by Tawna Fenske
“I think I saw that on a Hallmark card.”
“I’m serious. You think your grandma and I lasted as long as we did because we sat around swapping roses and dining by candlelight every night?”
Reese frowned. “Grandma ran off with a plumber.”
Axl patted her lightly on the shoulder and nodded. “Good talk, girl. Now let’s get the damn camel off the doobie.”
Clay had spent his whole day trying his damnedest to stay focused on the job. He was working with a lot of heavy equipment and shouting orders left and right at the crew. Hardly the time to lose focus.
Even so, he couldn’t help but notice when Reese and Axl came hurrying down the hill toward the winery bar. Reese looked worried. Axl looked high. Leon the alpaca was right on their heels, his fuzzy ears twitching each time the backhoe went in reverse.
Clay watched from the corner of his eye as Axl banged through the door of the winery while Reese stood outside, her hand on Leon’s neck.
Clay shifted the shovel in his hands, determined to keep his distance.
Seconds later, Axl was back outside shouting something at Reese and waving a telephone around. When Reese started to cry, Clay dropped the shovel. Reese wasn’t a crier. If she was in tears, something was very wrong.
Screw distance.
“I’ve got the vet on the line,” Axl was yelling to Reese as Clay approached. “Is he experiencing ataxia, bradycardia, or conjunctival hyperemia?”
“I don’t know what any of that means!” Reese shouted back with tears spilling down her cheeks. “Find out what’s on the list of things that are poisonous to alpacas. Don’t you remember the one that died over at the Beezlers’ place last year when it ate foxglove?”
Clay moved into place beside her, hesitating only a moment before placing a hand on her arm.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Can I help?”
“Leon ate pot,” Reese sniffed. “It was only a little, but I don’t know if it’s toxic to him and—”
“The vet wants to know if he’s experiencing urinary incontinence,” Axl demanded, holding the phone away from his ear.
Reese looked at Leon. Leon made a funny humming noise. Axl shrugged and knelt down to peer at the shaggy animal’s underbelly. “Wow, he’s pretty well hung. You seen this thing?”
“Stop sexually harassing my alpaca!” Reese snapped. “You’re not going to be able to tell if he’s incontinent from staring at his—his—”
“My vet friend can’t get here until Sunday,” Axl said, straightening up and gesturing with the phone. “He’s at a motorcycle rally in Nevada, but he says it shouldn’t be toxic, as long as Leon didn’t eat too much. You should keep him calm and feed him something to get things moving through his system.”
Clay cleared his throat. “Is there something I can do?”
Reese looked at him. “Do you know anything about stoned livestock?”
Clay shrugged. “I’ve been around a lot of stoned people.”
Another tear slipped down Reese’s cheek as she stroked Leon’s neck. The alpaca made a purring sound and looked at Clay. Clay reached out and scratched behind its ear.
“I don’t know what alpacas usually act like,” Clay said. “Is he behaving oddly?”
Reese nodded. “He isn’t head-butting you in the crotch. That’s odd.”
“Thank you, Leon,” Clay said. “Look, I just hooked up with the local AA group. It’s a long shot, but you want me to see if there are any members who might be veterinarians? AA is always a supportive group when it comes to—well, delicate situations. It might be worth a try.”
“Shit, yeah,” Axl said as he switched off the cordless phone. “Your drunk-ass friends will know all about camels eating pot.”
“He’s an alpaca!” Reese shouted before looking back at Clay. “If you wouldn’t mind—”
“No problem. Just let me make a call.”
Clay grabbed his cell from his belt and hit the speed-dial number for Patrick, his new sponsor. He’d programmed the guy’s number into the phone the other day, knowing it might be handy at some point.
He hadn’t envisioned using it to summon help for a stoned alpaca.
The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. Patrick picked up, his voice fretful.
“Clay? Is that you? Is everything okay?”
“Hey, Patrick—yeah, it’s me. Look, there’s been a drug-related incident here, and I was just wondering—”
“Oh, God. Clay, where are you? I can get there in a few minutes, wherever you are. Just hold tight and—”
“No, dude—it’s not me. Really, I have this friend—”
“Sure, sure, a friend—whatever you say. The important thing is that your friend deals with this head-on, right now, before things spiral and—”
“Patrick, stop. It’s an alpaca.”
Patrick was quiet a moment. “That’s that new street drug, right? The one that gives you an erection for four days?”
“What? No. It’s kind of like a camel. A really small, shaggy camel with no hump.”
There was more silence on Patrick’s end. “I don’t understand.”
“Look, I just need to know if there’s a vet in the local AA group—a veterinarian, not a war veteran. We want to find out if there’s anything we should do for my friend’s alpaca.”
Patrick didn’t respond right away, so Clay pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at Reese. “Any idea how much he ate?”
“Just one small plant, I think. Maybe two. I can’t be sure,” she said. “I didn’t see it before he ate it, but all the plants were really little.”
“Okay, Patrick?” Clay said, speaking into the phone again. “It sounds like he ingested a fairly small amount of marijuana. Is there anyone you can think of who I could talk to?”
“Um, well, there’s Wally. He owns a vet clinic in Newberg. He’s just a friend of mine, not an AA guy, but I trust him. You want me to give him a call?”
“That’d be great. You can have him call me on this number, or if it’s not too much trouble, maybe he could come out here to the winery?”
“You’re at a winery with a stoned camel?”
Clay watched as Reese scratched Leon behind the ears. “He’s not a camel. Just let me know what Wally says, okay? Thanks, man.”
He clicked off the phone and looked at Reese, who was still stroking Leon’s neck with a shaky hand.
“Thank you,” she said. “I just didn’t want to call Leon’s regular vet to explain this. He got mad last Halloween when Axl tried to dye Leon orange. I don’t want him to think we’re completely irresponsible alpaca owners.”
“Not a problem. Just hang in there. Should we try feeding him something like Axl’s guy said?”
Reese nodded. “I’ll go get some of his food. Can you keep an eye on him?”
“Sure.”
Clay watched as Reese hurried off in the direction of her little house. Once she was gone, Clay turned to Axl.
“Do I want to know how this happened?”
“Probably not,” he said. “He’s going to be okay, right? It’s not gonna kill him like those other plants Reese was talking about?”
“I have no idea. He looks fine to me, but this is the first alpaca I’ve ever seen up close. Is he always like this?”
“Pretty much. He actually looks happy, don’t you think?”
Clay looked at the animal. Happy? He wasn’t sure what a happy alpaca looked like, but as the beast stooped to pull a mouthful of grass from the tufts at the edge of the barn, Clay had to admit he seemed content.
“Is it okay if he eats grass?”
“Huh?” Axl asked. “Oh, you mean like hair of the dog? Sure, I left my bong back at the pole barn, but I think Reese might get pissed if we gave him another hit.”
“No, not—never mind. Here com
es Reese.”
He watched her jogging across the lawn, trying not to let his eyes linger too long on her chest. That would be a caveman thing to do. He wasn’t a caveman.
Still, the way everything moved under that shirt as she ran—
“Got it,” Reese called, holding out a small canvas bag. “C’mere, Leon—get some oats.”
The alpaca lifted his head and pricked his ears. He leaned out, snuffling at the edge of the bag.
“Good boy,” Reese crooned. “That’s a good, good boy.”
Leon stuck his head in the bag and began munching.
Clay scratched him behind the ears again, earning a contented hum that sounded funny in the rhythm of chewing.
“Alpacas have three stomachs,” Reese explained softly, as though Leon might be offended at being discussed thusly. “I guess we just want to get everything moving through him.”
“Makes sense,” Clay said. “Had a few benders like that myself.”
“He seems to have the munchies,” Axl pointed out.
Reese held up the feed bag and peered inside. “All gone. Feeling better, Leon?”
Leon chortled a little and snuffled at the edge of the bag.
“So is Leon a pet, or does he serve a useful vineyard function?” Clay asked, trying to keep Reese’s mind off the animal’s condition. “Hauling grapes or something?”
Reese shrugged. “They keep the pasture mowed down, but it’s more about the fleece. Mom and Gramp—Axl got a whole herd of alpacas a few years ago after reading about how the fiber made from their fleece is worth a lot of money. We shear them every spring.”
“What’s the difference between a llama and an alpaca?”
“Llamas are bigger, and you use them more for packing and hauling,” Reese said. “We have a few of those over in the east pasture. Alpacas are a lot smaller, and people keep them more for their fleece than anything.”
“So what’s the deal with Leon? Why isn’t he with other alpacas?”
She gave Leon a fond smile and stroked the side of his neck, and Clay kicked himself for feeling jealous of a farm animal. “He got kind of attached to me after I bottle-fed him as a baby when he got sick,” she said. “He hangs out with the other alpacas sometimes when I’m not around, but most of the time, he’d rather be near me.”
Clay could relate, but he didn’t say so.
The sound of tires crunching over gravel drew their attention toward the driveway. They watched as a blue Subaru pulled into the circular parking area at the front of the winery barn and eased to a halt in front of them. The brake lights flickered and a dark-haired, thirty-something man in a green fleece jacket hopped out and extended his right hand, gripping a medical bag in the left.
“You must be Clay,” he said. “Patrick called just as I was leaving a sheep farm five miles down the road. I’m Wallace O’Brien—you can call me Wally. Is this our patient?”
Clay nodded. “Thanks so much for coming out like this. Leon here ate some, uh—”
“Medical marijuana,” piped Axl. “Perfectly legal. We’ve got the permits and everything.”
“Er, right,” Clay said. “This is Axl, and Reese here is Leon’s owner. She’s understandably worried.”
“Reese,” the man repeated, his eyes coming to rest on her face. He studied her with undisguised appreciation, and Clay stood up a little straighter.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Dr. Wally. “Tell me, have you noticed any disorientation or behavioral changes?”
“Well, his normal behavior whenever a man is around is to—”
Leon chose that moment to display his normal behavior. He lowered his head and nailed Wally squarely in the groin.
“Ooof!” said Wally and doubled over.
“Oh no! I’m so sorry,” Reese said. “Are you okay?”
Wally nodded but didn’t say anything beyond a squeak as he clutched his groin with one hand. Reese winced and rested a hand on Leon’s back, while Clay did his best to feel sympathetic.
“I can’t believe he just did that,” Reese said. “I should have warned you that’s what he always does, but I thought after he didn’t hit Clay in the—um—the—”
“Nutsack,” Axl supplied.
“Right,” Reese said. “I thought maybe the marijuana made him not want to do that, but I guess I’m glad he’s being his normal self. I mean, I’m not glad you got hit, but—I mean—can I get you some ice?”
“I’m fine, fine,” groaned Dr. Wally, straightening up and pasting on a strained smile. “Let me just do a quick exam here, if you don’t mind.”
“Absolutely,” Reese said, stepping aside as Dr. Wally opened his medical bag and pulled out a stethoscope.
Clay watched as the vet tucked the earpieces into place and held the flat metal end against Leon’s furry chest, listening intently. The name had left Clay expecting a much older man, but Dr. Wally couldn’t be more than a year or two older than he was.
The vet nodded to himself after a minute, then put the stethoscope away and pulled out a little penlight. He put a hand on the side of Leon’s face and shined it in the animal’s eyes.
Leon curled his lips back and spat.
Clay tried not to laugh. “At least his aim isn’t affected.”
Dr. Wally grimaced and wiped the alpaca slime off his cheek. “No worries. He does seem to be in high spirits, doesn’t he?”
Axl snorted. “High. You could say that.”
Dr. Wally gave a faint smile and pulled out a thermometer. “Um, would one of you mind holding him steady?”
“Of course,” said Reese, and wrapped her arms around the alpaca’s neck.
Dr. Wally moved around in back and tried to lift Leon’s tail. Leon hooted with alarm and pulled his tail down.
“Come on, buddy,” the vet murmured. “Just cooperate.”
Clay scratched one of Leon’s fuzzy ears, the one with a heart-shaped splotch on it, and tried to think of something comforting to say. “Sorry, man,” he murmured to Leon, trying not to notice the heat coming from Reese’s hand as she stroked the alpaca’s neck. “He didn’t even buy you a beer first.”
At last, the vet released Leon’s tail and returned to pull an alcohol wipe from his medical bag. He nodded at Reese as he began wiping down the thermometer.
“His temperature is normal, heart rate pretty steady,” he informed her. “His pupils are a little dilated, and he’s clearly a bit agitated, but that’s to be expected under the circumstances.”
“So is he going to be okay?” Reese asked. “There are so many plants that are poisonous to alpacas, so I just worried—”
“He should be fine. The best thing you can do right now is just keep him calm.”
“Anything else?” Reese asked, stroking Leon’s neck.
“Give him plenty of water, and watch for anything unusual—vomiting, malaise, diarrhea, depression.”
They all turned to Leon, looking for signs of depression. Leon hummed.
“Right,” said Dr. Wally. “Here’s my card. Call me if anything changes. Or—you know—if you want to go out sometime?”
Reese stared at him for a second before reaching out to take the card. Clay felt dizzy, and realized he was holding his breath.
It was Axl who broke the silence, smacking Reese on the arm.
“Jesus, girl—the man just asked you on a goddamn date. You’ve gotta give him an answer, unless you want me to kick his ass?”
Reese flushed, then smiled at Dr. Wally. “No, that’s fine. I mean—no ass kicking will be necessary. Thank you, Wally. I’ll hold on to your number. Um, here’s mine,” she said, fishing a business card out of her pocket. “You can mail the bill to the address there.”
He glanced at the card, then smiled up at Reese. “Why don’t we just call it a favor for a friend?”
“Oh,
no, I couldn’t—”
“I insist. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
Reese bit her lip. “Thank you. Really, I appreciate you coming out here on short notice like this.”
Clay cleared his throat and extended his hand. “Thanks again, man. Great to be able to connect with people through AA like this.”
Wally looked at Clay, stole one more glance at Reese, then looked back at Clay. “You can call me anytime, too.”
Somehow, Clay doubted Wally would be as excited to get a midnight call from him as he would from Reese.
“Okay, then,” Clay said. “Have a good night.”
They watched the good doctor climb into his car and fire up the engine. He turned the car around in the wide gravel circle of the driveway and beeped the horn twice as he drove away.
Leon made a wark-wark noise and pawed the ground.
When the car disappeared, Clay looked at Reese. She was studying the card. She looked up and met his eyes.
“He seemed like a nice guy,” Reese said. “Thanks for getting him to come out, Clay.”
“Not a problem.”
“No, really—it’s a big deal. Calling Leon’s regular vet would have been embarrassing, so I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“Really, I’m glad to help.”
“I feel like I owe you something,” she said. “Can I make you dinner?”
“Um—I, uh—”
The door to the winery burst open. Eric stormed out, his face pale and his eyebrows cinched together. When he spotted Reese, he snarled and kicked the dirt.
“Get in here,” he said. “We have a problem.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Reese stared dumbfounded at the giant, sticky red lake on the floor.
It wasn’t blood, but that would have been preferable.
She gripped the edge of a wine barrel to keep herself steady. “What the hell happened?” she asked, bracing herself as a wave of nausea rolled through her.
Her ex-husband’s face revealed the same shell-shocked expression he’d worn the day Clay had stolen a milk truck in college and backed over his car.