Cassidy checked for traffic—and signs of wildlife—before pulling back onto the road. Savannah was long gone, having made a U-turn and driven off in the opposite direction. Meanwhile, Cassidy continued toward home, driving a sedate five miles per hour under the limit until she came to the fork in the road where she slowed down even further.
To the right lay Silver Creek Ranch, where Maddie still lived on the Turners’ homestead property.
The road to the left led to Coffee Creek Ranch, which had been in the Lambert family just as long as the Turners had owned theirs. Cassidy’s father had passed away years ago, and ever since then her mother, Olive, had been running the ranch—with the help of her youngest sons and Jackson. Her mother had a good head for business, and despite some ups and downs in the cattle business, she’d done very well.
One of her strategies to combat the uncertain economic times had been to diversify into breeding American quarter horses. Now the horse breeding side of their business was bringing in as much revenue as the cattle. And even more profit, according to Jackson, who was in charge of the books.
Now that she had her business degree, Cassidy suspected her mother was going to pressure her to take over the administrative side of the ranch from Jackson. She’d made it clear that she hoped Cassidy would move back home after graduation and join in the family ranching business.
But that wasn’t going to happen. Cassidy loved her mother, but it was the sort of love that did best when there were at least a hundred miles between them. And much as she loved the ranch, she thought a business career could be exciting, too. She could hardly wait to get started.
Cassidy’s tires rumbled as she drove over the cattle guard that was meant to keep Coffee Creek cattle from roaming beyond their property line. A hundred yards farther down the road, she came to the small wooden bridge that crossed over one of several unnamed creeks that ran through their property.
She drove up the final hill, then paused, looking down on the homestead that had been in her father’s side of the family since the mid-eighteen-hundreds. It was hard not to feel a sense of pride. From here she could see the white barns with their green roofs, stacks of rolled hay, sorting pens and chutes, and the neatly fenced paddocks and larger pastures. All the outbuildings had been constructed in the hollow of a wide valley, high enough that there would be no danger of flooding in the spring, but protected from the worst of the winds that came off the mountains.
The main house sat above the other buildings, backing onto a grove of pines and with a view out to Square Butte—a flat-topped mountain that dominated the skyline to the north.
Through a stand of ponderosa pines to her left, Cassidy could see glimmers of Cold Coffee Lake around which their father had built homes for all three of his sons.
Driving past the graveled turnoff to the lake and the cabins, Cassidy crossed through the main gate, with the wrought iron detailing of the double Cs that were the family brand. Her tires rumbled yet again on another cattle guard. And then she was home.
Four other vehicles were already parked in the yard. Her mother’s white SUV, Jackson’s black one, Corb’s Jeep and, of course, Farley’s charcoal-and-silver truck, with the Farley & Sons logo on the side.
Cassidy slid in next to her mother’s SUV, where she wouldn’t block any of the other vehicles. She cut off the ignition and waited to see if her arrival had been watched for.
Given the trouble Farley had described, she hadn’t been expecting a welcoming committee. Probably everyone was down at the barn with the sick horse. But there was one faithful soul waiting to greet her.
Sky, still trim and healthy-looking despite the gray flecks in her black coat, must have been sleeping on the front porch. She was sitting now, head cocked, waiting for the cue.
She’d been trained not to go near any vehicle if there were people inside. But the moment Cassidy stepped out, she came running as fast as her old hip joints would let her.
“Hey there, Sky! Oh, it’s so good to see you.” Cassidy crouched by her dog, wrapping her arms around her and burrowing her face in Sky’s sun-warmed coat.
Sky wriggled and grunted, panted and smiled, demonstrating in every way possible her extreme happiness at having Cassidy home again.
“Has Corb been taking good care of you? You sure look pretty.” Cassidy gave her dog a lot of pats and scratches, then sat up on her haunches to look around. The place was almost eerily quiet. Not even the housekeeper, placid, middle-aged Bonny, was here. Must be one of her days off.
They’d had many housekeepers over the years. Olive had exacting standards and most didn’t last more than six months or so. But Bonny was made of stern stuff and had been here almost four years now. Cassidy was glad. Besides having loads of common sense—that helped her deal with Olive—she was also an excellent cook.
Cassidy patted Sky again, wondering why her dog wasn’t up at Corb and Laurel’s cabin. When Cassidy had left for college five years ago, she’d been living in residence and unable to bring her dog with her. Poor, lonely Sky had turned to Brock for companionship, then after his death, to Corb.
Now she lived almost full-time with Corb, Laurel and Stephanie...and yet somehow she’d known to wait at the main house today. Possibly Sky had heard Cassidy’s name spoken more often than usual and had guessed she was coming home?
Cassidy didn’t put it past her. Sky was a remarkable dog. When she was younger, she’d been as useful as an extra hand at moving and herding cattle. Now she was too old to work, but she was as smart as ever.
Finally, Cassidy stood, brushing the fine gravel from her knees. She could go into the house and wait for the rest of them to join her. But she’d seen Farley at the café and the world hadn’t fallen apart. Besides, she was anxious to find out if Lucy was going to be okay.
She gave the signal for Sky to follow. “Come on, girl. Let’s head down to the barn and find out what’s going on.”
* * *
WHEN HER MOTHER decided to go into the quarter horse breeding business, they’d built a new equine barn equipped to accommodate twenty to twenty-five broodmares with a separate wing for the stallions. The family’s riding horses were pastured and boarded in a smaller, less high-tech barn, closer to the house. This barn—they called it the home barn—had also been updated at that time, including the addition of a new tack room and office, both of which Jackson had designed.
It was to the home barn that Cassidy headed now, Sky heeling obediently on her left. She was glad she didn’t need to waste any time changing. Even when going to school in the city, she’d continued to dress the way she always had: in jeans and cowboy boots. She’d grown up in Western wear, and that was how she felt most comfortable.
In fact, her main concern about going to work for an accounting firm in the city was adjusting to the suits and high-heeled pumps she knew she’d be expected to wear. She’d bought such an outfit for job interviews and so far every time she’d worn it, she’d ended up with blisters on her heels.
Voices became audible as she drew nearer to the barn. The main door was open and her mother, Corb and Jackson were watching while Farley examined the golden palomino in the first stall. Cassidy stopped in the doorway, as yet unnoticed, waiting to see what would happen.
Her mother looked trim in jeans and a pressed gingham shirt. No doubt hard work and a healthy diet had helped preserve her petite figure, but her silver-blond hair, styled in an attractive bob, was the result of regular monthly trips to the salon.
She had her hands on her slender hips as she watched over Lucky Lucy’s examination, offering Farley pointers as he worked, which were no doubt exasperating to the experienced vet.
“Be careful,” Olive said. “You don’t want to hurt her.”
No response from Farley.
“See how she’s holding her head?” Olive continued. “Low and extended? That’s not usual for her.”
Farley, who would not have needed to have this pointed out, replied calmly, “She’s probably doing t
hat to relieve the pain in her throat and lymph nodes.”
Of the four of them, he was the only one Cassidy couldn’t see clearly because he was in the stall with the horse. Just the sound of his voice, however, made her feel nervous and excited, the same odd cocktail of emotions she’d experienced earlier in the café.
“You seen any other cases of strangles lately?” Corb asked. Her brother’s shoulders were hunched with worry, as were Jackson’s. Both men had their backs to her, until Sky came up between them.
“Hey there, girl.” Corb bent to pat the border collie’s head. “What are you doing out here? You’re supposed to be on the porch, enjoying your retirement.”
With that, blond, green-eyed Corb looked back toward the house, and a smile slowly broke through his serious expression.
“Look who’s home. How’re you doing, Cass?”
Of all her family, Corb was Cassidy’s favorite. He was easygoing, like their father had been, with a warm smile and eyes that sparkled with good humor. With his blond hair and green eyes, he was also the brother that looked most like her. If they’d been closer in age, people probably would have taken them for twins.
He gave her a one-armed hug, pulling her up between him and Jackson.
Her foster brother had dark, brooding good looks, and a natural reserve that made him difficult to really know. But the smile he gave her now was kind and friendly. “Hey, Cassidy, good to see you.”
“You, too, Jackson.” She felt her throat tighten. “Hi, Mom.”
“Sweetheart.” Olive swooped in and gave Cassidy a hug and a kiss. “How were your exams?” Then, Olive continued without waiting for an answer, “I was saddling Lucky Lucy for a ride this morning when I spotted some nasal discharge. I don’t blame Jackson for not noticing sooner, even though the horses are now his responsibility.”
“Jackson has a lot on his hands these days besides overseeing the care of the home horses,” Corb said mildly, countering his mother’s implied criticism. “Spring is the busiest time of year for all of us and he’s had four new foals birthed this week alone. Plus he’s busy with the mare breeding program for the quarter horses.”
Cassidy admired the way Corb managed to stand up to their mother without getting upset. All her brothers—except maybe B.J.—were better at that skill than she was.
Every time she came home, she did so with the resolve that this time would be different. She wouldn’t let her mother get to her. She wouldn’t lose her cool. But neither would she let her mother derail her. She had her own plans for her own life. And that was that.
“My exams went well, Mom, but I’m sorry about Lucky Lucy. Is it strangles for sure?” She moved in closer and Farley, who’d been collecting a sample of mucus, now sealed the cotton swab into a vial.
Then he straightened. For the second time that day he took her measure.
“I’m pretty sure. She’s got some swelling around the jaw area, as well as a fever and clear nasal discharge.”
Cassidy shifted her gaze from the vet to the horse. Lucy was gorgeous, and as recently as her last visit home for Stephanie’s baby shower, had been very healthy. She patted Lucy’s flank, then moved in closer.
“Remember me, sweet thing?” she murmured. “We had a great ride together last February. ’Course there was some snow we had to contend with back then.”
As if in answer, Lucy coughed, and more discharge gathered in her nasal cavity. Cassidy glanced at Farley, hoping for reassurance. “How bad is it? Is she suffering?”
“Feel here.” Farley took her hand and guided it to a swollen area on Lucy’s neck. “Her lymph nodes are pretty enlarged. I’m sure it’s causing her pain or she wouldn’t be distending her neck like this.”
“Oh, you poor thing.” Cassidy gentled her with soft strokes, trying to erase the feeling of Farley’s strong, capable hands over hers. Lucy nickered, voicing her appreciation of the extra attention.
“I’ll run a test just to be sure,” Farley said. “But for now we’d better assume that she does have strangles.”
“Crap.” Jackson sounded disgusted. “We’ll have to disinfect everything, won’t we?”
“Afraid so.” Farley kept a hand on Lucky Lucy as he walked around her, then out to the aisle. “Good thing you keep your riding horses separate from the breeders. Hopefully the quarter horses will be fine. But I’d recommend no sales or purchases until the strangles is under control.”
Olive made an impatient sound. “Is that really necessary? You said yourself, we have the two operations completely separate.”
“Just to be sure, I think it is. You’ll have to set up a quarantine area here in the barn. Watch the other horses carefully. Any of them show signs of the disease, then they’ll need to be separated, too.”
Jackson rubbed his unshaven chin. “This is going to mean a lot of extra work. Frankly me and my men are stretched to our limits right now...and Corb and his wranglers are, too.”
“Jackson’s right about that,” Corb was quick to agree. “Most of the calves have been born, but we’ve got branding and vaccinating...and soon we’ll need to be moving the herd to higher ground.”
Suddenly it seemed like everyone was looking at Cassidy. Heck and darn. “You know I’m only home for a couple of weeks, right?”
Olive frowned at that, but Corb wasn’t deterred.
“A couple of weeks could see us through the worst of this. If we’re lucky.” He turned to Farley. “What’s involved, exactly?”
Farley shook his head. “Strangles is incredibly contagious. It can be passed on through indirect contact with buckets, feed, grass, fences and especially water troughs.”
“I don’t see why our quarter horses should be under quarantine then,” Olive said sharply. “We feed, water and pasture them entirely separately from the riding horses.”
“The infection can also be transmitted by flies,” Jackson replied calmly. “Still, I have to wonder how Lucy caught this. I haven’t heard of any other cases in the area.”
“Have you brought any new horses onto the property lately?” Farley placed the vial for testing into his black case, then went to the sink at the corner of the barn and washed his hands.
Jackson shook his head no, then glanced at Olive. “Didn’t I see you load Lucy in the trailer last week?”
“That wasn’t Lucy,” Olive said shortly. “I did buy some secondhand tack at auction on the weekend.”
“That could be your culprit. I hate to say it, but your whole tack room should be disinfected. You’re going to need to stock up on chlorhexidine soap.”
“We have some,” Corb said, pointing to a gallon by the sink.
“You’re going to need more. But I have a few gallons in my truck I can give you for now.” He turned to Cassidy. “If you’re in charge of containing this infection, we should sit down somewhere and talk.” He looked as excited as if he’d just sentenced himself to an hour in a dentist’s chair.
Cassidy felt the same way herself. After a semester of studies, she’d hoped to spend most of her break on the back of a horse—not cooped up in a barn with a bucket and a rag.
“You two might as well talk in the office.” Olive waved to the door next to the tack room. “I’ll bring out some coffee and sandwiches. I know Corb and Jackson will be happy to get back to work.”
“Over the moon with excitement,” Corb teased. He gave Cassidy a tap on the shoulder. “We’ll catch up later, okay? Come by tonight and say hi to Laurel and Stephanie?”
“I did drop in at the café for a visit on my way through town, but I’ll still take you up on that offer.”
“Better disinfect your arms and hands, if you’ve had any contact with Lucy,” Farley warned as the two men and Olive left the barn. “And your boots.”
“I’ll set up a boot dip right now.” Cassidy found a plastic tub in the tack room and mixed up a disinfecting solution. She set the tub by the door so that anyone leaving the barn would be able to disinfect their boots on their way out.
And then it was just the two of them in a barn that was suddenly, uncomfortably silent.
For a second Cassidy considered trying to clear the air between them. But how could she possibly do that? What she’d done had been inexcusable, even if she’d only been twenty-one at the time.
Instead, she headed for the office, trusting Farley to follow, which he did, along with Sky.
The border collie settled at her feet when she sat in the oak chair behind the desk. Farley took the upholstered chair opposite, dwarfing the thing with his tall, muscular frame.
It took a lot of physical strength to be a large-animal vet, and no one could doubt that Farley had that. But it was more than his size that she found intimidating right now. When Farley looked you in the eyes, you could tell he wasn’t one to compromise.
Or make allowances.
Cassidy found paper and a pen for taking notes, then waited for her instructions. As the silence stretched on, she forced herself to meet the vet’s gaze.
“What can I do to help Lucy?”
“Hot compresses on her swollen glands. The abscesses will probably rupture on their own in about a week, but if they don’t, I’ll need to lance them.”
Cassidy made a note. Hot compresses. “Anything else?”
“It’s important that she keep eating and drinking to maintain her strength. You can try feeding her gruel—that might go down easier than her usual hay mixture. But the majority of your effort should go into keeping the infection contained.”
She nodded, well aware of the risks.
“As well as keeping Lucy quarantined from the other horses you’ll need to clean and disinfect her water buckets and feed containers daily. Bedding should be burned, walls and fences scrubbed down.” His gaze fell to her hands, which were smooth and pale after so many months of study. “You up for all of that?”
Her Cowboy Dilemma Page 3