With a sense of pride and accomplishment, she went back inside the clinic and said to Donna, “I think I’m done packing up. Is there anything you need me to do, or anywhere you want me to go?”
Donna hung up the phone. “As a matter of fact, there is,” she said. “I just spoke with Frances Cook. She’s an elderly lady who lives over on Route 390. She thinks one of her Thoroughbreds ulcerated his eye while running through the woods. Do you mind taking this?”
“I would love to. I hope you’ll have a call list for me tomorrow, too.”
“I’m sure I can come up with something, MJ. It’s been kind of slow today, so unless somebody else calls, you can probably just go home afterward.”
“Sounds good.” Mary Jo almost skipped out the door, jingling the keys in her hand. Sunshine beamed down through the white puffy clouds in the sky. It was a beautiful day. The temperature hadn’t risen above sixty-five degrees for the past week. A nice cool breeze lightly kissed the leaves on the trees, which had barely started to turn, and so far none had fallen. She loved this time of year. The air smelled clean and earthy, a switch from the humid, moldy scent all summer that made her think of mushrooms.
She rolled the truck windows down and enjoyed the new truck smell. She powered up the laptop to query Frances Cook in the clinic’s software. The address and equine information appeared on her screen, including the entire medical file for each horse.
After scanning the files, she programmed the GPS with Frances’s address. She started the truck and backed out onto the road. With the wind blowing through her hair, she drove to her first solo call.
Frances’s road had huge, ancient maple trees lining both sides. The canopies tangled overhead to create a cool, dark tunnel. The GPS came alive and announced her turn a quarter mile on the right. As Mary Jo began looking more closely for the address, she saw a truck with the Went Farm logo on the door turn out of the drive and continue down the road.
“That’s interesting,” she said to herself.
She signaled and turned onto a long dirt drive. A Blue Heeler stood in the middle of the driveway. The dog unexpectedly ran toward her truck, wagging its tail. It stopped abruptly, cocked its head and barked twice. Obviously expecting someone else, the dog looked perplexed, and dashed off into the bushes.
Mary Jo chuckled as she continued along the driveway until she came to an old farmhouse and barn. A woman, presumably Mrs. Cook, sat in a rocking chair on the porch. Donna said the woman was elderly, but she sure didn’t look a day over sixty.
Mary Jo parked in front of the barn. As she walked to the porch, she looked for the little dog, but it was nowhere in sight.
“Hi. Mrs. Cook?”
“Yes, and please call me Frances.” The woman got up and extended a veined, weathered hand. “You must be the new lady vet I’ve been hearing about.” Her face was tanned, a picture of many years spent outdoors, but her eyes were young and twinkling. Her smile radiated a warmth that made Mary Jo feel welcome and instantly at ease.
“I’m Doctor Mary Jo Cavanaugh. So you’ve already heard about me, huh? Good things, I hope.”
Frances laughed and said, “Oh, heavens, yes. Now let me show you Gordon. He’s the boy who got into trouble. Chris and I were down in the trees collecting some firewood, and he came barreling in to see what was going on. He’s always been such a nosy thing. Chris kept telling him his big ole’ snoot was going to get him in trouble one of these days. I guess it caught up with him.”
So it was Chris who turned out of the drive before me. “You know Chris Martel?” They walked side by side as they moved toward the barn.
“Gosh, yes, she is such a dear. I met her when she and Bill Went came to my Fred’s funeral.” Frances stopped and stared into the fields. “They were such a help. When Fred died, my arm was in a cast and I couldn’t do any barn chores. The two of them jumped right in and wouldn’t let me lift a finger. When Bill died the year after Fred, Chris and I spent a lot of time together drowning our sorrows.”
Frances walked toward the barn again with Mary Jo and opened the big door just wide enough for both of them to slip through.
“Chris said to keep Gordon in a dark stall because it’d be easier on his eye.” Frances’s frown spoke volumes about her concern.
“Well, if he ulcerated the cornea, she’s right,” Mary Jo said. “He’d definitely be more comfortable. But let’s see what we have.”
Mary Jo followed Frances down the hard-packed-dirt aisle. Frances’s barn was an older style bank structure with part of it built into the side of a hill. Mary Jo assumed she used the upstairs area for hay and equipment storage. The lower part of the barn was open at the back and faced the pasture. The stalls were against the bank wall, which kept the horses warmer in the winter and cooler in the summer. The enclosures were dark but airy.
Frances stopped at the second stall and pulled a halter from a hook on the door. “All right, Gordon, the doctor is here to look at your boo-boo.”
When he heard his name, a tall, flea-bitten, gray Thoroughbred put his head over the stall door and nickered at her. The left side of Gordon’s face was streaked wet with tears, and he squinted in obvious discomfort. Frances gently pulled the halter over his ears, swung his door open, and led him into the aisle. She stopped him between a set of cross ties and secured both sides before stepping out of the way.
Mary Jo walked to the horse’s head. “Hey, Gordon, let’s see what you did.” She raised her hand and gently patted his neck. The Thoroughbred’s soft eyes looked past her as he strained to see Frances.
“Okay, I need to go get a few things. I’ll be right back.” Mary Jo walked back down the aisle, and as she did so, she could hear Frances speak affectionately to her horse.
She opened the barn door and immediately shaded her eyes against the bright sun. As she walked to her rig, she made a mental list of supplies she would need, confident she knew exactly how she would treat the eye. She put her tools and medicines in her doctor’s bag and caught a glimpse of a fuzzy tail sliding through the door as she turned toward the barn. While she walked in, she wondered how well Frances knew Chris.
Mary Jo’s eyes readjusted to the dark interior of the barn, and she was able to make out the owner of the tail, a Blue Heeler sitting next to Frances. She drew closer to her patient and saw the horse had his head resting against Frances’s chest. One side of his hips drooped as he relaxed his back leg on the tip of his hoof.
“Who’s this little dog?” Mary Jo asked.
Chuckling, Frances said, “Her name’s Daisy. She runs the farm and lets me live here for free.”
“That’s quite a gig she’s got going. She was down at the end of your drive when I pulled in, then she disappeared into the weeds.”
Mary Jo put her bag on the ground and approached the horse. She took hold of the halter and lifted his head up so she could look at him. The tissue around the eye was beginning to swell slightly. Probably from the trauma. She pulled her ophthalmoscope from her pocket, twisted the light on, and began her examination.
Frances looked down at the dog and laughed with obvious fondness. “Daisy escorted Chris down the drive and must have thought she and the girls had come back. She just adores Chris and her dogs.”
“I’ll bet.” Mary Jo peered into the horse’s eye. Not seeing any foreign objects, she turned off the light and returned the scope to her pocket. “I’m going to put a dye strip in his eye. If he ulcerated his cornea, the dye will settle on it and we can see the extent of his injury.” She opened a small plastic container from her bag. In it were narrow strips of paper with ends dipped in orange dye. She placed her index finger on the top of his eye and her thumb on the bottom. This effectively pushed the lids apart enough to place the dye strip between the lower eyelid and the eye. She released the lids and placed a hand on Gordon’s neck.
“We’ll just wait a minute for that to work. The dye will turn green as his tears spread it over the eye. Don’t be surprised to see some green liquid co
me out of his nostrils. That’s just excess dye that’s entered his sinuses.” While waiting, Mary Jo decided to probe a little about Chris. “Does Chris come over often?”
“Every Thursday morning,” Frances answered. “She finishes her chores, goes to the mill to pick up my feed, and comes here for breakfast. She usually ends up staying into the afternoon because she insists I need help with things. We finished up early today. Otherwise she would have been here when you arrived.” Frances obviously decided to do some probing herself since she added, “You’ve met Chris.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah, she was actually the first client I was introduced to. She has a nice farm.” Mary Jo hoped beyond hope that Chris hadn’t told Frances about that unpleasant episode with Top Hat. If word got around about that scene, clients might not have any confidence in her ability to treat their horses. That would kill her, not to mention potentially hurt Doc’s practice.
“That’s right. She did say that you and Doc had come to look at a couple of her horses.”
Damn. I can’t believe she’s spreading that incident around. Sighing heavily, Mary Jo focused on her patient.
“Don’t worry, dear. Chris told me about what happened, and that’s as far as it will go. She knows that horse is a bit ornery, but Hattie’s worth a ton of money. Her babies are practically made of gold.” Frances’s tone of voice reassured Mary Jo.
Mary Jo removed the dye strip and reexamined Gordon’s eye. Her shoulders relaxed for the first time since the subject of Chris Martel came up. With a square of gauze, she gently wiped away the excess dye. She pulled the scope out of her pocket, turned it on, and pointed at his eye. A long streak of green appeared in the center of the cornea.
“He did ulcerate it,” she said, “but it doesn’t appear to be too deep. I think we can get him fixed up so he doesn’t have any residual sight problems after it heals.”
“That’s certainly a relief.”
“I’m going to dilate his eye with Atropine. That should help ease the pain. When a horse injures an eye, their pupil tends to constrict. If left too long it can develop scarring and adversely affect their sight. I want you to use this twice a day for three days or until his pupil stays dilated. I’m also going to leave some antibiotic salve for you to apply twice a day for ten days. If you see any abnormal weeping or swelling, call the clinic right away.”
“Thank you so much,” Frances said.
Mary Jo picked up her bag. “If you want, you can give him some Bute powder in his feed for a few days. That’ll help with the swelling. I wouldn’t turn him out in the bright sun unless you have a heavy fly mask on him.” She administered both eye salves on Gordon and moved out of the way so Frances could return him to his stall. She waited for Frances before she turned to exit the barn. Daisy followed closely at Frances’s heels.
As they neared the truck, Frances asked, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“I would love one, thank you.”
“You go put your stuff back in the truck, and I’ll go start brewing.”
As Frances disappeared into the house, Mary Jo stored her supplies. When finished, she looked up and noticed the beautiful flower garden on the side of the house. The colors were radiant, even at this time of year, with mixtures of gold, red, purple, white, and dark magenta. She’d have to ask Frances about them. She was about to step onto the porch when Frances came out the screen door balancing a tray laden with mugs, a coffeepot, and a plate of scones.
“It’s such a beautiful day, let’s sit out here.” Frances placed the tray on a wicker table. A pair of matching chairs stood on either side. The rocking chair Frances had occupied when Mary Jo arrived stood right in front of the steps, and Daisy sat on the seat.
“Please sit and take a load off,” Frances said. “You vets work too hard.” She poured coffee into both mugs. “Help yourself to cream and sugar.”
Mary Jo picked up the mug nearest to her and added a dollop of cream. She took a sip, closed her eyes, and let the delicious flavor wash over her taste buds. She normally took her coffee black, but when drinking unfamiliar coffee, she preferred to disguise the potentially bad taste with cream. This coffee, however, proved delectable. She helped herself to a scone. “God, this is wonderful,” she said between bites.
“I’m actually surprised there’re any left. Chris usually cleans them up. I swear that girl never eats.”
Mary Jo swallowed and said, “I’m glad she didn’t. Doesn’t she cook?”
“No, she claims she never has time. I think she just gets so wrapped up with those animals, she forgets to eat.”
Curiosity got the better of Mary Jo. “She lives alone?”
“Yes, poor dear, ever since Bill left us.” Frances looked at her lap a moment. “I always tell her she needs someone in her life to make her happy.” She glanced at Mary Jo with an expression that showed her adoration of Chris. “Chris is a dear friend, and I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
Mary Jo recognized the finality in Frances’s voice. She was obviously very protective of Chris.
“I know what it’s like cooking for one,” Mary Jo said, “so I can’t say anything. I find just popping a pizza or something in the microwave is a lot easier, especially when I’m tired after work.” She changed the subject. “Have you owned this farm long?”
Frances nodded in reply. “Fred and I bought this place fifty years ago. For quite a few years, we ran a rescue for Thoroughbreds that came off the track in Canandaigua. Then he got sick. He had cancer, you know, and that took the wind out of our sails. We couldn’t afford to run the farm anymore, what with all his medical bills piling up. We adopted out all the horses except for Gordon and Rome. They’re the last ones, and I promised Fred I’d keep them here no matter what. Those two were his favorites.” She raised her head and gazed at the flower garden Mary Jo had admired earlier. “I kept him—Fred—on the mantel for a few years. His ashes, I mean. Chris told me I should find a spot where he could look out at his horses. We put that flower garden in this spring and planted him there.” With a sly look, she added, “He’s still in the urn. I haven’t let him loose to wreak havoc with the flowers. Not sure when I’ll do that.”
“I think if it was me,” Mary Jo said slowly, “I’d make sure that when I died my ashes were mixed with those of my soul mate. Then we’d be together forever.”
Frances gazed at Mary Jo, a warm smile on her face. “Yes, I believe that might be the solution. Thank you. I’ll have to talk to Chris about that arrangement. You’re quite the romantic for a young lady. Pardon me for asking, but do you have a special person in your life?”
It was Mary Jo’s turn to laugh. “No, not yet. I’m still looking. School took up most of my time, and right now I’m fairly busy getting to know the practice with Doc.”
“You will, don’t worry.” Frances returned her attention to the garden.
Mary Jo followed her gaze. “Your garden is just beautiful, Frances. What kind of flowers are they?”
“Most of them are mums, among other things. When Chris and I were looking at catalogs last winter, we tried to pick a variety of flowers so it’d be colorful all spring and through the fall.”
“It’s certainly very beautiful. You guys did a wonderful job.” Mary Jo glanced at her watch and realized it was nearing mid afternoon. “Oh my, Frances, it’s getting late and I should get going. Thank you so much for the coffee and scones.” She rose from the chair and started down the porch steps.
“Thank you again for taking care of Gordon.” Seemingly as an afterthought, Frances added, “Maybe you’d like to join us for breakfast or dinner sometime? I love to cook and don’t have many occasions to do it, other than breakfast for Chris every Thursday.” She stood up as well and started moving the used coffee cups onto the tray.
“Would you like any help with that before I go?”
“No, dear, I’m fine. It was so nice to sit down and chat with you.” Frances looked up from her task. “Please come again, anytime
.”
“I will,” Mary Jo promised as she walked to her truck.
She looked back at the house as she opened the door. Before getting in, she waved at Frances standing on the porch. I bet she’s lonely. Without Chris, she probably wouldn’t have anybody to talk to.
Sensing she’d found a new friend in Frances, Mary Jo vowed to visit her as often as possible. She got into the truck and drove down the long dirt drive where she waved again. Frances returned her wave, while Daisy sat on the porch steps and watched her go.
Chapter 7
“Cagney, go upstairs,” Chris told the young Lab who was terrified of the vacuum cleaner. As a pup, Cagney had run upstairs as soon as she produced the thing. She waited to hear paws on the stairs before pulling out the vacuum and plugging it in. Cedar and Sadie preferred to lie on the couch, out of harm’s way.
It was a rare morning in September for Chris. With chores done, she finally had the leisure to clean the house for the first time in weeks.
Earlier in the month, three new horses had arrived and every one required individual attention to get them settled. Not one to skimp on care, Chris worked in the barn from sunup to damn near sundown, even forgetting to eat. A couple of nights she slept on the office cot because she didn’t have the energy to walk to the house. She was thankful the nightmares had left her alone.
Chris glanced out a window as she walked by. The rain had stopped, and the ground was slowly absorbing the standing water. The pastures were in great shape, and the hay was growing in nice and green. Sunny days outnumbered cloudy ones. At the moment, all the windows in the house were open and fresh air wafted in through the curtains. The trees on her property were magnificently colored. When the temperatures cooled, fall was her favorite time of the year.
As she cleaned room after room, Chris allowed her mind to wander. The horses were getting fuzzy in preparation for winter. On chillier mornings, she and the dogs watched the horses playing in the morning mist. They raced each other up and down the fence lines, kicking, bucking, and rearing, snorting and squealing. When the horses discovered she was in the barn, they raced to get to their feed.
Laurie Salzer - A Kiss Before Dawn Page 6