He was already astride Chickweed by the time she recovered her senses enough to mount Lucy and follow his lead across the creek back onto Coffee Creek land.
They didn’t push their horses, but they didn’t dawdle, either. They made up time by cutting through to an access road and taking a more direct route back to the ranch.
Suddenly it was all business between them, which left Cassidy disconcerted, but also—face it—relieved. Kissing Farley would have been such a huge mistake. Thank goodness he’d been smart enough not to go there.
And now that they were back at the barn, she felt guilty for ever having left. Finnegan didn’t even twitch an ear when she went to say hello to him. She noticed he’d drunk some of his water but hadn’t touched his feed.
Though they’d taken Lucy and Chickweed a lot farther than they’d intended, both horses seemed better for the fresh air and exercise. Still, Farley wouldn’t let them out with the other horses until they’d been tested and found clear of infection.
“They should have absolutely no contact with Finnegan, or anything he touches. Unfortunately, not all horses who’ve had strangles develop an immunity to it.”
Cassidy groaned. So now she had to keep two areas separate within the barn. One for recovering horses and one for horses still battling the infection.
“I know it’s more work, but the cleaner you keep things, the sooner this will be all behind you.”
Cassidy settled Lucy and Chickweed in fresh stalls, then went to check on Finnegan again. Farley was just finishing up his examination.
She slipped into the other side of the stall and laid her face against Finnegan’s dear neck. “You need to eat, sweetie.” She looked over at Farley. “There has to be something more we can do.”
She was consumed with guilt for having taken off this afternoon, while poor Finnegan suffered all on his own.
“I’m sorry. At this point all we can do is try to keep him comfortable. Anti-inflammatory drugs and penicillin is what we’ve got. You can try hot compresses, but I don’t think they’ll be as effective with him as they were with the others.”
* * *
CASSIDY CARRIED FARLEY’S grim words in with her that evening as she joined her mother at the dinner table. “Lucy and Chickweed are almost completely recovered, but Finnegan isn’t getting any better. Farley says there’s not much more we can do for him.”
“Given Finnegan’s age, I’m not surprised.”
That struck Cassidy as a little harsh, but then her mother had never been sentimental about any of their animals—certainly not Sky, whom she’d tried to ban from the house, until Cassidy wore her out after years of sneaking her into her room to sleep every night.
No, her mother saved all her maternal instincts for her children, and Cassidy supposed she shouldn’t fault her for that.
“I’ve been thinking about Winnie and the baby,” Olive said, between bites of her salad. “I’ve decided to send Winnie a note. I won’t mention the baby. I’ll just say that I hope she is doing better and hope to see her back in Coffee Creek one day.”
Cassidy was surprised at her mother’s restraint. “That sounds like a smart plan.” She waited a beat then asked, “Any calls for me today?” She already checked for messages. There weren’t any.
“Not that I noticed. But I wasn’t around much. The meeting took most of my afternoon.”
Anxious to avoid that subject, Cassidy jumped into another topic. “Farley and I took Lucy and Chickweed out for a little exercise. They seemed good as new.”
“You and Farley? That’s nice.” Olive smiled at her approvingly. “He’s a good man. Did you know his land abuts ours for about a mile on our western boundary?”
“I had no idea. I didn’t even realize he owned much land.” She’d never been on Farley’s property, except when she’d taken Sky for her vaccines to the clinic which was next to the ranch house.
“Oh, yes. The Farleys were big-time ranchers back in the day. Over the years they’ve sold a lot of their land, but they still own about a thousand acres.” Her mother removed their salad plates and returned with bowls of southwestern-style chicken chili. “So where did you go for your ride?”
“Farther than we intended.” Cassidy reached for her spoon enthusiastically. “Did the housekeeper make this?”
“Bonny? Yes. She made cookies, too, if you have any room.”
Cassidy took a taste and made a note to thank Bonny the next time she saw her.
“You and Farley must have had fun,” her mother said. “You were gone for quite a long time.”
“The horses needed exercise.” She had a feeling her mother’s matchmaking instincts were on alert and didn’t want to feed that any more than she had to. “Before we knew it, we’d reached Silver Creek. Remember the old barn that almost burned down sixteen years ago? It’s still standing, though only barely.”
The light drained from her mother’s eyes, and her smile vanished, leaving traces of fine lines branching out from her puckered lips. “That place should be razed.”
Cassidy had never thought of her mother as old. She had far too much vitality for that. Yet, now she could see that the passing years were taking their toll. Her mother may not be old, but she was aging. And clearly she did not want to talk about the events of sixteen years ago.
“Eat your chili, Cassidy. It’s getting cold.”
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING a low front moved over central Montana and Cassidy woke up to a heavy, gray sky with the scent of rain on the wind.
Her mother had convinced her to sleep in the house for a change, but first thing, even before brushing her teeth, she pulled on her jeans and a flannel shirt, and went out to check the horses. Sky wanted to come with her, but she convinced her dog to stay inside where it was nice and dry.
It had rained some in the night. The gravel paths were slick and the trees and grasses glistened with fresh moisture. She studied the sky and figured it would likely be raining off-and-on all day.
Rather than head back for a rain slicker, she dashed to the barn where she found everyone in pretty much the same shape as she’d left them the day before.
Lucy and Chickweed chowed down their breakfasts and swished their tails impatiently as she cleaned their stalls.
“I know you want to be out with the others, but trust me. Today you should be happy to be inside.”
Finnegan was the same. No better, but hopefully no worse, either. She brushed him down gently, more to give her an excuse to spend time with him than anything else. She put on fresh hot compresses and changed out his water and his feed, hoping something fresh might entice his appetite.
But he just looked at her with listless eyes.
“Oh, sweetie, don’t give up. You have to fight this thing, okay?”
Finnegan shuffled his feet.
“That a boy,” she encouraged, holding a handful of warm mush to his mouth.
He took a taste, then changed his mind and averted his head, just like a toddler refusing a nasty spoonful of vegetables.
“Oh, Finnegan.” She didn’t know what to do. She really didn’t.
* * *
THE REST OF that week passed in much the same way. Lots of rain, lots of mud and an endless routine of disinfecting, nursing, hoping and praying.
Meanwhile, in the main house the painters came—and went.
The antique armoire was delivered and the old desk removed.
On Wednesday Olive went to town and returned with the finished duvet, cushion covers and a new set of drapes, which Cassidy helped her hang.
When they were done, Olive surveyed the room with satisfaction. “Good. That’s one job done.”
Cassidy didn’t dare say that she’d liked the room better the old way. Knowing that her mother was waiting for a reaction, she forced a smile. “It’s beautiful, Mom. Like a posh hotel room. Thanks.”
“My pleasure, Cassidy. I’m just glad you like it.” Her mom patted her hand, then left the room.
* * *
AFTER A WEEK of rain, the air was muggy and close in the barn, yet Cassidy went back to sleeping on the cot in order to be close to Finnegan. As her mother packed for an overnight trip to Billings to look at some stock, Olive rolled her eyes and declared that Cassidy’s devotion to Finnegan was overkill.
“You have to remember, he’s just a horse. When I asked you to take care of this outbreak, I never expected you to provide 24/7 service. You’ll wear yourself out at this rate.”
It wasn’t that Cassidy enjoyed sleeping on the cot.
If Finnegan had shown even the slightest degree of improvement, she would have been glad to spend a night in her newly jazzed-up bedroom.
But Finnegan still wasn’t eating. And he’d lost a significant amount of weight thanks to the strangles. Running her hand over the horse’s belly that evening, Cassidy could count his ribs.
“Oh, I wish you’d eat. Just a little.”
But Finnegan refused even water this evening. Another very bad sign.
Cassidy was sitting on the edge of her cot, wondering if she should call Farley, when she heard footsteps crunching on gravel, then the barn door rolling open.
In came Corb. He had a thermos and a paper bag in hand.
“Laurel noticed the light was on out here again. Seems like you’re spending a lot of nights in the barn these days, Cass.”
“I feel better when I’m close to him.”
“You better be careful you don’t make yourself sick.” He handed her the thermos and bag.
Cassidy checked them out. Hot coffee and a chicken sandwich. “Yum. Thank Laurel for me, okay?”
“Will do.” He started to leave, then hesitated. “You know it doesn’t help anything, you sleeping out here.”
“Maybe. But I couldn’t stand it if I woke up one morning and came out here to find—” She couldn’t say the rest without giving in to tears. Finnegan had been a good, loyal horse and there was no way she was going to leave him to die alone. No way.
Not that she’d written him off, the way she could tell her mother—and even Corb—had done.
They didn’t understand what a proud spirit her horse had. He could beat this. He would beat this.
Corb sighed and shook his head. “How about I stay here tonight and you sleep in the house?”
“Thanks, but no. This is my job and Finnegan is my horse. Besides, you have a wife and a baby who need you.”
He chuckled drily. “Now that you mention it, I might get more rest out here than I do in there.”
“Maybe so. But I need to be here.”
“Stubborn girl.” He laid a hand on the top of her head, a rare gesture of affection. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
“Good night, Corb. Thanks again for the food.” The sandwich was delicious and there was a note at the bottom of the bag explaining that the coffee was decaf so she shouldn’t be nervous to drink it all.
Cassidy had to admit that the hot, flavorful coffee went down nicely with her sandwich.
She was just pouring herself a second cupful when she noticed two things. A slight breeze cooling her neck. And Sky was no longer lounging by her cot.
She jumped to her feet, right away noticing that Corb had left the barn door ajar. Had Sky slipped out?
And then Cassidy heard an awful growl, then barking and a cry of pain.
* * *
CASSIDY GRABBED A pitchfork and ran out the open door, triggering the motion detector lights as she raced into the yard, then around to the pasture, following the terrible sounds of canine growling and yelping.
She was out of range of the floodlights now, tripping over the uneven ground as she ran. The full moon was low, casting an eerie orange glow over the field. A flash of movement caught her eye, and then she saw them, the coyote circling Sky, about to make a second attack. Sky, obviously wounded, was a sitting duck.
“Get out of here, you awful thing!” Cassidy charged with the pitchfork and only then did the coyote start to slink away. But not after at least one yearning look at the prey he’d almost felled.
“Oh, Sky! Are you all right?”
Sky’s soft whimper was truly pathetic. Cassidy dropped the pitchfork and tenderly caressed her dog. As she touched the fur around her neck, she felt a slick of something warm and wet.
The smell of blood on her hand was unmistakable.
“Oh, Sky, how badly did he hurt you?” She gathered the dog in her arms. Cassidy could haul a thirty-pound bag of feed without too much trouble. She could damn well carry her dog, too, if she had to.
But where should she go? What should she do?
Cassidy moved as fast as her shaking legs would carry her. Her mother was in Billings—should she call Corb?
No. The answer came to her in a flash of certainty.
She had to take Sky to Farley. He was only a fifteen-minute drive away.
The walk to her truck seemed to take forever. Trying not to cry, she murmured comforting words to her dog. “It’s okay. Farley will fix you.”
But what if Farley couldn’t? It would be more than she could stand to lose her dog in this awful way. That damn coyote. And her, too, for not noticing Corb hadn’t closed the door all the way.
Cassidy settled Sky in the foot well of the passenger side, then grabbed the blanket she kept in her truck for emergencies and wrapped it around her dog.
As she reached for the keys she’d left dangling in the ignition—a lazy habit of hers when she was out on the ranch—she realized her fingers were slick with blood. She wiped them clean on her jeans, then started driving.
She went as fast as she dared, all too aware of the potential hazard of wildlife crossing the road. She could do nothing to stop her tears, but she opened her window so the wind and cool air would clear her head.
A phone call warning Farley of her arrival would be a good idea.
But she didn’t dare reach for the mobile phone in her pocket.
She supposed this wouldn’t be the first time the vet had been woken from his sleep by a distraught rancher.
* * *
FARLEY WASN’T HAVING a good night. He’d finally found the time to go out for dinner with Amber this evening. When he’d dropped her home, he’d told her that he appreciated how patient she’d been with him, but he didn’t think their relationship was going to work out.
“That’s okay,” she’d said.
She hadn’t pressed him for details, not that he would have given any if she had.
How could he tell Amber that it was another woman who put him in a fever whenever he was around her? Cassidy Lambert. If it wasn’t for that damn case of strangles she might have come and gone from Coffee Creek without him even knowing about it.
That would have been better.
Maybe then his relationship with Amber would have stood a chance...
But now Cassidy was in his head again. In his thoughts during the day and his dreams at night.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Wanting her. Cursing himself for not kissing her when he’d had the chance. So what if he couldn’t have her forever? Right now one night seemed like it would be enough.
Really? Just one night? Is that the kind of man you are now?
His sheets were tangled from all his tossing and turning, and a fine sweat had broken out over his skin. When the sound of a vehicle pulling into his yard carried through his open window, at first he thought he had to be hearing things.
But there was no mistaking the heavy knocking at his door.
And then a voice, crying out for help.
“Farley. Please, Farley! You have to help.”
Good God, it was Cassidy. What had happened?
He was out of bed and into his jeans and T-shirt in less than five seconds. Down the hall and to the door in five seconds more. He twisted the lock and pulled on the handle. And in stumbled Cassidy, with Sky in her arms and blood everywhere.
She’d been crying and her hair was windblown and wild.
�
�What happened?”
“Sky was attacked by a coyote. Right outside the home barn. Oh, Farley, she’s lost a lot of blood.”
He’d already slipped on his boots. Now he gently eased Sky out of her arms. “Follow me. We’ll go to the clinic and get a proper look at her.”
The motion-detector lights flicked on as they hurried along the stone path that led to his office. He always locked up at night, protecting the expensive equipment and drugs that might be the target of thieves. But the keys were still in his jeans and he shifted Sky’s weight to his left arm so he could pull them out.
He shouldered the door open, then flipped the light switch. In the sudden bright halogen glare he could see that Cassidy was drawn and pale. She blinked at the onslaught of so much light, then she shuddered. “The blood. It’s everywhere...”
She was sounding like Lady Macbeth now, and he was worried.
But then she’d told him, hadn’t she? I’m terrible with blood...
“Sit down, Cass. Now. Before you faint.” He placed Sky gently on the aluminum examining table that Liz would have disinfected before she went home this evening. Sky, poor thing, was shaking. Though she didn’t fight Farley, it was Cassidy she kept her gaze trained on.
And Cassidy, who had done as he’d asked and collapsed into the chair by the table, reached out a hand to her dog. “It’s okay, Sky. You’re going to be okay.”
Though her voice was reassuring, there was fear in her eyes when she looked at Farley. Now that she’d accomplished her mission and delivered her dog to help, Cassidy’s tears started again. He could see them welling up, then overflowing to her cheekbones, where they hovered for several seconds before spilling down to her jaw. He wanted—badly—to comfort her.
But first he had to see if he could save her dog.
He found the source of the bleeding, parted the border collie’s long hair and examined the gaping wound.
As was to be expected, the coyote had gone for Sky’s neck, and had managed to make a good-sized gash.
But it wasn’t too deep, thankfully. “We’ll clean this up, then a few stitches will patch this nicely.”
“So she’s going to live?”
“The injury isn’t life-threatening,” he was happy to reassure her. He gave Sky a quick once-over but found no other obvious signs of trauma. “We’ll booster her rabies vaccine just to be sure, but it seems she came out of that fight okay. Strange that the coyote went after a dog this size.”
Her Cowboy Dilemma Page 10