Every Breath She Takes

by Norah Wilson

  “Why don’t you go make that call while I secure the scene?”

  “Secure the scene? Are we in a crime novel now?”

  “The carcass has to be wrapped to protect it from carrion-eating birds and insects.”

  Protect it? “What? You’re worried about a few ravens dying?”

  “No. It probably wouldn’t even kill them. Birds and bugs aren’t really very susceptible, but they can transmit it to other hosts. But that’s not the real problem.”

  “It’s not?” If the prospect of mosquitoes loaded to the gills with anthrax wasn’t the real problem, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what was.

  “The real problem is that they would open the carcass,” she said. “Exposing this bacterium to oxygen induces sporulation.”

  Shit. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “It’s not. The spores can persist for up to forty years. But if we make sure the vegetative cells stay inside the carcass, they’ll be killed in a few days from putrefaction.”

  “You’re kidding.” He blinked. “They’ll rot?”

  “Yep. But some jurisdictions require you to incinerate the carcass whole or bury it with quicklime, though the latter can leave viable anthrax spores for future generations to dig up.”

  He could feel sweat on his upper lip, but resisted swiping it. “So we just have to tarp the carcass?”

  “I’m concerned about the bloody smears all over the grass too. If anthrax killed this animal, it could be sporulating like crazy everywhere you see blood or feces.”

  “What can we do about it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Panic skittered along the edge of his control. “You don’t know? You’re a vet, dammit!”

  She paled. “A vet with only a few months’ experience with livestock.”

  “But you know all this other stuff…”

  “You never forget the pathology of something like this, but the scene management aspects…I just don’t know.” She looked stricken. “I’m sorry, Cal.”

  Jesus, get a grip, Taggart. “No, I’m sorry.” He tipped her chin up. “Don’t mind me. You’ve been a big help already.”

  Behind them, Spider cleared his throat. She stepped back.

  “One tarp.”

  “Thanks, man.” Cal took the black tarp before Lauren could.

  “What we gonna do with it? Wrap the sucker?”

  “I’m going to wrap it,” Cal said. “Meanwhile I need you to call the feds to report a suspected case of anthrax.”

  Spider drew his breath in on a hiss. “I ’spected as much, but it’s still a shocker.”

  “I’ll say. Oh, and use the satellite phone in my Ford back at the ranch. It’s unlocked. I don’t want to alarm anyone.”

  “Gotcha. These lips are zipped soon as I make that call. But first I’ll help you wrap that poor ol’ white-face.”

  “I can manage.”

  Spider blinked. “Beggin’ your pardon, but how you gonna do that, Boss? That steer’s gotta be six or seven hun’ert pounds.”

  “It’s my problem, Spider. I’ll deal with it. I don’t want to expose anyone.” He shot a look at Lauren. “And that includes you.”

  “Oh, but it’s not terribly dangerous,” she said.

  “I said it’s my problem. I’ll figure something out.” Hell, did she think he’d just let her walk right into a toxic mess? Apparently she did, judging by the stubborn set of her chin.

  “And how do you propose to do that?” she demanded.

  How indeed? He looked around the pasture. “I could use a fence rail and a rock to leverage it…”

  “And risk perforating its hide?” Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline. “Give those spores a breath of fresh air? I don’t think so. Not when we can help you roll it right onto the tarp.”

  Stubborn woman. Didn’t she realize he was trying to protect her? Well, he was going to, whether she wanted him to or not.

  “You may be a vet, but you’re not my vet. You’re just another guest,” he said coolly. “With due respect, butt out.”

  She stepped back as though he’d slapped her, those pale blue eyes going wide. There. After the intimacies they’d shared, he’d relegated her to a mere guest. That should do it. Turning away from the hurt in her face, he started off toward the fallen steer. He felt like the worst kind of bastard, but it couldn’t be helped. She wasn’t putting herself in harm’s way for him.

  He didn’t realize she’d fallen in beside him until she spoke. “Forget about doing this by yourself, Taggart. You need our help.”

  He stopped and faced her. Her chin was set at a determined angle. Worse, Spider stood behind her, looking equally resolute.

  Cal cursed. “Come on, Lauren, what about those spores you talked about? You think I’d let you touch them? Inhale them?”

  “First of all, we don’t know for sure that it’s anthrax.”

  “But we have to treat it as though it is,” he shot back.

  “Agreed, but I don’t think there’s much of an inhalation risk. The spores are in fairly damp environments in the carcass, the feces, and the blood, which means they can’t get airborne easily. Even if a few spores got off the ground and we inhaled them, we still wouldn’t get sick. Humans aren’t nearly as dose-sensitive.”

  “What about contact?” he challenged. “I know there have been cases of people getting it from handling carcasses.”

  She returned his glare. “Yeah, people who work in slaughterhouses. There’s a big difference between being awash in blood and guts and rolling an intact cow carcass over.” Her eyes snapped with anger. “Besides, we’ll use gloves. You’ve got gloves, right, Spider?” She didn’t even look sideways at Spider, just held Cal’s gaze with a steely gaze of her own.

  “Yes, ma’am. We got gloves.”

  Cal shot Spider a dirty look, but it was clear his employee had already decided whom to take his orders from. He turned back to Lauren, torn by indecision. “You’re sure about this? The risk to you really is minimal?”

  “Very minimal. And if it’ll make you feel any better, the public health officer will no doubt want to prescribe antibiotics as a preventative measure.”

  “You mean antibiotics will cure it?”

  “Absolutely. We’re not very susceptible to begin with, and even if we did contract it, penicillin would wipe it out.”

  Cal shoved a hand through his hair, stifling a groan. Talk about your good news/bad news. Good to know they weren’t risking slow, hideous death. Not so good that he’d probably kissed his newfound sex life good-bye for no good reason by pissing her off.

  Just then she lunged past him, shouting and waving her hands. For a split second he thought she was having another seizure. Either that or the toxin had already gotten to her. Then two glossy ravens rose into the air amid raucous cawing. Dammit. The birds had found the carcass.

  “Okay, you win,” he growled. “We all roll the damn steer.”

  It didn’t take long. As an extra precaution, they tied neckerchiefs around their faces. When the carcass was securely wrapped in the waterproof tarp, they shed their kerchiefs and gloves and left them for disposal.

  “Guess I better go make that call,” Spider said.

  Cal nodded. “Get them out here as soon as you can. Tell them we’ve tarped it, but we’ll wait right here for them.”

  Spider pushed his hat back. “Will do. Anything else?”

  “Anyone else tramp out to look at the steer besides you?”

  “No. Billy spotted it, but I was the one come for a look.”

  “Call Doc Hale and find out what to do. He might want to jam some antibiotics into you.”

  “I do believe I will.”

  “Spider?” called Lauren.

  He turned back to her.

  “When you get back, it might be a good idea to bag your clothes and boots until we find out what to do with them.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  When Spider had left, Cal turned to Lauren. “What I said earlie
r, about you being just a guest…”

  “I know.”

  He blinked. “You know? What do you mean, you know?”

  “You were trying to piss me off deliberately to keep me away from the carcass because you thought it posed a health hazard.”

  His knees weakened with relief. “Then you understand.”

  Her eyes flashed with temper. “I understand that you were trying to do it all by yourself, as usual.”

  “Damn right I was.” Stubborn woman! Her refusal to appreciate his sacrifice galled him. Dammit, he’d been prepared to give up the pleasure he’d found in her arms—a pleasure he hadn’t even begun to plumb the depths of—to keep her safe. “What’s wrong with that?”

  Lauren sighed. Really, the man was such a trial. “If you can’t see it, there’s no point my belaboring it, is there?”

  “Humor me. I’m a little slow sometimes.”

  Well, she’d give him that. Along with a piece of her mind. “You’re not God, Cal Taggart. You can’t be responsible for every little thing. Have you ever considered how arrogant that is? ‘It’s my problem. I’ll deal with it, ’ ” she mimicked.

  “It is my problem,” he thundered.

  “Maybe so, but you don’t have to face it alone. That’s what friends are for.”

  His face hardened. “No, friends are for helping celebrate the high times or maybe to drink your best bourbon. When the chips are down, you can’t count on anyone but yourself. If you think different, you’ve never been dumped down the well.”

  With that, he turned and strode toward the road. Lauren gazed after him, dumbfounded. Was it possible that he really couldn’t see it, the way Spider would go to the wall with him if he but asked? The way Jim Mallory would lay down his life for him in a heartbeat?

  For a moment she allowed herself the luxury of fury at the cold father who’d taught his son the need for such complete selfreliance and at Marlena for reinforcing the lessons.

  Then she reined herself in. Yes, he had trust problems. Yes, he had intimacy problems. But they were no concern of hers. Their time would be too short to make that her focus. Already the nights were getting colder. Once the leaves began to change, Marlena should be safe for another year.

  She shivered. Weeks. That’s all she and Cal had.

  He gave no sign that he heard her coming. Leaning on the gate rail looking east, he looked as though he might summon the federal inspector’s vehicle with the sheer force of his will. When she laid a hand on his arm, though, he didn’t react at all, a pretty good indication he’d heard her approach.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, sliding her arms around him from behind. “What I said back there…it’s none of my business. I just hate to see you taking so much on your own shoulders.”

  He didn’t turn. “I been all kinds of a fool in my time, Lauren, but the biggest fool is one who puts his fate in someone else’s hands. So far, I’ve managed to avoid that.”

  Her heart clenched at his aloneness, but she pushed it aside. “You’re a very honorable man, Cal Taggart.”

  He snorted, but she could feel the tension in him changing. “Lady, you don’t know the half of it. If you had any idea of the things I’ve done…”

  “I know enough. You’re the most responsible man I’ve ever met. And quite possibly the best kisser.”

  He did turn in her arms at that, as she’d known he would. Whereas praise for his character fell on deaf ears, she knew he’d respond to the physical.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Think we can safely engage in a little necking, Dr. Townsend?” He settled urgent hands on her waist, and his silver-gray eyes had caught fire.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  His mouth crushed hers almost brutally, but she welcomed it, knowing he put all his bottled-up fears into it. For a brief while, she escaped her own worries too, in a blaze of sensation.

  When the federal inspector arrived two hours later, he found them sitting on the unshaded edge of the road, slowly burning under the late August sun.

  Lauren liked Bruce Dysan at first sight. The federal veterinarian was a tall man in his midforties. His face was partially obscured by a full blond beard and his hair was a little ragged, but his brown eyes were alight with intelligence.

  “Got it covered already, I see. That’s good,” said Dr. Dysan. “Not many people know to do that. You’re lucky you had a veterinarian on hand.” He cast an appreciative glance toward Lauren as he donned disposable coveralls.

  Cal agreed.

  “I don’t normally get here this early. Often the local vet would have been in already and tested for other possibilities. Anthrax isn’t usually the first suspicion.”

  Cal frowned. “You think we jumped the gun on this?”

  “Not at all. From the report your man gave me, you’ve got at least some of the cardinal symptoms. It was a good call. Sometimes the animal dies so fast, they don’t present with any symptoms, in which case it doesn’t get reported until cattle start dropping like flies.”

  “What now?” Cal asked.

  “I’ve got to take some blood samples, which means we have to unwrap the carcass. Can you give me a hand?”

  “If you can provide the gloves,” Cal said. “We ditched ours after handling the animal.”

  “I can do better than that.”

  A minute later, outfitted in full biohazard gear, the three of them unwrapped the steer for Dr. Dysan’s examination.

  “What do you think?” Lauren asked him.

  “I’d know better if I could examine its spleen, but that’s out of the question for obvious reasons. Can’t risk spores getting out of the carcass.” His voice was muffled through his mask. “On physical exam, there’s a wee bit more rigor mortis than I’d expect to see. Most cases have little or no rigor. Still, the rapid death and the watery discharge…it’s possible.”

  Lauren’s mind buzzed as she watched him aspirate peripheral blood from the dead animal’s jugular vein. It looked like anthrax, yet it didn’t. There’d been no previous outbreaks among cattle this season and no wild herbivores were turning up dead.

  What had Cal said about his run of bad luck? Brush fires and lightning strikes. And now anthrax? Could anyone’s luck go so bad so fast without a little help?

  Just then a large truck pulled up with a hiss of air brakes. It carried an excavator behind it on a trailer.

  Dr. Dysan looked up from swabbing discharge. “Excellent. That’s the backhoe I commissioned to dig our pit.” He glanced at Cal. “Would you mind getting the gate for him?”

  “That was quick,” Cal said.

  “Quick is our only defense. We can’t do much to prevent these outbreaks, but we’ve got a very good record of containing them, and one of the ways we do that is to act expeditiously.”

  As soon as Cal left, Lauren turned to Dr. Dysan. “Do you think you could take some extra blood?”

  He glanced up, surprised. “Oh, I’ve got plenty here for the tests we’ll need.”

  “What if it turns out not to be anthrax?”

  “I don’t know…celebrate?”

  Lauren didn’t crack a smile as he aspirated more fluid, this time from the animal’s spleen. “You’re going to destroy the carcass immediately, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Unless you can afford to post a twenty-four-hour guard to keep the scavengers away. I assure you it’s quite safe. We’ll dig a seven-foot pit and build a pyre at the bottom, soak it with diesel fuel, topple the animal in and incinerate it, along with contaminated soil and grass and anything we’ve used to handle it. The high temperatures will kill any spores. Even the heavy equipment gets disinfected afterward with formaldehyde. We don’t leave any loose ends.”

  “I don’t doubt that. But if it turns out not to be anthrax, will you have enough blood to run other tox screens?”

  He gave her a sharp look. “What are you getting at?”

  “I don’t know.” Lauren chewed her lip. “Foul play, maybe?�
�

  His eyes widened. “You think someone destroyed this steer?”

  She felt foolish under his scrutiny. “I don’t know what to think. All I know is Cal’s had a lot of natural disasters this summer. It would just make me feel better if you had a few extra blood samples to fall back on if this comes out negative. Once you destroy the carcass, the option will no longer be there.”

  He gave her an assessing look. “Okay,” he said. “I guess I could take a few more vials.”

  Cal, having opened the gate and left the operator to get his machine unloaded, trudged back across the pasture in time to hear Lauren ask the fed about a quarantine order.

  “Will you impose it now or wait for the blood work?”

  The big man stowed his samples carefully in a special transport container. “I haven’t decided yet. If there’d been any cases reported this year, I’d slap an order on right away. Maybe I should anyway. Several cardinal signs are present. There’s only one lab in the whole country does this particular analysis, and that’s the Animal Diseases Research Institute in Lethbridge. It’ll take at least three days to get the results back, and three days is a long time to wait.”

  Shit. Cal’s stomach clenched. An official quarantine order. That’d look good for business, and there’d be no hope of keeping it out of the press.

  “Do a gram stain with some of that peripheral blood,” Lauren urged him. “You could do that at the local vet’s office before you leave town, couldn’t you? What’s that take? A microscope and a couple of simple reagents?”

  “Could do.” He gave her a thoughtful look. “Actually, by the time I arrive on a scene, the local vet has usually already done that.”

  “If you get a positive gram stain, then you can impose the quarantine.”

  “With a positive gram stain, you bet your ass I would,” he said sternly, “and that means closing the ranch to all traffic, human, animal, or vehicle. But if the gram stain is negative, we still can’t rely on it to eliminate anthrax. We’d still need a blood culture and hemagglutination test.”

  “Okay, if it’s negative, Cal will voluntarily quarantine his operations until the results come back from the lab. How’s that?”