Healing the Cowboy's Heart

by Ruth Logan Herne

  Fever. Lost pregnancies. Runny noses and fever.

  Ty Carrington had just laid out the basics of a deadly viral attack. The question now was did Char have the experience and guts to wage this war and win?

  She hoped so.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I didn’t want to be the one to break this to you.” Braden Hirsch motioned to the papers in Isaiah’s hand about ninety minutes after Char had left. “But someone had to do some research on this gal and I’m sorry it had to be me.”

  Braden didn’t look sorry. He looked...smug. But then maybe he had a right to be smug because he’d dug up some really nasty information about Charlotte Fitzgerald, and he was correct about one thing: Idaho horse lovers wouldn’t want a crooked horse dealer hanging around their barns or treating their animals. In a place where stealing horses used to get the death penalty, no one in Idaho took horse abuse lightly. Nor should they.

  But this.

  Isaiah stared at the printouts in his hand.

  Char, involved in a horse-ring scandal back east.

  Char, investigated for duping vulnerable people, making promises she never intended to keep and then shipping their horses to auctions, where they were bought by brokers for international slaughterhouses, all to gain money.

  It couldn’t be true, and yet he wasn’t just hearing it from Braden. It was here, in his hand, printed sheets of news coverage from Central New York...articles documenting the procurement and sale of over thirty horses. And the name on the documentation was C. Fitzgerald.

  Anger vied with embarrassment.

  He’d sided with her. Given her access to the kids. Given her free license to be here, treating animals, when she’d callously taken those treasured pets and sent them to slaughter.

  He couldn’t believe it, but he couldn’t not believe it, either, because the proof was in his hands.

  “We’ve got tight horse circles here for a reason, Isaiah.” Braden wasn’t scolding him. He’d gentled his voice as if teaching a lesson. “Outsiders don’t belong here and that’s not because of us. It’s because of them. Folks coming here, pretending to be one thing and really being another. If we let that kind of person take root here—” he motioned to the papers, meaning Char was “that kind of person” “—we risk too much. This isn’t about her trying to save one horse for whatever reason, or trying to gain trust. It’s about knowing that she’s betrayed folks before. And she must have been pretty good at it to have scammed the owners of over thirty horses.”

  His heart wanted to stop.

  It couldn’t because there was too much to do.

  He had kids to raise. Animals to care for. And a future here, a future he’d thought might include...

  No.

  He wouldn’t go there. He’d been foolish as a younger man. He wasn’t foolish now.

  He clutched the papers in his hand as Braden said goodbye.

  He wanted to throw them away. Burn them. Destroy the very thought of Char doing something like this.

  He knew her father’s actions had thrusted her and her sisters into deep debt. He knew that had to hurt.

  But this hurt more. When a professional betrayed the people depending on him or her, how could they ever be trusted again? And the simple answer was: they couldn’t be.

  And that was that.

  * * *

  “Do you think we’ve got herpes, Char?” Ty asked.

  Char wasted no time. A herpes outbreak could devastate a farm, a town and a region if allowed to spread. “It could be, Ty. I’m putting you under quarantine. And we need to thoroughly clean this barn. How many pregnant horses do you have in here?”

  “Just two more. We’ve been talking about breeding for sale but haven’t moved ahead yet. Right now we’re simply adding stock horses. You think it’s herpes, don’t you?”

  “I think it’s serious,” she corrected him. “We’ll let the lab confirm things, but we’ve got to move on worst-case scenario. I need to know who’s been in here and where your horses have been.”

  “I can get the cleaning started.” An older man moved forward. “I’m George, Doctor. I know the protocol and we’ve started moving the other horses into another area. Farther away. There’s no sign of anything there.”

  “You’ll need to keep a sharp eye out,” she told him. “This spreads quickly and we’ve got to get a jump on it to protect them as much as possible.”

  “Well, we’re too late for that,” noted Ty grimly. “But if we can prevent further damage, that would be good.”

  She went through the necessary list of questions with him. Where had his horses been? Had new horses been brought on-site? Was there any recent trauma or stress episode? Herpes could hang latent in horses and re-erupt under stressful conditions. That was bad enough, but if it went into the neurological phase, the outcome became more grim.

  “There haven’t been any recent traumas or stress. I did take in two of the rescued horses, but they’ve been quarantined since they got here,” he told her as George and a younger man began taking care of things. “Young Eagle was here looking at a horse last week, Braden Hirsch was here to revaccinate for rabies and I stopped by the horse rescue near Council to check with Ivy about some old-time saddles she was selling. I didn’t go near the barn where the new rescues were being held, but one of them just died, right?”

  She nodded as she checked the remaining horses. “Not from herpes, though. The cause of death was internal issues that stayed unresolved as a result of neglect and lack of food.”

  “Can we be sure?”

  Was she willing to stake her reputation on it?

  No. But as she checked the remaining five horses in this paddock, she found two with fevers and nasal discharge and one with urinary symptoms. “I had each horse tested. All results were negative for herpes.”

  “And yet here it is,” he said softly.

  It sure looked like it.

  Char checked each horse, went over the rules of quarantine and made sure that the farmhands understood the importance of segregation and disinfectant. But even with all those measures, herpes was a formidable opponent in horse circles.

  She left a long time later, after a series of phone calls alerting the state veterinarian at ISDA and local horse people who may have come into contact with Ty Carrington’s horses.

  And then she weighed the possibilities in her head.

  Had one of the rescue horses been infected? Had the lab tests issued a false negative on one of them?

  Ginger’s symptoms were clearing up and she was still carrying a foal with a strong heartbeat, so she seemed clear.

  But what about the gelding at the horse rescue?

  Char went through disinfectant protocol, left biohazard suits at Carrington Acres, then drove to the Council rescue ranch.

  Ivy came her way purposely. “You think Ty’s got herpes there?”

  “I think it’s a strong possibility, Ivy.” Char pointed toward the far pasture, where the remaining rescued horse lolled. “I know the tests were negative, but could the deceased horse have had herpes? Were there symptoms I missed?”

  Ivy shook her head. “None. Lethargic, yes, but no runny nose or eyes or fever. I think he just had a tired heart and a worn spirit. I saw nothing to indicate illness. Just frailty.”

  That was a relief.

  It might not be a definitive diagnosis by agricultural standards, but a true horse person understood the nature of the animal. “So where did Ty’s barn get it?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. Ty and Eric are about as careful as it gets. Their horses are almost completely on-site unless someone rides into town. Latent infection, maybe?”

  Char would love to assume that the horse had been pre-infected and the virus had reared its ugly head over stress of pregnancy or conditions, but there were no adverse conditions, and pregnancy wa
sn’t considered a strain. She bit her lower lip, thinking. “I can’t see it. Which means we may have something else going on. A carrier.”

  “Who’s been there?” asked Ivy.

  Braden Hirsch. He was one of the first names Ty mentioned, and the only one who’d visited the horse barn. “I’ve got to call Dr. Hirsch. He was there last week, giving rabies shots.”

  “Oh, man.” Ivy didn’t seem to be an over-the-top person. She worked hard to rehabilitate horses, but with a grain of common sense, knowing she couldn’t save them all. “Asking him about infecting horses might not go over real well, Char.”

  Char knew she was right, but there was no choice in the matter. She put in the call from the van. Braden answered on the third ring. “Dr. Hirsch.”

  “This is Char Fitzgerald, Doctor. I need to talk to you.”

  “I anticipated this and I’ve got nothing to say,” he replied in a terse tone. “Let the facts speak for themselves, young lady.”

  The facts? What was he talking about? She had no idea, but she had more important things to discuss and not much time to do it. “The Carrington horses you saw last week.”

  A slight pause ensued. “That’s what you’re calling about?”

  “Yes. You inoculated them, correct?”

  “I did.”

  “We’ve got a possible herpes outbreak in the broodmare barn. One lost fetus and three sick horses.”

  “Herpes? There?” His voice shot up, which was good. He might dislike her, but any equine vet understood the gravity of the quick-spreading virus. “Are you sure?”

  “No, but the evidence points that way. I need to know what other barns you may have gone to after treating Ty’s horses. If they were shedding virus, you might have been an unknowing carrier. I want to put those barns on alert.”

  More silence, and then he spoke up. “I went straight from there to Dancing Meadows. And then to Charlie Scoville’s place, up near McCall. How did these horses get contaminated?”

  “I don’t know that, yet,” she told him. “I’ll contact Isaiah and his father and then go up to Scoville’s.”

  “Have you notified the state?”

  “First thing I did. We need full cooperation to keep this from spreading. I’ll keep you updated. If you think of any other place you might have gone, let me know.” She disconnected the call and started the engine. She was a little worried about the reception she’d get from the Woods family. She’d hurt Liam earlier by collaring his trusted friend. Given the choice, she might have kept her distance for a little while to give him time to calm down, but this news wasn’t a simple inconvenience.

  This was a game changer for horse breeders. She put the van into gear and headed back toward Isaiah’s ranch, feeling heartsick and wishing she had better news.

  Isaiah was crossing the drive, moving toward his truck. He paused when he saw her.

  There was no welcoming smile on his face. No warmth in those dark brown eyes. He stared at her as if...

  As if she were the enemy.

  She climbed out of the van and moved his way. He halted her by raising one hand up, and in that hand he clutched a folded paper. “You’ve got a heart for horses, right?”

  His tone was harsh and hard. She hesitated before answering, but then she didn’t answer because she wasn’t about to deal with anyone’s bad attitude ever again. “What’s this about?”

  He unfolded the paper. There were several sheets, she realized then. And each one was a separate blog article about her involvement with the horse-selling scandal in Central New York. “Veterinary Student Cons Gullible Horse Owners.” He read the headline out loud, then went straight to the next one. “Cornell Veterinary Senior Ringleader in New York Horse Scam. There are three more here, Char. Would you like me to read them?”

  Her heart.

  It fairly stopped right there in her chest because she’d proven all that wrong last winter. She’d stood her ground, put her chin in the air and finished at the top of her class even as scandal raged around her on personal and professional levels.

  She’d survived because she wasn’t about to let another person’s vice and avarice bring her down. Not her father’s, not her old boyfriend’s...no one’s.

  But this.

  That Isaiah would buy into this and accuse her, no questions asked, hit deep after he’d witnessed her work with neglected horses.

  Her chest went tight but she shoved down those emotions, even if it took all the courage she could muster. “I’m not here to discuss old news.”

  “Of course you’re not, because no self-respecting horse person would let you near their horses,” he shot back. “I know your father did you wrong—I’ve seen the news reports—but conning people out of their horses by promising them a forever home and then selling them to slaughterhouse buyers isn’t the way we do things out here.” He waved the papers as if they proved her wrongdoing. “Is that how you paid for the fancy van? For veterinary school? Because most folks just take out loans.”

  He thought that little of her.

  Four hours ago she’d kissed him. And he’d kissed her. She’d let her foolish head get filled with those silly fairy-tale dreams she never should have let herself entertain because she knew better.

  And now this. Proof that she was right, that little-girl dreams of normalcy and happy-ever-afters didn’t exist. “Believe what you want.” She kept her voice flat to match his. “I came here because it’s possible that the Carringtons have a herpes outbreak. Braden Hirsch was there last week. He was giving shots and came here when he left. If the horses were in the early stages and shedding virus, it’s possible he brought it to your barn.”

  The word herpes shifted his attention instantly. “Are you sure?”

  “The indications are there. The state’s been notified. They’ll confirm the lab testing.”

  His face clouded. He glanced back toward the broodmare barn. “What if I sent off infected horses in that deal last week?”

  The thought of spreading herpes would bother any good horseman. The dreaded virus could cause grave illness and death. But reassuring him was about the last thing on her mind right now.

  He’d been given half a story by someone. Braden, most likely. That explained the veterinarian’s odd initial response to her phone call.

  But that wasn’t the troubling thing.

  He bought into it without asking her.

  She was familiar with the articles he had in hand, printouts from online bloggers. If he’d checked further, he’d have seen her name cleared of any wrongdoing by New York investigators. But he didn’t check further. And that hurt most of all.

  She climbed into her van. Right now the beauty and cost of the mobile clinic mocked her. She wanted to cry, but there wasn’t time for that. She put the van into gear, did a U-turn and drove away, the sweet hopes and dreams of the morning gone.

  Her throat hurt.

  Her head ached.

  But there were horses, magnificent animals, facing a life-threatening disease and that took precedence. She raised her chin, hit the gas and headed north on Route 95, toward the Scoville farm, southwest of McCall. She wouldn’t think about Isaiah or those kids or the ranch they’d worked so hard to build, now threatened.

  He’d go his way.

  She’d go hers.

  And if there was any way to make this required year of staying in Western Idaho go faster, well...she’d do it. Because a year of being scorned didn’t make the short list.

  * * *

  Herpes.

  Isaiah raced to the broodmare barn. The horses had been turned out that morning, before the intervention at Waggoners’ farm. They’d looked fine from a distance...

  And seemed fine now, as he drew closer.

  But he wasn’t about to be fooled, because he understood the danger. He called his parents right away and explained th
e situation. They came to the area quickly. Liam had been at his grandparents’ house. Isaiah pointed toward the yard. “Liam, this is a contagious disease, so I need you to stay away from the barns and the fields for a while, okay?”

  “But I know how to wash up now.” He stared at Isaiah from the graveled drive’s edge. “Char showed me and I do it all the time.”

  “This is different,” Isaiah told him. “If we have this infection, it kills horses, Liam. I need you to listen to me. Got it?”

  Liam fisted his hands. He stared up at Isaiah, then his grandfather. When John slung his arm around the boy and nodded, Liam stepped back. “First you show me what to do so I can help with horses, then you won’t let me, and I bet that’s ’cause Char isn’t here. She likes me. She teaches me stuff that I want to know because she thinks I’m smart.”

  “You need to listen to Isaiah and your grandfather,” snapped his grandmother. “When they speak, you need to listen. That is what a child does.”

  Wide-eyed, Liam gazed up at Isaiah. He swallowed hard, clearly hoping Isaiah would step in, but he couldn’t. In this case Liam needed to listen and obey. A little boy, potentially tracking a virus from place to place, couldn’t be allowed to run loose. “Rising needs you, Liam. And I can’t spend the right time with him if we’re fighting a virus out here. I don’t want him to feel abandoned.”

  The boy’s angst cleared somewhat. “Me and Char will take care of him and Ginger and the sheep,” he declared. He started for the house with more confidence.

  Should he tell the boy that Char wouldn’t be back?

  Not now. He had enough to handle at the moment.

  But when his mother shot him a sharp, smug look, he realized that Braden had shared Char’s past with her.