Long Shot

by D. Jackson Leigh

  Leah scowled. “How bad can it be if you didn’t even know you were hit?”

  “I could be in shock.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. You aren’t even bleeding that badly. I’ve seen gunshot wounds before, and they bleed a lot more than this. Maybe a nail snagged you in the barn.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll just have to let my doctor figure that out.”

  Jimmy was looking worried now. “Uh, Doc? You sure you want to do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Go to the hospital.” Jimmy shuffled his feet. “What I mean is, if you see a doctor, and they dig some pellets out of your backside, I’ll have to write a report and arrest Mrs. Montgomery.”

  “Arrest Gram? Oh, no, Jimmy.” Leah turned on Tory. “I can’t believe you would have a sweet old lady arrested and booked like a common criminal just because you came out here and scared her to death.”

  “Leah.” Jimmy grabbed her by the arm and pulled her several paces away. He spoke urgently, low enough that Tory couldn’t make out what he was saying.

  She limped over to the back of her truck and opened the cabinet containing her medical supplies. Pulling out a small mirror, she held it behind her to see just how much blood she was losing. She glanced at Jimmy and Leah.

  Leah stared at the ground, blinking as she listened to what he was saying. After a moment, she nodded, then headed toward Tory.

  She didn’t speak at first. They just stood and watched Jimmy put the gun in his car and carry Leah’s groceries into the house. Tory didn’t plan to make this easy for her. She waited until Leah finally cleared her throat and spoke.

  “Look, I’m really sorry. Gram, well, her dementia is getting much worse. Some mornings she doesn’t even recognize me at first. I didn’t know she had a gun in the house.”

  Leah’s rich, lilting accent flowed like honey when she pronounced words like shoo-gur. When she nervously ran her fingers through her shoulder-length brown hair, Tory noticed the way the sun glinted off the blond highlights.

  “Do you think maybe we could take a look and see how bad you’re hurt? I…I don’t know that Gram could handle being taken down to the police station. Unfamiliar places freak her out. I would really appreciate it. I, um, sent Jimmy into the house, so maybe…” Leah gestured toward Tory’s backside.

  This certainly was a change from her earlier cocky attitude, but Tory could see the flash of real fear in Leah’s darting brown eyes. She slowly pulled a bloody calendar from her back pocket and laid it on the bumper. A pellet was imbedded in its pages and two more holes had pierced it. That put the snagged-on-a-nail theory to rest.

  Tory hesitated.

  “I’m a girl, too, you know.”

  “Yeah. I sort of noticed.”

  “Don’t be bashful, Doc. Drop ’em.”

  Tory obediently turned and lowered her jeans.

  “Oh, my.”

  “Is it that bad?” Tory grabbed the mirror again to see for herself.

  “No-o-o-o. In fact, that’s a cute little tush you’ve got there, Doc.”

  “For Christ’s sake.”

  “But I’m afraid that little leprechaun tattooed on your cheek may be mortally wounded.”

  Tory felt a blush rise up her neck. “It seemed like a good idea when I was a drunk undergrad at Notre Dame,” she muttered, handing Leah a gauze pad soaked with hydrogen peroxide.

  “I’ll just bet. A good Catholic girl, huh?”

  Tory ignored the question as Leah carefully wiped the blood away with the gauze.

  “It got you in two places, but looks like the pellets are just under the skin and the bleeding has pretty much stopped.”

  “Christ. I’ll have to go to the hospital. Those pellets have to come out or they’ll get infected.”

  “Don’t you have all the stuff here in your truck that a doctor has?”

  “Yeah, but I can’t exactly see my backside to dig them out.”

  “Maybe I can do it. I can feel them right under the skin.”

  Tory closed her eyes for a prayerful moment, then held on to her pants with one hand while she used the other to dig a bottle of numbing agent and a syringe out of the truck’s supplies.

  “I’m not letting you do this while I can still feel it.” She drew the liquid into the syringe with a practiced hand. “Take that cotton and soak it with the iodine-looking stuff in that bottle. Swab the area really well. Gently.”

  When Leah was done, Tory handed her the syringe.

  “What do you want me to do with this?”

  “I want you to stick it just under the skin around the entry wounds. Push the plunger slowly. It stings less that way.”

  “Can’t I just kiss it and make it better?”

  Tory rolled her eyes.

  “Okay. I can do this. I’ve jumped out of airplanes and eaten bugs in the desert just to get a story. I can stick this needle in your butt.”

  Resting her head against the truck, Tory tried to concentrate on relaxing her hip and waited.

  “I can’t do it.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t do it?”

  “I can’t stick this needle into your skin. I just can’t do it.”

  Tory thumped her head against the truck several times in exasperation. “This is ridiculous. I’ll go to the emergency room. Then Gram goes to jail, gets a big butch girlfriend, a prison tattoo, and starts chain-smoking. Ow!”

  “Guess I can do this.”

  “Geez, that stings. Slowly, push the plunger slowly.”

  “Sorry, sorry. You need to relax. Your glutes are hard as a rock. That makes it harder to stick the needle in.”

  Tory sighed in relief when her hip was thoroughly numb, and Leah handed the syringe back. She filled another with antiseptic and handed Leah a hemostat clamp.

  “Stick this clamp into the entry wound until you feel the pellet. Close the clamp around it and pull it out. Then take this syringe, stick it in the hole, and flush it out really well.”

  “Are you sure you can’t feel this?”

  “I can’t feel a thing.”

  “Okay. Here goes.”

  Tory closed her eyes and tried to stay relaxed until she heard the plunk of a pellet on the top of the cabinet next to her.

  “I dated a medical student once who used clamps like this as roach clips when she smoked pot,” Leah said absently as she worked.

  At the sound of a second plunk, Tory opened her eyes. She handed Leah a gauze bandage and some tape to secure it, then waited for permission to pull her pants up and regain her dignity.

  “Well, it wasn’t brain surgery, but I think the leprechaun will live,” Leah announced.

  “Thanks,” Tory muttered.

  When she looked up, Leah was staring at her.

  “What?”

  “Your eyes are the same green as the tattoo on your butt.”

  “I’m not sure how to take that.”

  Leah was dismissive. “It’s just an observation. It doesn’t mean anything. I’m a journalist. That’s what I do. I observe things.”

  Tory began to fill more syringes with medication and hand them one by one to Leah.

  “Then you can observe and assist while I finish examining the horses.” After a few quick vaccination injections and drawing blood, Tory pulled her clipboard from the truck and started a record for the horses.

  “Next time, will you call me before you come out? I didn’t even know Gram had made an appointment with you.”

  “She didn’t.”

  Realization dawned in Leah’s eyes as she apparently thought back at what Jimmy had said about Animal Control, and her face flushed with anger.

  “You did come here to take her horses, didn’t you?”

  “The county asked me to make sure they weren’t being neglected. It’s a good thing they did. The pony is developing a dangerous case of founder. You need to get him off that pasture, and I’ll leave you an anti-inflammatory that you can give him in a handful of grain every day. All three horses seem
to be in good condition, but the county requires that they be vaccinated.”

  “That’s a pretty sweet deal for you, isn’t it? Business gets slow and all you have to do is get them to send you out. You line your pockets by probably overcharging some poor old lady for vaccinations just because she can’t find her records. Do you have to give the county a kickback or do you get to keep all the money? Maybe I should charge you for picking buckshot out of your butt.”

  “Then I guess you’d have to explain to the court why you were performing unlicensed surgery.” Tory calmly handed the sheet she had been filling out to Leah. “The work I do for the county is pro bono. So, no, there is no kickback.”

  Leah stared at the paper. It was a record of the vaccinations for each horse with a zero balance in the “amount owed” column. Without a word, she marched over to her Jeep, grabbed a small travel pillow, and marched back. Tory barely caught the pillow when it hit her in the chest.

  “For the leprechaun,” Leah growled before she stomped into the house.

  Chapter Two

  At her next stop, Tory pulled the equipment she would need from the backseat of her truck and headed for the barn. This was one of her biggest accounts, next to the Cherokee Falls Equestrian Center. It was also one of her favorites.

  She called out to locate the barn’s owner as she entered the cool interior of the breeding facility, but a loud whinny answered her instead.

  A large, burly man emerged from the barn office. “How come he never acts that glad to see me?”

  “Because you aren’t always carrying an artificial vagina under your arm,” Tory said.

  Carl Haskel laughed. “You’re right about that, Doc. I’m glad you could work us in today. I’ve got a dozen orders for Trojan’s little golden swimmers and not enough in the freezer to fill them all.”

  “Let’s get to work then,” she replied, thankful that her hip was still numb.

  The mare brought in to tease the stallion was in full season, so Trojan reached erection quickly. Carl led the teaser away as Tory sprinkled some of the mare’s hormone-filled urine onto a padded breeding dummy and led the stallion to it. Trojan mounted the dummy easily and Tory quickly shoved his penis into the artificial vagina to collect his ejaculate. She nodded approvingly as she held up the collection container. “Man, this guy puts out a lot. I can see why he’s your moneymaker.”

  While Carl put the now-docile stallion in his stall, Tory stepped into the next room that served as a small lab. She made a quick slide of the sperm they had collected and shoved it under a microscope.

  “Yep, this is a great sample,” she told Carl when he returned. “I should charge you a percentage of what you make off Trojan instead of my flat fee for giving him a hand job. You can probably breed ten mares with this one ejaculation.”

  Carl shook his head and began dividing the sperm into tubes he would label and cool for shipping. His wife, Cheryl, appeared in the doorway.

  “Hey, girl. I saw your truck come by the house. How’d it go?”

  The Haskels were more than just clients. She counted them as friends. “Trojan was great, as usual. This should more than take care of the orders you have waiting.”

  “You’re not in a hurry, are you?”

  “I’m always in a hurry and constantly behind schedule.”

  “Then tell me quickly what you’ve been up to.” Cheryl pulled a bottle of water from the fridge while Tory cleaned her equipment in the sink. “Who are you dating?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t have time for dating right now.”

  “How are you ever going to settle down and give your mother grandchildren if you don’t date?”

  “You’ve been talking to her again.”

  “I might have seen her in the grocery store.” Cheryl’s eyes gleamed. “My cousin just moved here to teach at the college.”

  “Cheryl, no. I can understand why my mother pesters me, but I don’t understand why you’re so interested in my love life.”

  “I’m practicing for when my daughter is old enough. My cousin could use someone to show her around town.”

  “You can show her around town yourself.”

  “What else do you have to do?”

  “I’m loaded down with work.” Tory cupped her hand and demonstrated an up-and-down motion. “Lots more hand jobs to give.”

  Carl chuckled.

  Cheryl wasn’t that easily put off the subject. “You’d make some girl a really nice partner. You’re good-looking and own a successful business.”

  “Yes, Yenta, but does she have a dowry?” Tory said with an affected accent. Fiddler on the Roof was one of her favorite musicals, but right now she felt like she was starring in it.

  “I’m serious.” Cheryl studied Tory. “You need to stop hanging out with Skyler Reese. She goes through girls like a kid through candy. People who don’t know you might think you’re the same way because you run around with her.”

  “Now you really sound like my mother. Let me reiterate. I’m too busy keeping my practice profitable. Anyway, Skyler isn’t running around anymore. She’s been off the market for a while now.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I guess I can stop dreaming about that threesome now,” Carl said.

  “As if,” Cheryl said, punching him hard on his big shoulder.

  “Yep. Jessica has her locked up tight.”

  “Kate Parker’s Jessica? The one Sky was training?”

  “That would be the one. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard.” Cherokee Falls really wasn’t that small, but the horse community was when it came to keeping anything private.

  “Well, I don’t exactly travel in your circles. I can’t believe you haven’t told me before now.”

  Tory laughed. “I’m your vet, not your gossip columnist.”

  “If Skyler can settle down, then you can, too.”

  “Go play matchmaker with some friends who play on your team—straight girls.”

  “Are you saying I should treat you differently because you’re gay?”

  Carl jumped in. “Your team wants the same legal right to marriage. You should also have to endure the meddling from friends and relatives that goes along with it.”

  Cheryl cast a sideways glare at him. He shrugged off her look, and she turned her attention back to Tory.

  “My cousin is up at the house. She’s staying with us until she finds a place of her own.”

  “No.”

  “She’s really pretty.”

  Tory collected her equipment and waved as she backed out of the room to escape from Cheryl. “Gotta go.”

  Just as she whirled to head out the door, she smacked into a warm body, sending the person and the equipment in Tory’s hands flying. She blinked at the woman sprawled on the barn’s clay hallway.

  “Oh, God. I’m sorry.” Tory moved quickly to help the woman up, and they both began to gather her scattered equipment. “I should have been watching where I was going.”

  “Really, it’s fine. I should have said something to let you know I was walking up behind you.” The woman held out her hand. “I’m Bridgette LeRoy, Cheryl’s cousin.”

  Tory juggled the various items she was trying to keep under control to return the handshake. “Tory Greyson, Carl and Cheryl’s clumsy veterinarian.” Just as they shook hands, the two-foot-long tube Tory was holding slipped from her grasp and Bridgette neatly caught it.

  “What exactly is this?”

  “It’s an artificial vagina…for horses. I came by to collect Trojan’s sperm for shipping.”

  Bridgette’s expression was odd, but she calmly returned the device to Tory and discreetly pulled a tissue from her pocket to wipe her long, slender fingers. Tory chuckled.

  “Don’t worry. It’s a little damp because I just cleaned it. There was nothing on the outside anyway, except my fingerprints.”

  Bridgette gave her a crooked little smile and folded the tissue before sliding it back in the pocket of her
loose drawstring pants. She was pretty. Very pretty. Her curly dark blond hair framed her delicate features and draped over her slender shoulders.

  Cheryl stood in the doorway. “As I said earlier, Tory, I thought you may like to show Bridgette our town.”

  “Cheryl, I’m sure I can manage to do some exploring on my own. Tory may have other things to do.” Though Bridgette protested, her eyes seemed warmly hopeful.

  “No, I’d be happy to play tour guide,” Tory said quickly.

  “I don’t want to put you out, but if you really don’t mind, I’d like that.”

  They smiled at each other, and Tory knew exactly what her friends were thinking.

  Cheryl smiled. Mission accomplished.

  Carl smiled. When his wife was happy, his life was always easier.

  Tory jumped when the pager on her belt vibrated. She didn’t bother to check it. Her next appointment was probably getting anxious because she was almost two hours late.

  “Uh, how about tomorrow night? We can grab dinner somewhere. I’ll show you around a bit and maybe we can catch a late movie.”

  “That sounds good,” Bridgette said. “But I’ll have to check to make sure I don’t have a reception or something to attend at the college. They make you go to a lot of stuff like that when you’re new faculty. Can I let you know tomorrow morning?”

  “Absolutely. I’ve got to run, but Cheryl has my phone number and e-mail address. Just let me know what time I can pick you up.”

  She quickly exited the barn and hopped into her truck, then grimaced when she hit the seat. Christ, her hip was sore.

  She dialed up her clinic, and Joyce answered.

  “Can you call my next appointment and tell them I’m on the way?”

  “Hello, Dr. Greyson. I’m fine. Thank you for finally calling in today and asking how things are going.”

  Tory chuckled at Joyce’s sarcasm. She would be lost without her. Joyce balanced the practice’s books and kept Tory’s schedule running as smoothly as possible.

  “I’m sorry. How is your day going? Better yet, tell me how my day is going.”