Healing the Cowboy's Heart

by Ruth Logan Herne

  The two of them dwelled in negativity.

  He didn’t have time to consider the sadness of that while facing the possibility of losing these mares and their foals to a disease that could cause grave neurological malfunctions. A disease with no treatment and no cure.

  He and his father did temperature checks. No fever.

  That was good, but Isaiah knew that horses could go days or weeks with no symptoms. And then...

  Havoc.

  He made it through days one and two, and by the morning of day three, when none of the animals showed elevated temperatures, he entertained hopes that they’d escaped infection.

  That afternoon, two of the broodmares spiked a fever. His heart sank.

  They’d separated the newly pregnant mares to the far upper pasture, and they’d made a similar move for the stallions and young geldings and fillies.

  But here, in the barn filled with life-giving potential, five pregnant mares were beginning to show signs of the dreaded disease and there wasn’t anything Isaiah, his father or Braden could do about it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lizzie and Heath came searching for Char once they tucked Zeke into bed. Char heard Lizzie call her name.

  She didn’t want to acknowledge the call. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about the past or the present right now, but the equine emergency left her no options. Jace and Melonie joined them in the big living room of the ranch house, and worry deepened every expression. A deadly viral breakout had that effect on horse owners universally.

  Heath and Jace took seats on the chairs facing the extended sofa and love seat. Lizzie, Melonie and Corrie sat closer to Char. Lizzie wasn’t one to beat around the bush. She hunched forward, hands on her knees. “So, what do we do to prevent this virus from spreading?”

  Char ticked off her fingers with rules they all knew already. Well, all but Mel, who purposely gave horses some extra space. “We don’t allow any horses on the property. Same for your two,” she instructed Jace and Melonie. “Don’t let anyone ride in at your place. No exceptions. No one from another farm is allowed near the horse barns or grazing. We self-quarantine and use biohazard protocol to make sure no one tracks the virus in. Foot coverings, gloves, full biohazard disposable suit if we can afford them.”

  “Already ordered—due in tomorrow,” Heath told her. “We can’t afford not to be the most careful. And don’t be insulted if I ask you to stay clear of the horse barns unless absolutely needed.”

  “That’s not an insult,” Char assured him. “That’s just plain smart. And I’d suggest we trade sleeping arrangements until we’re clear. I’ll move into the house and you and Lizzie sleep in the upstairs apartment. That keeps me clear of the barns altogether.”

  “We can pretend it’s the honeymoon we delayed until winter,” joked Heath, but he nodded. “Anything that keeps the virus at a distance is good self-protection. What are the chances you might have already brought the virus here, Char?”

  She hated that thought, but she answered him honestly. “Slim, but possible. Viruses have a short life span in the air but if they get trapped in dirty boots or moist areas, they’re more likely to thrive.”

  “You think it was the neglected horses, Char?” asked Jace. “They were in pretty bad shape.”

  “They’ve all tested negative and Ty segregated the two at his place, so it’s never gotten within thousands of feet of his other horses.”

  “What about the rodeo? Horse gatherings are common disease-sharing sites,” said Melonie.

  “Except none of these horses were near the rodeo and Ty didn’t go over at all. And there were no reports of sick horses brought in.”

  “So, where did the virus come from, Char?” Heath looped an arm around Lizzie in a sweet, natural gesture of protection and love. His action reminded Char of those precious moments in Isaiah’s arms. His embrace. It took effort to shove those emotions aside.

  “The state will update us as more cases come in. Maybe we’ll be fortunate and this was an isolated incident,” she told them. “They usually find the source unless it’s a spontaneous event, a latent case that roars back to life. It’s possible that it only hit Ty’s barn.”

  “And he’ll be meticulous about handling it,” Jace said. “He always is.”

  “You alerted the other possible places?” asked Corrie. “Is that why you were so late coming back?”

  It was part of the reason, so she nodded. “First, Dancing Meadows. Then I went up north to warn the Scoville family and go over self-quarantine regimens with them.”

  “How did Isaiah handle this?” asked Heath. “He’s just gotten those mares to the point of delivery and it’s been a long road for their family. This has to make him nervous.”

  She hesitated a moment too long and Lizzie pounced. “What’s going on, Char? What’s happened?”

  She took a breath...

  A deep one...

  And told them what happened with Isaiah.

  “He really thinks you were part of that whole deal?” Heath jumped to his feet instantly. So did Jace, and Char was pretty sure her two new brothers-in-law were willing to leap to her defense. “You were cleared completely. Anyone with a brain would know you wouldn’t have your veterinary license if you were found guilty of something like that.”

  “He seemed willing to believe what others were telling him without looking for answers for himself—or asking me. Which says a lot about him and less about me,” Char told them. She didn’t say that he’d broken her heart, but when Lizzie exchanged a look with Mel, Char was pretty sure they’d figured that part out.

  Her fault, of course. Who fell in love with someone they’d just met? Who saw someone and instantly read the word destiny written in the clouds?

  No one. At least no one with common sense, so that made this debacle as much her fault as anyone’s. She wasn’t here to find everlasting love.

  She was here to help establish the ranch and exercise her skills while doing so. That made it her problem for getting schoolgirl silly. “He’ll have Braden to take care of things over there. Hopefully they won’t be affected. In the meantime Ty gave me permission to experiment with a new treatment.”

  Those words got everyone’s attention. Lizzie sat forward quickly. “What treatment?”

  Char explained some recent findings and Jace whistled softly. “Giving them heparin might help prevent losing the mare? How did you hear this?”

  She jabbed a finger toward the laptop. “I get updates from Penn Veterinary and American Veterinarian. It’s big news in horse circles, but it’s not a cure-all. It interrupts the progress of the disease although foal loss is still problematic. In spite of that, there have been impressive results while the horse fights off the virus.”

  Heath and Lizzie set up a schedule to check equine temperatures until the scare was over.

  When Jace and Melonie had gone home, and Heath and Lizzie had gone to the horse-stable apartment, Char walked onto the porch. And then she sighed.

  Maybe she wasn’t supposed to be here. Or maybe the mobile unit was a foolish experiment, doomed to fail.

  She’d stepped from one drama-filled problem into another, and while a few of the locals liked her, the majority might see her as a lying schemer once word got out. Maybe they’d believe the DA’s report that she was totally innocent, but then didn’t that make her seem stupid? For trusting the wrong man?

  “My sweet girl wears the weight of an angry world on her shoulders right about now.” Corrie spoke softly from the screen door. She opened it quietly and stepped through. “And that is way too much for one who’s done no wrong.” Corrie wrapped her arms around Char in a hug that Char didn’t know she needed until that moment. “Folks here will see your true colors shine, just like they did in New York. A person who deliberately smears another’s good name is a sorry soul in need of prayer, because the tru
th will come out. It always does. And you are strong enough to weather any storm.”

  “The truth will set us free.” She leaned into the curve of Corrie’s shoulder. “You’ve taught me that from the beginning.”

  “From the gospels, yes.” Corrie settled her head against Char’s in a gesture of motherly comfort. “Where does my strength come from? My strength comes from the Lord, who made heaven and this very earth we walk on,” she paraphrased. “So I pray for my girls. I pray for the men they love and who love them. I pray for these children, little Zeke, these baby twins. And for Isaiah’s children, their parents gone too soon, surrounded now by angry voices. For how does a child grow brave and true when so much negativity surrounds them?”

  “They have Isaiah.” Was it normal to instantly leap to his defense? Or unspeakably needy?

  “A good man of strength and kindness, although my opinion of him is not the same this evening.” She squeezed Char’s shoulders in a telling gesture. “No one gets to assume bad things about my girls. Not now. Not ever. And I will have no problem letting him and his whole family know that.”

  “Corrie—”

  “Hush, child.” Corrie’s voice meant business and no one dissed Corrie. Ever. “We Fitzgerald women have been sticking up for one another from the get-go. It’s not about to stop now and sometimes a good old-fashioned purse-whompin’ is what’s needed. Verbally speaking, of course.”

  “How about we let time work wonders,” Char suggested. “Another lesson you taught me.”

  “Well, there’s that.” Corrie huffed a little. “You focus on getting those horses well. We’ll carry the rest.”

  The courier arrived with the heparin early the next morning. When two other Carrington horses spiked a fever, they were brought to the quarantine barn, where Char administered the first of their twice-a-day injections.

  And then they waited, hoping to prevent the neurological symptoms that took far too many horses to the grave.

  * * *

  “We’ve got two horses with elevated temps, Isaiah.”

  Isaiah had been cleaning out the shaded area they’d erected seven years back, a broad open structure to ease the heat of summer sun. It was a favorite equine gathering spot for horses in this particular pasture, but they’d moved all the horses upland. It was harder for the virus to move up than drain down. His father’s words sounded hollow, and John Woods only sounded hollow over tragic events.

  Call Char.

  He chased the thought away. Why would he do that? Why would he even think that?

  But as he withdrew his phone to call Braden, the niggling thought came again.

  He brushed it aside.

  “I’ve already called Braden. He’s on his way but you know the score,” John said softly. “We both do.”

  So close.

  They’d been so close to having new foals for future sales. New life, new blood. New lines of their cherished Appaloosas, more like the original horse that drew Nimiipuu fame two centuries before, when white men first traveled the path from east to west.

  “No spread as yet.” He motioned to the upper pastures as they strode to the lower barn. “That’s the upside. For now.”

  Call Char.

  The niggling voice came again, nudging him.

  He couldn’t.

  She made the right call about Ginger. About those other horses. What harm is there in calling her? Are you that prideful that you can’t open the door to peace between you?

  That was just it. He didn’t want peace between them. He wanted a future for them, and that couldn’t happen. He’d lived with enough deceit in his life. Saving Ginger was his way out of that abyss. How could he rationalize her deception? Her choice to cheat people for financial gain?

  He couldn’t. He understood money problems. Strong finances were never a given in ranching. A bad year strained you. Two bad years could break you.

  But he would not be broken. One way or another they’d go on, because Dancing Meadows wasn’t just his legacy...

  He heard J.J. call Liam’s name from the old barn as she tended Ginger.

  It was theirs.

  Liam had been watching them from the bend in the drive. He’d followed their direction about staying away from the horses, and he’d busied himself with Rising and the recovering ewe, but Isaiah read the hunger in the boy’s gaze as he watched from afar. So much like his father. Wanting to make things better.

  “Liam, can you help me with Ginger?” J.J. called.

  Liam turned, excited. “Sure! Maybe Char will come today and see how good Ginger’s doing!” He raced to the old barn, excited by the invitation to help.

  “J.J. has really stepped up to the plate to help,” noted John as they moved into the paddock adjacent to the quarantined barn. “She’s got a head for horses. And ranching. You decide about that warmblood yet?”

  “No,” Isaiah answered, too quickly. He sounded sharp because he felt sharp. And hollow. Then sharp again. “We can’t bring him here under these circumstances, so we’re holding off. If he’s still there next month, we’ll see. If he’s sold, we’ll look elsewhere.”

  “J.J. said she wanted Char’s opinion, either way.”

  Isaiah didn’t want to discuss this, but when his father went on, it seemed he had little choice in the matter.

  “That young woman is a horseman’s vet,” John went on as he worked to disinfect the areas they’d blocked off. “She sees beyond the body and into the soul of the animal.”

  “While conning people out of their horses?” It made no sense. He shrugged one shoulder and got to work. Disinfecting gave them something to do while waiting for Braden to arrive and tell them there was nothing they could do but wait.

  Isaiah hated waiting.

  “You know,” John went on in an easy tone, as if they weren’t on the brink of disaster. “You get a lot of your qualities from me. Generally you look to the heart of the matter, you don’t overreact and you grew up a fair man, always looking at both sides of an issue. Why do you think you messed up when it came to that young veterinarian and the stuff you read?”

  That was a no-brainer. “Because a good person doesn’t swindle vulnerable people out of their horses and then expect to be trusted saving horses’ lives.”

  “And a fair person investigates the truth of the matter,” his father continued. “Maybe finds out things aren’t exactly what they seem.”

  He’d read the articles from start to finish. Every last implicating word. But his father’s tone and the look he gave him indicated something else.

  “I get that she saved Rising,” Isaiah said. “And she’s great with the kids and she stepped up to the plate for those neglected horses, but that doesn’t erase the past, does it?” He paused the disinfectant hose and faced his father. “You’re a horseman, Dad. You raised us to love and respect the heart of the animal. To unleash their highest potential. And helped to develop an Appaloosa worthy of our ancestors. So either talk straight or let’s work in silence.”

  John stayed quiet.

  He did that on purpose, Isaiah knew. To make Isaiah think for himself. Draw his own conclusions. And that always meant that his current conclusions were wrong.

  When he finally got back to the house, he stared at his laptop. He wanted a shower and sleep, but his father’s words pulled him forward. And when he Googled Char’s name and the horse scandal, the truth didn’t blindside him. It gut-punched him. She’d been used by a stinkin’ liar. A man who used her name and identification to pull off lousy deals and bilk money from gullible horse owners.

  And Isaiah had waved those foolish printouts at her like he was a judge and jury.

  He’d let himself be foolishly used by Braden. And when his father woke him to say they’d lost two foals in utero, it seemed like the clock wasn’t just ticking. It was ticking down to the eventual explosion.


  Chapter Fourteen

  Char got a call from J.J.’s phone the next afternoon, but when she answered the call, it was Liam’s voice that greeted her. “Char, it’s me!”

  “Liam.” Oh, that sweet boy. It did her heart good to hear him, to talk to him. She knew he’d come to count on her presence. Someone to talk to, to work with. “How are you, buddy?” She was in the middle of measuring meds so she put him on speakerphone. She didn’t ask if his uncle knew he was calling. She could figure that answer out on her own. But since he did call, she wasn’t about to shrug him off.

  “I miss you,” Liam went on. “J.J. lets me help with Ginger and the sheep but I miss you because you tell me stuff. But I’m not calling about me or you or anything like that. It’s the horses, Char. They’re sick. Like really sick. Uncle Isaiah is scared and Grandpa is scared and Dr. Hirsch is scared, too. And all I could think of was to call you and have you come and fix things.”

  The virus had spread.

  Her heart sank to hear it, and the boy’s entreaty touched her. How she wished it was that easy. It wasn’t. “You’ve got a doctor there, sweetie. Dr. Hirsch has been taking care of your horses for a long time. He’ll do all right.”

  The boy stayed silent so long that she tapped the phone to make sure she hadn’t lost the connection. And then he spoke. “They won’t be okay. I can tell because Uncle Isaiah looks so sad.”

  Char had prepared for a possible larger-scale outbreak by ordering more heparin. Did she dare just show up at Isaiah’s ranch? Treat his horses? Risk the anger and accusations?

  Corrie came across the room with a look of intent. It was an expression Char knew well, which meant she should listen. “Liam, hang on a minute, will you? I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay.”

  She muted the phone and Corrie wasted no time. “When the good Lord was faced with adversity, He met it head-on. When they shoved that wicked crown onto His head, He wore it. When His friends ran and hid, leaving a handful of women to walk the way of the cross, He forgave their fears and came to them when He rose up.” Corrie motioned to the phone on the table. “We can’t let fear keep us from doing the right thing, sweet girl. Even if it’s the hardest thing we’ve done.”