Laughing a little, Lily said, “Yes, they all did. Mom got it, and when I was seven, Santa Claus left me a doctor’s bag with a stethoscope and bandages in it. I was in heaven.” She saw his eyes light up with laughter. “I guess, looking back at that time, I was already in my chosen field. When I went to junior high, I started taking courses that would get me into college someday. I really loved being a nurse. When I graduated, I went into ortho because I loved working with the bones and joints of the body.”
“Do you think someday you might go back into ortho?”
Giving a painful shrug, Lily whispered, “I don’t know. Not yet ... It brings back too many fresh memories for me. I wanted to do something different, like helping Jenna. There’s no blood involved either. I could never be an ortho surgery nurse again because of it.”
“PTSD changes us,” he agreed in a low tone fraught with emotion. “I was going to spend twenty in the service. I had my whole life laid out in front of me.”
“Yes, well,” she said drily, “so did I. When we’re in our early twenties, Jake, we’re so young, so hopeful . . .”
“That idealism we’re all born with takes it on the nose after we enter the military.”
“It didn’t for me until ... well, the one incident that destroyed my hope.” She could see turmoil in his dark green eyes, feel a sense of protectiveness gently encasing her. Was it possible Jake had invisible arms he was wrapping around her shoulders? It sure felt like it to Lily. Releasing a long sigh, she said, “I guess I still hope. When I’m with the dogs at the shelter, I feel hope for them. Maybe I haven’t completely lost my way.”
“Animals have a way of luring our better human emotions to the surface,” Jake said. “Checkers is good for you, too. I’m glad you’re making time for him to become part of your life.”
“Only for the next month.” She frowned. “I need to get a steady job. I can’t rely on part-time work. And I don’t want to stay in the room Kassie give me for free.”
“Maud’s always looking for office staff,” he said. “Matter of fact, her assistant, Helen, is retiring next month. Do you type?”
“On a computer keyboard, yes.”
“Have you thought of something like becoming an office assistant? Won’t involve any blood, that’s for sure. And Maud is easy to work for, so you won’t be buried under stress and demands. Might be a possible job for you, Lily.”
She brightened a little. “Thanks, Jake. I meant to drive over to see her, but I haven’t yet. I’ll get over there in a day or two to ask her.”
“You’re looking tired, Lily. Your eyelids are drooping. Why don’t we hit the sack?”
She stood and pushed away the chair. “Sounds good.”
“I’ll put the mugs in the dishwasher,” he said. “You go ahead.”
There was something vulnerable and almost boyish about Jake as she stared up at him as he rose from his chair. “I really like this, Jake,” she said. “Usually, you have walls around you. But you don’t now. Why?”
He collected the mugs. “I don’t have an answer, Lily. I don’t know. Maybe it’s you.”
Chapter Twelve
July 6
“I don’t have an answer, Lily. I don’t know. Maybe it’s you.”
Lily couldn’t get Jake’s response out of her head. Or her heart. The man was like fog: silent, nearly invisible, impossible to grasp where he was coming from. Did she want to think about getting into a relationship with him? It hadn’t occurred to her until recently. Jake was opening up to her. She wasn’t some young innocent in the world of men and women. There was something good growing between them, and she didn’t try to stop those feelings because her symptoms were better as a result. She knew part of it was because of Jenna, who reminded her of her mother, who she loved fiercely. Lily missed her family acutely.
Frowning, she drove her pickup down the highway toward the ranch after finishing up at the shelter. In another twenty minutes, she’d be home, in time for dinner at six. Jenna was getting to the point where she was walking without help. She loved working in the kitchen and had promised to make Jake and her dinner tonight, which Lily appreciated. Outside, the sun was setting in the west, not yet touching the Wilson Range peaks, though it would shortly.
Her thoughts moved to her first trail ride yesterday with Jake. Her inner thighs were still stiff and sore from that two-hour jaunt. And she walked funny, too, feeling as if her legs were bowed, for about an hour after returning to the barn. Jake had ridden one of the string horses at the ranch, a bright red sorrel gelding with four flashy white socks with a wide blaze down his face. She loved the quiet plodding of Checkers, who followed the more active gelding Jake rode.
Jake never talked about what he’d said to her that late night. She wanted to broach it but was fearful for a lot of good reasons. First, she was an employee, not a friend, not a possible lover. She was a temporary, understanding she would be gone in weeks. Jenna would be going back across the state to Casper, where she lived, and her job would be over. And Lily was tentative because her focus was on trying to heal, not accidentally meeting a man who might be an equal in her life. Yet there it was, staring back at her, teasing and making her ache inwardly for something outside herself. The loneliness pierced through her at times as she fought silently to try to be normal. During yesterday’s ride, when they stopped for a picnic on the slope of one of the hills, Jake had continued to unveil a little more of himself. Like her, he’d had a good set of parents, but she could see that when his father died, it had left a wound in him that still hadn’t completely healed.
Slats of sunlight shot like golden lasers across the wide valley, the fingers highlighting the many shades of green across it. Lily was finding summer was indeed a beautiful time here on the western side of Wyoming. The scent of lush grass permeated the air and she loved it, inhaling it deeply. The two-lane highway was pretty much deserted at this time. Most people who worked during the day were already arriving home to join their families.
She missed her own family, leaving an ache in her heart. Guilt warred within Lily, even though she faithfully called her parents every weekend to fill them in on how she was doing, avoiding the PTSD stuff, of course. They were relieved she had a job, even if it was only two months long. If only there was some way to bridge the gap between civilians and military people. Their worlds were literally so far apart, their unique realities so different from one another. Jake, however, had given her an outlet, and for that she was more than grateful. Every time they tentatively walked around their symptoms, she felt a little bit more of her was healed.
A dark shape appeared about half a mile ahead of her, walking along the shoulder on her side of the road. What was it? She slowed, worried it might be a coyote that might cross in front of her. Or maybe a wolf from one of the packs who lived in the nearby mountain ranges. She didn’t want to hit an animal, so she slowed down even more.
There was a barbed-wire ranch fence off the gravel shoulder, grass on the other side and about twenty head of Hereford cows munching away, ignoring the animal passing nearby. As she coasted closer, she saw it was a black-and-white dog. Her belly was protruding; she was obviously very pregnant. She was limping on one of her legs. Making a mewing sound of sympathy for how bedraggled the dog looked, Lily checked traffic one last time. There was none. She pulled over in front of the dog, her pink tongue lolling out the side of her mouth, head down, ears down, not at all alert. It looked like a Border collie. The dog’s fur was matted, uncombed, ratty-looking. Lily would bet anything someone had dumped the pregnant collie and left her to fend for herself weeks, if not a month earlier.
Sliding out, she walked to the rear of the truck and watched the dog for a reaction. Her head was hanging down, and she was obviously tired and weary. Kneeling, Lily called, “Hey girl, come here,” and she patted her knee.
Instantly, the dog lifted her ears, picking up her pace a little toward her.
Lily saw she had the most beautiful crystalline blue eyes a
nd remembered that some Border collies had that color. The dog was limping on her right front paw. As she drew closer, she could see the animal was starved. Her heart turned with even more distress for her. There was no collar on her. For sure, someone had dropped her off, wanting to get rid of her, And she was so pregnant, Lily wondered if she wasn’t already in labor.
“Hey,” she cooed as the dog slowed cautiously, wariness in her eyes as she looked Lily up and down, deciding whether she was friend or enemy. Then she lurched forward.
With a quick intake of breath, Lily opened her arms.
The pregnant dog collapsed into her arms, nearly knocking her backward. Regaining her balance, she felt the dog trembling and whining pitifully.
“It’s all right, all right, sweetie . . .” she whispered, moving her hand lightly over her black head, which had a white blaze down the center of it, her muzzle the same color. “You’re all right now. Everything’s going to be all right from here on out. . . .” Her voice strained as she slid her hand knowingly down the thick, dull-looking fur of her body. Tears filled Lily’s eyes. The dog was horribly thin. Lily wanted to cry over her condition, but bit down on her lower lip to stop the reaction. The memory of Afghan children, their ribs prominent in their too-thin bodies, slammed into her as well.
“I have to give you a name,” she said, the dog studying her intently, as if begging her silently for help. Lily swore she could see desperate pleading in her beautiful blue eyes. “How about Sage?” Because there was a lot of this plant in dry areas of Wyoming. She felt the dog trembling more and she whispered, “Okay, hold on.... I’m going to carry you to the truck and take you home with me.” She was a medium-size dog and should weigh around fifty pounds. Lily grew scared as she pushed to her feet, the dog in her arms. Sage was probably no more than forty pounds at present. Pregnant, starving and alone. As she came to the passenger side, she knelt and allowed the dog to lie on the gravel at her feet for a moment, so she could open the door. Sage was too exhausted to stand any longer. She lay unmoving, panting heavily.
Urgency thrummed through Lily. Lifting the dog into the seat, she made sure she was as comfortable as she could be under the circumstances. Sage lay down, eyes closed, breathing heavily. Shutting the door as quietly as possible, Lily hurried around the front of the vehicle and climbed in. Knowing Jake wouldn’t be home until six, her mind raced as she put the truck in gear, checked for traffic, which was nonexistent, and drove back onto the empty road. Patting her gently on the shoulder, she said in a choked tone, “I’m taking you home, Sage. Just hang on. . . .”
July 6
“Jenna,” Lily called urgently, breathless as she opened the door to the cabin, “I have a very sick, very pregnant dog with me.”
Jenna, who was setting the kitchen table, raised her brows. Because of her own medical condition, she still couldn’t move fast. But she could keep the door open for Lily, who had turned around, hurrying toward the porch steps. She came back carrying the black-and-white dog in her arms just as Jenna reached the entrance.
“She’s starved and very weak,” Lily explained, taking her into the living room, gently placing her on the leather couch.
“What can I do?” Jenna asked, shutting the door.
“Can you stay with her? I’m calling her Sage. She’s very close to having puppies. I think she might be in labor.” Turning, she saw Jenna coming toward her, worry on her face.
“Go,” she said, waving. “I’ll stay with Sage.”
“I’ll get her some water first,” Lily said, more to herself than Jenna, hurrying past her. “I think she just needs some loving company right now.”
Jenna went over, leaning down, gently petting Sage’s head. The dog’s brushy tail beat once with thanks for her kindness. “I’ll give her all the loving she wants.”
Lily grabbed a bowl and put some fresh water in it, balancing it and trying not to spill it as she hurried into the living room. She handed it to Jenna, who had brought over a chair and was sitting next to Sage, talking soothingly to her. “Here. Hold the bowl down and see if she wants to drink. I’m going to find an old blanket or something to place under her. She’s so dirty. She needs a bath.”
“Yes, go ahead.” The moment Jenna placed the bowl of water near Sage, she lifted her head and plunged her muzzle into it, gulping the liquid, droplets flying all over. “Oh, you poor dog,” she whispered.
Lily discovered an old blanket in the closet of her bedroom. The dark green polyester had seen much better days but was perfect for her purposes. Gripping it, she hurried back to the living room. Sage had drunk all the water in the bowl. Her muzzle was dripping. She was probably weak from thirst, for starters. With Jenna’s help, they carefully placed the blanket beneath Sage’s body. Lily may have been imagining it, but she thought the dog’s eyes didn’t seem as dull as before. In no time, she was back with a second bowl of water and handed it to Jenna. Again, Sage eagerly gulped down the liquid until the container was empty.
“She’s so thirsty,” Jenna said worriedly, moving her hand across her back. “I can feel her entire backbone. She was slowly starving to death, Lily.”
“I know. And she’s bursting with puppies.”
“Look, her nipples are leaking,” Jenna said. “Sage is close to birthing.”
Lily moved to the kitchen. “I think the only thing that could give her some energy is maybe chicken broth. She’s too thin to eat a lot of food. She’ll just throw it right back up.”
“Agreed,” Jenna called over her shoulder. “Where did you find her?”
Lily told her the story, opening a can of soup, separating the noodles from the broth. She warmed up the liquid just a little in the microwave, then placed it in another bowl. Kneeling near the dog’s head, she said, “Let’s see if she’ll drink this broth . . .” and held her breath.
Just the scent made Sage lift her head, now a bit stronger because the water was infusing her body. With a grateful look up at Lily, she began lapping up the chicken broth. In no time, it was gone, and she was looking for more.
“How many more cans of soup do you have?” Jenna asked, her hand comforting on Sage’s shoulder.
“I don’t know,” Lily admitted, worried. “Stay with her. I’ll go look in the pantry. That’s where most of the canned goods are stored.”
“Great idea!” Jenna laughed a little. “Look, Sage is more alert. She’s watching that bowl in your hands as if she hopes there’s more where that came from.”
Thrilled, Lily stood up and hurried through the kitchen to the pantry. To her relief, she found four more cans of chicken soup. There seemed to be four of everything, and she silently thanked Jake for stocking up. Carrying the cans in her arms, she moved to the can opener on the counter. “Found four, Jenna!” she called, excited.
“Oh, wonderful! Sage’s eyes are looking better, Lily. She’s able to keep her head up.”
“All good news,” Lily said, smiling. Losing track of time, with Jenna’s help, she fed Sage all four cans of chicken broth.
“I think that’s enough for now. Her digestive system is probably pretty overwhelmed at this point. It’s going to take it a bit of time to come back online.”
“You learned this broth trick at the shelter?” Jenna asked.
“Yes.” She chewed on her lip. “I really need to get the vet, Dr. Sharp, out here.”
“Give her a call,” Jenna urged. “Or should you drive into Wind River with Sage? Take her to her office?”
Glancing at her watch, she said, “Dr. Sharp closes her clinic at five, but I have her home phone number. I’m going to call her. I’m almost positive Sage is in labor and I don’t want to move her around anymore than necessary. I need the doctor’s help and guidance in this.”
Jenna nodded. “Call her. I’ll keep Sage company.”
Hurrying to the kitchen phone, Lily made the call. As she stood waiting, she looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearly six. What was Jake going to think of her bringing this poor dog into his
home? Would he be upset? Lily wasn’t sure, but she hoped he wouldn’t be.
* * *
Jake was mystified as the town’s vet, Ann Sharp, drove up to the parking area just as he got out of his truck. He was fifteen minutes late.
“Hey Ann, good to see you,” he called. She was in her early thirties, a widow; her husband, Jack, died of a heart attack two years earlier. He saw her smile and she waved in his direction.
“Jake, I could use your help.”
Frowning, he nodded and walked over to her vet rig, a truck and cab designed for animal house calls. “Sure. What are you doing here?”
“Lily found a starving stray dog on the highway coming home tonight,” the redhead explained, opening the back doors. She pulled out a very large willow basket and two sterile plastic liners. “The dog is close to labor.”
“Oh,” Jake said, stunned.
“Lily called and told me everything,” Ann said, grabbing her vet bag, then shutting the doors. “Come on, follow me in.”
He met her friendly smile, his arms filled with the large wicker basket. “Lead the way, Doc.”
Laughing, Ann mounted the steps quickly and knocked on the door.
Lily answered it. “Thanks for coming,” she said, stepping aside. She saw Jake and the quizzical look on his face. “Jake . . .”
“I hear you’re helping a stray pregnant dog,” he teased drily, walking into the cabin. He saw his mother sitting next to where the dog lay on the couch and he lifted his hand in greeting to her.
Lily shut the door and took the white liners off his arms, following Ann down the stairs. “I hope you’re not upset I picked her up.”
Shrugging, he placed the basket near where Jenna was sitting with Sage, who was now panting heavily. “No, it’s okay.”
Ann smiled at Jenna and introduced herself. Jenna slowly rose, and Lily placed her hand beneath her elbow, guiding her to a nearby overstuffed chair. Jake stood there, assessing the dog, who was now lying on her side. She was a prettily marked dog, black and white, her brows above her eyes a golden-brown color. There was a lot going on. When Lily returned, he remained out of the way to allow the women to work together. Ann had her stethoscope on and was listening to Sage’s heart, and then checked her milk-swollen nipples. In the meantime, she directed Lily to place a piece of plastic in the wicker basket to make a nest. They would transfer Sage there.
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