Counterfeit Cowboy

by Gail MacMillan

  “My little girl’s dog has been hit by a car! He’s in the back seat!”

  Shelby broke into a run and Jordan followed. The man was sweating, his complexion a grey-white.

  Shelby caught him by the arm. “I’m Doctor Masters. I’ll see if I can help.”

  ****

  “Tea?” Jordan offered the cup to the man who’d identified himself as Mike Cooper as he waited in a chair on the verandah for Shelby to finish her examination. “Hot and sweet. Just the thing for shock.”

  He hesitated, then took the mug. “Thanks. I could go for a strong drink, but this is probably better.”

  “Dr. Masters is a good vet.” Jordan sat down in a nearby wicker chair. “If anyone can save the little dog, it’s her.”

  “Have you got children?” Mike looked over at him, his complexion grey.

  “Kind of. I have four I’m responsible for.”

  “Guardian?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Then you can maybe understand. We were staying at the campsite just down the road. We’re from the city, and Scruffy doesn’t get many opportunities to run free. We thought it would be safe to let him go for a bit. But the driver of a car entering the area didn’t see him, and…”

  “I’m sorry. But since it happened, Scruffy is fortunate to have been near a great vet. Shelby will know what’s best to do.”

  Fifteen minutes later she rejoined Jordan and the man on the porch.

  “Oh God, please tell me Scruffy will be okay.” Mike Cooper jumped to his feet. “My daughter has cerebral palsy. That dog means the world to her.”

  “I can’t make any promises. I’ll have to operate immediately. There may be internal bleeding. And I’ll need help. Usually my brother acts as my assistant, but he’s in town on an errand. Jake, you’ll have to fill in.”

  “Me?” Jordan stood and felt a weird sensation—what he assumed to be the blood draining from his head. “I’m just a farm hand, Doc. I’ve never…”

  “Well, you will now.” She turned and headed back into the clinic.

  “Please.” When Jordan hesitated, Mike Cooper stood and put a shaking hand on his arm. “For Scruffy. For Mindy.”

  “Okay.” Jordan sucked in his breath, hoped to heaven he didn’t pass out or upchuck during the surgery, and followed Shelby into her office and on through into her small operating room.

  “Shelby, I don’t know if I can do this,” he hissed as they entered the room where the little dog lay unconscious on the operating table. “I’ve never assisted in any medical procedure.”

  “Well, you have to now, no choice.” She turned to him, eyes steely hard with determination. “There’s a smock and gloves over there. And put a cap over your hair. I’m going to give you a crash course in being a medical assistant.”

  ****

  Forty-five minutes later, Scruffy lay in a padded basket in a corner of Shelby’s surgery. He was still unconscious and now swathed in bandages about his middle, but Shelby said his vital signs were strong and everything looked good for a full recovery. Jordan pulled off his bloodstained latex gloves and smock, jerked the cap from his head, and fell back against a door jamb, drained of energy.

  “How do you do that kind of thing day after day?” he asked as she sat at her desk filling out a report on the dog. “Took the stuffing out of me, I can tell you.”

  “You’d get used to it.” She continued to write. “But just for the record, you did great in there…for a novice.” She shot him a sideways glance and smiled. All the applause and cheers in the biggest venues he’d ever played couldn’t have meant more. “Now let’s go and give Mr. Cooper the good news.”

  After the man had driven away with the awakening little dog in the back seat, Shelby went back into her surgery to tidy up, and Jordan headed on down to the barn to work.

  When he’d finished mucking out the stalls, he sat down on an upturned bucket near the door and leaned back against the rough plank wall.

  She’s right. I am a phony. After seeing her at work today, I realize that no way can I compete with what she and Travis do day in and day out. Singing and dancing on a stage is small potatoes by comparison. She deserves someone strong and real. Someone like that Crowell guy.

  ****

  “Are you sure you can handle babysitting this place?” Shelby stepped into the kitchen.

  Jordan turned from the sink, drinking a glass of water. And choked. Dr. Shelby Masters—in a short electric-blue dress of some satiny material that clung in all the right places, spaghetti straps holding it but low enough to reveal a bit of eye-boggling cleavage—stood in the doorway, smiling. Her chestnut curls were piled on top of her head, silver ear loops glittering below.

  “Careful, big fella.” She moved across the room on strappy six-inch stilettos to pat him on the back. “You’d think you never saw a woman decked out to go to a wedding.” She grinned provocatively up at him.

  “Yeah, well, this is the first time I’ve seen you decked out for one.” He struggled to regain his cool.

  “So?” She spun around. “What’s the opinion of a man who’s had women of all shapes and sizes throwing themselves at him?”

  “Not true, but Jake Banks’s opinion is…nice, yeah, very nice.”

  “Thank you.” The words were pert and coy. She plucked a matching blue jacket from a chair back. “For the church service,” she explained shrugging into it. “The rest is for the dance later.”

  “Well, have fun. Even with Travis off playing a gig, you can rest assured Ebony Farm is in responsible hands.”

  The sound of a car gunning into the yard made him turn to the window. It braked to a stop at the steps.

  “Crowell’s here.” He saw that the man in the ivory-colored SUV was wearing a white shirt, tie, and dark suit as he swung out of the vehicle. “All dolled up, too.”

  “You knew he asked me to be his date at his cousin’s wedding.”

  “And you needed someone to fork hay and manure while you’re gone.” His voice reflected what his mother would have called peevishness.

  “Well, that is your job.”

  “Hey, Shel, you ready?” Andy Crowell pulled open the screen door. “Don’t want to walk up the aisle with the bride, now, do we? Hey, Jake, how’re ya doin’, buddy?”

  “Fine, just fine.” Damn it, stop it, just stop it. Stop sounding like a kid not allowed to go to the circus. But why does this Crowell have to clean up so nice?

  “Glad to hear it. Come on, babe, let’s hit the road. Maybe this wedding will give you some ideas.” He slipped an arm around Shelby’s waist and propelled her out the door.

  “Don’t forget to give that new mare her medication,” she called back over her shoulder. “And don’t let Brandy near Midnight Black or you’ll have a major fight on your hands. Remember, if there’s a medical emergency, I’ll be at the church up the road, and later in the hall behind it for the dinner and dance.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” The door slammed on his words. Going to the window, he watched them drive away, Shelby’s face bright with laughter at something her escort had said.

  She doesn’t want you, pal, you and your four kids. And you’ve admitted you’re not good enough for her. Get that through your head and accept the fact that she’s free to like any guy she chooses.

  He spun away from the view and headed for the refrigerator. A cold beer was what he needed. Maybe even two or three.

  In the distance, thunder rolled. The heat was about to break out into another summer storm.

  ****

  He was starting his second longneck when Travis stopped the farm truck at the porch steps and bounded into the kitchen out of the pouring rain with its flashes of lightning.

  “Hey, Jake, I tried some of those chords you suggested, and they worked out great… What’s wrong?” He stopped short.

  “Your sister has gone to a wedding with your neighbor.” Jordan wasn’t in the mood for wasting preliminaries on beating around the bush.

  �
�Yeah, so?” Travis headed for the refrigerator and took out a beer.

  “Take it easy on that stuff, okay?” Jordan couldn’t prevent himself from admonishing as her brother sat down opposite him.

  “Hey, how stupid do you think I am? After that major hangover on my birthday, I’ve wised up. I’m just thinking it will be easier for you to tell me what’s eating you if we’re kind of drinking buddies.” He ducked his head shyly and slanted Jordan a grin that the singer knew would melt any woman’s heart. The kid had what it took.

  “Okay, since you’re proving yourself to be a prudent man when it comes to alcohol, I guess I can trust you with the truth.” Jordan took a long pull on his beer before continuing. “I’ve got a thing for your sister.”

  “Yeah? No shit, Jake…Jordan. Cool. You and Shel! Great.”

  “Not so great. I have a career and an obligation to my band that won’t allow me to quit, and your sister has an obligation to this farm that she won’t give up. There’s no way it will work.”

  “But if you guys are in love…”

  “Hold on, young fella. Nobody said anything about love. Just an attraction and a whole lot of liking.”

  “Yeah, well, I’d say that’s a big part of it.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  He stared at his thumb tracing patterns on the sweat coating the bottle in his hand.

  “Hell, Jordan, it sure is. Otherwise…”

  “Otherwise what?” His forehead furrowed at he looked over at the younger man.

  “Otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here nursing a beer, so green with jealousy you look like a Christmas tree just because Shel went to a wedding with Andy Crowell.”

  “Green with jealousy! You’re nuts, my man.”

  He shoved back his chair with a scraping that made Travis flinch and headed for the refrigerator for another beer.

  “Take it easy on that stuff.” Travis got up, grinning. “Remember you’re on duty, Jake.”

  “Not any more. Boss Number Two is back. What happened? I thought you had a gig.”

  “Yeah, well, that fell through. We were hired to play that wedding Shel went to, but at the last minute they decided on a DJ. Cheaper, I guess. Damn, it’s tough, Jake.” Travis clutched his beer and stared at it, shaking his head. “The other guys in the band don’t mind so much. They don’t take it serious, like I do.”

  And they definitely lack your talent. The thought flashed across his mind.

  “I know you do.” He couldn’t help admiring the kid. Here he was with the number one country-western music star living on his farm, and he’d never once suggested Jordan do anything to advance his career. Now he had an idea.

  “How’d you like to play with my band for a change? Just once, mind you, to let you know how it feels to have a good sound system backing you up?”

  “No shit, Jordan?” Jordan thought Travis’s eyes would pop out of his head.

  “No shit. The guys are staying with my bus driver and his wife at their cottage near Yarmouth, Nova Scotia. I can have them meet us in Moncton—it’s about half way between here and there, I’d guess—and arrange for a place to play in private. What do you say?”

  The expression of speechless joy that hit Travis’s face was his answer, just as the phone on the counter rang.

  Leaving Travis in a happy state of shock, Jordan picked it up.

  “Dr. Shelby Masters’ residence. Jake Banks speaking.” He paused to listen, then said, “Okay, fine. I’ll contact her and we’ll be right there.”

  He dropped the phone back on its stand and turned to Travis. “Major accident about ten miles up the highway toward town. Truck and horse trailer off the road. Ambulances and police on the way, but they need a vet. A horse has been injured.”

  As Jordan punched Shelby’s cell number into the phone, Travis was already on his feet. “I’ll get her medical bag and supplies,” he yelled, running through the house toward the clinic.

  “I’ll take them to her,” Jordan called after him. “You stay here and mind the place. Shelby,” he returned his tone to normal as she picked up. “There’s been an accident. A horse has been injured in a truck-trailer accident between here and town. No, I don’t know how severely. I’m coming to get you.”

  ****

  She was waiting alone at the roadside in the pouring rain with some kind of jacket draped over her head and shoulders when he pulled his old truck up in front of the church. He’d floored the old vehicle all the way, but it never went fast enough to satisfy him.

  “Where is the accident?” She jumped in beside him, her hair falling out of its fancy do. “Do you know how bad it is?”

  “No details yet, just that it’s on the road between the farm and town and that a horse has been injured. Hell of storm. I brought your medical supplies and rain gear.”

  “Thanks. That poor animal.” He glanced sideways to see her peering out through the rain coursing down the windshield in buckets.

  “You will be careful, won’t you?” He shot her another quick glance. “And if there’s nothing you can do…”

  “I’ll know what has to be done, Jordan, never fear.” He saw her hand grip the dashboard. “I won’t go to pieces like I did when I lost Midnight Fantasy.”

  “I wasn’t…”

  “Sorry. I know you weren’t casting doubts on my ability. I’m a bit keyed up. Can’t you go any faster?”

  It wasn’t hard to find the accident site. Even through the pouring rain and gusting winds, the flashing red lights of emergency vehicles were highly visible. Jordan braked to a stop far enough away that his truck wouldn’t block any of them, then jumped out to follow Shelby, now wearing the raincoat and sou’wester he’d brought and carrying her black medical bag toward the ditch where a truck and trailer lay on their sides.

  “Dr. Shelby Masters, veterinarian,” she identified herself to the police officer who came striding toward them. “This is my assistant, Jake Banks. We’re here about the horse.”

  “Good.” The man squinted at her through the downpour. “We managed to get her free, but she slid down the bank over there and got herself trapped on the shore in a cove with cliffs running out into the water on two sides and the embankment over there on the third. She’s been trying to come up the slope, but she just manages to paw loose shale away from under her hooves. Come on. I’ll show you.”

  Heads lowered against the storm, Shelby and Jordan followed the officer through a barrage of flashing emergency lights to the edge of a cliff. Squinting, Jordan could just make out the shape of a grey horse running desperately up and down the beach below, stumbling at times, at others making desperate attempts to get up the crumbling bank to the road. He could also see zigzagged red stripes on her neck and withers.

  “We have a harness ready to lower you down, Doctor,” the officer said, as two other emergency workers approached with the apparatus. “That is, if you’re willing.”

  “Of course I’m willing.” Shelby raised her arms to be fitted into the straps. “What do you know about the people involved and where they were headed?”

  “The truck had only one occupant, a man we’ve identified from his wallet material as Johnny Branch. That’s about it. He was conscious when they took him to the hospital, so it seems likely he’s not all that bad.”

  “Oh, God, Johnny Branch!” Shelby’s sentence was a gasp. “He was bringing that mare to my farm to be bred. The animal belongs to Kirby Wells. Her name is Grey Lady.”

  “The Kirby Wells? Ah, man…”

  “Yes, officer, the Kirby Wells. Now, how about getting me down there?”

  “Here, let me.” Jordan stepped in as the officer fumbled with the fastenings. “I have search-and-rescue training.”

  “You never cease to surprise me, Jake Banks.” Her words were soft, amazed.

  “When you work on lobster boats, you have to know something about it.” He pulled a strap tight.

  “What is it with men, that the mere mention of a baseball player turns the
m into hero worshippers?” She was keeping up a conversation while he worked, keeping them calm.

  “Same thing as what makes most women admire rail-thin, six-foot-tall supermodels,” he said pulling the last strap taunt.

  “I don’t.”

  “You’re not most women, Doc.” He looked up into those emerald eyes and quirked a grin. “Ready?”

  “Definitely. Lower away. We can’t leave Kirby Wells’ horse down there any longer than necessary.”

  Jordan watched as she was eased over the edge of the crumbling cliff. The minute she reached the beach and had extricated herself from the harness, he began to yank it back up.

  “Whoa! What do you think you’re doing?” The officer who’d met them grabbed his arm. “Dr. Masters will need it to come back up.”

  “Not if she gets injured.” Jordan pulled the apparatus up and began to harness himself into it. “I’m going down to see that doesn’t happen.”

  “And what expertise do you have?”

  “I’m her vet tech.” The lie came so easily he was amazed. How did I manage to come up with that one? Must be the heat of the moment.

  The officer stared hard at him for a moment, then yelled to the others. “Give us a hand here. Dr. Masters’ assistant is going down to help.”

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Shelby blinked rain from her eyes as he landed beside her and began to unbuckle the harness.

  “Helping you.” He stepped out of the gear and looked around. The mare was at the far end of the beach, as far from them as she could get, hemmed in as she was by the cliffs. She was snorting and pawing the ground.

  “Okay.” She looked squarely at him. “Let’s get to work. She’s wearing a halter with a rope dragging. If we can just corner her and calm her down enough for me to get hold of it, we can make this work. Follow me. Remember, horses are flight animals. Their natural instinct is to run away when they’re hurt or frightened. Above all, stay calm.”

  She set off toward the terrified horse, walking casually as if she were out for a stroll on the beach. Jordan followed her example. As they approached, the mare whirled toward them, wide eyes showing white.