Ride a Dark Horse

by Laura Moore

  13

  C aleb left for the animal hospital shortly after Cassie’s workout. These days, he was especially grateful that he’d formed a partnership with Derek Cole and Mark Winterer. It gave him the flexibility in his schedule to be able to stay longer at Five Oaks when he wished. It wasn’t just the chance to see Cassie that had him spending more time standing around the exercise ring. After months of seeing Orion fall short of his potential, it was an incredible source of pleasure and pride to watch the stallion begin performing the way Caleb had instinctively known he could. Caleb had invested so much time and energy, charting bloodlines, working toward breeding a horse that epitomized strength, stamina, and elegance. Caleb wanted Orion to be the first star among many to bring Five Oaks to glory.

  As he entered the hospital’s front door, Caleb’s eyes immediately swept the waiting room, scanning who was in the line up for immediate attention. Caleb was gratified to see just four patients: a small dog that looked like a terrierspaniel mix, a black lab, and two cat carriers. Caleb never liked to have too many animals in the waiting room at once—the nerves and fears of the animals as well as the owners simply escalated with overcrowding. With Mark Winterer in the office this morning, they could reduce the number of animals waiting to be treated by fifty percent.

  “Morning, Joyce. What’s up?” Caleb smiled at his office manager/receptionist/lifesaver. Caleb considered hiring Joyce one of the most intelligent moves he’d ever made. She was efficient, tireless, dependable, and didn’t pitch a fit when a dog peed on the waiting room floor. Caleb had gone through about four secretaries who seemed to think it was beneath their dignity to use a mop once in a while. Heaven knows what they thought working in a veterinarian’s office was all about. It was a job where you needed compassion and a healthy sense of humor. Luckily for Caleb, Joyce had both in addition to her other qualities.

  “Hi, Caleb,” Joyce replied cheerfully. “Everything’s going smoothly so far. There were a couple of cancellations for this afternoon, but they’re sure to fill up in the next fifteen minutes or so. Mark did a neutering this morning—a ten-month-old Belgian sheepdog. He came out from under the anesthesia just fine. He’s lying down in the back. Probably wondering what hit him.”

  “Poor guy. I can sympathize. Any calls?”

  “Other than your ex-wife? Five. Nothing too urgent. Mrs. Schwartz would like you to come and check on her pregnant bitch. She’s due any day. You know how she is about her dogs.” Joyce smiled and raised her brows. “Now if you want to know how many times dear old Pamela rang . . .”

  Caleb raised his hand. “No, no. That’s quite all right. If she tries to talk to me, or comes by tell her I volunteered for NASA’s next shuttle voyage.” Caleb grinned. “And Joyce, be real careful not to let the ‘dear old Pamela’ line slip out if she’s within hearing distance. She’d probably come after you with an Uzi. You’re too important to me to lose to my ex-wife’s vanity.”

  Joyce gave a comic shudder. “There’s a scary thought. But don’t you forget about Mrs. Schwartz. She’s almost as tenacious as Pamela.”

  Caleb laughed at Joyce’s more than apt description. “I promise I’ll call Mrs. Schwartz after I’ve seen to this batch of patients.” Mrs. Schwartz was outrageous when it came to her flat coated retriever. Caleb had read about royalty whose lives weren’t as pampered as her dogs. “Who’s my first patient, by the way?”

  “Marjory Pierson and her cat, Waldo.”

  “Right. What’s Waldo in for?”

  “Vomiting.” Joyce handed Caleb a manila folder containing Waldo’s records. “Mrs. Pierson doesn’t know if it’s hairballs or something more serious. He also needs his feline leukemia and rabies shots.”

  “Well, we may have to reschedule those shots depending on what’s wrong. Have her bring him back to the examining room in a minute. I’m just going to hunt down Mark.”

  “He’s in the office looking at the x-rays of that black lab in the waiting room. The dog’s been limping badly recently.”

  Caleb had decided to economize on space in the animal hospital by having one large office that the three doctors shared. This resulted in three comfortably sized examining rooms and a spacious, well-equipped operating room. Caleb pushed open the door to the communal office to find his colleague staring at a backlit x-ray film attached to the wall. Mark Winterer paused in the act of bringing a steaming cup of coffee to his lips to greet Caleb.

  “Hey, Caleb, how’s it going?”

  “No complaints, Mark.” Caleb nodded his head in the direction of the illuminated x-ray. “What’s the x-ray show?”

  Mark Winterer sighed and shook his head. “Here, take a look for yourself. Maybe I’m just being pessimistic. The owner brought him in earlier this week for x-rays, the dog’s been limping pretty badly for close to two weeks now.”

  Caleb stepped forward to examine the x-ray more closely. He was silent for a few minutes. Finally, he asked, “How old’s the dog?”

  “Not even a year.”

  “Looks to me like juvenile arthritis. Already afflicting the right elbow. The left one, though, seems to be still all right.”

  “Damn. I was hoping my eyes were fooling me. A really nice dog, so happy. I hope we can keep him as free from pain as possible. I don’t think it’s worth operating, do you, Caleb?”

  “Not really. The studies show that this type of arthritis isn’t helped all that much by surgery. The dog usually ends up needing Cosequin or Rimadyl, anyway. And if you’ve operated on the joint, well, then you’ve added the stress and the discomfort of recovering from a surgical intervention. Better to save the owner’s money and keep the dog comfortable with the arthritis medicine. Do you want me to talk to the owner with you?”

  Mark Winterer gave Caleb a smile. “No, thanks. I can handle it. I just hope Mrs. Gaffney doesn’t cry. I hate it when they cry.”

  “Well,” Caleb offered sympathetically, “make sure you’ve got a box of Kleenex in the room. You might also mention some of the homeopathic medicines people are trying these days. I think Joyce might have a catalog somewhere. Sometimes if you give the owners alternative options, it helps take their mind off the pain their animal is suffering.”

  “Gives them a sense of control, huh?”

  “Something like that. Look, if you need me, I’m in the examining room. I don’t want to keep this cat waiting any longer.” Caleb turned toward the door.

  “Thanks, Caleb. By the way Joyce mentioned she met your new trainer. Said she was quite a looker. You going to introduce me?”

  Caleb shot a grin at his partner. “Forget it, pal. I’ll probably introduce you to her in about fifty years or so. Maybe by then your face won’t be so piss ugly and you might have a fighting chance. You already scare far too many women,” he joked.

  Half the women in town were in love with Mark Winterer. Caleb had even overheard Joyce, their office manager, rhapsodize about Mark’s uncanny resemblance to some male fashion model named Mark Vanderloo. Caleb didn’t know who the hell that was, but the women sure seemed to. At times, Caleb suspected the reason why the animal hospital was so popular was because all the women, single and married, brought their pets to see “that charming” Dr. Winterer. Luckily, Winterer remained unfazed by the obvious interest he generated with female clients. He was a dedicated professional and, Caleb was pleased to note, animals seemed as drawn to Winterer as the women were.

  Mark Winterer’s laugh rang out in the quiet of the office. Chuckling to himself, Caleb proceeded down the hallway, ready to meet Waldo.

  “Caleb, it’s Mrs. Walters on line three. She’s just gotten a new kitten and says it’s urgent. Can you speak to her now, or shall I tell her you’ll return her call?”

  It was four-thirty in the afternoon, and the waiting room had finally emptied out. Caleb had worked steadily through the day, examining dogs, cats, even a ferret with a runny nose. He’d taken a fifteen-minute break to wolf down a submarine sandwich Joyce had picked up from the local deli and now was s
itting at his desk, going over paperwork—a task he thoroughly loathed. Caleb swung his feet from off the top of his desk and dropped the sheaf of papers he’d been reading onto the large pile stacked next to his boots. He punched the intercom. “Sure I’ll speak to her. Anything to save me from this paperwork. God, I hate invoices, Joyce!”

  “Don’t I know it. I’ve got another batch here waiting for you. And some insurance forms.” Caleb gave a long--suffering groan to which Joyce replied with an unsympathetic chuckle, “Think of this as penance for your sins, Caleb. Here’s Mrs. Walters.”

  Caleb picked up the receiver and pressed the lighted button on the telephone’s console.

  “Hello, Mrs. Walters, this is Caleb Wells. What can I do for you?”

  “Oh, hello Dr. Wells. It’s about our new kitten. Oh, she’s just so adorable, this tiny little ball of grey fluff really. We got her this morning, but I’m very worried.”

  Mrs. Walters’s voice trailed off as a knock sounded on Caleb’s door. Swiveling his office chair around so that it faced the window Caleb placed a palm over the mouthpiece. Assuming it was Joyce with more blasted papers for him to read, he called out, “Come on in.” His back to the door, Caleb returned to his telephone conversation.

  “And what seems to be the matter with the kitten, Mrs. Walters?”

  “Well, she’s eating and drinking all right, but she won’t go.”

  “Won’t go?” Caleb inquired blankly. His dark eyebrows drew together in a puzzled frown.

  “You know she won’t, well, er, use the kitty litter.” Mrs. Walters’s voice rose dramatically. “I’m afraid she’s going to explode or something! I’ve put her in the litter box, but she just hops right out. Do you think there’s something wrong with her?”

  Caleb carefully suppressed his laughter. “No, no, Mrs. Walters, I’m sure the kitten is just fine. How old is it, by the way?”

  “She’s seven weeks.”

  “Well, that probably explains it.” Caleb cleared his throat as he pictured in his mind the fastidious society matron. He grinned as he spoke into the receiver making an effort to keep his tone brisk and professional. “She’s still quite young. Now, Mrs. Walters, this is what you’ll need to do. First, you should take an old washcloth and run warm water over it. Then wring it out, so it’s just slightly damp. Next, take your kitten and the cloth over to the litter box, and hold your kitten’s tail up as you wipe the warm wet cloth over her anus.”

  “You want me to what?”

  “Really, Mrs. Walters, the wet cloth is as close as you’ll get to a cat’s tongue. That’s what your kitten’s mother would do to get her kittens to defecate. You’re just being a mother cat for your new kitten.”

  “That’s disgusting!” Mrs. Walters’s voice trembled with outrage. “I thought only dogs had such repulsive habits. My son has a dog, and I swear, I’ve never seen such a revolting animal! Plopping down and licking itself whenever it gets a chance.”

  “Actually, Mrs. Walters, lots of animals behave this way. You know if it worked as effectively with toilettraining babies, we humans would probably be doing it, too. Anyway ” Caleb continued, ignoring the shocked gasp he heard, “it’s the best method I know for avoiding cat stains all over your house.”

  “All right,” Mrs. Walters replied doubtfully. It was clear that she had never dreamed cat ownership might involve something as sordid as wiping her kitten’s rear. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to make a house call and, uh, take this matter into your own hands.”

  “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t, Mrs. Walters,” Caleb replied smoothly. “I’ve still got patients to see, and from your description, it sounds as if your kitty might need to go rather pretty badly at this point. I’d go get that cloth right away if I were you. Call me if you have any problems, and don’t forget to bring the kitten in soon for a check-up and shots. Good-bye, and good luck.” Caleb hung up cheerfully, imagining the beleaguered lady’s expression as she wiped down her kitten’s rear. Welcome to the animal kingdom, Mrs. Walters.

  A short laugh erupted loudly from the opposite side of the room. Caleb spun his armchair around in the direction of the noise. There, standing by his office door, an annoying smirk on his face, was Alex Miller flanked on either side by Jamie and Sophie.

  What the hell are they doing here? Belatedly he remembered how Sophie had begged to be allowed to come and see a dog bathed, and that he’d told Bessie Thompson the kids might get their wish if they came around some time toward the end of the afternoon. He’d never imagined it would be their uncle who would accompany them, though now that he thought about it, he realized Alex Miller would want to spend as much time with the twins as possible before heading back to New York. Fucking great.

  “What’s a anus, Caleb?” Sophie asked by way of greeting.

  Your uncle, thought Caleb. Aloud, he replied, “That’s another way of saying bottom, Sophie. The lady on the phone needed help teaching her new kitten how to go to the bathroom.”

  The sneer on Alex Miller’s face said it all. Caleb watched as Alex kneeled down so he was close to the twins’ heads. His voice, though, carried as if he were speaking at a stockholder’s meeting. “Yes, Sophie, that’s why Caleb had to go to veterinary school for so many years. You have to know a lot of important things when you’re a vet. Where would that poor lady be without someone as smart as Caleb?”

  If the kids hadn’t been in the room, Caleb would have been tempted to deck him.

  “Hey Jamie and Sophie, why don’t you go to the front desk and see whether Joyce will give you some of those chocolate kisses she has stashed away in her drawer. Then you can help me give one of the dogs that’s staying here a special bath.”

  The children made a dash for the door at the mention of chocolate. Caleb waited until the door banged shut, then shifted his gaze to Alex Miller. His body was deceptively relaxed as he leaned back in his chair regarding his visitor. But his dark eyes narrowed slightly as he contemplated where he would land the first blow.

  Alex’s eyes flicked over Caleb’s lean form, filled with contempt as he took in the other man’s almost indolent posture.

  As the two men eyed each other, Alex’s clipped voice broke the hostile silence. “Okay, Wells. Listen and listen good. I hope what I say will get through your southern hick head. I’m going to keep it really simple for you, just in case. Stay away from my sister. Don’t kid yourself for a second that your slick charm is going to get her in your bed.” Placing his hands flat on Caleb’s desk, he leaned forward. His voice dropped until it was a low growl of warning. “Cassie’s not like the bimbos I imagine are your usual preference. You hurt her, and I’ll break you. Physically. Financially. Professionally.”

  If anything, Caleb’s body seemed to become even more relaxed. His dark, pupilless eyes locked onto Alex’s bright blue glare. Caleb smiled. His smile had all the warmth of an arctic winter.

  “You know Miller ” Caleb began, his drawl more pronounced than usual, “I’ve never taken threats too well. You probably should go on back to New York and practice a bit on those city boys in your office. Might have more success.” With the speed of a striking snake, he sat forward suddenly bracing his arms against the desk as he rose up, his face only inches away from Alex’s.

  “I don’t give a goddamn how you feel about me and Cassie. Cassie’s old enough to make her own decisions without her big, badass brother playing nursemaid. Now why don’t you get the hell out of my office before I beat the crap out of you?”

  Alex Miller gave another short laugh. “Oh man, you’ve just made my day. I’ve been itching to take a piece out of you. Come on, Wells, take your best shot.”

  Caleb was around the large oak desk and facing Alex Miller in three seconds flat, more than happy to comply. The desire to smash Miller’s face to a pulp was all consuming. Not even for Cassie’s sake was he willing to curb his overwhelming need to plow his fist into the soft tissue of the man before him.

  The two men squared off,
their weight balanced on their toes, their bodies swaying slightly, poised to land the first punch. Grim anticipation mirrored their faces.

  The quiet squeak of the office door opening had both Caleb and Alex starting, as if wakening abruptly from a trance, the outside world having been eclipsed in the blood lust that had enveloped the office. Guiltily, they dropped their clenched fists, relaxing them by their sides.

  The twins swept into the room with their customary energy.

  “We’re ready now Caleb,” Jamie announced triumphantly. “We can help with the dog bath.” But it wasn’t just the dog who needed a bath, now. Telltale smears of dark brown covered the two five-year-old faces. Looking at them, Caleb calculated he probably owed Joyce an entire bag of chocolate kisses.

  Slowly, the tension in the room dissipated. The two men eyed each other warily, both aware that for the children’s sake, their mutual animosity had to be buried, momentarily at least. Little by little, Caleb’s muscles relaxed. But he promised himself that, should a second opportunity arise to rearrange Alex Miller’s face, he wouldn’t deny himself the pleasure.

  No doubt Miller was making himself the same promise. With a smile that bore a striking resemblance to a barracuda’s, his icy blue eyes held Caleb’s. “Remember what I said, Wells. Remember, too, I always keep my word.”

  Miller then swept first Sophie then Jamie in his arms, hugging them tightly. “Okay, squirts, here’s the deal. Thompson gave me a huge list of things to buy for supper tonight. I’ll go get them now while you watch the dog get a bath. I’ll swing by and pick you up after I’m done. How does that grab you?”