Heart of a Cowboy

by Kristin Vayden

  “Got it. Comb and clip. I can do that. Well, it was nice…to see you.” She slowed the words at the end.

  “Ha, yeah. We’ll just pretend that’s true. At least life was more interesting, huh?” he teased, chuckling.

  “Interesting. For sure, it was interesting. We’ll see you then.” She lifted her cup in a quick salute and then shifted her glance to her friend. “Zip it, lock it, put it in your pocket.” Laken tossed an imaginary key back to the barista.

  “Yes, Mother,” Kessed remarked, smirking.

  With a narrowed gaze, Laken slowly opened the door once more then left.

  “Gah, I thought she’d never leave. Okay, cowboy. What gives?” The barista wagged her eyebrows and leaned her elbows across the counter, still wearing that smirk.

  Cyler glanced to her nametag. “What do you mean, Kessed?”

  “You, her, the tension.” She waved her hand in the air and stood straight. “Nothing? Am I totally off-base?”

  Cyler felt a tick in his jaw, his spine stiffening at her intrusion into his personal life. “And why the hell do you think I’m going to say anything to you?”

  “You don’t have to.” She shrugged. “Guess I misread something. Or you’re just scared. Yeah, I’m betting on scared. Okay, that’s all I needed. Have a good day.” She turned and walked toward the room in the back.

  Cyler blinked then narrowed his eyes. “What the hell? Who do you think you are?”

  Kessed paused before turning slowly. All traces of teasing gone. “I’m her best friend. And with Sterling away in Afghanistan, I’m the next best thing to looking out for her.” She sighed. “Laken is used to rescuing people, helping them, giving everything she has with her whole heart. I just want to make sure you’re not playing games with that same heart. We clear?”

  He glanced away from her intense gaze, sliding his empty hand in his pocket. “Damn it all, I’ve been here one day. You’re crazy!”

  She gave a harsh laugh. “You have no idea. So, don’t mess with me. Mmm-kay? After all, sometimes it only takes one look. One day is more than enough to start something.” She took a deep breath then flipped her long black braid behind her shoulder. “Enjoy your coffee.” And with a tight smile, she disappeared into the back room.

  He watched as the swinging door moved back and forth then rubbed the back of his neck, glaring at his coffee cup. “So much for my morning.” He sighed deeply and strode to the door. The dry summer air was a welcome distraction from the way his mind was spinning. It was crazy, insane, utterly loco for him to even consider half of what that crazy female ranted on about, yet what she said about Laken rang so true it was startling.

  And it made so much sense.

  That was why she was good at her job.

  It was also why he needed to stay away.

  Because what Kessed said was true. One look could start something; one look had. And he’d been denying it, distracting himself from it, lying to himself ever since he’d first seen her at the ranch. He wasn’t what Laken needed, and he could see that she was a good person and deserved better than what he had to offer, even on his best day.

  And she most certainly hadn’t seen him on that best day, rather on one of the worst.

  As he crossed the street then climbed into his pickup, he was thankful for the distraction of work. There was always something that needed doing, always something to distract him, something he could build with his own two hands and have it stand the test of time.

  Relationships were never as reliable.

  Chapter 10

  The ranch felt different. Cyler had only been gone for a few days, yet it felt as if he’d created a hole in the fabric of the house, even though he’d only been there for a short time.

  Laken shifted the load of laundry to her hip and walked out into the living room, giving Jack a quick smile before setting the basket on the sofa. The on-call nurse would be stopping by later to meet Jack, and Laken wanted to get a few things done before she arrived.

  “Sit down for a spell, honey. You’re workin’ too hard.”

  Laken rolled her eyes. “I’m running out of things to keep me busy, more like it.”

  Jack chuckled then glanced to his phone. Did he realize that he’d been watching it closely? Was it all subconscious? His weathered hands slid up and down his denim-covered thighs. The movement gave away how tense he’d become. That Cyler hadn’t tried to contact Jack was obviously wearing on him.

  The doorbell rung, and Jack grumbled. “I don’t want to meet her.”

  “She’s going to be taking care of you if I’m out for a few hours.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can, but think of it this way, you’re getting your money’s worth, alright?” Laken gave him a wink and strode to the door.

  Paige was waiting with a small smile. Her salt and pepper hair was cut in a short bob and her gray eyes danced with warmth. “Hey, Laken.”

  “Hi Paige, come in.” Laken moved to the side, and Paige strode in, her iPad tucked under her arm.

  “Do you have any questions concerning Jack’s information that I sent?” Laken asked as they walked down the hall.

  “Seems pretty straight forward.” Paige nodded.

  “I hear you talking about me.” Jack called out as they approached the living room.

  “Hello Mr. Myer, I’m Paige Langston.” She held out her hand, offering Jack a warm grin.

  “Nice to meet you.” Jack shook her hand.

  “I’m going to familiarize Paige with the house and where I’m keeping the medical supplies should she need to access them. We’ll be right back.”

  In short work, Laken had showed Paige everything she needed and was soon waving goodbye as she drove away. Laken closed the front door and strode to the living room. The TV echoed down the hall, the announcer narrating about a strike out.

  Jack was in his chair, his shoulders tense as he stared at his phone again.

  “Who’s playing?” Laken asked, trying to distract him.

  “Who? Oh, uh, it’s the Mariners. Losing.” He clicked off the TV. “You know what, honey? I’m going to take a short nap. Why don’t you go and love on Margaret when you’re finished with that? Maybe take her out for a walk. She was nickering this morning. She’s bored.” He gave a stunted smile then slowly rose from his chair.

  Laken watched, observing the hesitant movements. His skin had taken on a slightly yellower hue, and she’d noticed this morning that the whites of his eyes were a bit discolored. His breathing treatments were still effective, but she knew they were simply a Band-Aid, and soon they’d need to be increased. Thankfully, he’d started to sleep better at night, but that was the nature of the beast. At first, sleep was hard, then as the cancer progressed, the demand for sleep would increase, till finally the patient was bedridden. Tears pricked at her eyes, thinking about Jack in that final state. A man who was so strong, had done everything for himself with his own two hands, bedridden and relying on her help for each basic need. It tore at her.

  But that was life and death, at least with cancer. But that’s also why she was so devoted to her job, to the people she served. Jack deserved to pass knowing he was in good hands, and she was blessed to have those hands be hers. She glanced from the pile of laundry to the door then back. It could wait.

  She stopped in the kitchen to pull out a few sugar cubes she’d purchased at the grocery store a day before and slid them into her back pocket. The sunshine was welcome on her face as she opened the door and started toward the barn. The warm breeze teased a few wisps of hair that were free of her messy bun and tickled her face. Smiling to herself, she kicked a bit of the dust and watched it as the wind carried it away. The wide barn door squeaked a bit as she slid it open and strode inside.

  “Hey girl.”

  Laken glanced to Margaret’s stall, but the mare di
dn’t welcome her. Rather, she heard a low nicker. Frowning, Laken jogged to the stall. Margaret was lying down, her head arching as she thrashed at her stomach. When she caught sight of Laken, she tried to get up only to roll back to her side and groan, huffing out a sigh that blew away some of the chaff from her hay beside her head.

  “Margaret, what’s wrong?” Laken opened the gate and walked inside, kneeling beside the mare and stroking her neck. “You’re sick, aren’t you?” She studied the mare from head to tail, looking for an injury. Her stomach looked slightly bloated, but there weren’t any other signs of trauma. Rubbing the horse’s nose, she pulled out a sugar cube with her other hand and offered it.

  Margaret sniffed at the treat but didn’t take it. Whinnying, she laid her head down. A moment later, she thrashed again, kicking her legs, and Laken stumbled back, getting out of the way of the hooves.

  “Whoa, girl. Easy.” Laken slowly stood and left the stall. Her brow creased as she started to walk back toward the house then picked up her pace to a run. She opened the door quickly and jogged down the hall. “Jack? Jack!” She knocked on his door.

  “Huh? What? Come in.”

  She heard his groggy voice and opened the door. He was blinking at her from his bed, his brow furrowing immediately as he gave her a look.

  “It’s Margaret. I think she’s sick.” Laken’s heart pinched as she watched Jack’s color grow ashen. But a moment later, he sat up, his eyes sharp. “What’s she doing?”

  “Thrashing, lying down, not eating sugar.” She gave the rundown of her symptoms.

  “Damn it. Sounds like colic. You gotta call Vince. He’s the vet and farrier who’s supposed to be coming tomorrow. Tell him it’s an emergency and that Margaret’s down. He’ll know what to do. In the meantime, try to get her up. Pull on that halter and don’t let her give you any excuses. She stays down, she dies. Do you hear me, girl?” Jack’s eyes bored into her.

  Laken nodded.

  “Call Vince first. I’ll head out there and help you get that bitch to stand. She’s going to be stubborn. I’ll tell you that much.”

  “Jack, you can’t.” Laken took a step forward. “She was thrashing hard. If I hadn’t moved, she would’ve kicked me. If she kicks you…” Laken let the implication linger. Jack wouldn’t just get hurt; it could kill him. He wouldn’t heal; he wouldn’t survive a broken rib or leg. Cancer had a way of making bones far more brittle than people expected.

  “I let you boss me around plenty, girl. This is one area I’m going to be as stubborn as Margaret. That horse is the best thing in my damn life, and I’m going to help her.” He growled, rising from bed with determination rather than strength.

  “Let’s just call Vince first, okay? Maybe he’s nearby.” Without waiting for a reply, she rushed to the kitchen and grabbed her phone, thankful that the man’s number would be in her phone’s history from calling to set up the appointment yesterday.

  She quickly pressed send and held her breath as it rang. “Jack, you better be staying there.”

  “To hell with it all!” he replied, and she heard the door slam.

  “Hello?” A man answered, and Laken sighed in relief.

  “Hello, Vince? This is Laken Garlington. I’m Mr. Jack Myer’s nurse. We spoke yesterday about a shodding appointment for Margaret. She’s sick, and we need you to come immediately. Jack say’s its colic,” she gushed out, not giving the man a chance to reply.

  “I see, uh. I’m actually here at the Wilson’s farm down the street. I’m in the middle of a calving that’s going sideways. My nephew is putting chains on the calf as we speak, and I’m prepping to assist with this delivery, and then I have one more that’s just as bad. It will be about an hour tops though. Just—” He shouted something to someone. “Just keep her upright. Don’t let her lie down, ’kay? That’s what’s most important. And tell Jack to keep his sorry ass out of that barn. He’s going to get himself killed. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  The line went dead, and Laken closed her eyes. She didn’t know much about colic for horses, but she did know that an hour was more than enough time for Jack to get himself in trouble.

  She looked at her phone then to the barn. She opened her history once more and scrolled through the past week. Her finger hovered above the phone number she shouldn’t call. Biting her lip, she pressed the number and closed her eyes, waiting as the phone rang.

  “CC Homes.”

  “Cyler? It’s Margaret.” She didn’t say anything else, just waited.

  “Wait, say what? Who is this?”

  Laken slowly released her lip. “It’s me, Laken. Margaret has colic, and, uh, I need help. I don’t know what to do, and the vet can’t be here for at least an hour, probably more and—”

  “Give me twenty minutes.” The line went dead.

  Laken sighed in relief, thankful that help was on the way. She placed her phone on the counter and ran to the door. She wrenched it open and ran across the gravel drive till she reached the barn. Jack’s yelling filled her ears before she made it to the door.

  “C’mon, you lazy son of a bitch, get up!” Jack was tugging on her halter, pulling Margret’s head, and the horse wasn’t moving an inch. “Get in here, girl. She needs some help.” His breathing was labored, and Laken rushed forward to the stall.

  “Let me try.” She reached for the halter, and Jack gave it up willingly, stepping back and leaning against the barn wall, his breathing still irregular.

  “Rest.” She speared him with a gaze and leaned down to stroke the mare’s face. “C’mon, Margaret, let’s get up, shall we? It’s not too hard. You’re so strong. You’ve got this,” Laken crooned, rubbing Margaret’s soft muzzle. Grasping the lead rope, she placed a hand under the mare’s chin at her halter and gave a tug.

  Margaret lifted her head and moved so that her feet were tucked beneath her, her head up.

  “So far so good.”

  “I got her that far, then she just wouldn’t budge and collapsed back down. The thing with colic is that her insides are all twisted, and if we can get her to stand and walk around, it helps things move through a bit better. But if she just lies down, the twist will kill her.” Jack spoke softly, his breathing growing more consistent.

  “Well, we can’t have that,” Laken replied, patting Margaret’s head once more and grasping beneath her halter again. “Let’s go!” She tugged, lifting as she stood, and Margaret huffed, rising up on her front legs. “C’mon, baby, you can do it.” Laken groaned, pulling up on the halter.

  “C’mon, girl!” Jack called.

  Margaret started to tuck her back legs and rise, then with a mighty huff, she collapsed; her head rested on the straw, her big brown eyes blinking slowly as if giving up.

  “No, Margaret, don’t do that.” Laken sat beside the mare, stroking her nose once more.

  “We’ll, that’s farther than I got. When did Vince say he’d be here?” The sound of straw rustling alerted her of his movement from the barn wall.

  “An hour. Maybe more? I’m not sure. He’s helping with a couple of calving’s, one gone sideways, whatever that means.”

  “Damn.” He sighed, crouching beside her. “Would be nice to have Cyler here.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “Words I never thought I’d utter. And if you ever tell him, I’ll deny it.” He gave her a mock glare.

  “Well, uh, that’s good because I-I called him.” Laken glanced away to the mare, waiting.

  “Meddlesome female.” Jack swore under his breath. “I’ll never live this down.” He stood.

  “I figured he was attached to the horse and—”

  “But that didn’t give you the right to call him, Laken!” Jack’s voice rose, and Laken turned her head to watch him kick the stall door open and storm out, swearing a blue streak with each step.

  The sound of gravel crunching made Laken wince. Unless she was lucky, th
at wasn’t the vet. It was Cyler.

  “Aw hell, speak of the devil, and he shall appear.” Jack groaned and marched right back into the barn.

  Definitely not the vet.

  A few moments later, Laken watched as Cyler strode into view; her gaze greedily took in the sight of him, knowing it was a foolish thing to do, but helpless to stop it. His jeans were faded and dusty, the blue more brown over the front of his thighs down to his shins; his boots were covered with a powdery dust that settled off him with each step. Blue eyes met hers, sending a shiver down her spine and pooling in her belly as she watched him quickly pace toward them. He gave a curt nod then slid his gaze to Jack.

  Laken tensed, wondering just what fireworks were about to be set off. Jack was like a spring bear. Between the stress about Margaret and the arrival of Cyler, it could be interesting. Of course, that Cyler all but hated Jack only added gasoline to the already-smoldering fire.

  “How long?” Cyler asked, turning to Jack, and tucking his hands in his pockets, and he waited.

  Jack narrowed his eyes, his shoulders tense as if spoiling for a fight.

  At that moment, Margaret whinnied. It was a shrill noise, and both men’s stares cut to the mare.

  Laken quickly knelt beside her, patting her neck, then looked back to the men.

  Jack sighed, his body sagging with defeat. “Not sure, Cyler. Laken, she was fine last night?” he asked.

  “She wasn’t overly hungry, but she ate her hay. It was this afternoon that I noticed her lying down.” Laken regarded both men.

  Cyler nodded, his lips set in a grim line. “Well then, we best get started.” He strode toward Margaret’s stall while unbuttoning his sleeves, then rolling them up, displaying his chiseled forearms and tattoo.