Healing the Cowboy's Heart

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “Idaho, of course.”

  “Top-notch, all the way.” When her smile deepened, a dimple flashed in her left cheek. “They’re roasting in the fire, and I hope it’s okay that Corrie sent a luscious carrot cake with cream-cheese frosting. She’d baked several and donated one most happily.”

  Katie’s habit of making a cake with cream-cheese frosting...

  His heart picked up even more. “No, that’s wonderful, Char. It’s the perfect way to celebrate.”

  “J.J. told me it’s a family tradition. So I thought a blend of old and new was in order. The new being my cheesy spoon bread, a totally Southern thing that is perfect next to a good steak.”

  The thought of blending old and new sounded good to him, and having her here seemed too right to be wrong, no matter what her last name was. “Char.”

  She turned from putting a hot pad on the table. Caught his eye. His gaze. Held it.

  She brought one hand up to her throat, as if wondering.

  So was he. She lowered her eyes as a faint blush crept into her cheeks, making him wish he could do more than wonder—but embroiling these two kids into whatever conflict might descend on them couldn’t happen. Watching her with the kids, making them laugh, making them think, he wished it could.

  And the amazingly delicious spoon bread only made the thought more desirable a quarter of an hour later. “This is amazing,” he told her.

  J.J. agreed. “Char, I could eat this stuff all night. It’s like the best ever. How did you learn to cook like this and go to school and be a vet? Because I’m pretty sure veterinary school takes a lot of brains,” the teen exclaimed.

  “My nanny.”

  “Say what?” J.J. paused with a fork upraised.

  Liam giggled. “Grown-ups have nannies?” He burst out laughing at the thought. When Char made a scolding face at him, the boy laughed harder.

  “Corrie was my nanny,” she explained. “And my substitute mom because my mom died when I was a baby.”

  Their smiles faded. They understood the reality of that too well.

  “My dad was busy and we had no mom, but we had Corrie. And she has stayed by our side through everything. So even though I didn’t have a mom, I had someone who loved me and taught me and raised me to be the best person I could be.”

  “Was it enough?” J.J. whispered the words in a tight, tiny voice as if a great deal depended on Char’s answer.

  “It was. Because in the end, love conquers all,” she told them, but she didn’t belabor the point. She helped herself to half a potato and a generous serving of sour cream. “We deal with the rough patches in life and we celebrate the good times, just like we’re doing now. To you—all three of you.” She lifted her glass in a toast. “Congratulations on a job well done.”

  They lifted their glasses and touched hers with a quiet clink, then drank.

  Before the kids could go too deeply down memory lane, Isaiah changed the subject. “Ginger was holding her own?”

  “Yes,” Char answered smoothly, as if she knew what he was doing. “False alarm. Her wounds are healing nicely and we should have the lab report back sometime tomorrow.”

  “That fast?” asked J.J., and Char nodded.

  “They’ll email me so I can adjust meds if needed. It’s amazing how quickly things can get done these days.”

  J.J. exchanged a look with Isaiah.

  “What’s going on?” Char paused her fork and raised a brow. “What did I miss?”

  “Dr. Hirsch waits for reports to come back the old-fashioned way. It takes longer and gives us more time to worry about the horses.”

  J.J. had given Char the perfect opening to malign the older veterinarian.

  She didn’t take the shot.

  She shrugged lightly. “Well, animals and vets have been doing that for a long time, and I expect he’s saved a lot of discomfort and lives in his time. Speed can be helpful, but mostly it’s tender loving care that gets things done.”

  “Unless a catastrophe hits.” J.J. hunched forward, always eager to share horse knowledge. “Bitsy was telling us about how an epidemic shut down the big horse facility at U Penn’s veterinary hospital and how they had to remodel the whole thing to make sure they killed the virus.”

  “A rarity,” Char told her. “But something we guard against any time horses come together. And that sometimes depends on the honesty of people to keep a sick animal at home.”

  “Like the rodeo?” Liam asked.

  Char nodded. “That’s why they have vets on hand to check things out. Does Dr. Hirsch handle the veterinary care at the Adams County Rodeo?” she asked Isaiah.

  “He does. And he’s extremely careful because some folks get overzealous about competing and forget to put the horse’s welfare first.”

  “Like winning is everything.” J.J. directed her attention toward Ginger’s barn. “It’s not. Being good and kind and raising horses to be the best they can be. That’s something.”

  “I don’t mind winning,” Char told her, and the frank note in her voice strengthened the words. “But I don’t like winning at any cost. And that’s the difference. Although some horses carry viruses within them and the owner has no idea until the virus activates for some reason. And now...” She pushed back her chair and stood. So did Isaiah. “While I should stay and help with dishes, I’m going to run over to the barn, give our friend a final look, then head home. I haven’t had much time with my little nieces or nephew and I want to spend an hour with them before they’re all tucked in bed.”

  “Can we come see Pine Ridge sometime?” asked Liam. “I’ve always wanted to see it, but Grandma said no.”

  “Did she?” Genuine surprise indicated Char had no inkling of the old feud. “Of course you can. Come see the sheep and the dogs and the horses. My uncle had just gotten a really cool quarter-horse stable up and running when he lost his battle with cancer, so my sister Lizzie has taken that on. If it’s got anything to do with horses or publishing, Lizzie is our go-to gal.”

  “I’d love to see it,” replied J.J.

  What could Isaiah say that wouldn’t sound downright dumb? That his family resented Sean Fitzgerald’s success? That some of them were still fighting a war that should have been laid to rest long ago?

  “Let’s plan it for next week if all’s well with Ginger. And my sisters are taking Zeke to the rodeo this weekend. Do you guys want to go?”

  Liam nodded yes instantly. He swung toward Isaiah, imploringly. “Can I? If my chores are all done and I practice my reading?”

  “Without being scolded into it?”

  “Promise. Like cross my heart.”

  “I think we’d all like to go but Ginger will need watching if she hasn’t delivered. And maybe if she has. You don’t mind taking them?” he asked Char.

  “It will be fun. I’ve never been to a rodeo and it will be good to sit on the sidelines and watch someone else do the work while I eat popcorn. Or fried dough. Please tell me they have all the really bad foods I love there.”

  “Guaranteed.”

  “Excellent!” She’d taken off the jaunty baseball hat she wore like second skin. She put it back on as she turned. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

  “Okay!” Liam’s smile brightened his face. His eyes. His whole being.

  “Can I come with you to check Ginger?” J.J. didn’t wait to be invited. She hopped out of her chair and caught up with Char quickly. “I’ll do dishes when I come back,” she called over her shoulder.

  He watched them stride off. One fair, one dark. Almost the same height. J.J.’s growth spurt last year had meant a lot of shopping.

  She wasn’t a kid anymore. She was a young lady with hopes and dreams and hormones running amok.

  How did a single uncle raise a teenage girl?

  He saw Char fake-punch J.J.’s arm for something the girl sa
id, and when J.J. tipped her head back and laughed out loud, he sighed.

  She needed a woman around. She loved his mother, but J.J. had well-honed people instincts and knew that his mother wasn’t a confidante. She wasn’t the kind of person you generally went to for advice or wisdom. What she lacked in empathy she made up for in work ethic, but that meant J.J. really didn’t have another woman to talk to.

  It appears she does.

  He brushed off the mental reminder because as nice as Char was, she wouldn’t be a constant once Ginger improved.

  She could be.

  He ignored the mental voice, cleared the dishes, then opened his laptop to record today’s finances.

  Little-boy laughter came through the front screen door. Liam was playing with Rising. He’d throw a tennis ball and Rising would not only run and get it, he’d chase back and drop it at Liam’s feet. Then Liam would swipe the damp ball against his pants and throw it again. It was a sweet, normal dog-and-boy interaction that hadn’t been the norm in a long time.

  Today it was.

  An engine started up. Char leaving. And when he heard the crunch of tires on gravel, he had to resist the urge to step onto the porch. Wave goodbye. And then he kicked himself for resisting the urge.

  But they that wait upon the Lord...

  The verse from Isaiah steadied him. He was generally a patient man. Maybe too patient at times.

  Right now he needed that patience to give things time to unfold. When he was around Char, patience was the last thing on his mind, and wasn’t that an odd and sudden turn of events?

  A horse whinnied from the back barn. Another joined in. Then all was quiet except for J.J.’s humming while she loaded the dishwasher and Liam’s voice, encouraging the dog.

  It all seemed so normal, as if an unexpected peace had stolen over Dancing Meadows in the fading light of a summer’s day.

  Right until three quick, successive gunshots cracked the air north of the house. J.J. jumped. Liam let out a little cry of surprise as Rising charged toward the meadow.

  Liam shrieked for the dog.

  Isaiah shouted, but the trusty dog flew up the gravel, guarding his family, disappearing into the shadows as they deepened. Then one more shot rang out.

  And Rising stopped barking.

  Chapter Seven

  Char was headed north on Route 95 when J.J.’s number flashed on the Bluetooth display on her dashboard. She hit the button, heard the panic in the girl’s voice and arced a U-turn that would have done a country boy proud.

  “Someone shot Rising.”

  Fear knotted Char’s throat. She swallowed it down. That dog...a beautiful, trustworthy animal, so loved.

  “Uncle Isaiah is out there. We don’t know who was shooting. Please come, Char. Please! Hurry!”

  Char forced a professional calm she didn’t feel. “I’m turning back down your road right now, J.J.”

  “What do I need to get for you? What do you need, Char?” Desperation marked the girl’s voice, but she stayed steady enough to ask the right questions.

  “I’ve got everything I need. Is Rising at the house or the barn?”

  “Grandpa’s place, two driveways up from us. East,” she added, giving Char a clear idea. “I’ll wait by the road and guide you in.”

  “Perfect.”

  The girl disconnected, and when Char passed Isaiah’s house two minutes later, J.J. was visible up the road. She hopped in when Char paused, then pointed. “Grandpa’s barn. It was the closest spot. Oh, Char, I don’t know what we’re going to do if we lose Rising. He was my dad’s dog and...”

  She didn’t have to finish for Char to understand. Right now the beloved dog was a precious link to the parents they loved and lost. She spotted Liam as she steered the van around to open the surgery side toward the barn. The boy was perched on a rail post midway down the barn alley. Tear streaks marked his face. His hands were clenched. He looked at her.

  Then the dog.

  And in that look he begged her to make everything okay.

  She didn’t offer false hope. She couldn’t offer words of encouragement. Not yet. She got out, opened the surgical side of the unit and within seconds Isaiah and a second man—Isaiah’s father, from the look of him—had Rising on the stainless steel table.

  The second man wasted no time. “I’m a tech, Doctor. You tell me what to get and I’ll get it.”

  An extra pair of hands would be a wonderful thing. She did a cursory exam, then scrubbed up at her on-board sink. When she stepped away, the older man did the same.

  The dog was in rough shape.

  Major damage had been done to his back leg. He was going into shock and the partially open pant was split with an intermittent cry of pain.

  She took care of the pain first, put the dog under with Isaiah’s father’s help, then tracked the bullet’s path via wireless technology. “It went clean through, but we’ve got thoracic damage here.” She pointed to the picture on the computer screen. “We need to go in, repair that and probably transfuse. Fortunately the bullet missed the heart and lungs.”

  “Whatever we need, Doctor.” The older man’s voice was both strong and weak. Then she found out why. “I did this to him when I was chasing off a pair of wolves snooping around our foaling barn. If anything happens to him...” Pain marked the man’s face. “It’s on me.”

  Tears streaked down Liam’s cheeks freely now. Because of the dog or because his grandfather had shot the dog?

  Don’t think.

  Act.

  She flipped the switch to professional mode. The humidity had risen steadily through the day. Sweat beaded across her forehead, then slid toward her eyes.

  “Char.”

  She looked up. Isaiah had folded a small, clean towel. He blotted her forehead quickly and gently, keeping her field of vision clear. And then he did it again, as needed, while she worked on one damaged site after another until they were done a long time later.

  “Can we move him to my house while he’s still under?” Isaiah asked as she stripped off the disposable mask, gloves and gown, and then deposited them in a bag-lined trash receptacle, part of the surgical suite.

  “This house is closer. Can he stay here?” she asked before she caught sight of Isaiah’s mother across the barn.

  Dark eyes bore into hers. Strong eyes, shadowed with animosity. A gaze that had been forged from anger and loss, yet with an emptiness Char seemed to understand.

  Isaiah’s father started to speak, but Isaiah replied first. “My place is better right now.”

  Char did a mental count to ten, then decided she didn’t have enough time to count high enough to tame her emotions. She stayed professional for his sake. And the kids’. And the poor dog. “I’ve got the stretcher inside.” She motioned to Isaiah’s dad. “If you bring it out, we can load him and transport him.”

  “And you’ll tell me how to watch him overnight?” Isaiah pressed as his father withdrew the portable stretcher and unbound it.

  “I’m spending the night,” she replied as they positioned the rolling gurney to transport the beautiful retriever. “I want to monitor his progress and keep IV fluids going. If he throws a clot or anything goes wrong, I’ll be here to intervene.”

  “So will I.” Isaiah’s father faced her. “It was a foolish mistake on my part, especially after such a good day for my son. Both sons,” he acknowledged, and a sheen of tears made the man’s light brown eyes reflect the lights around them. “I’ll stay the night. Isaiah needs his rest, as do the children. The one responsible should always bear the weight of that responsibility.”

  The woman’s quick intake of breath drew Char’s attention. She shifted it back to the patient deliberately. They slid the gurney into the van’s hold and clamped the restraints down. Then Char motioned to Isaiah. “Can you and J.J. get us over there? Liam and I are going to ride i
n the back.”

  “Absolutely. Dad?” Isaiah opened the door as he turned. “There’s room.”

  “I’ll walk over.”

  Char took the boy’s hand. He followed her willingly, and when he climbed into the back of the big van, tears filled his eyes again. He swiped the hem of his shirt up to his face and breathed in. Then he leaned down to the dog’s face. “It’ll be all right, Rising. You’ll see, boy. It’ll be all right. I promise.”

  And then the boy laid his head against the dog’s side in a gentle move.

  Tears spilled down his freckled cheeks, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t sob or wail. He just lay there, giving the dog the best medicine ever. The prescription of love. And all Char could do was hope that her intervention and the family’s love would be enough.

  * * *

  Pale hair.

  Ivory cheeks.

  In sleep, peace replaced the sadness Isaiah sensed in Char. The hinted longing, the struggle to do better, to be faster. Stronger.

  Citius. Altius. Fortius.

  Faster, higher, stronger, the Greek Olympic motto they’d adopted in high school track, when racing won him the scholarship he never used, because being here with the horses was enough. Now, recognizing how the world around him had narrowed, he wondered. Had he done enough? Or had he been complacent to accept less?

  She stirred and brought one hand up toward her cheek, then dozed again.

  Beautiful, thought Isaiah from the comfy, worn recliner. He’d let her sleep purposely. She’d scold him, because she’d made him promise to keep her on vigil with the dog, but when her eyes grew heavy...and her breathing leveled out...he vowed silently to keep watch as long as she needed.

  The porch light slanted a beam of pale yellow across her hair. Long, golden locks splayed over her right shoulder, contrasting with the clean dark blue scrub she’d donned when Rising’s surgery was over.

  “She knows her stuff all right.”

  Isaiah’s father whispered the words from the other side of the room.

  “I’ve never seen a vet do so much in so little time,” he went on. “As if instinct guided her hands.”