Safe In His Heart (McCormick's Creek Series Book 3)

by Jen Peters

  There was certainly a need for it—just look at the collection of dogs she had at her house, not to mention all the stray cats she saw around town. She was pretty good at finding people who needed a companion in their lives, like Mr. Brown, but there must be more that she didn’t know about. Families looking for a pet, new people in town—and there would be more of those with the McCormick Inn opening and businesses picking up. If there were some place official to go to look for a pet, without having to go down to Eugene…just think how many she could rescue!

  Jinx nosed her ear, and she held herself quietly still while he sniffed around her face, whiskers tickling lightly. All it took was a little love and trust and time.

  He finally drew back, but let her stroke his fur. She was stepping over the small fence when a knock came on the door and Ree entered.

  “Hey, girlfriend, are you busy? Or are you sitting around moping?”

  Robin laughed. “No, just thinking big thoughts.”

  “Ooh!” Ree flopped on the couch and waved her arm dramatically. “Tell me everything, Dahling.”

  “You’ve had a good morning, haven’t you? Hang on while I get us some Cokes.”

  Ree bounced up and followed her. “Mitch called. He’s coming down for four whole days!”

  “Of course he is,” Robin smiled. “He can’t resist your charms for very long. But I thought he was going to move down here.”

  Ree leaned against the counter. “He is, he just has some stuff to finish up at his office first. Old clients and all that.”

  “You guys just need to get married.”

  “We will,” Ree assured her, “he’s just not the kind of guy you can rush. He wants his old life wrapped up and gone before we start a new one.” She took the soda Robin offered. “So what are these big thoughts of yours?”

  Robin led the way back to the living room couch and sat down with a sigh. “Do you think I could start an animal shelter?”

  Soda spurted from Ree’s mouth. “You already have!” she said, wiping her face before pointing around at the dogs.

  “No, a real animal shelter. A building with pens and runs and everything, with volunteers and regular hours. Do you think I could do it?”

  “Of course you could! Robin, you are smart and capable, and you can do anything you set out to do.”

  Robin chugged half her soda and shook her head. “I don’t know. It would take a lot. I’d need to find somewhere big enough for dog pens and a place for visitors to have one-on-one time with the pets. And a place for cats, with scratching posts and cat condos.”

  “Okay, so you look for a place to rent. It’s doable.”

  Augie climbed into Robin’s lap, and she was grateful for his calming warmth. “It’s just…I’m not so good with big projects.”

  Ree took her hand. “You’re good with any size project. You always have been. And you’d know that if Lorraine hadn’t messed with your mind.”

  Robin dropped her eyes from Ree’s intense gaze. “It wasn’t just her.” She couldn’t stop the tears that insisted on filling her eyes.

  “No,” Ree agreed, her mouth twisting with bitterness, “it was the mean girls and then the whole school. Bullying sucks, and we couldn’t stop it. But it started with Raine—if she hadn’t taken your flash drive, nothing would have happened.”

  Robin studied the laces in her tennis shoes. If her presentation hadn’t been sabotaged, the bullies would have done something else. Or maybe not. Maybe they would have picked on someone else.

  “So come on,” her friend encouraged, “what else besides a building to rent?”

  Robin forced her mind back to her earlier thoughts—the ones with possibilities instead of anguish. “Well, we’re probably going to need a computer system, and I’m going to have to come up with forms for adoption applications, and volunteers to help run the place, and donations of dog food and such.”

  “That’s better,” Ree said. “It sounds like you’re going to need some fundraising. We could put up donation jars around town. I know Mom would be happy to have one in the flower shop, definitely one in the restaurant, and Mac’s Hardware. And probably the IGA.”

  “Definitely,” Robin smiled. “But first, I need a building. I mean, people would donate to get things started, but without a location, I won’t be able to figure out what’s needed. My brother would do any remodeling; I just need to ask. But…do you think one of the closed-down stores on Main Street would work?”

  “Hey, if you were on Main Street, you’d pick up traffic just from people walking by. See, you’re already working on the project!”

  By the time Ree left to ready the Inn for weekend customers, Robin could see her plans going somewhere.

  Her mind kept working while she got ready for her restaurant shift. It would be nice to have an exam room for minor treatments, and maybe Dr. Jan could make visits instead of Robin needing to take the animals in.

  She thought up questions to ask applicants, the need for forms and a way to keep contact info while she touched up her mascara. How much could be on the computer and how much would need to be on paper? She’d need some volunteers to run it, at least when she couldn’t be there herself. And food. How much food would they go through?

  She added a bit of blush and some lip color while the depressingly huge amount of money she’d need wormed its way into her mind. It would be way more than she could come up with herself. Donation jars and car washes and bake sales would hardly put a dent in it. She’d need thousands of dollars just to get a place ready, let alone keep it going. And that didn’t count rent.

  She blew out her breath, then held it while she blasted her hair with hairspray, enough to keep things tidy through hours of work.

  It was a pipe dream. Just like any of her plans ended up. Either she wouldn’t have a way to do it, or she couldn’t find the strength or confidence, and she’d end up fostering dogs and waitressing forever. Working in marketing would have set her in a lifelong career with time and energy for whatever else she wanted. Instead…

  Raine. Lorraine. The humiliation she had caused.

  Robin blinked back tears. It hadn’t been all Raine. Actually, she had to admit it wasn’t Raine much at all until the end. But if Raine hadn’t stolen her flash drive, Ashley wouldn’t have been able to change it and set up the worst experience of Robin’s teenage life.

  Maybe if she hadn’t had to deal with that, she could have dealt with her marketing classes better. But criticism really hadn’t been the issue. Her profs had given good critiques, as had a couple of students.

  There were a few who had been horribly caustic, though, like if she did a good job, that meant theirs couldn’t be good too, therefore they needed to make hers out to be horrible. And knock her down personally while they were at it.

  So here she sat, collecting stray dogs in her mother’s house and having a great big pity party while she was at it.

  Her crush on Cliff was never going to come to anything, either. On the other hand, he did ask her to go riding. It sounded wonderful, as long as she didn’t fall off and make a fool of herself. It had been ages since she had even been up on a horse, and that was just a friend’s for a couple afternoons when she was eight or nine.

  Her mind created images of riding side by side with Cliff, maybe him reaching out to hold her hand, maybe galloping across fields, maybe leaning across the saddles for a kiss. And later, working on the plans for the shelter, playing with the dogs when it was all set up, her sitting with a pup in her lap and him stroking it, then stroking her hair…

  She shook herself out of it. Only a daydream, and it was time to go to work.

  Chapter 6

  Cliff climbed the steep, dusty stairs to the hayloft, glad he’d never had to haul hay up this way. Most of their alfalfa went into the thousand-pound round bales, stored in two sheds near the pastures. They kept Uncle Phil’s old stallion in a paddock, though, and the mares and geldings often needed hay if it didn’t rain for a while, so they put some hay up
in small bales.

  He tightened his gloves and worked them under the tight strands of baling wire, hefting the alfalfa bale up and tossing it over to ground level. He coughed roughly. He loved the rich smell of alfalfa, just didn’t appreciate the dry dust in his throat. He grabbed a second bale, trying to concentrate on his work instead of thinking about a certain pair of brown eyes.

  Those smiling, brown eyes wouldn’t stay out of his mind though. He remembered the way she laughed and nuzzled the muddy mop head he’d brought to her, and he loved the way she didn’t care if she got messy. Other than his family and the ranch hands, he’d never met someone who was so down to earth. Real. Not afraid to just be herself.

  He couldn’t wait for her to come ride. He’d have to talk to Uncle Phil to know when he could take some time away, but since his jolly uncle had been bugging him to take a girl out, he didn’t think it would be a problem. He would put her up on Cassie, a wise old Palomino that gave a nice ride but could be trusted with beginners. They could head across the pastures, over the river that provided irrigation for the ranch, and up into the forestry trails. She’d smile, he’d smile, the connection he had felt before would grow…

  And what would Robin see in him? Just a sad guy coming from nowhere, going nowhere.

  A deep, barky cough outside broke into his thoughts—Brandy. The four-year-old mare’s runny nose had been worsening, and she’d been coughing a little the day before, but this was much worse. He went out to the pasture fence where she stood with her head hanging, her tail flicking listlessly.

  “Hey, girl, not feeling so great, are you?” He patted her neck, took one look at her dull eyes and goopy nose, and brought her into the barn.

  “Hey, Uncle Phil!” he called toward the equipment shed. “I need you for a minute.”

  He clipped Brandy into the cross ties and got the small vet box from the tack room.

  “What’s up?” Aunt Jess asked, wiping oil off her hands with a grimy rag. “Phil’s tied up under the tractor.”

  As if in answer, Brandy let out another rough cough. “Dang. More vet bills.” She took a deep breath and tossed the rag to the side. “OK, let’s check her out.”

  Cliff stroked her white blaze and scratched behind her ears while Jess put a stethoscope to the mare’s chest and took her temperature. “I don’t know. Her lungs don’t sound great, and she’s running a fever.”

  “Time to get Dr. Jan out?”

  Jess pursed her lips. “Can’t say your uncle’s going to like the expense, but yeah, give her a call.”

  Three hours later, Brandy was put into the round pen away from the other horses, with a definite diagnosis of a cold and a probable diagnosis of rhinopneumonitis.

  “We never had any rhino at home,” Cliff said. “What now?”

  Phil and Jess glanced at him, then turned back to watch the mare. “Now Jan runs tests, and we hope against hope it doesn’t spread to all the others,” Jess said.

  “That contagious?”

  Phil blew out his breath, his happy-go-lucky face turned serious. “Oh, yeah. It’ll run through rodeos or horse shows or boarding stables faster than you can get your horse out of there.”

  “No vaccine?”

  Jess gave Phil a scowl and headed to the house.

  Phil looked at the ground. “There’s a vaccine. But our horses don’t go anywhere, so I let it slide. Besides, it’s not always effective.”

  Cliff looked over at the mare, who was ignoring the flake of hay on the ground, then out at the paddock at Zeus and the others. No one else had runny noses, thank goodness. “So what now?”

  “Now we wait for confirmation. And clean the barn—every corner, every wall as sanitized as we can make it.”

  “Keep the others out in the pasture?”

  Phil nodded. “Even for saddling, ’til we get confirmation.”

  What a lot of messy work, Cliff thought, although they’d be lucky if that’s all it was. It had been reckless to skip the vaccinations—something his dad would never have done. There was nothing to do about it now. “Better get started.”

  On the way to the barn, Phil’s phone rang in his pocket. He held it up to his ear to say hello, then pulled it four inches away. Cliff grinned—his cousin Carla’s voice was loud enough for Cliff to hear her from six feet away.

  “Hey, Dad, I’ve got a favor to ask.”

  Phil rolled his eyes, but Cliff smiled at her exuberance. Even as a 30-year-old single mom, she never seemed to get down.

  “I’ve got this friend, Emily, who wants to come ride,” she continued.

  “Uh huh,” Phil said. “Bring her on up. Most of the horses are good to go.”

  “Well, it’s maybe not what you think. She’s got her own horse and wants to ride the trails up here for a couple days. Can you put her up for next weekend? You have space in the barn, don’t you?”

  Cliff grimaced. Not now, they didn’t.

  Uncle Phil agreed. “No, Brandy’s got a cough that’s probably contagious. Might be rhino. We’ve got to play it safe until we know for sure.”

  “Oh.” Carla’s disappointment came through clearly.

  Cliff spoke up. “What about the old stalls in the hay barn?”

  “Did you hear that, Carla?” Phil said. “Brandy’s in the round pen and that hay barn is a hundred acres away. If your friend came in the driveway on the other side of the ranch, do you think that would work?”

  “I’ll ask. She may not want to risk it, but if her horse is vaccinated and she keeps her distance…this is the only weekend Emily has for this. And maybe you’ll find out it’s not rhino after all.” They talked a bit longer and hung up.

  “So, more on my work list, huh?” Cliff said.

  Phil nodded and draped Brandy’s lead rope over a hook. “I’ll start the clean up in here—the tractor repair can wait. You see what condition those old stalls are in, and if the hay dust is filling the air. Wouldn’t want to cause more problems.”

  “Sure. And hey, while we’re talking about someone coming, I, uh, I invited Robin Cooper up to come riding.”

  Phil raised his bushy white eyebrows. “You not only talked to a girl, but you asked her on a date?”

  Cliff scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt. “It’s not a date. Just riding.”

  “Just riding.” Phil grinned. “Right. You do know that riding leads to dancing, which leads to courting, which leads to marriage?”

  Cliff reddened. “Uncle Phil! It’s only a ride!” Besides, even if it led to dancing, he couldn’t let it lead to anything else, not for a long while. But dancing…dancing would be nice.

  Phil’s eyes still twinkled, but he didn’t tease any more. “We’d better get started on this sanitizing stuff. Just remember, this is Robin Cooper we’re talking about. You take good care of her.”

  Chapter 7

  Robin couldn’t seem to keep the shelter ideas away, no matter what she was doing. Serving customers, walking dogs, sitting in Jinx’s pen—her mind was always working. Now, off to the rehab center with Augie, she had to shut off the plans and focus on the patients. Who would they see today?

  Mrs. Marchena, recovering from a broken hip, never stopped chattering while she petted Augie. “I will go home tomorrow. My grandson will pick me up and take me out of this place and back to the bright colors of our home. My daughter has taken up the rugs and moved furniture to make room for my walker.”

  The woman’s face was lined with wrinkles from laughter and age, and Robin hoped to be as cheery as her when she got old.

  “Do you know, mija, that when I was a young mother in Guatemala, my abuela lived with us and walked with a cane until she could walk no more? My daughter shared a bed with her. But now, I do not share a bed with my grandson!” She roared with laughter and Augie stretched up to lick her face.

  “Who’s your grandson? I might know him.”

  “Javier Gonzales.” She looked sideways at Robin. “He is a policeman here. He is a very eligible young man.”


  Robin laughed. “Of course I know Javi! He’s great. But he only knows me as Justin’s kid sister—not a great recommendation.”

  Robin was still giggling as she collected Augie and left Mrs. Marchena’s room. Matchmakers never quit.

  Mr. Frasier next door was a different story. He was nearly comatose, whether from a stroke or plain old age, Robin didn’t know. But Augie was familiar with him and went trotting ahead, waiting to be lifted onto the bed.

  She picked him up and nestled him into a crook of Mr. Frasier’s arm. Augie shifted and then settled, sniffing his skin and then resting his chin against the old man’s chest. Robin watched his head move with the slight in and out of Mr. Frasier’s breaths.

  The man’s face was pale, looking more gray every time she came, and she was glad to know that Augie could provide some love and warmth that he didn’t usually get. Not that the nurses and aides didn’t care, but touch was important—and not just turning him over and getting him settled.

  To have someone’s arm around you for longer than thirty seconds, or to nestle into those arms while you sat close—these were things that her mother missed since her father died, enough that she had actually mentioned them in a down moment. Robin had made a point of sitting close while they watched TV since then, and giving her mother more than a quick hug goodnight. She liked knowing that while her mother might not have a husband to provide physical affection, she could be part of it herself.

  And someday, she might have that herself.

  Eventually, she wriggled Augie from his nest in Mr. Frasier’s arm and headed for Mrs. Jackson’s room. She was ready to call out a greeting but instead nearly fell on her face as she reached for the door and it wasn’t there.

  A strong arm caught her as she stumbled. “Sorry about that,” came Cliff’s voice above her. She saw his foot propping the door open, the door he had pulled just before she pushed.

  “A gentleman can always open a door for a lady,” Robin quipped, pulling herself upright, “it just helps if the lady waits for it.”