High Country Homecoming

by Roxanne Rustand

  “Look at this poor thing,” she said, her voice wavering. “Just look at how badly she’s hurt.”

  She edged sideways and pulled back the afghan to reveal a large, gaunt dog covered in matted fur—gray or white, he couldn’t tell. One of its front legs appeared badly mangled, but with all of that thick fur crusted with dried blood, dirt and twigs, it was hard to see. Now that it had been uncovered, he detected the foul odor of infection.

  “Does she have a collar?” he said in a low voice.

  “No. And she’s really weak. She needs to get to a vet before it’s too late.” She looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. “But my SUV can’t make it up the narrow trail and I can’t carry her down. Will you help me?”

  He hesitated. He’d seen this sort of thing before and knew the dog’s chances were slim, given its overall poor condition. The vet bills for this stray could be huge. But like Chloe, he’d never been able to turn away from something—or someone—in need.

  Except for his own father and brother, three years ago, and that was a burden of guilt he would never escape.

  “I’ll bring the four-wheeler up close. Do you have any long pieces of cloth we can use for a muzzle? She’s in a lot of pain and might bite when we try to move her.”

  Chloe nodded and disappeared into the cabin, then returned with a bedsheet covered with pink flowers.

  “Don’t worry, this sheet didn’t come with the cabin. It’s one of mine,” she explained as she ripped a long strip from it and helped him form a soft figure eight around the dog’s nose and the back of her head.

  Her fingertips brushed his hand as they fastened the makeshift muzzle, and there it was again—the little flash of warmth and awareness that shot up his arm and landed square in his chest. And from her indrawn breath and the shocked look in her big eyes, she felt it, too. She fumbled at securing the knot, and they had to start all over again.

  Bearing most of the weight with his good arm, he helped Chloe ease the dog onto part of the afghan and used it as a sling to lift her into the back cargo area of the four-wheeler. The animal raised her head for a moment and whimpered, then dropped back down and thumped her tail weakly.

  On their way down to the hill, Chloe crouched over the dog, trying to hold her steady while Devlin drove slowly around the worst of the rocky bumps, then headed for his own SUV.

  “No,” Chloe protested. “If you just tell me where the vet clinic is, I can take her. I know you’re busy, and anyway this was my idea. My work can wait, and I should take responsibility.”

  “We can figure that out later.” Devlin pulled out his cell phone and googled Pine Bend veterinarians, called what appeared to be the only clinic in town these days and then slipped the phone back into his pocket. “They said to bring the dog on in. I’ll drive.”

  “But—”

  He set his jaw. “You might need help.”

  She finally capitulated and helped gently move the dog into the back of his SUV. She gave Devlin a grateful smile. “I’m not sure if I turned off the stove. Can I use the four-wheeler to run up and check?”

  He nodded tersely and ran a gentle hand over the dog’s quivering flank, then covered her with part of the afghan and shut the tailgate. He got behind the wheel and started the motor.

  He’d intended to simply disappear at the Langford ranch for a while, to drop out of sight while physically preparing for what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. A life that would be far different now than what he’d always imagined.

  And he’d intended to avoid Pine Bend for however long he stayed.

  He could well imagine the small-town gawkers and their avid curiosity over a Langford son returning with obvious injuries from a war far away. Thanks to his father, the Langford name spurred resentment in some and envy in others. There would be stares. Whispers. Intrusive questions. And, of course, the effusive, empty show of sympathy that he recoiled from every single time.

  Yet here he was, heading for town. His resolve had lasted all of four days, thanks to Chloe and her compassionate heart. But how could he refuse?

  At least he didn’t recognize the vet’s name, so maybe she was new to town since he’d left home. Maybe she wouldn’t even recognize the Langford name.

  Chloe was gone and back again in a flash, and when she climbed into the front seat of his SUV, she put a foil-covered paper plate on the console between them and settled a stainless steel tumbler into the cupholder.

  “The stove was already off, but while I was there I took my bread out of the breadmaker, and decided I should bring you these as thanks for helping me. Milk and cookies.”

  The intoxicating aroma of chocolate chip cookies filled the air when she lifted the foil.

  She looked up at him with a twinkle in her eyes. “And, I admit, giving these cookies away is a desperate ploy on my part, because I cannot leave them alone.”

  Taken aback by the thoughtful gesture, his gaze locked on hers and time seemed to stand still. How could someone this pretty still be single?

  He snorted under his breath. That didn’t take much thought. She’d been a persistent little pest when she was younger. If she was anything like that now, prospective boyfriends probably hit the road in record time...

  Only, that wasn’t really true.

  He’d believed it as a callow teenage boy, wrapped up in his own world, with little regard for the child who’d looked up to him like some hero.

  The truth was that she’d been sweet and thoughtful as a little girl, and she was just as sweet and thoughtful now. And pretty. Really pretty. The kind of woman who made a man look twice, catch his breath and then think about a lifetime commitment.

  So why was she here alone, instead of raising a family of pretty little redheads somewhere, with an adoring husband at her side?

  He cleared his throat and turned the key in the ignition, forcing his attention to the ranch lane ahead and then the highway into town. Not his business.

  He’d be leaving the ranch by July, she’d be leaving even sooner. There was no sense in thinking about anything beyond basic courtesy.

  But he was already sure that he wouldn’t stop thinking about her anytime soon, and he definitely wouldn’t stop thinking about those cookies. He’d finished every last one by the time they were halfway into town, and he still wanted more. “Thanks. They were awesome.”

  She chuckled softly. “It’s my Grandma Lydia’s recipe, so I can’t take any credit.”

  He sorted through his old memories. “I think I remember her visiting here. She used sign language, right?”

  Chloe nodded. “Mom started teaching me sign when I was a toddler so I could talk to her, but Grandma passed away when I was eight. I barely knew her, sad to say.”

  Devlin glanced in the rearview mirror and adjusted the angle to check on the dog in the back. The poor thing hadn’t done so much as whimper during the fifteen-mile trip to Pine Bend. Was she even still alive? Given the extent of the wounds and obvious infection, she was going to face a long recovery if she even made it into town.

  At the clinic, two vet techs came out and helped carry the dog into an exam room. The older one, a woman in her fifties with Bonnie on her name tag, began an initial exam, while the younger gal filled out information on a clipboard.

  When the younger tech left to get a handheld chip scanner, Bonnie cocked her head and gave Devlin a long look. “You must be Gus Langford’s middle son. Am I right?”

  Since he’d given his name over the phone before driving into town, her guess wasn’t much of a stretch, but he knew a conversational ploy when he heard it, and also knew how to deflect. He nodded curtly.

  “Sorry about your dad, bless his soul. Parkinson’s is such a cruel disease. He had a long, hard struggle, but Betty and Jess did right by him.” She nodded, as if agreeing with herself. “You should have no doubt about that.”

 
If there was any accusation in her voice, he couldn’t hear it, but he felt a sliver of guilt at any rate. He should have been here. He could have been here at least part of the time, to help out at the ranch. But he’d let the pain and bitterness of the past inform his decisions, and death offered no second chances.

  The other tech bustled into the room to scan the dog for any identification chips, and the young vet—Dr. Weldon, according to her name badge—walked into the room ten minutes later.

  “My goodness,” she said softly. “Who do you have here?”

  “She was laying outside my cabin,” Chloe said. “I don’t know how she managed to get there, because she’s so weak.”

  The vet gently examined the dog and shook her head. “Obviously she’s had this injury for some time, and that infection doesn’t look good. With her high fever and malaise, it could well be systemic by now.”

  “But you can save her, right?” Chloe pleaded. “The poor thing deserves a chance.”

  “Once we’ve got her cleaned up better, get some X-rays and bloodwork drawn, we’ll have a better idea of what we’re dealing with. Why don’t you two step out for a bit—we won’t be long.”

  When they all convened in the exam room once more, the vet ran a gentle hand over the dog’s ribs. “She does have oblique fractures of the second through fifth metacarpals.”

  Devlin frowned. “Four bones? That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Think of them like the bones that lie close together within the palm of your hand. They do show less displacement than I feared, so that’s in her favor. At first glance, I was expecting comminuted—badly shattered—fractures that were perhaps beyond repair, with significant soft tissue damage and possibly the start of necrosis. Meaning, her best chance would be amputation of that leg.”

  Chloe drew in a sharp breath, and the vet looked up at her with a gentle smile. “You’d be surprised at how well dogs can do on three legs.”

  “She has a good chance of recovery, then?”

  The vet nodded. “She’s dehydrated and hasn’t eaten in a long while, so I want to debride her wounds, start IV fluids and antibiotics, and put her on a critical nutrition diet. She does need surgical repair of that leg, probably with bone plates and screws. Do you have any idea where she might have come from?”

  Devlin cleared his throat. “No idea. I’ve been away from Montana for a long time, so I don’t know the locals anymore.”

  “With no chip and no collar, we can’t contact her owners.” Dr. Weldon studied the dog for a moment. “I wonder if this could be Leonard Farley’s dog.” She looked up at the older tech, who shrugged. “Farley was an old Vietnam vet who lived by himself in a remote area. Hikers found him dead last fall. Heart attack, according to the autopsy. There were no relatives to contact, but the sheriff told me he owned a Great Pyrenees service dog that no one ever found.”

  “From the looks of her, this dog didn’t have much more time left.” Devlin shook his head slowly, imagining the dog’s struggle to survive on its own for so long—even throughout an entire Montana winter. “After what she’s been through, she deserves good care and a good home. I’ll take responsibility for now. If an owner turns up, he can settle with me later.”

  “No—I will,” Chloe said firmly. “You were kind enough to help me with getting her here, but it isn’t fair to let you pick up the bills.”

  Chloe and her foolish pride. Yet he could hardly fault her for her strong sense of honor, and his respect for her grew.

  Dr. Weldon looked between the two of them with a wry smile. “Usually I’ve got people trying to avoid responsibility in these cases. I’ll put you both down and let you figure it out between the two of you later.”

  “Just give it to me.” Chloe had that stubborn gleam in her eyes again, but this time she wasn’t going to win.

  A whopping vet bill could be devastating to someone like her, who was between jobs and driving a battered fifteen-year-old SUV. And knowing her parents, they probably came to her for money rather than the other way around. She wouldn’t have any help from them.

  For all the mistakes he’d made during his life in Montana, for all the times he’d hardened his heart and resolutely gone his own way without looking back, this could be one small chance to finally do the right thing.

  Chapter Four

  Chloe had tried to beat him to it, but Devlin had waved her away and insisted that the receptionist run only his credit card against the mounting veterinary expenses for the dog.

  His generosity still surprised her.

  It wasn’t like he’d been particularly friendly since she’d arrived, and even now, during the endless, silent drive back to the ranch, he’d kept his gaze riveted to the road ahead and hadn’t said a word. Was he angry? Upset? Fed up?

  His stoic expression revealed nothing about his thoughts, and by the time they pulled to a stop in front of the horse barn, she couldn’t wait to climb out of the vehicle and escape to the solitude of her cabin.

  “Thanks,” she murmured. “I appreciate everything you did.”

  He pulled the key from the ignition without looking at her, and she belatedly realized that she’d forgotten to raise her voice. Since discovering that he didn’t hear well, she’d made sure to speak louder and stand closer if she had anything to say.

  “Thank you,” she repeated.

  He glanced over at her as he unbuckled his seat belt. “No problem.”

  She bit her lower lip. “You stopped whatever you were doing to help me with the dog. Were you doing chores? Can I help you to return the favor?”

  He shook his head as he got out of the truck.

  “Please?” She’d seen him wince when they lifted the injured dog onto the back of the four-wheeler, and again when they’d moved her into the SUV. None of the ranch chores could be easy for him.

  “Thanks, but no.” A muscle along the side of his jaw twitched when he glanced at the time on the home screen of his cell phone. He started striding to the horse barn. “I have six two-year-olds to ride. I’ll do chores later.”

  With his damaged shoulder, swinging a heavy saddle pad into perfect position, followed by the awkward weight of a thirty-five-to-forty-pound saddle, could not be easy.

  She jogged to catch up so he could hear her. “Perfect! I can help with that. While you’re riding, I can saddle the next horse, so you don’t need to do that. And I can unsaddle and take care of each one as you finish. It’ll go much faster for you, right?”

  He muttered something unintelligible under his breath that did not sound like an agreement.

  “Or,” she added brightly, “I imagine Jess left written instructions for the chores. So I could start on those instead. Your choice.”

  He stopped so abruptly in front of the barn that she nearly ran into him. He automatically reached out with both hands to steady her shoulders. A rush of warmth sped through her at his touch and she felt a blush climbing to her cheeks.

  He quickly released her and stepped back, as if he’d touched something hot. Had he felt it, too?

  “Look, Chloe. I know you want to be helpful. But I don’t need...” He looked down into her face. His shoulder slumped in defeat. “Suit yourself. There’s a clipboard hanging in the feed room. The stalls have automatic waterers, but the horses need their feed pellets, supplements and hay exactly according to the list. And go ahead and feed the broodmares, too—the last twelve stalls at the end of the aisle—but I’ll bring them inside later. Any questions?”

  “Got it.” She beamed up at him, though the long-suffering, patient tone in his voice made her remember the old days, when she was just a kid and might have kicked him in the knee in response. She was certainly no novice when it came to ranch life.

  She’d spent every spare minute out in these barns, helping her dad. Playing with the dogs and cats. Riding the well-broken babysitter horses the Langford boys had
outgrown. During her last summer here, she’d started going along to the horse shows, to help her dad get the horses ready for halter and performance classes. She’d even worked the western pleasure horses in the practice arena before their classes, so they’d be quiet and steady.

  It hadn’t been a perfect life—not with her bickering parents and the drinking her dad had tried to hide. But it had been a good life, and she’d never stopped missing the wide-open skies of Montana ranch country and the joy of riding to her heart’s content.

  Humming under her breath, she headed for the feed room and got to work.

  * * *

  Devlin dropped the two-year-old buckskin mare into a walk, shook some slack in the reins and circled the arena a half dozen times. After he headed her into the center of the indoor arena, he eased her into a side pass to the left, and then the right, before backing her up across the arena.

  Like the other three horses he’d ridden today, she was calm and smooth, with a low headset and easy manners. Jess had obviously been doing a great job with them all.

  At least the mare had worked well. Today he felt like an old man pushing 110 years old. He dismounted slowly, mindful of his aching muscles and sore joints from his earlier workout with weights, physical therapy exercises and a long run. He stroked the mare’s neck, then led her into the horse barn, where he unbridled her, slipped on her halter and crosstied her in front of the tack room.

  “Great job with her,” Chloe exclaimed as she stepped from the tack room and into the barn aisle. “I didn’t want to bother you, so I watched for a bit through the picture window in there. You still ride like you never spent a day away from the ranch.”

  “Thanks.” He’d spent more time on horseback than on his own two feet from the time he could walk, but it had been well over ten years since he’d been on a horse, and his muscles were letting him know it. Not that he would ever admit it to her.

  He unsaddled the mare, taking most of the weight of the saddle in his left arm, but Chloe took it from him and settled it on a saddle stand in the aisle, to be used on the next horse.