard when it was simpler--and made more sense--to leave it next to her stall?

  Because she hadn't, she acknowledged with a sudden chill. Just as she knew it hadn't been there when she'd stepped from her house to do chores and neither had it been there when she'd come in to change. Her porch wasn't that big; there was no way she could have missed seeing it. Which meant the saddle was taken when she was inside the house and it was placed on the porch when she'd went in the barn to get Hope.

  Which meant it had all happened just moments ago.

  She swallowed the lump that came to her throat but couldn't repress the shiver that skidded up her spine and puckered her skin with gooseflesh. Were they in the house? In the trees? What did they want? And, dear Lord, were they armed?

  Well, if they were, she couldn't have presented an easier target standing there, unarmed and alone. While she didn't want to give whoever it was the satisfaction of seeing her afraid, she couldn't continue to stand there, completely vulnerable. But, should they be in her home, she couldn't go inside either.

  Spinning on her heel, she raced back to the barn. It wasn't much, but the pitchfork would have to do. Standing in the coolness of the barn, her neck damp with fear, Jillian took a moment to compose herself. Surely if they wanted to hurt her, they'd had the chance. Therefore, it must be scaring her they were after.

  "Well, they accomplished that," she muttered. But she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of cowering in her barn all day. Gripping the fork, she went back outside, her gaze hunting the tree line.

  Nothing moved but the silvery leaves and the grass, which swayed peacefully in the wind. Her yard was empty. No curtains moved inside the house. The thought of going inside knowing someone could easily be waiting inside made her shudder.

  But she had to do something. Snapping her spine, she marched to the porch. Her heart thudded louder than her boots on the dirt. The closer she came to the house, the higher she drew the fork. When she reached the porch, the sharp smell of oil grabbed her around the throat. She kept her tack in great condition, but she hadn
't polished her things since arriving in Cedar Springs. With a trembling hand she traced her finger down the center of the saddle.

  She yanked her hand back. The polish was fresh. Still managing to stand despite her jelly-like knees, she struggled to make sense of it. On the surface, it wasn't a threat. A farce maybe, someone playing with her, but Jillian couldn't help but feel it was more menacing than that. Whoever had done this was letting her know that if they could get this close to her without her knowing, they could do worse.

  Her eyes focused on the saddle again and she forced herself to calm down. She could do one of two things, tuck her tail and hide or hold her ground. Had she really come all this way only to wilt now?

  Jillian set the fork aside, picked up the smooth saddle and stepped off the porch.

  She had a church picnic to get to, after all.

  NINE

  The church was on the far edge of town, a stone's throw from the boardinghouse. The grassy area surrounding the small, whitewashed building buzzed with activity. Children dashed here and there, their mothers' arms raised high so their pies and cakes wouldn't get knocked to the ground.

  Tables bulged with baking, needlework items and quilts for sale. In the shade of the church, more tables were weighed down with food for the afternoon meal.

  A group of men talked in the shadow of a large weeping willow. More were busy setting up games for the children, who, in their excitement, ran around and yelled for the adults to hurry. There were people everywhere. Coming from a large city, Jillian was used to crowds, but this was different. In a large city nobody paid her any attention.

  Here, everyone knew each other. Here, she was an outsider. Feeling it, along with several stares directed her way, she lingered over securing Hope.

  "You really like animals, don't you?"

  Recognizing the voice, Jillian turned to Wade's daughter. Like the first time she'd seen the girl, Annabelle had her hair in two tight braids and those blue eyes of hers latched fearlessly onto Jillian's.

  "Yes, I do."

  "I like horses best. Cows stink."

  Jillian laughed. "I supposed so."

  "You don't think so?" Her eyes widened as though she couldn't imagine such a thing.

  "Well, yes. But all animals smell, really."

  "Nothing as bad as them cows," Annabelle said. "If all animals stink, then why'd you become a doctor for them?"

  "Because I don't mind the smell, really. And because I like being around them."

  The girl smiled, revealing gaps where she'd lost a few teeth. "I bet they're quieter, too. Not like people. Some just talk and talk. Like me, I guess. Grandma says I can talk the bark off trees some days."

  "Hey, Annabelle! Come on! It's your turn to count."

  Annabelle looked away from Jillian long enough to yell back at the boy Jillian recognized from the feed mill. "I gotta go," she said, turning her attention back to Jillian. "Boys don't like waiting on girls. Bye!"

  And with that, the child ran off to join her friends. Jillian figured it was time she joined the group as well.

  The few women who were standing at the food table scattered as Jillian approached. Nevertheless, she smiled as they looked back over their shoulders at her. The sting of their rebuff was soon forgotten when she reached the fancy pastries and treats that had been brought. The smell of cinnamon, lemon and berries hovered over the table.

  "Go ahead, take one. I won't tell anybody."

  Jillian turned around, a smile upon her face

  "I'm afraid if I start, Letty, I won't be able to stop. It all looks and smells so delicious."

  Letty eyed Jillian's small waist and harrumphed. "Jillian, you could eat the whole table and it wouldn't show. Me? One look at these sweets and my hips can barely squeeze through a door. Not that Mr. Daniels minds," she added with a wink and a pat to her hip.

  "I haven't met him yet, is he here?"

  "John? He's over there getting the sack races ready. Honestly, sometimes that man is more of a child than the children."

  But the loving smile as she watched her husband take off after a squealing boy who'd stolen a sack said she didn't mind one bit.

  "Hello, Letty."

  Jillian recognized the woman from her first trip to town. She'd arrived just as Letty was helping Jillian with the last of her purchases. The woman's mouth was as pinched as the last time Jillian had seen it.

  "Angela," Letty smiled despite the woman's frown. "Have you been introduced to Jillian yet? Jillian Matthews, meet Angela Hollingsworth. Angela runs the boardinghouse. Angela, Jillian is our new veterinarian."

  "Yes, I know." Mrs. Hollingsworth set down her cloth-covered contribution next to the others. "Good day, Letty."

  "Is she always so rude?" Jillian asked.

  "Mostly. She's stiffer than an over-starched shirt. Always wants to be called Mrs. Hollingsworth. I make it a habit to address her by her first name. She hates it," Letty answered with a mischievous grin.

  Eileen joined them and pulled Jillian into a hug. "Jillian, I'm so glad you could make it."

  "Did you come alone?" Letty asked Eileen as she moved behind the table where she sorted the pastries. Pies went to the right, cakes and cookies in the middle and bread to the left.

  "You know Wade, he hasn't been to a picnic since...well, he doesn't care for it," she added with a sad smile. "I brought Annabelle along; she's been nagging me since breakfast so we came a little early. I imagine Scott will come, though, once the baskets are all through and he figures it's safe to come without being wheedled into bidding."

  "Bidding on baskets?"

  "Every year the unmarried women make up picnic baskets and the single men bid on them. The money raised goes to the church, but that's not the reason they are so successful. The picnic draws men from all over, hoping to meet their future wives." Letty looked puzzled. "I'm surprised you didn't know about that. Eileen said she'd tell you."

  Eileen coughed, tugged on her blouse, and toyed with the strings on her bonnet. "I was going to. I'm sorry, Jillian. I plumb forgot to tell you that you should bring a basket."

  "You forgot? You said you were going to ride over and-"

  "Letty, you're making Jillian feel badly."

  "What? No, I'm-"

  "Good afternoon Eileen, Letty. And who might this lass be?"

  Jillian had been so busy trying to understand the conversation that she hadn't noticed the man approach.

  He was very tall. His dark black hair sprouted a tuft of white directly above his forehead. Creases fanned from the corner of his eyes when he smiled and Jillian saw nothing in their sky-blue depths but gentleness. The white band at his throat immediately set her at ease. And the Irish lilt to his voice captivated her.

  "Reverend Donnelly, this is Jillian Matthews."

  "And so we meet at last. How are you finding our fair town, Jillian?"

  Since she wasn't about to tell the preacher that most of the folks she'd met so far were close-minded and rude, and since she couldn't lie to him either, she simply said, "It's a lovely town."

  "A good way to meet people, Miss Matthews, is Sunday service which is at ten every Sunday," he added with a knowing wink. "Ah, look. Terribly sorry, ladies, but I'm being called over. Enjoy your day."

  He strolled off, and Jillian couldn't help smiling after him.

  "He's not very subtle, but he's a great preacher. You'd like him. Well, I'm thirsty. Let's get some lemonade and sit down."

  Several conversations hushed as they walked past. Despite that, Jillian made a point of looking at folks and nodding her head in greeting. At a distance from where the children raced about, where they could converse without screaming at each other or being overheard by the busybodies, the three of them sat and enjoyed their drinks.

  Jillian took a sip of the juice, which was liberally laced with sugar and watched the children run about. Wagons pulled up steadily. Children jumped over the edge before their fathers had set the brake. With a wave of their hands, ignoring their mothers' w
arnings that they remain clean and out of trouble, they blended into the growing cluster of rambunctious bodies.

  "Oh, to have that much energy again." Letty sighed wistfully.

  Eileen smiled at her, placed her half empty glass down on the grass. "And what would you do if you had it?"

  "Well, I suppose that would depend on if John had as much." The grin Letty shot them equaled that of a child ready to create mayhem.

  Eileen shook her head, obviously used to her friend's openness. "Tell me, Jillian, have you been called on since the ranch?"

  Jillian sighed. "Not yet. I did ride around to a few farms, tried to introduce myself. For the most part I was practically run off."

  Their disappointment was clear in their frowns, but it was only half of what Jillian felt. She'd come across the country to be a vet. It wasn't a matter of lack of work. Doc Fletcher had said in his advertisement that there was a great need. And having ridden around, she knew she was surrounded by farmers and ranchers. No, need wasn't the problem. Her being a woman was.

  "It just burns my goat!" Letty said, finishing her glass of lemonade in one swallow. "If you were a man, they'd be lining up at your door."

  "I know," Jillian agreed. Her gaze drifted over the crowd. As expected, several women were staring at her as they participated in closed-circle discussions. Most looked away the moment Jillian saw them.

  Past them, where the men were gathered, Jillian saw Steven with a handful of men, most she recognized as merchants in town. The one, the trapper, had her shuddering as she remembered his bloody hands.

  Unlike the women who looked away when Jillian caught them staring, Steven was far bolder. His unblinking stare held Jillian's, until, feeling disconcerted, she broke contact.

  "Grandma!" Annabelle ran over, eyes bright as the sky. She flopped onto the ground next to Eileen.

  Eileen's smile was soft and full of love as she took her granddaughter's hand. "What's got you so excited?"

  "I was hiding behind that tree," Annabelle pointed to the tall willow Steven and his friends were gathered underneath, "and I overheard Mr. Garvey. He's blaming Pa for us having a woman vet and wants to have a meeting right away. Tomorrow morning." Blue eyes latched onto Jillian's. "He really hates you," Annabelle added with a whisper, "and he wants you out of our town."