Winter at Mustang Ridge

by Jesse Hayworth

  Then he disappeared into one of the exam rooms, leaving her alone in the waiting area, surrounded by empty chairs, well-thumbed animal magazines, and posters that alternated between ADOPT A PET NOW and info on the life cycles of fleas.

  Gravitating to the fleas, she stuck her hands in her pockets and read up on third-stage larvae. Except when she was done with the short paragraph, she couldn’t have repeated any of it—her mind was stuck on the varoom of the truck and the way things had gone to hell in a split second.

  If she had just held on to the dog, they’d be sitting next to the woodstove right now. Or maybe tucking into Gran’s chicken and biscuits.

  “Hang in there, buddy,” she said softly. “There’s a dog bed back home with your name on it.”

  Part of her wished she had followed the vet into the back room, but even if the dog regained consciousness, it wasn’t like her being there would help. Besides, she needed a minute to regroup. She’d driven up here expecting old Doc Lopes, and instead gotten a guy who looked like he’d be right at home in a mosquito-netted tent, with a very different world outside.

  The disconnect was the same as seeing her dad back at Mustang Ridge, like the scenery and the people didn’t go together.

  Flea eggs take two to fourteen days to hatch. Hatching occurs only when the environmental conditions are exactly right for their survival.

  “No problem there.” Jenny sighed. “These conditions aren’t right for anything. Except maybe making daiquiris.” Not that she would want a frozen drink right now. She was only just beginning to thaw out in the clinic’s warmth, enough that her feet ached and her fingers were going pins and needles.

  When conditions are warm and humid, the flea egg will hatch and the larva emerges.

  “They’d like Belize,” she mused.

  “Never been there.”

  “Oh!” She spun, flushing inside her layers when she found the vet standing behind her, looking amused.

  “I talk to the cat all the time. Never tried the artwork before.” Taking pity on her, he continued. “I’ve had a look at the dog, and wanted to talk to you before we go any further.”

  The flush cooled. “Is it bad?”

  “He’s in pretty decent shape, all things considered. It doesn’t look like the truck wheel rolled over him, which is good, but I won’t know how good until I take some X rays and run a few tests. Beyond that, he’s got a healing wire cut on a front paw and he’s skinny as heck. I’d say it’s been a while since he saw any love, though he’s friendly enough that he must’ve at some point.”

  Jenny’s chest tightened. “Poor old guy.”

  “He’s actually not that old. I’d say three or four years, which is going to be in his favor for recovery.”

  “Good.” Relief came out of her in a whooshing breath. “That’s good. Do what you can for him. I’ll cover the bill and give him a home.” Granted, she was making a promise that Krista and the others would be keeping when she left, but any of them would’ve said the same thing.

  The vet hesitated. “It could get expensive if the damage is worse than it looks.”

  “I’m good for it. X rays, tests, surgery, whatever he needs.”

  “Is there someone you should check with first?”

  “Are you trying to talk me out of it?” Or fishing for whether I’m taken? He wasn’t wearing a ring, but she didn’t think that was where it was coming from. Either way, the conversation felt out of sync, like she was missing something.

  “I’m just making sure you know what you’re getting into.”

  That was when she realized what was so strange. He wasn’t treating her like she was an extension of Mustang Ridge, wasn’t assuming that she knew the drill.

  Wow. Weird. And kind of nice, actually.

  “I can handle the dog and the bill. Run a tab, Doc, and let’s get this party started.”

  A crooked smile crossed his face, making her think of Indy again. And the fact that there hadn’t been any really good adventurer movies out recently.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He turned away and headed for the reception desk. “I’m going to need you to fill out some paperwork. You can leave it on the desk, along with a number where I can reach you with an update.”

  “Can I wait here until the X rays are done?” She didn’t know where the impulse came from, but it felt right.

  “It’ll take some time. An hour, maybe longer.”

  A glance out the window warned that the snow was still falling, but the Jeep had four-wheel drive and there was no rush getting back. “Like you said, it’s been a while since anybody cared about him. I’d like to wait.”

  He handed over a clipboard with a pen stuck at the top. “Make yourself comfortable. There are magazines in the basket over there, and a restroom on the left.” With a half wave that wasn’t quite a salute, he disappeared into the exam room.

  Not letting herself glance back over at the fleas—had he really caught her talking to a poster?—Jenny dropped into a chair and fumbled for the pen. It wasn’t until her gloves got in the way that she realized she was boiling, and not just from embarrassment.

  How had she not noticed that she was overheating inside her Stay-Puft Marshmallow of a coat and six-mile scarf? Because for the past couple of days you’ve spent way more time shivering than sweating, she thought, and shucked off her vest, hat, and hoodie, piling them off to the side. Which left her sitting there in jeans and a clingy turquoise thermal that had come out of the high school section of her closet.

  She dragged her fingers through her hair, like that was going to fix anything. She had asked the film crew’s hair stylist for an Audrey Hepburn do, and with a little work she could come close to that mark. Add in some hat head, though, and she was more hedgehog than Hepburn.

  And she was primping. Which was ridiculous.

  Okay, so Nick Masterson was seriously yummy and he seemed like a nice guy, but she was here to work, not play. And he was a local.

  Focusing on the clipboard, she skipped all the fill in the blanks and wrote Bill to Mustang Ridge across the bottom, along with her name. For phone numbers, she left both her cell and the landline in Krista’s office, knowing there were no guarantees when it came to cell service up on the ridge.

  She returned the paperwork to the reception desk, grabbed a magazine at random, and sat back down. After using her phone to shoot off a text to Krista—Dog got hit, at vet’s now—she flipped open the magazine. She was halfway through an article on knitting sweaters out of pet hair when something warm and soft bumped against her shins.

  Looking down, she discovered a sturdy orange tabby winding between her legs. “Hey, cat. What’s up? You volunteering for sweater duty?”

  He hopped up on the bench beside her, gave her wadded-up parka a sniff, and then climbed up on her lap to sit square on the magazine, purring a cheerful chainsaw buzz.

  She scratched behind an ear, and he tipped his head and leaned into her fingers. Settling back and pushing the mag aside, she made a more comfortable lap for the big cat, who lurched up in an affectionate head butt.

  Leaning back to avoid a mouthful of fur, she said, “Well, it’s nice to meet you, too.”

  “See? I told you the cat was a good conversationalist.”

  Jolting, she looked up, surprised to find the vet not just in the room, but practically standing over her. “Oh!” she said as their eyes met. “I didn’t know you were there. How do the X rays look?” Please say they’re okay.

  He didn’t answer at first, just stood there, staring at her like he’d caught an invisible hoof upside the head. Then, slowly, he said, “You must be Krista’s sister.”

  It took a second for her to reorient, another to quash the stupid tug of resentment at being pigeonholed. Then, scooting the cat off her lap, she stood and faced Doc Hottie. “That’s right. How is the dog?”

  • • •

  “Not bad, considering. He has a couple of cracked ribs, but no displaced fractures.” Nick’s answer was automatic.
Which was lucky, because the rest of his brain was jammed up with a whole lot of wow.

  She was a few inches shorter now that she wasn’t wearing the hat. Wasn’t wearing much, in fact, and it was an effort not to stare at the way her blue-green shirt clung to her. She was slender and delicately curved, yet her stance made her appear to take up more space than she actually did. Short, chocolate brown hair framed a delicate face with high cheekbones, vivid blue eyes, and a wide, luscious mouth.

  Twins, he thought, though the woman in front of him was far from a double of her sister. Where Krista rarely bothered with makeup, her twin’s lips were full and dark and her thick eyelashes made her eyes more intensely blue. And while he liked Krista plenty, and respected her as a client, an animal lover, and all-around nice person, she had never put a sizzle in the center of his body or made him stumble over his words.

  He cleared his throat. “You’re Jenny, right? The photographer?”

  “How’d you know that?” she countered with a bit of an edge to her voice. Worried or defensive? He wasn’t sure.

  “I was at the ranch the other day checking on one of the horses, and Krista told me you were filling in for her while she’s on the coast. Nice of you.”

  Seeming to relax a little, she lifted a shoulder. “I had some time off coming.”

  Krista had made it sound like it had been a bigger deal than that, and like she’d had to do some convincing to get her sister to come home and ranch-sit. He didn’t figure that bore repeating, though, so he said, “Sorry I didn’t recognize you under all those layers. I wouldn’t have given you the ‘this could get expensive’ lecture.”

  “Is it going to? Get expensive, I mean.”

  Okay, so she didn’t want to talk about the ranch. Or maybe she was wishing he would get to the point already. Reorienting, he forced his brain back on track. “I don’t think it’s going to be too bad, all things considered. I’d like to keep him for the next twenty-four hours. I’ll run some blood panels to make sure there’s nothing shutting down internally, and also make sure he’s heartworm negative. He’ll need his vaccinations, but I’d suggest letting him heal up a bit first. He’s already neutered, so we don’t need to have that conversation. And, well, he stinks.”

  Her lips twitched. “You volunteering for bath duty?”

  “Ruth likes a good grooming challenge, though be warned, she’s got a thing for polka-dot bows and perfumed shampoos.”

  “I bet Old Man Plunkett loves that.”

  He snorted at the thought of Ruth getting her hands on the crotchety old farmer’s livestock guardian dogs—a pair of Great Pyrs that tipped the scales near one seventy each and patrolled their flocks like militant yetis. “Okay, that cinches it. You’re definitely a local.”

  She made a face. “Recovering local, please.”

  “That’s right. Krista said you travel all over filming documentaries and TV shows.”

  “Mostly TV these days. It’s steady work and the location rocks.”

  “Belize?”

  “How did you . . .” Her frown cleared and she actually cracked a smile, which he considered progress. “Right. The fleas. Yes, I’ve been rain foresting it for the past few years. The next go-round starts taping in seven weeks, and I plan to be there.”

  “What’s the quarantine like?”

  “Why . . . Oh, I get it. No, when I head back our newest family member will stay at Mustang Ridge, aka Doggy Paradise.” Her expression softened. “Krista and I had a goldie when we were kids. I’m pretty sure I’m speaking for everyone back home when I say it’ll be nice having another one around.”

  And the universe had put the dog in the right place at the right time, Nick thought, grateful that he wouldn’t have to scramble to find a home for yet another stray. “Well, then, I guess there’s only one thing left for me to say.”

  “Which is?”

  “Congratulations on your new dog.”

  5

  By midmorning the next day, Jenny had gained a new level of respect for her sister’s ability to keep her cool.

  “Okay, then,” she said into the phone. “I’ll check on that and get back to you.”

  “Can’t you just fix it now and send me a new confirmation email?”

  “As I already explained, I need to run this change past our head of guest services.”

  “Don’t get snippy with me, young lady.”

  Don’t tempt me. Trying to find some amusement in being “young lady’d” by someone she suspected wasn’t much older than she was—or at least she sure didn’t act it—Jenny said, “That’s absolutely not my intention, ma’am.” Ha, I’ll see you a “young lady” and raise you a “ma’am” or two. “However, the week you wish to switch your reservation to is already at capacity.” She managed not to tack on, “as I already explained.” Stifling a sigh, she tried again. “If you could come the following week instead—”

  “No, no, that won’t do at all. This is for our anniversary.”

  Then maybe you should’ve gotten the date right three months ago when you made the reservation. If Krista had been sitting in the chair opposite her, they could’ve traded eye rolls. As it was, all Jenny could do was stare out the window while Missy Mackey explained for the third time about plane tickets and childcare, like that was Jenny’s problem.

  Then again, it kind of was, because she had Krista’s voice in her head, reminding her that the customer was always right and it was up to her to make nice. So when Missy finally ran down, she said, “I understand your situation, really I do. But I don’t have the authority to make the change. I’ll work on it and get back to you.”

  There was a chilly pause. “I’d like to speak with your superior.”

  It was tempting to transfer the woman to Big Skye, but that definitely didn’t count as making nice with the guests. “This is a family organization, ma’am, and I’m the ranking family member currently available. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for a call back.”

  “This simply won’t do. Your brochure promises satisfaction guaranteed.”

  “What can I do to satisfy you, ma’am? Would you like to cancel your reservation?” Okay, so that wasn’t exactly making nice, either, but what else could she do? She wasn’t about to overbook the cabins or try to move people around without talking to Krista first.

  “I . . . No. No, don’t do that.” Missy gave a put-upon sigh. “You’ll have an answer for me this afternoon?”

  “If not today, then tomorrow at the latest.” As I already said.

  It took Jenny another five minutes to get the woman off the phone, and the moment she had the handset back in its cradle, the darn thing started ringing again, like it had been doing pretty much all morning.

  She didn’t know how Krista did it. She really didn’t.

  Summoning a cheery tone that made her molars ache, she answered with, “Mustang Ridge. This is Jenny Skye. How can I help you?”

  “You’re not answering your cell phone.”

  Her stomach lurched as she placed the resonant male voice. A glance at her cell had her scowling. “Darn it, no bars. Sorry, Doc.”

  “Nick.”

  “Nick, then. Anyway . . .” She took a deep breath to beat back the sudden flutters. “How’s our patient doing?”

  “He’s good. Actually, I’d say he’s better than good, maybe all the way up to rock star status. He’s alert, hungry, heartworm negative, and friendly as all get out, especially once he figured out that Ruth and I come bearing biscuits.” He paused. “Now we just need to cross our fingers that he’s housebroken and doesn’t like to eat drywall.”

  Warmed by the good news and the sound of his voice, she tucked the phone tighter to her cheek and made a teasing pffft sound. “Drywall? Please. This is Mustang Ridge. We’re all about lumber and cowhide.”

  He chuckled. “What was I thinking? Anyway, I’d like to check him back over later this afternoon, and if everything looks good, you can pick him up this evening. Sound like a plan?”

 
; “Absolutely. Gran and my dad are eager to meet him.” Her grandfather, too, though Big Skye had grumbled about retrievers having no business on a working ranch, and why couldn’t she have found a cattle dog or a collie? “When can I spring our new family member?”

  “Let’s aim for six. That’ll give Ruth time to work her grooming magic, and me time to finish up his lab work and discharge instructions. I’ll call you if anything changes.”

  It wasn’t a date, shouldn’t have felt like one. But it gave her a buzz to say, “I’ll see you then, Doc. Oh, and you’d better use this number if you need to call. Apparently, Krista’s office is a cellular void.”

  “Ah, well, dead zones happen . . . usually at the most inconvenient time possible. You know, like when you break down twenty miles from civilization.”

  “With your provisions limited to half a granola bar and a can of Coke.”

  “In the middle of the desert at high noon.”

  “Wearing a cocktail dress and four-inch heels,” she finished, grinning.

  “Hey, have you been stalking my blog?”

  “Are there pictures?”

  “If there were, Ruth would probably have them front and center on the clinic’s Web site. And speaking of Ruth, I need to hit the road before she comes looking for me.”

  Jenny suffered a bump of disappointment, like she was a teenager and her mom had just come in and booted her off the phone in the middle of some juicy gossip. “Good luck with, well, whatever you’ve got on your to-do list.”

  “Four spay and neuters, three ailing heifers, two lameness rechecks—”

  “And a partridge in a pear tree,” she singsonged.

  “A healthy one, please. Birds hate me.”

  She laughed. “Bye, Doc.”