Tennessee Vet

by Carolyn McSparren

  A short, burly man climbed out of the truck’s passenger seat and sauntered around to face the bull with nothing in his hands but a rope.

  “Get back in here, Barbara,” Stephen snapped.

  “It’s okay. That’s Joe Nightingale. It’s his bull. He knows what he’s doing.”

  People peeked out from the stalls and from behind the hay bales, where they had taken cover. Suddenly, the barn went quiet.

  “Now, Montague, old son, I know you’re scared. Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you.” Nightingale looked over the bull’s shoulder and spotted Barbara. “Ain’t that right, Doc? Why this ol’ boy don’t want nothing but his own pasture and his own ladies. You got any tranquilizer, Doc? Ketamine, maybe?” Same quiet, conversational tone.

  Montague watched Nightingale avidly, but he no longer snorted or pawed.

  “How much does he weigh?”

  “More’n a ton, Doc.”

  “Ketamine takes too long. Give me a minute. I have some new stuff. Won’t knock him out but should calm him down fast. Have to be IM, in the muscle. I am not about to try to find a vein.”

  “Understood.”

  * * *

  BARBARA STEPPED BACK into the stall and tried not to be distracted by Stephen’s presence. She opened her case, hunted among her medicine vials, found the one she wanted, filled a syringe and smiled up at Stephen. “I am not planning to get hurt, Stephen. There’s an open stall right beside the bull’s rump. I’ll duck in there after I inject him.”

  “What if he runs in after you? I have seen bullfights, Barbara. You are no torero.” He held out a hand. “I’ll do it.”

  “Where’s your cape, matador? I know where to jab and how hard. They don’t call it cowhide for nothing. I don’t have a death wish, I promise.”

  “I could stop you.” He stepped in front of the open stall door.

  “Don’t even try it. It is my job, Stephen, and I will do it without interference, well meant though it may be. Just wish me luck. This will be fine. I’ve treated Montague before. He’s generally a sweetie. He’s het up because he’s away from home. I wonder how he got loose. Maybe there’s a cow in season he can smell.”

  “Doc?”

  “Coming, Joe.”

  “I got a rope through his nose ring. I can’t hang on to him if he freaks out, but it’ll keep his attention some. He’ll try to pull back, not stomp me.”

  “Won’t that ring in his nose hurt?” said a woman from a safe vantage point at the corner.

  “No more than piercing your earlobes,” Barbara said, pointing to the giant hoops that stretched the lobes of the woman’s ears.

  “Gets his attention is all,” said Joe.

  “I’m going to saunter down behind his rump,” Barbara said. “Little afternoon stroll.”

  Several of the spectators tittered.

  “After I pop him, he may go nuts, or he may just stand there and doze. Never know with a bull.”

  “Barbara, you must not do this,” Stephen said.

  “No choice.” She touched his cheek. “It’s why they pay me the big bucks.”

  As with so many possible disasters, this one was a nonevent.

  When Barbara shot the syringe of tranquilizer through the ridge of muscle beside Montague’s tail, he snorted as though he’d been bitten by a greenfly, swung his head far enough to feel the tug of the rope, then watched Barbara slide back into the safety of the stall where Stephen waited. The bull stood quietly in the aisle, a little bemused, but no longer freaking out.

  “I’m gonna walk him back down to his stall,” Joe said. “Doc, I’ll be right back soon as he’s secure. Don’t want him to fall asleep in the aisle. That’d be a real hazard to navigation.”

  The crowd ducked smartly out of Montague’s way as he walked by with Joe on the end of a slack rope.

  Barbara waved to Joe. A moment later her legs gave way. Stephen caught her and sat her down on a bale of hay in the aisle outside the stall.

  “Oh, boy, I don’t ever want to do that again,” she said.

  “Don’t worry. You won’t get the chance. If you ever try, I swear I’ll chain you to the wall. Woman, what were you thinking?”

  “That I had a job to do! It was not a time for a committee meeting with you or anybody else!” She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “It wasn’t that dangerous, Stephen. I know Montague. He’s a pussycat generally. He got scared, and bulls don’t have much impulse control.”

  “Oh, really. I hadn’t noticed. Much good I was.”

  “It was not your decision or your job.” She touched his cheek. “You were here ready to snatch me away from the dragon.”

  “You’re the one with the shining armor. Seems you get to do all the rescuing, first with the tractor...”

  “Stephen, you are in my world at the moment. You think I could stand up in a lecture hall and stare down fifty bored students?”

  “Not even the worst of my students has ever tried to drive a horn through my heart. Ah, here’s your friend Mr. Nightingale.”

  “Hey, Joe,” Barbara said. She didn’t try to stand. “How on earth did he get loose?”

  “Got a new groom don’t know how to tie a decent knot. Montague was tethered on the line when some fool popped one of those cherry bombs under his belly. If I find out who did it, I’m gonna feed him to Montague for supper. Thought it was funny.” He grimaced. “He better be long gone. I’ll funny him if I catch him. Montague yanked on his rope, the knot came loose and off he went. He was just trying to get away from the noise, but bulls don’t generally stop once they get going.”

  “Could have been bad if he’d gotten out of the barn—bull versus midway.”

  “My groom did have sense enough to pull my truck across the exit, so maybe I won’t fire his ass.” He sat on the hay bale beside Barbara. “What I ought to do is exile him to the Boy Scouts ’til he learns to tie a knot. Got to tell you, Doc, I have not been that scared since Afghanistan, and I know that bull’s not mean. I don’t know what you’re gonna charge me, Doc, but it darned well ain’t enough.” He sauntered back in the direction of his stalls.

  Barbara held out a hand to Stephen. He pulled her up and into his arms, where she rested her head against his shoulder. She whispered, “I’m tired. I’m hungry. And after this, riding the Ferris wheel will be a piece of cake.”

  Barbara managed to endure the Ferris wheel, as Stephen carefully steadied the gondola, even when they stopped at the top of the arc. She kept her hand under his elbow and clung to his side at first, but once she felt more comfortable, and trusted him not to play any stupid tricks, she opened her eyes and looked around. “It really is beautiful from up here.”

  “Why do you think most people ride Ferris wheels? Not simply to scare their girlfriends, although that’s a considerable part of the appeal.”

  “I’ll still be glad to get down someplace that doesn’t go up and down in circles.”

  “Want to ride it again?”

  “No! I’ve paid off my bet, now you have to pay off yours. Look, Stephen, there’s the carousel down there. Can we ride the carousel? I know it’s not part of the bet.”

  “You ride as much as you like after the roller coaster. Unless, you’d rather swap? The carousel in place of the roller coaster?”

  “Good try, Stephen. Pay up.”

  The roller coaster proved more problematic. As the car slid into the landing at the end of the ride, Barbara saw that Stephen had turned an interesting shade of puce. “Are you going to throw up?” she whispered as he clambered out of the car.

  “I need a soda to settle my stomach or I might. Why did I let you talk me into that?”

  “Because you are a brave soul, and you promised. Let’s do something quiet. How about the bumper cars?”

  “That’s your idea of quiet?”

  “Oh, I didn’t t
hink—your leg, I mean.”

  “Do I get flashbacks? No. Actually, I would enjoy a ride where I can kick your beautiful rear end.”

  “Them’s fightin’ words! Come on.” She grabbed his hand and hurried him to the bumper car box office.

  * * *

  HE HAD BROUGHT his aluminum cane with him in case, then left it in Barbara’s van, the length of the midway away from the rides. Purely for emergencies. His leg would ache tonight, but he was determined to go without the cane in public. Now, he realized that he wasn’t limping. Not the world’s smoothest walk, but balanced. He had been determined to keep up with Barbara all day, even if it killed him.

  It wasn’t killing him. Maybe his body didn’t need the cane as much as his head did. She was having such a good time that he discovered he was having fun watching her.

  He did kick her beautiful rear end on the bumpers. If there was one thing he could do, it was to drive a car, even a small electric one specifically designed to bash the competition.

  As they went down the stairs after the ride, Stephen said, “Okay, let’s ride the carousel. Then, isn’t it time for some fried butter?”

  He watched Barbara clamber onto a white carousel horse and ride with as much joy as if it was a real, live unicorn. He couldn’t remember when he had experienced joy. It had slipped away at the funeral home or in the operating room or rehab. Now he’d found it again in Barbara’s laughter. He wasn’t about to lose it. He knew how easy it was to lose someone you loved without warning.

  Since neither could actually stomach the idea of fried butter, they munched their way through fried chicken, corn on the cob and funnel cakes at one of the picnic tables under the trees.

  “I hope you are driving us home,” Stephen said. “I might fall asleep at the wheel. I could use a nap.”

  “Me, too.”

  After lunch, they spread their windbreakers on the cool autumn grass, and Stephen stretched out with his head in Barbara’s lap.

  “Glad you came?” Barbara sked.

  “I would go to the Arctic Circle with you.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. I wouldn’t be there.”

  He slipped his hand behind her head and pulled her down so that he could kiss her.

  “Stephen, people will see.”

  “Who cares?”

  “True.” She bent to return his kiss, and a very nice kiss it was, too. But chaste. Well, relatively chaste. She had a reputation to maintain in Williamston, even if he didn’t.

  “Everyone in town must know by now that you and I are an item.”

  “We are? Nobody told me.” She stared around to see if they were being watched. “You certainly didn’t mention it. I’m not thrilled to be stared at and snickered over.”

  He sat up and swung around to face her. “Who cares what they think? Come on. If I don’t move, I’ll wake up next Tuesday. I am going to win you a teddy bear.”

  “Those games are rigged.” She stalked away from him. “Don’t waste your money.”

  “Watch and see.”

  Thirty minutes later they staggered to Barbara’s SUV carrying a giant stuffed panda, a giant stuffed grizzly and a giant stuffed raccoon.

  They shoehorned the toys into the back seat. Stephen said, “Told ya.”

  “Kicks will enjoy them once he or she is bigger than they are. Where did you learn to shoot like that?”

  “On Granddad’s farm. Same place I learned to drive a car. Not, unfortunately, a mammoth tractor.”

  Barbara had two minor calls during the afternoon while the two of them strolled through the stock barns and the craft exhibits, but nothing as spectacular as the escaped bull. The swollen capped hock resolved itself, as Barbara had said it would. The quarter horse came in second in the barrel-racing and made her owner very proud.

  They watched the harness horses race around the temporary track that had been laid down for them. Barbara refused to bet. “Bad politics,” she said. “If I lose, it’s because I don’t know anything about harness horses. If I win, it’s because I either know something the rest of the spectators don’t, or I am busy shooting dope into either the winners or the losers, depending who’s telling the tale and whether he won or lost.”

  When Barbara finally went off duty at five thirty, it was nearly dark.

  As they walked down the row of tents, they bought more fast food to take home.

  “Once a year, we can clog our arteries,” Barbara said.

  “Keep telling yourself that while the EMTs are prepping us both for quintuple-bypass surgery.”

  Barbara knew he hadn’t realized what he’d said. He was only making a smart-aleck remark, but he had reminded her how easily a heart could be stopped, a life ended. A marriage ended. She didn’t call him on it. He’d have been horrified at what he’d said so casually.

  She refused to allow one silly remark to blunt the fun they’d had together, the joy she felt in his company. Losing John had nearly destroyed her. Did she have the guts to risk loving and possibly losing again?

  “What on earth?” she said as they drove around the curve before reaching Stephen’s house. “Your outdoor lights are on. Something’s happened. Look at all those trucks.”

  A half dozen were parked under the trees. She could hear men’s voices punctuated with Latin music.

  “Are you being robbed?” Barbara whispered. “Should you call the sheriff?”

  “Not necessary. Hola, Rudy!”

  A burly, squarish man in overalls detached himself from the group. “You caught us, Doctor. We planned to be finished and out of here before you came home.”

  “Stephen, what is this?” Barbara asked.

  “Your early Christmas present. It’s a flight cage for Orville.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “WHAT ARE YOU talking about, Stephen? Who are those men? What flight cage? Aren’t those the men who updated Emma’s kitchen and built the addition on their house?”

  He handed her a bag from the fair and picked up another to carry inside. “Let’s go eat some of that evil food we brought home with us,” Stephen said. “Let me go speak to Rudy while you dish up, okay?”

  “You better come back and tell me what you’re talking about.”

  While Stephen was outside, Barbara pulled plates and glasses from the cabinets and assembled servings of barbecued ribs, baked beans, slaw and potato logs. She was pouring iced tea when he came back in the front door with a suspiciously satisfied grin on his face.

  “They’ve basically finished, just straightening up. Let’s eat. After the lunch we had I didn’t think I’d ever eat again, but I smelled that barbecue and suddenly I’m starving.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t. Not one bite until you tell me what’s going on.”

  Stephen. found napkins and utensils in the kitchen drawers. “I so seldom eat anything here except takeout or frozen dinners, I haven’t really explored. You seem to know more about this kitchen than I do.”

  “I spent plenty of time here before Emma married Seth and moved out. Now, what’s all this about a flight cage. They showed up after we left this morning? You’d planned this? How? When?”

  “Seth gave me Rudy’s name and said he and his men were looking for construction jobs since they finished Emma’s addition. So I went and talked to them. Orville needed a flight cage. I didn’t want to move Orville anywhere that had one, and Emma’s just needed to be enlarged.”

  “You did this on your own without mentioning it to me?” Barbara asked. She poured sauce on her barbecue. “Do you even know the proper dimensions? What is required to train the bird?” She didn’t like surprises like this. It must have cost a bundle, certainly with a crew that size completing it in a day—just to give her an early Christmas present? Just one more burden to add to her others—and what a terrible way to think of Thanksgiving and Christmas, as burdens.

&
nbsp; “Orville needs it now, doesn’t he?” Stephen said. “Or at least before Thanksgiving. And I haven’t forgotten our plans for Thanksgiving dinner. Now we can include your new vet—what’s his name? Vince Peterson?”

  “Have you actually invited people?”

  “And received acceptances from everyone.”

  “I’m not certain this is a good idea. Neither you nor I have room enough for a sit-down party for this many people.”

  “All taken care of.”

  “How?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Stephen, I hate surprises. I’m not kidding.” Though, maybe with Stephen doing the planning, she’d actually get through an entire meal without being called out to an emergency. If she was, she’d either take Vince with her or send him on his own.

  She was annoyed at the way he was arranging her personal and professional life, making plans without asking her first.

  If he could waltz in and take over, he could as easily waltz right out again if he got bored. Or had another accident, or a heart attack. She’d barely kept going after John died. She couldn’t face a loss like that again.

  After their dinner, she rinsed and stacked the dishes in the small dishwasher, added soap and turned it on. “There.”

  She felt rather than saw Stephen walk into the small galley kitchen behind her. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and nestled his cheek against her hair.

  “Stay,” he whispered.

  She leaned back into the warmth of his body, but she kept her tone light. “I have barely enough stamina to drive home without falling asleep. I have animals to feed at the crack of dawn.”

  “We need to move Orville down here to try out his new cage.”

  “No, I need to check it out. I am not an amateur. I have built and used flight cages before. You have not. I will not be comfortable moving him unless I am certain what you had built is appropriate for Orville. I don’t want obstacles that can hurt him.”