Cowboy on Call

by Leigh Riker

  “Temper, temper,” a voice said from the open doors that led out to the ranch yard, but Sawyer couldn’t see who stood in the bright light beyond the dim interior. It wasn’t until the man came closer that he recognized him.

  “Grey.” Sawyer felt his neck heat up. “Pardon the tantrum. Sam’s off with his men and I— What brings you over here?”

  Grey resettled his black Stetson. “Hey. Didn’t get a chance to talk with you the day you came to help with my cattle,” he said.

  Sawyer had just gotten there when Olivia showed up with Nick and they’d headed for the hospital.

  “I wasn’t much help.” Here at the Circle H, his skills at handling the herd had proven to be pretty rusty, as he’d expected, and like Fred Miller, Sawyer had nearly gotten pinned against a fence by a bison bull. “Didn’t really get a chance myself to say more than ‘good for you’ when Logan and I came by, either. About you and Shadow.”

  Grey grinned. “You took the words out of my mouth. I can’t wait.”

  “Set a date yet?”

  “That’s the other reason I’m here. I don’t have a brother. Logan and I are friends, of course, but he has Blossom to take care of, and a new baby on the way, so—would you be my best man?”

  “That depends on when the wedding is.”

  “We haven’t decided,” Grey said. “Soon, I hope.”

  “How long have you two...been together?” Sawyer asked. He remembered them dating when they were in high school, but... He thought of the little girl, Ava, and felt there must be a story there. He should probably learn it if he was going to be Grey’s best man.

  “I fell in love with her when I was seventeen.” Grey frowned. “Her dad wouldn’t let us date until the next year when Shadow turned fifteen. We had two years together, then right after we broke up, her brother was killed, and I went back to college for sophomore year.”

  “That was a rough time, Grey.”

  He nodded. “She left home soon after that and I never knew we had a daughter until recently.”

  “I’m glad it’s all worked out for you.”

  Grey studied the floor for a moment, but when he looked up, his eyes shone with love. “If it were my choice, we’d be married already. On the other hand, Shadow’s still turning over options for the wedding. I figure if I do my part now, I won’t have to worry about the rest of the plans.” He finally smiled. “After taking part in Logan’s wedding, whatever she decides will be fine with me.”

  Sawyer felt a twinge of guilt. “I missed most of that day. I owe you for stepping in. You sure you’d want to rely on me?”

  “If you say you’ll be there, I know you will.” Grey paused. “There’s no hurry, is there? You going back to the clinic? I thought your partner was handling things.”

  “He is...” Sawyer eyed the bucket again. He’d been feeling this way ever since he first saw Fred Miller. No, since he’d answered that initial phone call and another stranger’s plea for help. “Charlie’s got more than he can manage right now, but I’m not...” Ready, he couldn’t bring himself to say. I don’t know if I ever will be.

  And if he wasn’t, what then? He’d let enough people down just in the past few days. And Doc’s keys were in his jeans pocket again like a rebuke that gouged him every now and then.

  Any other doctor worth his salt would have opened the office, treated Doc’s patients, including Miller, filled in as Doc had obviously hoped he would. As Max Garrett had done at the walk-in clinic instead. Sawyer had paid the bill but he didn’t feel any better.

  Grey studied him. “Man of mystery,” he said. “If you’re that uncertain, maybe you don’t belong there anymore. I know Sam would love to have you home again, to stay.”

  He worries about you, Logan had also said, but Sawyer wasn’t sure.

  Without a backward look, his grandfather had ridden out early that morning with Willy, Tobias and several other hands to do whatever they needed to do today. No one had informed him. Sawyer had used the past few hours to muck stalls, fill water buckets—and try to talk to Cyclone. He’d given Sawyer the silent treatment, as if the colt knew about his appointment with the vet.

  “Look, Grey. I know how you feel about Wilson Cattle. But me? Maybe I was gone too long and the Circle H went on without me.” Which he probably deserved.

  The same thing would happen with his clinic if he didn’t return soon. Or if he waited until Charlie didn’t need—or want—him anymore.

  Grey shifted his weight. “I’ll nudge Shadow tonight. Urge her to pick the date so you can be here. Maybe we’ll just run off somewhere and drag you with us. You and Olivia,” he said.

  Just hearing her name sent a wave of longing through him. He hadn’t seen her recently, but he’d sure been thinking of her. And not only because he’d made her mad.

  * * *

  AFTER SHE LEFT the bank, Olivia crossed the street to the diner, which sat on the opposite corner from her antiques shop. She wasn’t hungry—her talk with Barney Caldwell had ruined any appetite she might have had—but she often stopped in during the day for a bracing cup of coffee. A quick one, she thought, before she headed home early.

  Worrying about her morning appointment, she hadn’t slept well last night. She still felt muzzy, and all through her meeting she’d worried about Nick.

  Olivia had left him home with his new sitter, their first time together. Her imagination ran wild. Phone calls with a boyfriend while Nick played, unsupervised, in the backyard, where he was determined to climb the old oak tree. Or he might fall from his swing. He wasn’t even supposed to be outdoors yet. His balance could be unsteady and his headaches weren’t entirely gone. What if he fell again?

  Or what if he and the sitter didn’t get along? Nick might do something mischievous or foolish or...decide to run away, to hitch a ride to the Circle H to see Hero.

  As soon as she entered the diner, she pulled out her cell phone. “Deirdre? It’s Olivia. How are things going?”

  “Fine,” the girl said.

  “May I speak to Nick?” Olivia envisioned him passed out in his room, the hematoma growing worse again while Deirdre watched television, oblivious to the fact that Nick needed emergency help. She had sounded distracted, or bored. Or was Olivia being unfair?

  A brief conversation followed in the background, but Nick didn’t come to the phone. “He’s very into his Lego thing,” Deirdre reported. “I’m making lunch. You did say he could have tomato soup and grilled cheese?”

  “They’re his favorites.” Olivia raised one finger at Annabelle, who was bustling around to serve other customers. Pointing at the spot she wanted, Olivia slid into a nearby booth. Logan was right. She worried way too much. Her heart rate began to slow. Her bones relaxed. “Thanks, Deirdre. I’ll be home soon.” Still, she wasn’t nearly as overprotective of Nick as she had been last spring. Was she?

  Annabelle came over with a menu, which she didn’t need.

  “Hi, Olivia What can I get you?”

  “Just coffee today. I won’t take up this booth longer than that. I can see how busy you are.” Olivia nodded toward the town’s mayor, who was eating a hamburger, his chief aide sitting across from him. She smiled at a neighbor who lived down the street from her and often stopped to suggest that Olivia should plant some flowers in her empty front yard. There was still time this summer, she’d say. Every time she came by. A man Olivia thought was Grey at first turned out to be a stranger who simply wore a similar black hat.

  Annabelle blew a stray hair off her cheek. Her face looked pink, her nose shiny, probably from the kitchen heat. They were basically diner friends these days and otherwise rarely saw each other. Maybe Olivia needed to make more of an effort with their friendship. She sometimes thought she’d only ever seen Annabelle wearing her pale blue uniform and carrying a coffeepot.

  “I’m not sure
being this busy is a good thing,” Annabelle admitted, glancing around the nearly full restaurant.

  “Really? The more people who come into my shop, the better I like it.”

  “I’ll send you some customers.”

  Her remark made Olivia sit up and take notice. Annabelle was unfailingly cheerful, but today she seemed stressed, verging on unhappy. “Long hours?”

  “Every day this week. I know. I should be dancing on my way to the bank. My folks would be out of their minds with glee. But sometimes I feel overwhelmed.”

  Olivia touched her forearm. “What if you hired more help?”

  “Even with business this good, I can barely afford to pay the servers I have. I shouldn’t complain,” she added. “This week is just...hard. One of them has been out sick with a summer cold, and another is pregnant so she’s decided to cut back on her hours, at least during her first trimester.” With an obvious effort, Annabelle squared her shoulders. “Listen to me, whining. I need to carry on, as they say. I’ll get you some fresh coffee. And maybe a piece of pie? I made blueberry this morning.”

  “Goodness,” Olivia said, grinning. Her stomach growled. “And you bake, too.”

  Annabelle gave her a twisted smile. “If I want to stay in business, I do. Otherwise, Jack Hancock down at the café will have my profits instead. His dinner service has brought a lot of people into town.”

  If I want to stay in business...

  She could say the same thing about Olivia Wilson Antiques, but she noted something else in Annabelle. Did she actually want to run this diner? For years, she’d worked for her parents, but they were dead now. If Annabelle didn’t want to stay here, she didn’t have to. Why not go elsewhere?

  Or was Olivia just caught up in her own dreams of buying out Ted Anderson and moving out of Barren?

  CHAPTER TEN

  “HOUSE CALL.”

  Shifting from one foot to the other, Sawyer stood on Olivia’s front porch, a bunch of flowers in his hand and what he imagined must be an ashamed-of-himself look on his face. As soon as she’d opened the door, he’d decided this was a bad idea. An even worse joke. The only other “house call” he’d made was to Fred Miller.

  Standing in the doorway, Olivia seemed speechless. Maybe she was remembering their last encounter at the Circle H when he’d told her about losing Khalil. He half turned to walk down the steps, wondering if he was here under false pretenses. Had he come to see Nick at last—or to lay eyes on Olivia again? She looked motherly, sweet, her blond hair pulled into a low ponytail, no makeup except for the faint tinge of pink on her lips—gloss or natural?—her blue eyes wary.

  “Who are the flowers for?”

  “You. Nick,” he said, waving the bouquet he’d put together with Blossom’s flowers in the backyard. A few asters, a couple of petunias that had already begun to wilt in the heat, several pink and blue dahlias with showy blooms and some daisies. “Whoever wants them—if either of you do.”

  He sure couldn’t tell if he was welcome here. He glanced behind himself. The grass needed mowing out front, all the shades had been drawn when he pulled up in the short driveway and only a few lights were on inside. He’d wondered if Olivia was home or if she and Nick had already gone to bed. Caring for her son alone must wipe her out. And in spite of that, Olivia was wearing her mama-tiger expression, which didn’t ease his mind.

  She hesitated. “All right. Those need a vase. Come in.”

  Sawyer blinked. Was she serious? She certainly looked serious. But then, so was he. He’d been trying for days to think of some way to make amends with Olivia, to take back what he’d said at the ranch.

  Nick is better off without me.

  Not that he’d changed his mind, but as long as he was staying at the Circle H and she was here in Barren, they’d likely run into each other. Burying the hatchet made sense. But no, he was lying to himself. He’d wanted to see her, to hear her voice, to find out how Nick was mending.

  Sawyer followed Olivia into the house, trailing her through the entryway and into the living room. The furnishings were minimal, the walls painted a light tan. In fact, everything he saw was neutral—as if this were indeed a temporary space.

  At the dining room table across the way, Nick sat hunched over some Lego pieces. He didn’t look up even when Olivia gave him a pointed glance. She turned back to Sawyer and he handed her the flowers.

  She said, “Have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”

  Sawyer sat, then clamped his hands between his knees. He needed to steady his nerves before he imploded like some dying star in the galaxy. “A beer if you have one.”

  “I don’t,” she said. Olivia glanced again at Nick.

  “Then nothing, thanks. I, uh, just came by to see how Nick’s feeling.” As if the Circle H was around the corner from her house when Sawyer hadn’t been to town in days. He was still trying to make himself useful at the ranch.

  She arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” He lowered his voice. “I may not want to treat him—didn’t want to before—but how are the headaches?”

  Finally, Nick piped up. “Gone,” he said, moving a plastic piece from one side of the table to the other. Sawyer had no idea what he was building, but he’d clamped his mouth tight in concentration.

  “Completely?”

  Nick nodded, then stopped for a minute as if his head were spinning. “I’m fine to ride Hero now.”

  “Nicholas Hunter,” Olivia said in the chiding tone that Sawyer imagined every mother used. He vaguely remembered his own mom speaking like that when he was late for dinner or had taken another swipe at Logan just because he could.

  “I am, Mom.” Nick smiled. “If I finish my Minecraft Lego, that will prove it.”

  “He has a point,” Sawyer said.

  “Too bad his mother doesn’t agree.” Holding the flowers, Olivia sat on the sofa opposite the chair he’d chosen and ran a hand over her forehead as if she were the one with the headache.

  The room was small yet cozy in its oddly bland way. Or not so odd, if she really was planning to move and hadn’t wanted to put down roots. A small plaque on the wall read Family. “Nick, you haven’t thanked Uncle Sawyer,” Olivia said.

  “Thank you for the bear,” he muttered, still not looking up.

  “You’re welcome. I thought you could use his superpowers to get well.”

  Nick grinned. “See, Mom?”

  She sent Sawyer a look. “I was hoping you’d be a good influence.” But her tone said otherwise.

  “I doubt you hoped that.” He rose from his seat. “Nick, would you show me the bear? After all, this is a home visit. I’d like to make sure he’s being cared for.” The boy’s head snapped up before he froze and simply sat there. Sawyer imagined he was having a bout of vertigo from moving too fast.

  To his surprise, Olivia hastened to help. “Nick has a whole collection of stuffed animals that will absolutely knock you out. There must be a hundred.”

  “Most of them are in the closet,” Nick said, then shot a sour look at Sawyer. “I’m getting too old for stuffies.”

  “Well, before you send them off to the toy orphanage, maybe I can give them all a quick exam. See how they’re doing.”

  Olivia mouthed a quick thank-you, as if she could trust him when the last time he’d seen her, Sawyer had told her about Kedar. About Khalil. “While you and Nick do that, I’ll find a vase...make some lemonade. Put out a few cookies.”

  The simple offer stunned Sawyer. He knew she hadn’t forgiven him for Jasmine’s death, for virtually ignoring Nick at the hospital. Now she was entrusting him with her son, not that Sawyer meant to conduct a full examination of the boy. Probably she knew that, too.

  With a heavy sigh, Nick pushed a pile of Lego pieces aside. He led the way down the hall to his be
droom and Sawyer didn’t know where to step.

  Like the rest of the house, the room was tiny, but unlike the other rooms it was full of clutter. The bedspread flung on the floor. Several Lego models strewn about. A pile of clothes. At least the room had more color. The rich blue walls made a perfect backdrop for the Star Wars decals and matching Millennium Falcon–patterned comforter.

  Nick opened his closet, rooted around inside, then popped out holding at least ten stuffed animals. A battered Curious George, several bears other than the one Sawyer had given him, a white lamb with its stuffing coming out and a yellow character Sawyer didn’t recognize. He took a seat on the bed. “Who’s this?”

  “Wubbzy. I had him for a long time.”

  “Pretty good friend, is he?”

  “They’re all good friends,” Nick said, as if that should be obvious. He frowned. “Are you going to give them shots?”

  Sawyer smiled. “No, I’ll just take a look.”

  Really, he meant to study Nick from a short distance as he had in the barn and the house at the Circle H. While Sawyer poked and prodded the various stuffed figures, he also checked Nick’s pupils, making sure they remained equal and reactive. Doc was still away and Sawyer owed Nick as well as Olivia. He teased him, as he had often teased children who came into the clinic in Kedar looking fearful—including Khalil, who’d had every right to be scared, as it turned out.

  Finally, he said, “Tell me about the headaches.”

  “I did.”

  “No, you told your mother and me what you wanted us to hear. How are you really, Nick? This is just between us...men. Does your head still hurt sometimes?”

  Nick’s mouth turned down into a pout. “Not much,” he said. “But when it does, it...hurts a lot.” He glanced at Sawyer, showing that same fear as the kids at the clinic. “I’m okay now. I want to ride Hero.”