Another Chance (5 page)

"Hell, trying to get another one could take months.  Look how long it took to find her."

Shane held up his hands.  "Don't shoot the messenger.  I was just pointing out that you thought when you hired this new vet your problems for replacing Doc were over.  But it seems to me they've just begun."

Great, Wade thought.  Just great.

***

Steven Garvey was exhausted.  His shoulders ached from a long day at the feed mill.  His head throbbed from his wife's nattering, which had been incessant since he'd gotten home from that long day.  Jacob, his eight year-old son, had woven tales of exploits in between his mother's breaths.  Was it any wonder Steven had tucked his whiskey bottle into his jacket and escaped to the barn?

His first few pulls on the bottle were fast, a desperate stab at relaxation.  But now, with his throat and belly warm from the whiskey and with the sharp edges smoothed out, Steven settled into the straw and sighed.  For the first time all day things were blessedly quiet.

Horses, at least two by the sound of hooves pounding on dirt, broke his peace.  Steven cursed his luck.  He should have known it was too good to last.  He contemplated ignoring the visitors but quickly dismissed the thought.  Though most folks saw him at the feed mill if they had town concerns, a few preferred to talk to their mayor away from prying eyes and keen ears.

Besides, whoever it was that had come for him would likely go to the house, and his wife would end up screaming for him from the porch.  No, he thought as he came to his feet, he'd had enough of her shrieks for one day.  Tucking the bottle into the straw--he was still mayor after all--Steven went outside.

The sun had tumbled over the horizon a good hour ago but there was enough light lingering to recognize his friends.

"Over here," he called out.

Bill and Robert looked over their shoulders, changed their direction.  Steven had no idea what they were doing there as they didn't normally stop by.  Usually whatever they had to talk about was done at Silver's at their weekly poker game.

It didn't take long to learn the reason for their unexpected visit.  They'd barely tied the horses before Robert turned from the corral.

"Wade hired us a woman vet."

Steven opened his mouth.  Then shut it.  Opened it again.  He shook his head.  "He did what?"

"The vet him and Doc hired?  It's a woman.  Wade was just at Silver's talking about it."

He hadn't had that much whiskey, but he may as well have been falling down drunk for all the sense these two were making.  "How is that possible?  There's no such thing as a woman vet."  And he knew damn well he'd never agreed to hire one at the town meeting where--to his frustration--he'd had to side with the rest of the folks and leave Wade and Doc in charge of hiring Doc's replacement.

"Well, apparently there is," Robert answered.

Bill wasn't tall; he was a brick of a man with thick shoulders and no neck to speak of.  His eyes were like pistols, cold and hard, when they fixed on Steven.  "I own a livery stable, what the hell am I supposed to do if an animal in my care needs a vet?  I ain't calling no woman doctor. Especially one who has already killed one animal."

Blood was beginning to thrum in Steven's ears.  "She killed an animal?"

"According to Wade, she killed his cow," Robert answered while Bill stood there, nostrils flaring and breath heaving like a raging bull.

Steven spun back into the barn, knowing they'd follow.  Figuring it couldn't hurt at this point, he grabbed his bottle from the straw then dropped into the chair he used when oiling his tack.  The whiskey sloshed in the bottle as he took a long drink.  Bill and Robert strode in, Bill's spurs jingling.  They took up on the opposite side of the aisle.

"How the hell did this happen?" Steven asked.

"I don't know," Robert answered.  "None of the telegrams I saw gave any indication it was a woman wanting the job," Robert said, referring to his position at the post and telegraph office.

"I don't care if he knew or not," Bill said, frothing at the mouth, "animal doctoring's a man's job."

"I don't rightly care, one way or the other, either.  But he will fix this.  Didn't I say, when the town met to discuss replacing Doc, that I'd do the hiring?  But no, Wade had to step up and volunteer," he sneered, remembering the day well.

That was the day the town had trusted Wade over their own mayor.  The day Steven had had to graciously accept their majority decision all the while cursing the man who'd never stopped being a thorn in Steven's side.  Wasn't it enough that Wade had had more friends in school?  That he'd been better at ciphering and reading?  That he'd turned Amy's head just when Steven thought he'd finally gotten her attention?

For years he'd lived in Wade Parker's shadow.  Until he'd become mayor.  Then, finally, he'd had a say; he'd had respect.  Until he'd been made a fool of, yet again, by the town's love for Wade.  How humiliating it had been to hear them say, "Why don't we let Wade and Doc look after it?  After all, Wade's a rancher and who better than a rancher and our own vet to know what we need?"  How hard it had been to swallow the anger, the hurt.  Well, now they'd see, wouldn't they?  They'd see just how bloody smart Wade was.

He'd forgotten all about paying her.

Between the urgency of the surgery, the confusion of her being Doc's replacement and the cow dying, it had slipped his mind.  Regardless of his still being angry about being misled, he couldn't, in good conscience, delay bringing her the money he owed her.  He'd called for a vet and though he'd lost one animal, he'd come to realize that he could have lost both.

Not that it made parting with the money any easier.  He'd not only had to swallow his pride and ask James to make up the total amount since he hadn't had enough on his own, but he'd also had to use the little money he had saved to go toward a quality breeding mare.

James had offered to pay the whole amount and let Wade keep the money for the mare, but Wade had refused.  As much as he could, he'd pay his own way.

No matter how much it hurt.

Yellow tulips marked the end of her lane.  Old Doc Fletcher's place--hers now, he reminded himself--wasn't more than a one-story house and a small barn.  Two small corrals were nestled against the barn.  One was empty, a horse grazed contentedly in the other.  It didn't seem troubled by the blazing sun that sent waves of heat shimmering along the ground.  Just behind the corrals was a small pasture where a cow and calf basked in the sun.

Hearing them approach, the mare raised her head, pricked her ears, then pranced to the fence.  With big brown eyes she watched as they walked by.  Whiskey, smelling the mare, kept his eye on her as well, though he was well-mannered enough to keep to Wade's direction.

Wade didn't see Jillian anywhere, but figuring she'd be inside where it was cooler, headed for the house.  He'd no sooner tied Whiskey to her porch when he heard footsteps behind him.

Her hair was once again folded into a thick braid and, like in his barn, the sleeves of her blouse were rolled to her elbows.  In her hand she carried a pitchfork.  He wondered if she'd been working anyway or if she'd grabbed it when she saw it was him.

Her skirt scattered dust as she moved.  Green eyes never left his as she came to stand before him.  She poked the tines of the pitchfork into the dirt between them.

"Mr. Parker."

He pushed his hat back.  "Miss Matthews."

Freckles he hadn't noticed the other day danced across her cheeks and bridged her nose.  He had the most ridiculous urge to trace them with his fingers.

Hell, Wade, you've got enough damn problems, he reminded himself.  A woman like Jillian-–the likes of which he'd sworn off after Amy died–-was the last thing he, or Annabelle, needed.

"Before you say anything," she said as he opened his mouth, "I'd like you to come with me."  She yanked the fork from the ground and headed toward the barn.

His eyes fell to the sway of her trim hips.  He couldn't deny that, despite the tension between them, the view was amazing.  And it stirred blood that had gone far too long without being stirred.  Whether he liked it or not.

The damp coolness of the barn enveloped him as soon he stepped through the doors.  He sighed in relief, tugged at the shirt that had clung to his back within moments of leaving the ranch.

The barn smelled of straw and hay and a menagerie of animals, several of which shuffled in their pens at his presence.  Wade blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.  Since he'd never had reason to be inside Doc's barn before, what he saw surprised him.

"You couldn't have possibly brought all these with you from Pennsylvania," he said.

"No, I didn't.  They were your Doc Fletcher's and I agreed to keep them since he didn't want to take them along."

The barn had a short aisle with stalls on either side.  Jillian moved to the first one and Wade followed.  The gate was open and she stepped through it, lifted a cage off the ground and brought it forward.  Inside a plump white rabbit twitched its nose incessantly.  It backed to the far edge of the cage and thumped its back foot.

"Mr. Fletcher named him Whiskers.  He's not used to me yet, but I'm working on bringing him 'round."

She poked her fingers through the cage.  The rabbit thumped again.  She put the cage down and moved to the next, slightly larger stall.  A Billy goat came right over to the gate, its mouth reaching to nibble on her sleeve.

"This is Zeke.  Mr. Fletcher warned me he eats everything in sight, so watch your clothes."  She gave the goat an affectionate scratch under the chin, then gently turned its face before it could gnaw on her blouse.

"You don't keep him outside?"

"I put him out during the day.  I was about to move them when I heard you ride up."

A scuttling sound across the aisle drew their attention.

"Hello, Rascal," Jillian said.  "According to Mr. Fletcher, Rascal here kept finding his way into the house and making a mess of things.  He tried shooing him away but Rascal always came back.  Miles figured the best way to keep his property intact was to keep Rascal caged."

Jillian shrugged.  "I'm thinking of letting him go.  Doesn't seem right to keep a wild animal penned up."

"And if he makes a mess of your house?" Wade asked.

For the first time he saw a real smile from her and it knocked the breath from his lungs.  Her hands were smudged with dirt, the bottom of her skirt was dusty and soiled from cleaning stalls, but her face glowed.  Life filled her eyes and Wade couldn't help but stare.

"I guess if he does it more than once I'll have to rethink the decision to keep him caged.  Come on, there's one last thing I want you to see."

Wade followed her to the outside paddock and the pretty little chestnut mare he'd seen when he'd ridden up.  The horse leaned her head against Jillian and was rewarded with a scratch on the neck.

"This is the only animal I brought with me from home," she began, "and her name is Hope."

He propped a boot on the lowest rail, braced his forearms on the topmost one.  Though he had yet to figure out why she was doing this, he was interested.  And despite himself, he enjoyed the sweet sound of her voice.

"There was an old man that lived a few miles north of the city.  He had a farm, a good one actually, at one time.  But after his wife died, his own health started to deteriorate.  He slowly began losing his mind.  It was his doctor, a friend of my father's, who said the man had animals and wasn't looking after them properly.  Honestly, most times I think he believed he'd fed them already.  He had a few arguments about that with my father when my father commented on how thin some of them were.  He swore he'd only just come back from feeding them.

"Anyhow, my father did his best to look in on him, but he had other people depending on him, clients as well as family.  Time began to stretch between visits.  He'd bring feed with him, but each time he brought more, it was to find the last bags he'd brought were still mostly full.

"The last time we rolled into that yard, the stench was terrible.  Animals lay rotting in the snow.  We found the old man dead in his bed.  We tried to save those animals that were left, but they were too far gone.  Most had starved or were too close to death to bring them back.

"Hope was the last standing and I took her home with me that day.  It took a while, and there was a time we weren't sure she'd ever recover, but she did."

"How old is she?"

"Three."

Wade looked the filly over.  She was gorgeous.  Nice lines, solid confirmation.  "Do you know her pedigree?"

"Since she was born before his mind was too lost, he had all the papers in his house."  Jillian gave the horse another pat.  "She has excellent breeding."

Had circumstances been different he'd have offered to buy the mare then and there.  The picture of the colt that could come from this animal and Whiskey was clear as a mountain stream and filled Wade's heart with longing.  If only…

"Why did you show me these animals?" he asked.

"Because, Mr. Parker, I love them.  All of them.  And even though I've only been here a few days, I'd do anything to protect them and keep them healthy.  It's not only what I do, it's who I am."