A Sheriff's Passion

by Michelle Beattie

  “Okay, we’re ready,” she said. “I need her two front legs kept forward, her rear legs kept back as well as her head held down. I don’t want to give her too much ether, that way she can stand and nurse sooner.”

  Scott took the back legs, James the front and head. The owner’s knee rested against Jillian’s when he took his position at her side. Despite their wet clothes, his heat seeped through and made her skin tingle. Annoyed by her reaction, she immediately broke contact.

  “We’re ready when you are,” James said.

  Pouring some ether on a rag, Jillian held it briefly under the cow’s nose until she felt its muscles relax. “That’s it. We’ll take good care of you.” She switched the rag for her knife. “Here we go, hold her steady.”

  Carefully, Jillian cut an incision into the left flank of the cow. Its legs jerked, but the men held her easily enough. The sound that came from its mouth was low and pitiful. She heard the owner’s quick inhale, felt the intensity of his stare on her. He didn’t think she could do this. Well, he wouldn’t be the first man she proved wrong.

  Moving quickly, Jillian cut through the skin followed by layers of muscle. She reached inside the abdomen to get a hold of the uterus. When she felt the calf’s legs through the tissue she pulled it toward the opening.

  “I’ve got a hold of the calf’s rear legs. Mr. Parker, I’m going to cut through the uterus, then I’ll need your help to pull it out.”

  Jillian didn’t wait for his answer; time was too critical. Holding the calf’s legs in one hand, she cut through the uterus until they had enough room to pull out the calf. Water and blood poured out onto her skirt. A thin veil of vapor rose from the incision as the warmth of the animal combined with the cool night air.

  “Now!”

  Jillian dropped her knife in the bloody water at her feet and together she and Mr. Parker grasped a leg and pulled. The calf slipped out of its mother’s womb and onto the floor. Jillian quickly pulled the mucus from its nose and mouth.

  “It’s not breathing!” Jillian scrambled up and as she grabbed the calf’s rear legs, Mr. Parker leapt in and helped. Together they pulled the animal off the straw floor, gave it a few good jerks. Placing it back down again, she leaned over the newborn. Warm air blew on her hair as the calf exhaled. Hers wasn’t the only sigh that filled the stall.

  “Keep holding her.” She reminded the other two men, though they hadn’t made any move to let go.

  Jillian dealt with the cord efficiently but the amount of blood worried her. Why was there so much?

  Mr. Parker grabbed the calf. “I’ll take him to another stall and clean him up. It will give you more room to work.”

  Jillian didn’t look bother looking up. She simply nodded as she tried to determine where the excess blood was coming from.

  “There’s a problem, isn’t there?” James asked.

  “I think there’s a tear somewhere, I just need to—”

  She found it immediately. There, a rip in the uterus. It must have torn when they’d pulled out the calf. It wasn’t an uncommon thing to tear something in a cesarean section, but it could be fatal. And if she hoped to prove herself, she couldn’t afford for the animal to die.

  Using all her skills and sending up a few prayers for good measure, Jillian sewed the tear and the cut. The catgut worked well as an interior suture material because it was eventually absorbed naturally by the body. Using some of the rags to wipe at the blood, she inspected her work. There didn’t appear to be any seepage. Wiping the moisture from her brow with her sleeve, she then began closing the hide.

  A precise row of sutures later, followed by a confirmation of a strong and steady heartbeat, Jillian pressed her hands to her lower back and stretched.

  “Thank you, gentlemen, you can let her go now.”

  Scott immediately scooped up the bundle of straw that contained the placenta. “I’ll take care of this,” he said.

  “Should I bring in the calf?” Mr. Parker asked from outside the stall.

  Jillian looked up, saw where his gaze was aimed and dropped her hands to her side. “Yes, the sooner he can nurse, the better.”

  Though the mother had yet to stand, she nonetheless moved her legs aside to give her young access. The calf didn’t waste any time and began to suckle.

  With the crisis taken care of, Jillian had a chance to examine Mr. Parker a little more closely. He too had taken off his coat and his shirtsleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms sprinkled with golden hair. His wet pants clung to long, lean legs. Jillian had always thought a man looked more, well, manly in working clothes than he did in fancy suits. She’d always been drawn to the more rugged sort.

  But she’d made that mistake once before, to heartbreaking results. A smart woman learned her lesson. And Jillian Matthews was no fool.

  “Will she make it?”

  “Infection is always a risk, as is internal bleeding. It’s why many vets choose not to perform the surgery. Though I’ll examine her again come morning, I’d say the worst is over.”

  The worry faded from his eyes. Yet he didn’t say thank you, didn’t acknowledge her skills. The omission stung because she knew good and well his old Doc Fletcher would have received a hearty handshake and likely a solid pat on the back.

  She wasn’t the kind of woman who needed pretty words. All she’d ever wanted was to be accepted for who she was, a woman who also happened to be a skilled doctor. Good Lord in Heaven, why was it so blasted hard for a man to accept that?

  Annoyed, she hurried through cleaning her instruments, but was careful when she placed them back into her bags. Standing, she grimaced at the squishing sounds coming from her boots. Luckily her hat and slicker had remained dry. She settled her hat onto her head and slipped into her slicker.

  Down the aisle, Hope’s snuffle caught Jillian’s attention. Scott had stepped back into the barn. He stopped as he passed the horse and spoke in a gentle way, his eyes locked with those of her horse as he scratched her withers. Jillian watched, mesmerized, as Hope nickered and leaned into Scott.

  “He’s got a way with animals, especially horses,” James said.

  Jillian marveled when Scott walked toward them and Hope stared lovingly at his back. He set a shovel against the wall.

  “I buried it far enough away that it shouldn’t attract any trouble.”

  “Thanks,” his boss said.

  Jillian gnashed her teeth. His ranch hand, who’d done nothing more than bury the afterbirth, got the man’s thanks when she didn’t get so much as a nod of gratitude? Her gaze went to the shovel Scott had returned. She was sorely tempted to use it.

  “Miz Matthews”—James approached, his hand outstretched—“that was fine work. Thank you.”

  His hand was calloused, his grip firm. Because it was the same handshake he’d have given a man, Jillian smiled, knowing she’d gained someone’s approval. And if she had his then hopefully—

  Mr. Parker’s head snapped back as though slapped. “Wait! Did you say Matthews?”

  Seeing the shock in his eyes, Jillian braced for an even fiercer storm than the one raging outside. James’s brow furrowed, then the wrinkles smoothed out as realization dawned.

  “We introduced ourselves when you were fetching the water. Wade, this here’s Jillian Matthews, she’s the new vet.”

  Wade’s mouth pinched.

  Jillian crossed her arms. “I responded to the advertisement and was given the position.”

  “No. Miles and I read through the replies for our post together and we offered the position to the most qualified man who responded. Jared Matthews.”

  It was the first time Jillian had heard her father’s name spoken since his funeral a month ago. For a moment, she cherished the sound, held it close as though, somehow, she was holding him.

  “That’s not possible. Jared was my father and he died last month.”

  “If he’s gone how is it that—”

  James put a hand on Wade’s arm. “Let’s go inside. We could a
ll do with a cup of coffee and I’m sure Miz Matthews would appreciate a chance to get dry.”

  Extending him the same courtesy he showed her, Jillian ignored Wade and turned her eyes to James. “I’d love a cup of coffee, thank you.”

  She could almost feel the frost form in the air.

  “I’m turning in,” Scott said. Then he too extended a hand her way. “Thank you. It must have been a little scary following a stranger in the middle of the night.”

  “Well, the pounding on my door gave me a fright, but it’s what I do. Thank you for taking care with my horse.”

  He shrugged. “She’s a beauty.” He tipped his hat to her, nodded to Wade and James and slipped out into the rain.

  “Well, no point in us lingering here either. We’ll finish this inside.”

  Lightning shot for the ground outside the open door. A thunderclap rattled the building. Lifting the collar of her slicker against the wind and rain, and hoping the menacing weather wasn’t a sign of what awaited her in the house, Jillian trailed Wade across the yard and into the house.

  The smell of fresh coffee greeted her like a warm blanket.

  Mrs. Parker was there to take her slicker and hat. “I’ve set warm water and clean towels for you upstairs, the door on the left. Wade, dear, there’s a basin and some dry clothes for you in the porch.”

  Cold and wet, Jillian didn’t argue. She removed her boots then lifted the hem of her soiled riding skirt and padded up the stairs and into the bedroom on the left. Immediately the masculinity of the space hit her and she realized that she’d been sent to Wade’s room.

  A dresser displayed a handful of coins and a comb. A blue quilt covered the bed. At the end of the mattress was a pine chest with a pair of pants tossed over it.

  She’d been courted by Clint for almost a year. They’d gone to dinner, gone dancing, gone to the theater. She’d seen him dressed in his best suit and dirty in his working clothes. They’d kissed, held each other close. Yet none of those events had been as intimate as standing there, where the scent of leather, hay and man clung to the log walls; where his presence breathed in the room.

  Realizing she was standing there like a ninny thinking of how Wade’s room smelled rather than getting her wet, clinging clothes off, Jillian closed the door. She was here for one thing and one thing only. There was no room in her life for men, especially selfish, short-sighted ones who couldn’t accept that a woman was capable of more than cooking and raising babies.

  While Jillian hadn’t had much experience with either children or cooking as they’d had a maid to cook at home and her sister Katie was only four years younger than Jillian was, she’d nonetheless always hoped to have a family one day. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t do more. Didn’t need to do more. She was amply qualified to be this town’s vet and she aimed to ensure, before this night was over, Mr. Parker understood he had hired the best doctor for the job.

  The murmur of voices grew louder as Jillian—dressed in dry riding skirt, blouse, and stockings—descended the stairs. Light from the kitchen spilled onto the entryway floor, creating a pale glow on the worn wooden surface.

  “We were just talking about you,” Mrs. Parker said when Jillian stepped into the kitchen.

  Jillian’s gaze flew to the table where Wade and James sat. She acknowledged James with a smile, but it was Wade who commanded her attention. He’d taken off his hat but hadn’t combed his hair. Damp, sandy brown waves fell onto his forehead. His jaw was dark with stubble. His accusatory gaze followed her to the table. Oh, she had little doubt they’d been talking about her. And even less doubt that Wade had anything positive to say.

  Mrs. Parker pulled out one of the chairs that rimmed the table. “Sit. I’ll get you some coffee.”

  Jillian had barely taken her seat before Wade leaned forward, arms braced on the table.

  “I assume you have an explanation for misleading us about who you were?”

  Mrs. Parker’s simple calico skirt swooshed as she spun round.

  Her honey-colored eyes flashed. “Your interrogation can wait until the poor woman’s had a chance to get some coffee.” She held her ground, finger still pointed until Wade slumped back in his chair. Only then did she turn back to the stove.

  James, with a twinkle in his eye, gave Jillian a wink. Before long Wade’s mother had placed a steaming cup before Jillian. Jillian wrapped her hands around the mug. Heat seeped into her chilled palms. Not caring that she’d likely burn her tongue, Jillian took a sip of the bold brew and sighed as it warmed her throat and belly. Her moment of peace was shattered all too soon.

  “I’m still waiting.”

  “Wade!”

  “It’s all right, Mrs. Parker.”

  “Eileen. We don’t stand much on formality around here.” She shot Wade another glare. “As you can obviously see.”

  Wade once again rested his forearms on the table, intertwined his long fingers. The hard lines of his jaw said the little patience he’d been hanging onto was gone. “She lied to us and I want to know why.”

  Jillian set her cup down. Hard. Wade wasn’t the only one losing patience. “I never lied to you or anybody else.”

  “Is that what you call never once saying you were a woman? You signed all your correspondence with the letter J. If you weren’t lying, why didn’t you use your full name?”

  “Wade, it’s late. I think this can all wait until morning.”

  “It’s all right, Eileen, I can answer this.” Jillian shifted forward in her chair. “I didn’t sign my full name because you advertised for a trained veterinarian and that is exactly what I am. I suspected, rightly so as it turns out, that if I signed Jillian you wouldn’t hire me. As to my father, I have no idea how you even came to know of him.”

  “When you first sent your letter of interest we telegraphed Philadelphia, asked for information on J. Matthews. Everything that came back about a vet in Philadelphia was for Jared Matthews.”

  Jillian finished her coffee, pushed the cup aside. “I’m not responsible for that. Clearly you sent away for this information prior to his passing.”

  “Which doesn’t change the fact that you aren’t what we are looking for or expecting.”

  “Wade Parker!” Eileen hissed.

  Though James said nothing, his scowl said he didn’t think too highly of Wade’s words either.

  “Ma, the town entrusted me and Doc to find Doc’s replacement. They’re not going to be happy about this and I don’t have time to soothe feathers nor to start looking for another doctor. That took weeks as it was.” He glared at Jillian, laying the blame at her feet.

  Jillian grabbed the last edge of her temper before it snapped wildly. She’d come west to practice medicine. Nobody back east wanted a female vet. She’d believed moving west, where trained veterinarians were in shorter supply, would be the answer. That the need for her skills would matter more than her gender. That there might actually be a man out west open-minded enough to acknowledge her skills. That she wouldn’t have to fight, every single day, to be accepted.

  She took a deep breath, knowing she had to convince Mr. Parker he hadn’t made a mistake. Moving back home wasn’t a possibility. Not only would it mean giving up her dream of being a veterinarian, but it would also prove Clint right. And after the way he’d treated her, she’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing her back in Philadelphia.

  She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “I have no doubt my being a woman is a shock to you. I realize it’s not common, but I assure you that I am everything I claimed to be. My father, as I’m sure you know if you sent for information about him, was the most highly sought after veterinarian in Philadelphia. He was schooled in London. He taught in many cities and towns in Pennsylvania. I learned at his hand and worked alongside him for years.

  “I assure you, Mr. Parker, that you won’t be disappointed in having hired me. All I ask is that you give me a chance to prove so.” Jillian gestured to the darkness behind the windows. “Now if you’ll e
xcuse me, it’s time I got home. Eileen, thank you for the coffee.”

  Jillian took her cup to the counter and almost bumped into the other woman when she turned around.

  “Jillian, it’s the middle of the night and the rain isn’t letting up. I won’t have you going home in this weather.” As though to prove her point a gust of wind splattered a sheet of water against the window.

  “It’s fine. I’ll be home in—”

  Eileen held up a hand. “No, I won’t have it. You’ve been through enough tonight. Not only has my son been unquestionably rude, but you’ve worked hard. Surely you must be tired.”

  “Exhausted,” Jillian answered. “Which is why—”

  “Then it’s settled. You’ll stay the night. Let me just change the sheets on Wade’s bed, and then you can go on up and get some sleep.”

  “What?” Jillian sputtered.

  Wade leapt to his feet at the same time. “Ma!”

  James chuckled and slipped out of the kitchen into the porch as Wade’s mother ignored them all and went upstairs.

  Find out what happens next in A Rancher’s Surrender...

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  About the Author

  Award-winning author Michelle Beattie began writing in 1995, almost immediately after returning from her honeymoon. It took 12 long years but she achieved her dream of seeing her name on the cover of a book when she sold her novel, What A Pirate Desires, in 2007. Since then she’s written and published several more historical novels as well a contemporary. Her pirate books have sold in several languages, been reviewed in Publisher’s Weekly and Romantic Times. Two of her independent self-published works went on to win the Reader’s Choice Silken Sands Self-Published Star Contest.