“But what about all my expert advice on post-quill care?” Joe asked lightly as the assistant backed out of the conversation and closed the door behind her.
“And what if we need his help at the church?” Kristen added. “Getting things set up for Griffin’s comfort, or… I don’t know, really, but it seems like it’d be nice to have a local at hand. Right?” Her prompting was a little too transparent, and it made Mackenzie tired.
“No, we’ll be fine,” he forced himself to say. He’d love it if Joe insisted otherwise, but he had already taken up far too much of the man’s time. He didn’t want to play his game anymore, didn’t want to seduce a cowboy or treat a decent man like a sex toy just to soothe his own bruised ego. Joe had done the right thing by helping out with Griffin, and Mackenzie should do the right thing by releasing him from his responsibility as soon as possible. “They said there was a sheet I can read and emergency numbers on there. There isn’t much more to be done, is there?”
Joe shook his head slowly. “Not really. He’ll probably be groggy tonight. You should just let him rest. If you usually feed him kibble, you might want to pick up some canned food, ’cause if he got any quills in his mouth, he’ll be sore for a bit. Other than that, I don’t think there’s much to worry about.”
“Okay,” Mackenzie said with more confidence than he felt. He was trying not to think about Griffin getting quills inside his poor mouth. “If you don’t mind giving us a lift back to the church, we can come back over in one of our cars.” He turned to Kristen with a firm expression. “Right?” he said, but his tone made it clear he wasn’t really asking a question.
She nodded reluctantly. “I guess. But this is a new outfit—I don’t want Griffin-blood on it!”
Mackenzie was pretty sure she’d have waded through a vat of entrails if it helped Griffin get better, but he appreciated her efforts to distract him. And Joe took her more seriously, saying, “Shouldn’t be any blood. Some scabs, but if there’s blood, call those emergency numbers.” He looked at Mackenzie. “I’ll leave you my numbers too.” He pulled one of the vet’s business cards from the reception counter and reached behind it to borrow a pen. “We don’t get great coverage at the house, so if the cell doesn’t work, try the home number.” He wrote the numbers on the card, then handed it to Mackenzie. “You can call me if there’s something subemergency that you’re still worried about. Okay?”
That was something, at least, and Mackenzie carefully stashed the little piece of cardstock in his pocket. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “For everything.”
“Hey, the service isn’t over yet,” Joe said with a grin. “You want a ride back out to the church, don’t you?”
“I guess so, yeah.” Mackenzie had already discovered there was one taxi serving the entire town, and it only ran when the owner felt like going for a drive. Getting a lift from Joe would be a much better idea. “I’ll thank you again when we get there.”
“It’s not a big deal, man.” Joe’s voice was a little softer. “It’s nice to see people caring about their animals.”
“Even if it makes them scared and useless?”
“You weren’t useless. If I hadn’t been there, you would have figured all of this out on your own. Taking a hurt dog to the vet isn’t rocket science.”
“I think you might be giving me too much credit,” Mackenzie said as he reluctantly left the vet’s office and headed toward the truck. “My hands are still shaking.”
“Nah,” Joe said as he climbed into the driver’s side of the truck. Kristen got the front passenger seat, so Joe had to turn around to look at Mackenzie. “Your hands just started shaking. It’s your body wearing off the adrenaline now that it knows you don’t need it. You were steady when you were carrying the dog around and when you were in the exam room with him.”
It was true, Mackenzie realized. He’d done what he had to when it had counted. He’d been scared, but he’d handled himself. And Joe had noticed. “Thank you,” he said again, and this time Joe didn’t brush the appreciation away. He grinned, then turned around and drove them back to the church.
Chapter 4
JOE DIDN’T do the rest of the chores he’d planned for that day. Instead he went back to the ranch, whistled for the dogs, and headed straight for the barn. Normally he’d go find Austin first thing, but right then he wanted a little time alone.
Well, not quite alone, he thought as he leaned down and ran his fingers over Red’s grizzled face. The dog was a Chesapeake Bay Retriever, stocky and tough, and he’d been Joe’s companion since he was a pup. Now he was gray around his muzzle, and his eyes were starting to get cloudy, but he still ruled the farmyard and kept the younger dogs in their places. Joe tilted the dog’s head a little and squinted down at the scars on his muzzle. “How many times have you gotten into the porcupines? Huh? How come you can’t learn?”
The dog pulled his head loose and then butted his nose into Joe’s hand, inviting less inspection and more affection. Joe obliged briefly, then said, “I’m going for a ride. You should stay here.” There had been a time when the dog had gamely raced alongside whoever Joe was riding, but if he tried it these days, he ended up sore for a week. Joe blinked back a sudden and surprising surge of emotion. No need to get worried about Red’s mortality, for Christ’s sake. The dog was fine. He was a tough old bastard, and he wasn’t going anywhere.
But Joe still sank to his knees and wrapped an arm around Red’s burly shoulders. Things were changing. Everyone was leaving. First Joe’s parents, then Nick went away to school, then Sarah got married, and now Will was thinking about moving in with his girlfriend. And Joe had returned the call from Ally’s science teacher to find that he wanted to nominate her for a special science school. She’d spend her last semester of high school traveling around the world, having different experiences at different scientific facilities. The program was heavily sponsored by a government program to encourage female scientists, but it would still be expensive. But it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and there was no way Joe could get in the way of Ally’s participation, especially not just because he didn’t want his baby sister to move out seven months earlier than he’d been prepared to lose her. Sarah had been right; Joe was getting left behind. “You don’t get to go anywhere, Red. Okay? You have to stay with me. Right?”
Red licked Joe’s chin in apparent agreement, and Joe smiled as he stood up. “Okay, you can come with us today. We don’t have to go fast.”
Joe saddled up Misery, his cantankerous gray mare, and the three of them went for a relaxed tour of the property, the other two dogs using them as a mobile base for their own, wider-ranging explorations. The ranch was almost all rolling hills, about a third forested and the rest grassland, too steep for crops but perfect for grazing cattle. Joe had been riding the same paths since he’d first sat on a horse, and every inch of the huge property felt like home to him. He had to have an excuse for his ride, so he checked three different herds of cattle, even though he’d already done that in the morning, but mostly he just let the sounds and the smells and the sights wash over him, let the warm afternoon sun work the kinks out of his shoulders as the familiar rhythm of the horse’s slow jog massaged him into a relaxed trance. Everyone was leaving him, that was true. But they were leaving him here, so it was okay. The land would never get old and die, never move away, never fall in love and start a new life or a new family. Joe would look after the land, and the land would look after him in return. It was a comforting thought, and he was in a much better mood by the time he turned Misery back toward the barn.
Red’s ears pricked toward something in the tree line, and Joe tried to see anything moving in the area. His mind flew to the possibility of another damn porcupine—he liked the slow-moving, gentle herbivores, personally, but Red obviously did not. “Or maybe you like them a little too much. Is that it, buddy?” He looked down at the dog, who wagged his tail back, agreeing to ignore whatever had caught his attention in the forest. “Are you trying to mak
e friends with them? Even though you know it’s not a good idea, you just can’t resist?”
And, of course, that brought Joe’s mind back to the biggest thing he was trying not to think about: the church guy. He wasn’t really that much of an asshole. Not an asshole at all, maybe. He cared about his dog, at least. And about the church. Hard to dislike someone who liked animals and historic buildings. But if Joe didn’t dislike the man, then he didn’t have a reason to ignore the fact that the guy was pretty close to perfect, physically. Blonder than Joe and a little shorter, but still over six feet, and absolutely put together well. His face was mobile, changing expressions with practically every sentence he or anyone else shared. At first Joe had thought it was annoying, like the guy was being overdramatic. Flamboyant, like Will had said. But now it was starting to seem like Mackenzie really had each of those emotions, really felt things that quickly and that sincerely. He wasn’t putting on an act; he was just brave and honest enough to let his feelings show instead of hiding them away.
But Joe wasn’t a farm dog, sticking his nose into a porcupine even though he’d been quilled countless times before. Sure, the quills weren’t usually a serious problem, but that didn’t mean they didn’t sting, and it would be stupid to forget that.
But at least Joe would get some pleasure before the pain began, a part of his brain reminded him. Red was stupid to keep going after porcupines because he never even got a bite of them, just a mouthful of quills and instant suffering. Joe’s adventures…. He felt a stirring down toward the saddle and knew he’d better change his train of thought if he didn’t want a very uncomfortable ride home. It was enough for him to acknowledge that he generally got some significant physical rewards to compensate him for his emotional distress. So maybe he didn’t need to give up on the physical altogether. Maybe he just needed to get better at keeping his emotions out of the picture. “If you could eat porcupine steak without worrying about the quills, you’d be stupid not to do it, right, buddy?”
But Red had been asked too many questions and wasn’t even going to try to answer this one. He kept his gaze fixed on the next hill, trotting steadily alongside Joe without acknowledging his presence.
“You showing me how it should be done, buddy? I can be in the same place as someone… hell, the same bed… and not think about them all that much. I can do that. Right?”
The dog still didn’t respond. Maybe he was just tired of hearing the same justifications, the same well-intentioned plans Joe had made before, only to ignore them as soon as he was actually involved with someone. “It’s just not the way I’m made,” Joe admitted. “I’m a big softy. Right, buddy?” And Joe was going to insist on an answer to this one. He stopped the horse and swung down to the ground, then crouched to let the dog approach and snuggle in against his body. “I’m a softy. Right? Right?” Red butted his forehead against Joe’s chin in agreement. “Yeah. You know it and I know it.” Joe wrapped his arm around the dog’s shoulder and whispered into his ear, “But don’t tell anyone. Okay?”
Red licked his chin, and Joe stood up and started walking. They weren’t far from the barn, and he wanted to be able to let his fingers tickle along the top of Red’s head as they walked together. Misery trailed along behind, the reins loose between her bit and Joe’s hand. The mare had a habit of trying to bite Red’s wagging tail, so Joe had to make sure he was between the two of them, but that was fine. He was in the middle of his animals, and they were in the middle of his ranch. He couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else. And he would damn well ignore the little voice that told him the situation might be just a tiny bit better if he had a bit of human companionship to go along with the animals.
When he got back to the barn, he led Misery straight to her yard and took her saddle and bridle off there. She hadn’t worked up a sweat and wasn’t the sort of horse who enjoyed being groomed or fussed over. She wasn’t the sort of horse who enjoyed much, really. She worked the cattle with a calm, grumpy brilliance, like an office manager who did her job not because she loved it but because she didn’t trust anyone else to be competent at it. She didn’t seem to bond with anyone either, human or animal, although she did Joe the courtesy of not trying to bite him as often as she went after others. But sullen respect was not affection, and Joe knew it. Misery just wanted to be left alone.
Joe was pulling the mare’s gate shut behind him, juggling her saddle and bridle, when Will approached from inside the barn. “Nice ride?”
“I was checking the cattle,” Joe said defensively.
“They any different from this morning?”
Damn it. Since when did Will pay such close attention to Joe’s activities? “About the same,” he admitted.
Will nodded. “You got a call while you were out. Mackenzie wanted to say thanks again. He said Griffin is home, sleeping it off.” He paused. “I thought he was using some sort of code or something. But I guess Griffin’s his dog?”
“Seems like,” Joe agreed.
“And Griffin got quilled. And you saved the day.”
“I drove them to Tim’s. Tim saved the day.”
“That’s not how Mackenzie sees it,” Will said. His smirk was beginning to grow. “You just happened to be there when it happened?”
“You asked me to put up a tarp, asshole. I would have thought you were playing your stupid matchmaking game again, but I know what a pussy you are about heights, so I figured it was legit. Don’t make this into something it isn’t.”
“But he’s a pretty nice guy, right? I mean, after you spent some time with him?”
“It wasn’t a date, Will. I drove his hurt dog to the vet.”
Will sighed deeply. “I like him. I’ve spent three days working on the church so far, and he’s been there, and I like him.”
“I hope the two of you are very happy together.”
Will didn’t say anything for a while, just trailed after Joe as he lugged the saddle to the barn and put it away. Finally, Will said, “Lindsey wants us to move in together. Get a place in town, probably.”
“Yeah. I heard.” And then just because it had been bugging him, Joe added, “From Sarah. Seems like she’s known about it for a while.”
There was another long pause, enough time for Joe to rinse his bit and hang the bridle up on its hook. They were on their way through the wide barn door when Will said, “Sometimes it’s not easy to talk to you.”
It was strange how that twisted in Joe’s gut. He wasn’t a big talker, maybe, but he’d never thought of himself as a bad listener. And this was Will, for Christ’s sake. They were twins, and they’d always been close. They didn’t talk much, but that was because they didn’t need to; they could just figure things out without bothering with words. Or at least that was what Joe had always thought. Maybe he’d been wrong about that.
He hadn’t been planning on feeding the mare, but he needed something to occupy his hands, so he measured out a half scoop of sweet feed and sloshed it into a bucket. “You looking for a place? Have you got enough money to buy, or are you thinking of renting?”
“We haven’t gotten that far. We’re still working it out.” Will sounded like he knew the conversation wasn’t going quite where he wanted but had no idea how to get it back on track.
“Well, let me know. If you need help moving, or whatever.”
“I’m not sure I want to do it,” Will said.
“Oh.” Maybe Joe was supposed to ask why. Maybe he was supposed to be the understanding sounding board for Will’s angst. But he really didn’t feel like it. “Look, Will, if you want to move in with her, you should move in with her. It’s your life; it’s your call. But if any of this is about me—if your stupid matchmaking bullshit is because you think I’m going to pine away on my own if you move in with your girlfriend—you need to get over yourself. I’m fine now, and I’ll be fine when you’re gone.”
“And you’re ready to look after Austin all on your own?”
“I do that most of the time anyway. Sarah help
s out more than you do, and she doesn’t even live here anymore.” Joe stopped talking long enough to force a smile onto his face. “Lindsey’s a great girl. I like her. You guys are good together.” Maybe that wasn’t all completely true, but it would be rude to say anything else. “This is a decision you need to make based on what’s best for you, not what you think is best for me.” He shook his head. “This isn’t about me.”
He shook the feed around in the bucket and walked slowly out to the paddock. Misery was watching him with her ears pricked forward. She was a good keeper and didn’t get grain often, but that didn’t mean she didn’t recognize the signs.
“I think maybe I’m going to do it,” Will said from somewhere back toward the barn.
Joe didn’t turn around. Mostly because he didn’t want to look at Will, but also because Misery was most likely to bite when she noticed someone wasn’t paying attention to her. “Congratulations,” he called back over his shoulder. “Like I said, let me know if you need any help moving.”
“Joe,” Will said, moving a little closer, “have you ever asked me for help with anything?”
“What?” Joe opened the gate wide enough to get the bucket inside and hooked it onto the post, then stepped away from the fence. “Have I ever…?”
“Have you ever asked anyone for help? You like helping other people—you help the family, you help friends, you’re a volunteer firefighter, for God’s sake. You’re the king of helping everyone else, but when does anyone else help you?”
“What are you getting at?”
“It’s okay to need people, Joe. You don’t have to do everything on your own.”
“You’re giving me a headache. What the hell does any of this mean? I get help when I need it! This farm isn’t a one-man operation.”
The Fall Page 5
