Cupid to the Rescue: A Tail-Wagging Valentine's Day Anthology

by Lisa Mondello

  A while later Tuck came awake with a bump to the bed. Opening his eyes, he rolled his head slowly to the left and came nose to nose with Val.

  “Is it time to wake up or are you just guarding me?” he asked.

  The dog didn’t move, his stare focused on Tuck.

  “Okay, I’m taking it as time to get up.”

  He thought about it for a moment. Headache gone. Reaching up, he touched the bump on his forehead. Still tender.

  He entered the main living area a couple of minutes later.

  “Feeling better?” Jenny asked. She was in the open kitchen, making a salad.

  “Yes, you were right, headache’s gone. Did Troy call?”

  “No, no calls. I’ll have dinner ready in about a half hour. Are you hungry?”

  “Yes. Can I help?”

  “I’m good. You might replenish the fire,” she said.

  He took a log from the pile near the fireplace and added it. A moment later flames ignited the wood. The wood pile near the fireplace was low, evidence of the constant feeding through the afternoon.

  He walked to the window to look out. It was already dark, and he could only see as far as the light from the window, spilling out on the porch. The railing was piled high with snow. He thought it was still snowing but it was hard to tell. So much for his plan to see if he could dig out his truck. It’d be truly buried by now.

  “I’ll get some wood,” he said, noting the stack on the porch.

  “I’d appreciate it,” Jenny said.

  He donned his jacket and stepped outside. It was windy, snow blowing on the deck, the stairs buried beneath the snow. He made several trips until the wood stand near the fireplace was fully stocked.

  “It’s cold out,” he said when he came in the last time.

  She nodded. “I’ve let Val out a couple of times. Glad I’m inside.”

  “It’s later than I thought. Mind if I use your phone again?”

  “Go right ahead, any time.”

  He called his boss to update him and was assured they’d manage without him. Tuck sat down on the chair by the fire again, impatient with inactivity. If he was home, even with the bad weather, there was always something to do around the ranch.

  “Want to give me a hand?” Jenny asked.

  He rose and joined her in the kitchen. “What can I do?”

  “Watch the steak in the broiler. I have potatoes in the microwave. Salad’s made. I need to feed Val.”

  He leaned over to see two steaks sizzling beneath the broiler. In the summertime, the men often had barbecues on the grill. Jeremy did the cooking in the bunk house. Tuck wasn’t a cook. Yet how hard could it be to keep an eye on the meat so it didn’t burn?

  They sat down for dinner as soon as the steaks were done.

  Tuck began eating. Jenny watched him for a moment, seemingly trying to gauge if he was satisfied the meal was to his liking. He knew he certainly wasn’t the chatty type.

  “Things okay at the Bar 7?” she asked after the first pangs of hunger had been satisfied.

  He nodded. “The men MacKay hired are all good workers.” He looked up. “What do you do here to pass the time? I don’t see a television.”

  “I’d need cable to see anything and it’d be expensive to get cable service this far out for just me. I used to watch TV, but being deployed, I got out of the habit and don’t miss it now.”

  “Where were you deployed?”

  He’d seen her in town a couple of times with her dog. And heard some of her story–she’d been in the Army which seemed totally bizarre to him. She was pretty, slim, and seemed too delicate to be in the armed forces.

  “I don’t usually talk about it,” she said, studying the food on her plate.

  That he understood. He didn’t talk much about his past either. Of course, in his case it made him look like an idiot. He doubted that was Jenny's reasons for being reticent.

  “You were a nurse in the Army?” Why was he pushing the issue?

  “I was. When I got out, I came home. Now I take private duty assignments here in Wild Cat Creek or in neighboring towns if needed.”

  “Because there’s no hospital here in town?”

  “Because I don’t want to work in a hospital. If I did, the one in Coleville would be close enough to commute to.”

  He looked at her for a moment, but her gaze remained focused on her plate.

  Tuck considered what she’d said. Her soft shiny brown hair brushed her shoulders. Her eyes were blue, her complexion ivory with a hint of pink in her cheeks. She wasn’t that tall, was definitely slender, and didn’t look anything like what he thought soldiers should look like.

  “However did you get into the Army?” he asked.

  “Enlisted like everyone else,” she said looking up at him with a smile.

  “You don’t look like my idea of a soldier,” he said.

  “You’d be surprised how different soldiers can look.”

  “Was it your plan to make it your career?”

  She nodded. “But one tour in Afghanistan ended that dream. I didn’t stay in when my time was up–obviously.”

  Val came over and laid his head in Jenny’s lap. She rubbed behind his ears and smiled at her dog.

  “So, you returned home when your time was up? Doesn’t the town seem a bit tame after what you saw as a soldier?”

  “That’s the main appeal. I grew up here. This is home. My friends are here.”

  “And family?”

  She shook her head. “No, my dad died when I was young. Mom remarried a few years back and she and her new husband live in Arizona. We talk on the phone and they visited a couple months ago. I’ve only been back six months.”

  “I’d think you’d head for Arizona when you heard of the storm. It’s got to be warmer there.”

  Jenny shook her head. “Not for me. I had my fill of hot deserts. Are you finished? I have chocolate pudding for dessert…”

  Tuck wasn’t sure if she deliberately changed the subject or not, but let it slide. “I haven’t had pudding since I was a kid.”

  Jenny cleared their empty plates and brought the pudding.

  “So, you don’t get pudding at the Bar 7? I’ll have to speak to Bill.”

  He gave a lopsided smile, imaging her standing up to his boss. It just might work.

  “Tell me more about yourself,” she said invitingly.

  “Not much to tell. I work on a ranch and sometimes slide my truck into a ditch.”

  “Do that often?”

  “No, first time.” He met her gaze. “And let’s hope it’s the last.”

  “Were you a ranch hand in Texas? Or just a rodeo cowboy?”

  “A bit of both.” He didn’t want to go into that. “How did you get your dog? Did I hear you call him a service dog?”

  She nodded. “He is. I have PTSD. He can sometimes alert me to an attack coming on, but he’ll always be there for me if I get another episode.” She looked at Val and he wagged his tail. “He goes with me everywhere.”

  “PTSD, what happened?”

  “War,” she snapped out. “I have more pudding if you want it.”

  It was as if she’d suddenly put up a wall six feet high. He recognized it and nodded. Time to stop pushing.

  Once dessert was consumed, Jenny began washing the dishes.

  Tuck added another log to the fire. The room was comfortably warm. He wondered if it would hold the heat when no one was awake to feed the fire. If he woke in the night, he’d add a log or two.

  He turned back toward the sofa when the lights went out. Not an uncommon occurrence with a strong storm. MacKay’s ranch had generators. Did Jenny?

  “I’ll have light in a minute,” she said in the darkness, almost as if answering his thoughts.

  In seconds the bright flame of an oil lamp flared. She put on the globe to diffuse it a bit and the soft light filled the room. In only minutes she lit three more, setting them in different places of the living area.

  “I have a
generator I’ll fire up–to keep the refrigerated food cold. But it’s not for the entire cabin. Which is okay, the lamps work. I just wish they didn’t stink up the place.”

  “Tell me where the generator is, I’ll go.”

  She looked at him for a moment, then shrugged. “I’ll show you.”

  “You don’t have to go out in this.”

  “Neither do you. This is my place. I can manage,” she said.

  If Tuck had to describe her using only one trait, he thought it would be independence. He didn’t know her at all, but she took a blizzard in stride. Invited a total stranger into her home. Power failures didn’t faze her. Even got her back up a bit when he offered help.

  Tuck took a deep breath, trying to quell the urge to do something. When was the last time he just sat and didn’t feel compelled to work? He wasn’t sure he could do it. Maybe for tonight.

  “Okay, come on and I’ll show you the generator,” she said, seeming to relent a couple of minutes later, and going to get her heavy jacket.

  Tuck followed her out the back door and around to a small shed attached to the back of the cabin.

  She pulled the door wide and latched it open. Around the walls hung gardening implements and a hose. In the center of the small shed sat a portable generator. Flipping the lever from the power company to the generator, she checked the oil and gas levels. Satisfied both were adequate, she pressed the starter. The motor roared to life.

  “Easy peasy,” she said, stepping back. “It’ll run all night if needed,” she added as they trudged through the knee high snow.

  Drifts were even higher as snow continued to fall. Both had a light dusting covering their shoulders and heads when they stepped back inside.

  Jenny sat on the sofa and picked up the knitting she’d been doing earlier. He went to the window again staring out at the darkness. Tuck was still feeling antsy, but he knew there was nothing more to be done.

  Turning, he went back to sit by the fire.

  The silence was comfortable. He watched as the small sweater grew. Knitting was such a girly thing. She reminded him of his mother. She always had hand work when she and his dad sat in front of the television each evening. Only in her case it was usually mending. With five boys, she always had mending.

  “Who is that for?” he asked. It was too small for an adult.

  “My friend Darcy. She's due on Valentine's Day. They don't know the gender of the baby, so I'm using a neutral color.” She held it up so he could see how much she'd done.

  He thought it looked awful small. For a moment he thought about Trish. He couldn't picture her sitting calmly by the fire, doing something so feminine. He'd never thought about that aspect of being married before. What would their marriage have been like? He pushed the thought away.

  “Did the sheriff give you an idea of when the storm’s due to pass?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “He said a couple of days, so I don’t expect it to stop until maybe tomorrow afternoon.”

  “They’ll be clearing the roads before it stops. Since Troy couldn’t make it today, I’m hoping he’ll be out first thing in the morning.”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Jenny ignored the tiny pang of disappointment that sprang up at the thought of his leaving. She hardly knew the man. They’d just met. Despite that, she felt drawn to him, comfortable around him. Would their paths cross again? Now that she knew he lived in the area, maybe they could–could what?

  Until or unless she could get over the PTSD, she knew it best to be on her own. And Tuck seemed closed off, not like he had a lot of friends. Yet, what did she know? He could be married with a house full of kids for all she knew. He hadn't shared much beyond who he worked for.

  There was a big thump as a pile of snow dumped from a tree. Jenny jumped, startled. It sounded like the distant muffled sound of a mortar.

  Val was right beside her and leaned against her leg, lifting his head toward hers. Thankfully no flashback.

  “I’m good, Val,” she said. She took a deep breath.

  Tuck looked at them.

  “He’s attentive.”

  She nodded. “Sometimes sounds set me off. He’s here to help me focus on the here and now. Snow dumping from trees can sound like distant mortar fire. And the fear it’s coming closer will flood me.”

  She hated admitting what she saw as a shortcoming, but talking about it instead of bottling it up was the recommendation from the doctor at the VA.

  “Did you have snow in the part of Texas where you lived?” she asked, covering up her moment of weakness.

  “Plenty in the winter. Which made the Blue Bonnets all the more plentiful come spring.”

  She thought she heard a hint of longing in his voice.

  “So why leave?”

  He looked at her for a moment as if making up his mind.

  “I’m one of five brothers. Not the oldest. Tice will get the ranch when our dad passes. After I figured out rodeoing can get a man killed, I decided to see different parts of the country. MacKay was hiring when I hit town, so I signed up. Been there five years now, foreman the last two.”

  “Thinking of moving on to see more of the country?” she asked, fascinated by his story. She loved her hometown, loved all her friends and the feeling of belonging. Granted, joining the Army had satisfied her yearning for adventure. Now that was in the past. She no longer had a desire to leave Wild Cat Creek.

  “Haven’t thought about moving on in a long time.”

  She smiled. “So Wild Cat Creek’s now home.”

  “Seems like,” he said, as if just realizing it for the first time.

  “I think I’ll let Val out one last time tonight and call it a night. Do you need anything?” she asked rising and crossing to the door.

  The big dog quickly followed and ran outside once the door opened.

  “No. Thanks for taking me in.”

  She wondered how hard it was for him to say that. He seemed more like someone who preferred to give help rather than taking help from others.

  “I’m glad Val heard the crash. You couldn’t know my place was so close. You could have frozen to death if you were still in your truck.”

  “Naw, I’d have started for town. Someone would have been by.”

  Maybe. Or the road would have become impassable, and he’d have frozen to death halfway there.

  She was glad Val found him.

  She put on her jacket and stepped outside on the porch. A few minutes later Val returned. Jenny brushed the snow off his fur. His thick coat insulated him and kept the snow from melting, not so in the warmth of the cabin. Once inside, Val went to the bedroom as if he knew the routine.

  “I’ll say goodnight,” she told Tuck. “There're fresh towels in the bathroom, and a new toothbrush by the sink. Please turn out the lamps when you’re ready to go to bed. And take one in the bedroom with you. Just be careful, don’t trip and drop it.”

  He nodded.

  Jenny got ready for bed, placing a lamp on the bedside table so she could read for a little while.

  The book couldn’t hold her interest, however. Instead she thought about the stranger in the other room. He intrigued her. Was it because she didn’t know him like she did most of the people in town? She sensed a restless energy in him and suspected he was a man of action. The inactivity of today had to be wearing.

  What was he like being the foreman of the Bar 7? Working long hours, she guessed. Limited friends and hobbies. No mention of a wife or kids, so she suspected work was his main focus.

  She smiled to herself; she couldn’t see him with any hobbies unless it was rodeoing as he’d mentioned.

  He didn’t talk much about his family. She wondered what spurred him to travel around. And how in the world had he ended up in an out-of-the-way town like Wild Cat Creek? She’d have to ask.

  Most of the people she knew in town were from families who had lived in the area for generations. Her own father’s grandfather had first settled in Wild Cat Creek in the early
part of the twentieth century. Family was important.

  Was Tuck close to his? From the little she’d learned, it didn’t sound like it.

  She turned off the lamp and settled in the darkness. The hum of the generator was soothing as she drifted off to sleep.

  Valentine’s Rescue: Chapter 3

  Val woke her early the next morning as he did every morning. She considered him her furry alarm clock. He even seemed to have a snooze feature–if she rolled over and didn’t get up right away, he was back ten minutes later nuzzling her as if demanding she get up.

  “Okay, I’m awake,” she murmured to the dog. Just once she’d like to wake up on her own. How late could she sleep if she had the chance?

  Dressed a short time later, she opened the bedroom door. Val needed to go out and she’d start coffee for herself and her guest.

  To her surprise, Tuck sat at the table a mug in front of him. The aroma of freshly made coffee filled the room.

  “Did you stay up all night?” she asked as she and the dog crossed to the front door. Opening it to let her companion out, she noted it was still snowing and the depth looked to have increased another foot.

  “No, I’ve only been up a half hour or so. I’m waiting until a reasonable hour to call about my truck again.”

  “With all the snow, it could take a while to clear the road to enable a tow truck to even make out here,” she warned.

  “I know. He ran a hand through his hair. “I need to do something, though. I can’t just sit around all day.”

  “How’s the head?”

  “Fine. Headache’s gone completely.”

  Jenny went to pour herself some coffee.

  “I saw the shovel in the shed last night. So I cleared off the steps and around your jeep. What do you do about the driveway? Do you have a snow blower?” he asked.

  “Thank you. I appreciate it. No snow blower. Walt Nelson clears it for me or sends one of his men,” she said referring to the rancher who owned the cabin. “But they’ll wait until it stops so they don’t come more than once.”

  “Doesn’t the isolation bother you?” he asked, watching her as she pulled some eggs from the refrigerator.