X's and O's (Will Kilpatrick, DVM Mystery Series Book 1)

by A. Carlock Maxwell DVM

  "Do you need help planting?" His eyes didn't meet hers, swung back to her nose.

  "I did it myself the first time. I can do it again." If he would capture her with his eyes again, as he had while holding her in the kitchen, she would let him do almost anything. But if he was only capable of staring at her nose or over her shoulder, he wasn't the one she'd want helping out. She wouldn't accept anyone's pity. She wouldn't be anyone's project. She kept her voice flat. "I guess I'll see you in a couple months when you bleed the cows again. If you stay, of course."

  Will scrambled to his feet as color infused his cheeks. He extended a piece of paper. "This is a list of the positives. Somebody from the state will call about branding them. I mentioned you'd like to get them gone quick. Hope that helps."

  "I'll look forward to it, I'm sure." Liza took the list, willing her hand not to shake. The paper rattled in her grasp. She remained standing, needing the assurance of something beneath her feet to shake the sense of being dislocated from reality.

  "By the way, I went to the cemetery yesterday. Have you been in the old church building lately?"

  "Never been in it. Dad said it was too rickety."

  Will's grunt conveyed his disagreement. "It's not that bad if you're careful. The trail is pretty worn. Somebody used it regular."

  "The building?"

  "Yeah. Lots of boot prints inside. Just one person. But there are two chairs. You mentioned trespassers the other day. Thought you'd want to know."

  "I'll check into it."

  "Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help?"

  "I don't know what it would be." Her cold stare forced him down the steps into the yard. When he reached the truck, he glanced back. His eyes displayed a sincerity she wanted to grasp but also feared. She imagined his arms around her again, this time tighter, possessively, consoling and protecting, telling her again she was the most amazing farm girl he knew. But God had answered her prayers, was allowing her to be independent.

  "I'll be praying for you." Without another word, he climbed into the truck and closed the door. Not looking at her again, he turned the ignition. Blue chased him down the driveway.

  "That'd be nice." Her voice was a dying whisper.

  The truck turned onto the pavement, Blue in pursuit, while she berated herself for her stiff behavior. The fleeting confusion in his eyes when she dismissed him indicated his being offended. She wished she could sort out her feelings about him. But there wasn't time. Life had pushed in again, demanding full attention.

  Blue returned and lay at her feet, tongue lolled out. His grinning expression said, 'I ran that clown off again. It's still just the two of us.'

  Liza frowned and went inside, wondering if she agreed with Blue's sense of achievement. Oh, well. Unless another cow problem arose, they wouldn't meet again until he came back to re-bleed the herd. Two months. If he even stayed in the Springs.

  She went inside, grabbed a Coke and, remembering her dad's words, stopped to look in the mirror.

  Her head fell back. Her eyes clamped into a painful squint. Her mouth sagged open.

  No. No. No.

  She looked in the mirror again, lips mashed together so tight they disappeared. A hand slowly touched her nose. She groaned when she encountered the sticky blob. It wasn't crunchy peanut butter. Had it been there the entire time they talked? Of course it had. Had he seen it? Of course. Only someone with a bag over his head could miss it. That's why he stared at her nose. Not because of the fear of intimacy. He had taken time out to bring her the news personally. That had to mean something. Maybe not intimate. But at least thoughtful. And thoughtful could lead to intimacy. And she had chased him off like a mangy hound.

  She stomped her foot and stuck her tongue out. Suddenly, her dad's advice seemed absurd.

  Sometimes a look in the mirror didn't reveal the solution. It revealed the problem. Revealed what everyone else saw. A person with a booger the size of a mouse stuck to her nose. A person so proud and so independent and so self-absorbed no one could mention it to them. Looking in the mirror, seeing no one else, magnified her aloneness and lack and dependence upon something larger than her.

  Cords stood out on her neck as she leaned her head back and strained against a scream before letting it rip. Her only hope was that Will had thought it was Jiff. She stepped onto the porch, looked down at Blue.

  "Why didn't you say something?"

  He beat his tail against the porch.

  "Let's go check out the old church while we're on break." And if there's an empty grave there, maybe I'll just fall into it.

  ***

  Liza slipped at the slick area by the creek, caught at laurel branches to keep from falling. The well-traveled trail weaved before her, played out in front of the crumbling church. The porch steps felt spongy under her feet, creaked as she navigated them with caution. Stillness poured out the entry as she stood on the porch, anxious about going in. Once inside, an unexplainable serenity built in her, like rising dough.

  Fragmented impressions darted through her consciousness, flashing so briefly that they eluded being processed. Somewhere, she had seen at least a portion of the interior. When? The pictures, after the storm. Remnants of boot prints scuffed the dust. The distinctive tread from her father's boots. He had never mentioned visiting the old building, but from appearances he had been there often.

  The tracks pointed to the front, to an old chair. Setting next to an empty one. In front of the chair, the prints blended together and she imagined him sitting there, shuffling his feet occasionally. He was worse than her at sitting still. A stubby, off-white candle sat to one side, the wick a black worm. Used matchsticks littered the area. What had he done here? When had he come? Why had he come? Had he meet someone? Couldn't be, without other prints. Maybe he met with the memory of the one who deserted him. Sought answers.

  She sat down, prayed a few minutes. She still needed a word, a vision, or a picture. Distractions kidnapped her focus. Fifteen minutes later, she forced herself back to work, head full of new questions.

  Being there reminded her she hadn't figured out the location of her parents' special place. In the middle of the creek, she looked back. Had that been it? Had the chair with no prints around it been her mother's? Perplexity drew a frown on her face.

  If the vacant room in the vacant church had been it, what mix of ingredients had combined to make it that? Might she expect a similar special place someday?

  Chapter 32

  Will wouldn't have recognized the chilling voice over the phone. But Spivey stood inches away. Red-eyed. Belligerent. He had stomped into the office not long after his return from Liza's, ignoring other clients, including Lori, a waitress from The Wounded Bean. She sat beside Andy Price, holding a runny-eyed kitten in her lap.

  "What's the meaning of this?" He slapped a letter down on the counter and crossed thick arms over a thicker chest.

  "I don't know. What does it say?"

  "It's from somebody in Nashville. Says to contact a local vet about testing my cows for brucellosis. You're local. You're a vet. I'm contacting. What's it about?"

  Will examined the letter while gathering his thoughts. Spivey's notification had arrived earlier than anticipated. "There's been some Bang's disease in the county."

  His words were grit. "Then that's their problem, ain't it?"

  "Yes and no."

  "Yes and no. Now that's sure enough a gobbledy-gook answer." He leaned over the counter. Saliva formed white crusts in the corners of his mouth. "Help me understand."

  Will's pulse throbbed in his ears as he stared up into the threatening scowl. As much as it lies within you, be at peace with all men. Some days it didn't lie within him. "It is their problem, yes. But because it's contagious, it could be your problem, too. It's possible some of yours could have it. Any aborted this spring?"

  "No. And I vaccinate my heifers. Have for years. They're tested every year to keep my certified herd status. Been ten months since the last time. So mine won'
t be having it. Whose cows have it?"

  Will frowned, uncertain how to handle the matter and maintain client confidentiality. Especially since it involved Liza. Who, despite the impracticality of it, was becoming more than a client. At least to him. She hadn't been exactly flirtatious. "Can't say."

  "The guy in Nashville said it was the Hall girl's cows spreading it."

  "She had some cows that checked positive, yes." He released the words with reluctance. "But-"

  Spivey slapped the counter. "See, you could say it after all. I'll tell you something. They've always had weak stock. Just like them."

  "You didn't let me finish. There's no proof hers have spread it. In fact, if you have some that check positive, it would be as easy to say hers caught it from yours." Will continued despite Spivey's hard expression. "Did they say hers were spreading it?"

  Spivey's momentary silence provided the answer. "What are you going to do about hers that have it? That's the only ones positive so far. Isn't that right, hot shot?"

  "They're quarantined. She's selling them. Taking them to the Crossville auction tomorrow."

  "She'd better be, or I'll get rid of them for her. You can pass that along for me. Don't think I haven't seen you chasing the little flirt. Or her chasing you." His voice could flash freeze bone. "Just like her mom that way."

  The unveiled threats and insinuations stunned Will. "The only times I've been there were on this business."

  "Sure." A sneer twisted Spivey's face. He remained leaned over the counter, one eye half closed as he continued to stare. "You just make sure she gets rid of those sick cows." He waved the letter again. "They said I have to get mine tested. Why should I, since I have a certified herd?"

  "That's the way they do it. All adjacent herds will be checked."

  "Not sure I'll let them. I've got connections."

  He was reminded of Hensley's words. Except for circumspect conversations with Skeets, he had kept things to himself. "Since brucellosis eradication is a state-federal program, I doubt that will help."

  Spivey leaned forward. The gold tooth gleamed with menace. "I've got plenty of choices."

  Will rocked back in his chair, smiled rather than allow his growing dislike to show through, taking the job from him. Some information he needed required going there. He glanced at the appointment book. "I'll be glad to come out Monday. Sometime around eleven."

  "Be there unless I call back."

  The windows rattled when Spivey slammed the door on his way out, still unaware of others in the room. Will took deep breaths before facing his clients. "Don't worry, we don't charge for the floor show."

  "Don't see how you talked so nice to him." Lori stroked the kitten's head. "If I was waiting his table, I'd drop a fajita skillet in his lap."

  "What's the problem with the kitty?"

  She and Andy followed him to the exam room as Miss Effie joined them. Her hair color du jour amazed Will. She looked like a color chart for cotton candy. "I found him by the road. Andy was nice enough to bring me in. Looks like it's got a cold in its eyes."

  Will smiled at Andy before he examined the yellow tabby. Miss Effie pried into Lori's personal life with little success. Andy volunteered volumes concerning his, but no one paid attention.

  "Looks like an upper respiratory infection." Will tickled the kitten's tummy, trapped a flea running across the translucent skin. "A few days on antibiotics and eye drops and he'll look better."

  A relieved smile swept anxious furrows from her brow. "Good. I was afraid he might be too sick to treat."

  After Will demonstrated how to administer the medicines, they left, Lori all smiles as she cradled the kitten to her chest.

  "Not the gabbiest girl I've seen." Miss Effie smacked her Clove.

  "Just because she didn't spill her life story doesn't make her a Soviet spy."

  She sniffed, regarding him with pity. "It's evident you haven't got much of a life or you'd have read some espionage novels. It changes your way of looking at things. Nobody is what they seem to be."

  "Even if she's a double agent, she seemed fine."

  "Don't fine me. I saw you eyes light up while you were tending to her cat."

  "I think it's the fluorescent bulbs."

  She shrugged. "A trifle young, so she's way down the list, you understand. More in Andy's league. A bit pinch-faced. Those freckles don't do much for her either. But there's always skin bleaching. And it wouldn't hurt her to do some leg lifts. But, all things considered, she's still eligible."

  "Not interested."

  "Was Spivey right? Are you interested in Liza? Can't believe the way he spoke about her mom. Maybe she didn't act like a mom should, but he sure isn't growing up and acting like a man."

  Chapter 33

  Sunday

  "Will, this is Liza. Hope I didn't wake you up. I waited an hour." She glanced at the clock. Six A.M. Sunday morning. His voice was a mumble, like he had a pillow over his head. Was he still asleep this time of day?

  "So you're the one who wakes up the chickens."

  "It's not that early." City boy. She stood by her bed, steadily staring at her reflection in the mirror, already regretting calling. It was his fault anyway, her picking up the phone. If he hadn't mentioned people being able to contract brucellosis, she would have returned to bed at 3 AM, assuming she had the flu. But no, he'd talked about the guy losing his eyeballs. A headache would never look the same. Now it would include taking two aspirins and finding a seeing-eye dog.

  "Are you okay?"

  "I wouldn't be calling you at this hour if I was okay."

  "Okay."

  She paused, expecting him to continue. He didn't. Men. She would have to carry the conversation. "Well, aren't you going to ask me?"

  The rustle of bedding shuffled through the phone. "My oversight. What's wrong?"

  "I don't know. I'm trying to remember what the signs of brucellosis are."

  "Usually late-term abortions and retained afterbirths."

  She laughed, a weak chuckle. A sense of humor this early in the day might be challenging to live with. "In people. Not cows."

  "It's thirty-six times worse than the flu. Your temperature goes up and down. Might have headaches like somebody's drilling a hole in your skull. Why? Do you feel sick?"

  She sat down on the edge of the bed, rattled to hear the concern reflected in his voice. Maybe she would get to see him again before going blind. If her plan worked. "I didn't feel good yesterday. But I thought it was lack of sleep and stress."

  "From what I've seen, you could sell stress by the pound."

  Liza's laugh rasped. "You're right. Last night, my temp ran four to five degrees high. It was normal at four. Now it's up again. I feel weak as water." She yawned. Her teeth needed brushed. Her morning breath smelled like a badger nest. "How can I tell for sure if I've got it?"

  "You need to have a blood sample checked."

  "Mine?" Her tired laugh filtered through a series of small coughs.

  "That's generally best. They might have to send it off though. I doubt they could run it here."

  Liza chuckled grimly. He was not catching her drift in the slightest. "I could be blind by the time we hear back."

  "I doubt things are that extreme."

  "It's not your eyes we're discussing, is it?" She closed the Jonathan Edwards book. She had fell asleep reading it. "Don't you have the stuff to check blood on cattle privately changing ownership? Dr. Bill did that for us once."

  His answer wasn't immediate. Maybe he didn't know what all Dr. Bill had. Or didn't want to know. "I think I saw some in the fridge."

  "Well? Doesn't it check for the same thing that people catch from a cow?"

  "Yeah. I know a vet who diagnosed himself that way."

  "I hope it wasn't the one who lost his eyes."

  "Nope."

  "I realize I'm imposing, but couldn't you..."

  "Wait a minute. I've never drawn blood from anyone." Reluctance geared his voice several speeds lower.
r />   "You can't be any worse than some of those harpoonistas at the hospital. Pretend I'm a cow if it helps. I'll even moo while you do it. Maybe kick you on the shin."

  His laugh sent desire rushing through her. "I'm sure you're an amazing bovine impersonator. But I'm not sure about this. If the doctors heard about it, I could get into hot water." He paused. "I'll be glad to drive you to the hospital. I bet one of the girls there would be glad to draw it. Then I could check it at the office. How's that?"

  "Please. I don't want to go to the hospital." She hoped the sniffs sounded authentic. "It reminds me too much of my dad." Pause. "Those girls would tell the doctors. Probably required to by law. You'd get in trouble. I don't want that. Or to go blind either."

  A long thirty-seconds passed before he replied. "OK. I'll be there shortly."

  She did a happy dance on the way to the bathroom. Not taking any chances, she used a quarter-tube of toothpaste and five mouthfuls of Scope. She debated putting on makeup but feared it might make her look too healthy, defeating the plan to enlist his help.

  Twenty minute later, she opened the door and invited him in. A hand-stitched quilt, the colorful patches forming a double wedding band pattern, wound about her like a bright shroud. Strands of damp hair were stuck to her forehead by seeping perspiration. Only her nose, eyes, and bare feet remained visible.

  She shuffled to the couch, plopped down, rolled onto her side, arms hugging her torso, legs drawn up, and stared at him through squinted eyes. Though she looked awful, she was prepared to exaggerate her symptoms to have him follow through on the blood test. Her voice croaked. "I'd have to be embalmed to feel better."

  Will's eyes softened as he listened to her description of the night. "Let's take your temperature."

  If she didn't already have a fever, his being here provided one. A weak laugh made her grimace. Chattering teeth chopped her words. "Not throwing off on your equipment, but let's use my thermometer. It's on the kitchen counter."