by Carter Ashby
“She’s making it easy on us,” the vet said with a sigh of relief. “That’s wonderful, because you’re gonna have a long night with Eloise.”
Jake stood, holding the bottle in his left hand, shaking the vet’s hand with his right. “I appreciate this so much, doc.”
“It’s what I do. Unless I get called away, I’ll stay and monitor Eloise tonight.”
“Thank you.”
The vet sat next to Eloise, stroking her neck and occasionally checking her pulse. Now that all the tension had died down, Dallas felt a sick guilt coating his soul like a layer of scum on a shower wall. Boone was the first to go.
“I’m exhausted,” he said. “I’m gonna get some sleep, then get up early and take a shift with Eloise.”
“Thanks,” Jake said to Boone. It wasn’t grudging at all. In fact, he hugged his little brother. He hugged Cody, too, who promised to take a middle-of-the-night shift. Dallas gulped down the lump of nausea and approached his big brother who had dried tear streaks down his cheeks. Jake hadn’t cried since they were children, not so Dallas could see anyway.
“I’m real sorry about all this,” Dallas said, his throat husky.
Jake’s brow furrowed. “Hey, it’s not your fault.” He brought Dallas into a hug, not having a clue he was embracing Judas. “Besides, she’s gonna be fine. She’s strong, she’ll pull through.”
Dallas left the stables. Halfway home, he fell to his knees and started vomiting. And kept vomiting. Darkness was falling all around, so it wasn’t until just before he blacked out that he realized he was losing consciousness.
There had been nothing but gossip being spoken in town that day. Jake had made a trip to the feed store and the market that afternoon. News about Molly Allen was everywhere. People expressed their concern for poor Pastor Allen before diving into the speculation on suspects. The police didn’t have anyone in mind, but that didn’t mean the average citizen about town didn’t have plenty of ideas.
The other piece of gossip released on Myra’s blog that day had concerned Ivy and Cody. When Jake had heard that, he’d burst out laughing. It was too ridiculous to believe. Suddenly, he felt like an idiot for ever thinking she was sleeping with all of them. He knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t do that. He also knew that if she did, she wouldn’t have gotten caught three times in a row. No, something else was going on. Could be better than her sleeping with his brothers, could be worse. Whatever it was, she didn’t wanna tell him, and that was that.
So he’d gone home with his supplies, still mooning over Ivy and wondering what might happen with her. That evening, when he’d found Eloise in labor, his whole world turned upside down. He’d been surprised that the first person he wanted at his side was Ivy. The whole time he’d been sitting there comforting Eloise, he’d been wishing for comfort from Ivy. Wishing for her to stroke his hair and tell him everything was going to be okay, same as he was doing with his mare.
Instead, he’d gotten a cold shoulder.
It wasn’t surprising. He knew what she wanted as soon as he’d extended his hand to her. She wanted him to embrace her. Acknowledge her. Need her. Want her. She wanted all of that out in the open. She didn’t want to be denied like Peter did to Jesus. She wanted to be openly accepted.
As he stood in the middle of the stables watching her back as she walked away, he knew she was right to reject him. He was being a coward. Gideon had questioned him over milk for the foal and Jake had stood strong against him. But when it came to Ivy, he cowered, avoiding confrontation at all cost. It was no wonder she was angry with him.
“If there’s anything more we can do…” Jared was saying to Gideon.
“You can get the hell off my property,” Gideon snarled.
Jake turned sharply, even as Ivy froze her exit.
Clara covered her face in her hands—likely because she couldn’t physically insert her head into the sand.
“Gideon, I don’t know what I did to upset you, but we’re just trying to help,” Jared said.
“You know what I think?” Gideon replied, moving close to face-off with Jared. “That there mare was poisoned somehow, and I think you was the one to do it. You want our land and you’ll do anything to get it.”
Jared laughed. “Are you serious? Why would I do that? How could poisoning Jake’s mare help me get your property?”
“I’m sure this ain’t the whole plan. I’m sure you got other things in mind. But I’ll burn this land and salt the ground before I let you get your slimy hands on it.”
Ivy stormed forward, standing just a step behind her father. “We’ve done nothing but help—”
“I’ll thank you to keep your little girl in line, Turner,” Gideon said, not looking at Ivy. “Seems she enjoys causing trouble. I don’t much appreciate her sniffing around my boys.”
“That’s enough!” Jake said, his fear vanishing just as it had when Gideon had tried to deny the foal milk from the Turners.
“Boy, you’d better watch how you talk to me,” Gideon snarled.
“You got a problem with me, we’ll talk about it,” Jake said, “but I’m not going to stand here while you insult people who have done nothing but offer their friendship—”
Jake didn’t see the slap coming. Gideon hadn’t hit him in years. Best he could recall, the last time had been when he’d come home drunk, having missed dinner and made his mother cry. He’d been twenty-three and Gideon had dragged him into the yard and kicked his ass. Jake remembered because he’d curled up and taken it, knowing he could easily stand up and fight back. He’d thought on it for days trying to figure out why he hadn’t fought back. When he realized it was simply because he had too much respect for his father, he’d fallen right in line, desperate not to cause anymore trouble.
Jakes cheek stung, involuntary tears springing to his eyes. He frowned in shock at Gideon. Then he looked down to see Ivy’s hand on his chest, her other clinging to his arm, her eyes locked on Gideon and filled with hatred. At his side like he wanted. Supporting him like he didn’t deserve. In the time Jake spent acclimating to what had just happened, Jared had inserted himself between Jake and Gideon. “There’s no cause to be doing that, Gideon,” Jared said.
Jake pulled Ivy back a step, stunned to be defended by not one, but two Turners. He suddenly envied Ivy her father.
“You’ll mind your own fucking business unless you wanna take this out back and finish it,” Gideon said.
“Finish what?” Jared asked, raising his voice for the first time. “I don’t even know what this is. I haven’t the first clue as to why you hate me and my family so much.”
“Oh, come off it, Turner. You’re such a condescending prick, sitting on your high horse, taking anything you want.”
“What have I taken from you? What? I make an offer on your property once in a while, you tell me to go fuck myself, I move on with my life. What have I taken?”
Gideon dropped his head back and laughed. “You know damn well what you took. You knew she was dating me and you took her anyway.”
Jared smiled in confusion, then frowned. “Penny? This is about Penny?”
“You’re such an asshole, acting like you don’t know this is about Penny. She was with me.”
Jared turned, shoved his hands through his hair, then turned again to face Gideon. “This is about something that happened nearly forty years ago? You’re mad at me because your high school girlfriend dumped you for me?”
“She didn’t dump me, you stole her.”
“If I recall, Gideon, it wasn’t twenty-four-hours later you started dating the lovely woman who is now your wife. You can’t possibly still be harboring a grudge about this. You and Penny hadn’t even slept together!”
Jake felt Ivy cringe. He pulled her back a few more steps and put his arm around her, hugging her to his side. There was movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked over in time to see his weeping mother running out of the stables. Gideon hadn’t even noticed.
“What you d
id told me right then and there what kind of man you are, Turner. You’re the kind of son-of-a-bitch who’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. You don’t give a shit about integrity or honor. So fuck you. And fuck that little tramp you call a daughter.”
Jake saw red, but he didn’t have the opportunity to avenge his lover’s honor because Jared immediately launched himself at Gideon. The two old men fell to the floor and rolled, Gideon landing on top and connecting his fist with Jared’s jaw. Jake let Ivy go and pulled his father off of hers. Once he got Gideon to his feet, he let go and stepped back. This time, when Gideon turned, Jake saw the hit coming. He caught his father’s punch, stepped to the side, and used Gideon’s own momentum to send him falling into an empty horse stall.
“That’s enough!” Jake shouted, hoping to God his voice held enough authority to make everyone cease their fighting. He kept his eyes on Gideon for a long moment, watching as the rage in the old man’s eyes gradually died down to defeat. Imagine that. Gideon Deathridge, defeated. Jake felt a wave of something that felt like guilt, but there would be time to process that later. He turned to Ivy, who was helping Jared to his feet. “Sir, I’m so sorry,” he said, hurrying to help.
“You didn’t do anything, son.”
“I appreciate your help,” Jake said. “Both of you.” He looked at Ivy, begging her with his eyes to let his apology be enough for now. Her expression was far more mellow, now, tempered by the shock of the moment.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He shook his head. “You didn’t—”
“You needed support and I acted like a petty child. If there’s anything I can do for you or…” she looked over at the mare, still being tended to by the vet who’d certainly witnessed a hell of a show. The foal was resting, now, curled up next to her mother. “You’ll need more milk,” Ivy said.
“Eloise is going to get back on her feet,” Jake said stubbornly.
“She won’t be able to nurse.”
Jake wanted to dig in his heels and insist that his mare was going to be fine. But Ivy was right. Whatever was happening to her wouldn’t be healed overnight.
“We’ve got a nursing mare,” Jared said. “Foal’s a few weeks old. We could take this one—”
Gideon was at Jake’s side, then. “You think you’re going to take our property?”
Jared closed his eyes and breathed, but Jake saw what he was getting at. He turned to the vet who met his eyes. The vet said, “You probably don’t have much choice.”
“I’ve never done anything like that,” Jake said. “Will she just latch on to the other mother?”
“She probably will,” the vet said, standing and dusting off his knees. “The difficulty is in getting the other mare to accept her. Let’s bottle feed her tonight and tomorrow either me or Ricky will take her over to the Turner ranch and work with her and the other mare. Do you have anymore milk?” he asked Jared and Ivy.
“We brought a cooler full,” Jared said.
“Thank you both so much,” Jake said. They were giving so much with no real reason to do so. And getting nothing in return but Gideon’s scorn.
As soon as they dropped off the cooler and left, Gideon grabbed Jake by the collar of his shirt and pulled back his fist. This time, Jake planned to just take the punishment. But it never came.
There was screaming, coming closer, followed by a hysterical Clara running into the stable, tears streaming down her cheeks. “It’s Dallas!” she screamed. “He won’t wake up. His body’s convulsing.” She fell to her knees and sobbed.
Gideon and Jake helped her up, shoved her into their pickup, and drove the direction she pointed while Jake dialed 911 on his cell phone.
Ivy woke up with hay in her hair, mostly because she was sleeping in a pile of hay. In a stable. Owned by the Deathridges. The morning light crept in. Ivy scrambled to her knees and dug her cell phone out of her pocket.
Sometime last night, as she’d been about to go to bed, Jake had called. With the whole family at the hospital anxiously awaiting news on Dallas’s status, there had been no one to sit with Eloise and the new foal. Ivy had been more than happy to help.
“Any news?” the vet walked through the stable and past her towards Eloise. He’d gone stall-to-stall checking on the other horses, making sure whatever had made Eloise sick hadn’t made the others sick as well.
Ivy frowned at her screen. There was a text message from Jake.
He’s in ICU. They’re running toxicology tests. Said there’s not much they can do but make sure his body has everything it needs to heal itself. How’s Eloise?
The text had come an hour ago. She turned to the vet. “Dallas is in ICU. How’s Eloise?”
The vet frowned. “Did they determine what’s wrong with him?”
“Not yet. Jake says they’re doing a toxicology report or whatever. Is she doing better?”
The vet frowned for a moment, not really seeing what was in front of him. He gave his head a shake and knelt by Eloise. “Her heart rate is closer to normal. Her breathing is steady. And she’s been in and out of consciousness. I’m keeping her tranquilized for the time. Ricky came back with the test results while you were sleeping.”
“What did they show?”
The doctor shook his head, seemingly perplexed. “I guess you know, a couple weeks back they lost a heifer due to hemlock poisoning?”
“Yeah. Jake was clearing all that out.”
“Well, he must have missed some. Though I don’t have the first clue why she would eat it, let alone eat so much of it she nearly kills herself. It’s not a good tasting plant. Animals tend to avoid it except in extreme drought situations.”
Ivy sat down hard on her pile of hay. “Oh, my God,” she said, not meaning to say it out loud. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t.
“How long have you been wanting to leave the ranch?”
Dallas sighed and dropped his head back. “For as long as I can remember.”
He’d said he wouldn’t resort to sabotage. She’d specifically told him she wanted everything in tact. “We have to check the cattle,” she said.
“Beg your pardon?”
“We need to check the cattle. Can you leave her for a while?”
“Well, yes, I suppose, but…”
“And the foal? Is she good?”
“Sure. She’s just stretching her legs in the coral. Fed her just a moment ago.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
She drove, her truck bouncing and rocking through the fields. Last night as they’d been driving in to bring the mare’s milk to Jake, she’d seen the cattle in a nearby pasture. As they crested a hill, she sighed in relief. There they all were, standing around, eating grass within the fenced pasture. But her relief was short-lived.
“Oh, hell,” the vet said.
Dotting the landscape, amongst the standing cows, were dozens of downed cattle. Some were laying, feet tucked under them, still conscious. Others were on their sides, and anyone looking on would think they were dead. Maybe they were dead.
Ivy kept on the brake and pressed her hands to her mouth. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. What had he done? This was…this was merciless. Brutal. Shakespearean in its scope.
“Put it in park,” the vet said. “I’m gonna need your help.” He jumped out of the truck and grabbed the backpack he’d brought.
He and Ivy spent the next half hour collecting blood samples from some of the downed cows. They checked all of the ones who were on their sides, almost two dozen in total. So far, only two had died. The Deathridges were going to be devastated.
On the ride back to the stables, the vet called Ricky to come get the blood and run tests. After he got off the phone, he said, “How do you want to tell Gideon?”
“I’m not telling Gideon. I’ll talk to Jake. But let’s get this handled, first. They’ve got enough on their minds right now.”
“We need to get those cattle corralled so I can check them all out. Jesus, what a
mess.”
“I’ll gather some of my ranch hands and we’ll herd them in. Then we’ll clean out all the feeders—”
“When you do that, make sure you wear masks and gloves. Make sure your ranch hands immediately get out of their clothes and shoes and wash them after.”
Ivy didn’t have to ask what he was thinking. There was hemlock in the hay. They both knew it, but Ivy had no intention of sharing what else she knew: that Dallas was the one who’d done it.
She spent the rest of the morning doing work she hadn’t done since she was a teenage girl. She rode alongside her ranch hands, herding cattle toward the corral. She’d given the vet a couple of helpers to run the cows, one-by-one, through a shoot, administer a charcoal supplement, and corral them in another pen. The rest of her hands joined her in the pasture, cleaning out the feeders, bagging up what was left of the hay, and piling it in the back of a pickup to take to the dump.
When the work was over, Ivy went home, shed her clothes into the washing machine, and showered while she let hot tears slide down her face.
The one person she needed to talk to more than anything was on life support. She really didn’t have the first clue how to address the family. And her head was pounding.
She dressed in jeans and a tank top, took some Tylenol, and got back in her truck. Again. Jared was at the Deathridge ranch with the vet, managing that situation. So Ivy was on her own as she drove to the hospital.
The Deathridges sat in the sterile waiting room. In their muddy boots, flannel shirts, and variety of ball caps and cowboy hats, they were a stark contrast to the generic wall art and bright white light. Clara wasn’t there. Perhaps she was with Dallas.
All their eyes landed on her as she walked into the room, but it was only Jake’s that she felt. His heartfelt, oblivious brown eyes, looking to her hopefully. She pulled a chair up and sat, facing them. “How is he?”
“Stable,” Cody said.
Ivy didn’t figure that meant anything. It was just a word they could say when asked the question. “Okay. Well, I have some bad news.”