“Then what are we going to do?” Chris wailed.
Jill quickly ran over options in her mind. She could phone a veterinarian, except nightfall was quickly approaching and she didn’t know how late vets worked or whether they took after-hour calls.
Or she could fetch one.
“I know of someone who can help.” She handed her brother her cell phone. “Stay here and I’ll be back as quick as I can.”
She took off at a trot, hardly noticing the leaves and small twigs that slapped at her arms and legs. She did, however, recognize the irony in the situation.
She was running toward the one man from whom she should stay far away.
DAN’S FIRST INDICATION that this wouldn’t be an ordinary Tuesday night came when the dogs who’d settled in to watch him fix the kitchen cabinet leaped to their feet and broke into loud barking.
Starsky and Hutch raced for the door, their paws sliding over the hardwood floor.
Dan rose slowly, reluctant to abandon the job he’d finally gotten around to tackling. Almost a year after he’d moved into the small, two-bedroom house, the cabinet was still coming off its hinges.
“Starsky! Hutch! Quiet!” he commanded.
The two mixed-breed dogs kept barking, completely in disregard of the fact that he was a vet with a reputation to uphold.
“You’re going to give me a bad name,” Dan told the dogs as he nudged past them to the door. Their tails wagged in double time while they panted with undisguised anticipation. “It’s also uncool to give the impression that nobody ever visits us.”
Starsky barked, almost as if to say they hardly ever did get visitors.
“Point taken, smart aleck,” Dan muttered, then swung open the door to a surprise.
“I’m sorry to stop by like this,” Jill said in a rush, “but I need you.”
The last three words could have been straight out of his fantasies if the delivery had been different. She was out of breath. A slight sheen of perspiration dampened her brow and her curly hair was disheveled.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“There’s a goat in the woods. I think its leg is broken.”
“A goat?” The dogs were barking enthusiastically. Dan positioned his body so they couldn’t get out of the house and lick her to death.
“The poor thing could really use your help.” Her expression was pleading, as though she feared he might say no. Even if he were capable of turning away from an animal, no way could he refuse Jill.
“Sure.” He regained his equilibrium, his mind racing as he thought about what he needed to do. “Just give me a minute to gather some supplies. You can wait inside.”
The dogs erupted into a cacophony of even louder barks before he could move aside to allow her entrance. She stepped backward.
“They’re harmless, I promise you.” He grimaced, feeling a telltale flush of embarrassment start up his neck. “They’re just overly friendly.”
“It’ll be easier if I wait for you out here,” she said.
He swallowed the urge to tell her the only pets he had trouble getting to behave were his own. There was no time for that. He closed the door, careful to prevent the canines from escaping, then transferred supplies to his backpack from the bag he used for house calls. He added some PVC pipe and a high-powered flashlight and he was ready to go.
They reached the goat in minutes, with Jill setting a breakneck pace. Her haste was more in keeping with someone worried about an injured pet rather than a stray farm animal.
The reason soon became apparent.
The goat wasn’t alone.
A young boy of about nine or ten with wavy brown hair was cradling the animal’s head in his lap. He gazed up at Dan out of big eyes shaped like Jill’s.
Stanley was right, Dan thought. He really had been working too hard if he’d lived in Indigo Springs for nearly a year without realizing this boy existed.
Although with tourists swelling the population, the town wasn’t as small as it appeared. Up until a few weeks ago, Jill herself had barely been on Dan’s radar screen.
“Please help him,” the boy pleaded.
Was he Jill’s son? If so, she’d given birth as a teenager. Where, then, was the boy’s father? Was the father the reason Jill wasn’t in the market for a relationship?
“That’s why I’m here. By the way, it’s a her, not a him.” With the goat lying on its side, Dan could clearly define the sex. “She’s not a farm animal, either. She’s a pygmy goat.”
“You mean she’s not a baby?” Chris asked.
“I’d say she’s about a year old, so she won’t get a whole lot bigger than she already is,” he said. “My name’s Dan, by the way.”
“I’m sorry,” Jill cut in. She was standing a shoulder’s length from him, yet he was acutely aware of her every movement. “Dan, this is Chris, my brother.”
Her brother. Ah, that made more sense. The boy was probably visiting her.
The animal emitted a low noise that sounded almost like a moan. Dan focused on the goat, his need to alleviate the animal’s pain overriding everything else.
“Did either of you see what happened?” He did a visual exam, noting the matted blood on the goat’s coat. The scrape on its body, though, was superficial. More worrisome was the way the goat was holding her leg, which indicated a simple fracture.
“I found her right here,” the boy said. “Jill thinks she got hit by a car.”
“That’s a good guess,” Dan said. “Lots of people keep pygmies as pets. Either she got loose or someone dumped her on the side of the road.”
“No!” Chris cried.
Dan was about to point out dogs and cats were abandoned every day, but the boy needed reassurance more than enlightenment. He could also use a job to help him feel useful.
“I’m pretty sure her leg is broken, but she’ll be okay if we all work together,” Dan said. “Chris, can you follow directions?”
The boy appeared wary.
“You can be my assistant.” He turned the flashlight on and handed it to Chris. “Shine the light on us. This is very important. Be careful not to shine it in the goat’s eyes. Can you do that, Chris?”
“I’ll try.” He sounded unsure of himself, but stood up and did exactly as Dan instructed.
“That’s perfect. I’m going to give her a mild sedative and then put some antiseptic on this scrape.” Dan worked as he talked. When the goat was breathing more easily and he’d cleaned the abrasion, he looked at Jill. “I need your help, too, Jill. Place a little pressure on her neck with your elbow. That’ll keep her still.”
Jill’s face might have paled, but she nodded and lowered herself next to the goat. The animal bleated. She jerked backward, took a shaky breath, then in one quick movement placed her elbow in exactly the right spot. Her eyes were closed.
“Good.” He hid a smile. “After I wipe down the leg, I’ll get the bone back in alignment and put on a temporary splint until I can get her in the office. She won’t like this part, so keep the pressure steady.”
“Okay.” Jill’s voice cracked.
He took firm hold of the animal’s injured leg, digging his fingers into its flesh so he could gauge the severity of the break. A simple fracture, just as he’d expected.
He pulled on the leg as slowly and gently as he could, manipulating the bone until he had it in alignment.
“This next part’s going to be tricky. Chris, see my bag there. I need you to get me a roll of cotton. I’m going to use it for padding. Can you do that?”
Chris didn’t answer. A few seconds later, however, he handed Dan the cotton, then got back into position with the flashlight.
Working quickly, Dan wrapped cotton from the top of the goat’s hoof to about a half dozen inches above the break.
“Now I need that blue stretchy tape to hold the padding in place,” Dan said. Chris rummaged in the bag, came up with the tape, but dropped the flashlight in the process.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry
!” Chris bent and grabbed for the flashlight, then dropped it again. He sounded miserable.
“Relax, Chris.” Dan gentled his voice. “It’s not a big deal.”
“You’re doing fine,” Jill added in the same soothing tone.
Dan couldn’t take the time to puzzle over the boy’s reaction. When the light was back in place, he started the wrap, working as efficiently as he could. Despite the sedative, the goat twitched and keened. Without being told, Jill increased the pressure on the animal’s neck. Jill’s face was in shadows, but he thought her eyes might still be closed.
“Easy, girl,” he said.
Jill’s head rose. “She’s doing good.”
“I was talking to you.” He winked at Jill, just in case she could see him.
The rest of the job was easier. The final step involved creating a temporary splint, which he did by securing two halves of PVC pipe with duct tape. The goat tried to stand up as soon as Dan instructed Jill to stop applying pressure. Dan helped it to its feet. It was able to put weight on all four legs but wobbled, still feeling the effects of the sedative.
“How are we going to get her out of the woods?” Jill asked. “She looks pretty shaky.”
“I’ll carry her.” Dan talked while he was gathering his supplies. “Pygmy goats are good-natured, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”
Dan scooped up the goat, careful not to jostle its injured leg. It squirmed so much he nearly dropped it, then butted his shoulder with its nose and bleated.
“I thought they were good-natured,” Jill said.
“They are.” He withstood another nose butt. “She associates me with pain.”
“I think she likes me,” Chris said in a hesitant voice. It was the first remark he’d made since dropping the flashlight.
Jill ruffled the boy’s hair. “Of course she does. You found her. You’re her hero.”
Darkness was quickly approaching, making it necessary for Chris to keep shining the flashlight, this time to illuminate their path. Dan walked as fast as he dared with approximately thirty pounds of goat in his arms.
He almost cheered when they reached the clearing and he could put down the goat, at least temporarily. Chris knelt beside the animal, murmuring soothingly to it.
“You’ve got a way with that goat, Chris,” Dan remarked. “You got any pets?”
Now that they were out of the woods, the crescent moon gave off enough light for Dan to see Chris shake his head. “No.”
“Well, you’re a natural with her, although I don’t imagine you see many goats back home in South Carolina.”
Chris didn’t look up from where he was petting the goat. “I’m from Georgia.”
Dan turned questioningly to Jill. He was certain Penelope had said she was from South Carolina.
“Chris still thinks of Georgia as his home state because he was born there,” Jill said, “but he only lived there a few years.”
“Where do you live in South Carolina, Chris?” Dan asked.
“Chris lives here.” Jill answered for her brother. “With me.”
So Chris wasn’t visiting, as Dan had originally thought.
“And with Felicia,” Jill added.
“Who’s Felicia?”
“Our landlady,” Jill said, which cleared up the mystery of why she lived in such a large house. “Felicia’s a sweetheart, but I’m not sure how she’ll react when we show up at the house with a goat.”
“My backyard’s fenced and I have a shed I can empty out. The goat can stay there tonight,” Dan offered.
Jill’s response was immediate. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“Why not?” He smiled at her. She was wearing shorts and tennis shoes, but had given the generic outfit some personality with a tie-dyed T-shirt. “That splint’s temporary. I need to get her into the office in the morning anyway so I can put on a cast.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely sure.” He repositioned the backpack on his shoulder and reached for the goat. “I’ll take her, Chris.”
Chris held tight to the goat, saying nothing. He didn’t need to. He’d clearly developed an attachment he wasn’t ready to break.
“Why don’t you help me get her settled?” Dan asked.
“I don’t think—” Jill began.
“Please can I go, Jill?” Chris interrupted, stark longing on his face. “Please.”
“I’d love to have you join us, Jill,” Dan was quick to add. “You’re not working at the bar tonight, right?”
“I have Tuesday nights off,” she confirmed. Her chest rose and fell. Her answer was slow in coming. “Okay.”
“Then let’s get this goat show on the road,” Dan said, and lifted the animal. He hadn’t taken more than two steps when the goat’s nose butted him one more time.
Considering that the out-of-sorts pygmy goat was providing an in with Jill, he wasn’t about to complain.
CHAPTER FOUR
JILL DISCONNECTED the call she’d made to update Felicia on the night’s events, then hung back, closer to Dan’s house than his backyard shed. The porch light combined with the glow from the moon gave her a clear view of Dan hunkered down beside her much smaller brother.
“Here, Chris. Give Tinkerbell this.” Dan handed something orange to her brother. “Goats consider carrots a treat.”
“Yuck! I’d want an ice cream cone.”
A laugh erupted from Dan.
“I wouldn’t eat hay and oats, either.” Dan’s voice held a chuckle. “But that’s what Tinkerbell likes.”
Chris had named the goat after the tiny fairy in his favorite book, gaining approval from Dan. Her brother offered the goat the carrot. She sniffed at it, then took it and nibbled.
“You sure she’ll be okay out here?” Chris sounded dubious.
“I’m keeping my dogs in the house as a precaution,” Dan said, obviously referring to the two champion barkers Jill had seen earlier tonight. “The fence is high enough that nothing can get in or out, but I’ll lock the shed tonight just in case.”
The three of them had already created space inside the shed by transferring a lawn mower and assorted tools to the garage.
“What if Tinkerbell’s afraid of the dark?” her brother asked.
As Chris was, Jill thought.
“Tinkerbell?” Dan shook his head. “Nah. She stares into the face of darkness and knows there’s nothing out there scarier than she is.”
Chris giggled. “She’s a pygmy goat!”
“She doesn’t like to be underestimated because of her size,” Dan said.
Chris’s giggle became a full-fledged laugh, a noise Jill didn’t hear often and hadn’t expected to tonight. Her brother was slow in warming up to strangers and typically said little to anyone except her.
She backed away, sinking onto a bench situated under an oak tree, wishing she hadn’t learned Dan was as good with kids as he was with animals.
She’d rather have avoided coming to Dan’s house altogether, but she couldn’t trust Chris alone with him after her brother had slipped up and said they were from Georgia.
Dan straightened, patted Chris on the back and walked toward her, his gait leisurely and self-assured. He wore jeans, but she could see the play of muscles in his long, leanly muscular legs as he moved. She dragged her gaze upward, over his trim waist and broad shoulders to the compelling features of his face. Darn it. There was nowhere safe to look.
“How’s it going over there?” Jill kept her expression neutral so he wouldn’t catch on that she’d been ogling him.
He sat down next to her, close enough that she could smell the warm, pleasant scent of his skin. “I might have an idea about why Tinkerbell was dumped. I’m pretty sure she’s blind in one eye.”
“Surely someone wouldn’t abandon her for that!” Jill cried.
“People have discarded pets for less,” Dan said. “Not people like your brother, though. He won’t leave her side.”
“Oh, gosh. We’re keeping you from
something, aren’t we?” She half rose. “I’ll just go tell Chris we need to leave.”
“Hold on.” He put a hand on her arm, the first time he’d touched her since their kiss. Her nerve endings came alive, awareness spreading under his fingers. “That wasn’t a hint for you to go. I’m enjoying the company. Your brother’s a great kid.”
“I agree with you there.” Jill sat back down, not sure whether she felt bereft or relieved when his hand dropped away. She silently admitted she wasn’t ready to leave yet, either. She just thought she should be.
“How old is Chris?” Dan asked.
“Ten. He looks younger because he’s small for his age.”
“As the shortest boy in his sixth-grade class, I know all about that,” Dan said.
“You’re kidding me. You must be six-four or six-five.”
Dan’s laugh was smooth and rich, as deep and attractive as his voice. “I guess I must seem that tall to you, but I’m only six-one.”
“Only?” she said.
His laugh got even deeper. “I guess height’s relative. Everybody was taller than me when I was Chris’s age, even the girls. I didn’t get my last four or five inches until I was in college.”
“I never would have guessed that,” Jill said. “It just goes to show you can’t jump to conclusions about people.”
“Then maybe you won’t mind me asking why he’s living with you?”
She did mind, although it would cause him to wonder why if she said so. “My parents divorced when I was eight. Chris and I have the same father, but different mothers. His mama died three years ago of breast cancer.”
“That’s rough,” Dan said. “How about your dad? Is he still alive?”
This was the toughest part of the story for Jill to pull off. Her stomach cramped, as it always did before she lied. “No.”
She waved a hand and delivered the second part of the carefully crafted reply before he had a chance to respond.
“I’m sorry. It’s hard to talk about.” That, at least, was the truth. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention his father to Chris. Either of his parents, really.”
“Sure.” Dan’s voice was compassionate, making her feel even guiltier, although circumstances had forced her into the lie. “You can count on me. And if you ever want to talk about it, I’m a good listener.”
That Runaway Summer Page 5
