“Above the cast.”
She slowly felt her way down the colt’s hock. It felt warmer than it should have. Her fingers crept a little farther. She could barely slip them beneath the edge of the cast.
The day before and for the last week at least, she’d been able to slide nearly her entire palm beneath the cast. She skipped over the cast to the base of it. Found more swelling there, too.
Latitude’s head angled around, giving her a wounded look. He nickered warningly and lifted his foot, obviously trying to move away from her touch.
She stifled a worried curse. “We need to get Evan over here.”
“I’ll call him.” Jake helped her stand. Before he left the stall, he buttoned the top of her jacket at her neck so it wouldn’t fall off. His touch was grimly impersonal.
It still left her feeling shattered.
J.D. moved around to Latitude’s head, brushing her hands over him. “What’s going on, Lat,” she whispered.
His eyes just looked back at her, as liquid and soulful as ever. The colt blew out a soft breath and she sighed, pressing her forehead to his.
The boys had progressed through half the stalls before Evan arrived and J.D. had already taken Latitude’s temperature, confirming that it was elevated.
“Sorry it took so long,” Evan said as he strode into the barn. “Was over at Jefferson’s. He’s got a mare who’s colicky.” He set his large kit on the ground inside Latitude’s stall and turned to examine the colt. J.D. could tell just by the soberness of Evan’s face that he wasn’t pleased. “What’s his temp?”
She told him while her stomach tightened even more. “He hasn’t run a higher temp for nearly three weeks. He was fine until yesterday,” she said. “He was in the ring with Bonneville. Trotting some.”
“He stopped short when we kept him from getting out,” Jake added.
J.D. trembled. “It’s my fault. If I had kept my seat on Ziggy, we’d have noticed before now.” Instead, everyone’s attention had turned to her.
Jake looked impatient. “If you’re gonna blame someone, blame me. I bedded him down last night.”
Evan just “hmmed,” leaving whatever his opinion was out of it. He probed around the cast and again Latitude tried shifting away. Evan lifted his hoof. Listened to his heart. Examined every single inch of the colt. Made notes on his chart, and then flipped open the case he’d brought. He tossed Jake a protective apron and took another out for himself. J.D. rolled over the stand that Evan had been leaving there for convenience’s sake so he could attach the portable radiograph unit to it, then moved well away from the area while the two men took several painstaking X-rays.
J.D. hadn’t thought the day could be any more of a roller-coaster than it already had been, but she was wrong when Evan shared what he’d found. Two of the screws that had been used to stabilize the bone were bent and working their way out.
“It probably happened yesterday when he was being so active,” he said. “And the cast is going to have to come off to be certain, but I’m pretty sure he’s developing an abscess. That would account for the new infection.” Evan looked at them both. “We’ll have to get him over to my clinic. I can do what I can, but you probably should call in Dr. Windsor. I’ve done a lot of surgeries, but he’s a helluva lot more qualified for this than I am.”
Jake looked grim. “Trailer him up,” he told the vet. His gaze skipped over J.D.’s. “I’ll get hold of Windsor.”
J.D. watched him stride out of the barn. The screws could be replaced, she knew. And an abscess treated with antibiotics. She just prayed that they didn’t find anything worse.
J.D.’s parents showed up while she and Evan were settling Latitude in his horse trailer. Without needing details, they grasped the gravity of the situation. They gathered Susan and the boys and insisted they come over to their house where they would all be more comfortable while Jake and J.D. dealt with matters here.
Since Jake had arrived in Weaver with Latitude, J.D. had usually been able to push the possibility of the colt not recovering to the back of her mind. He’d been doing so well. Everything had looked so promising. They’d been so careful to guard against contamination, hoping to prevent just this thing.
Now, as she sat next to Jake in his truck as they drove the trailer to Evan’s veterinary clinic in Weaver, it seemed as if the days of promise had never been.
As empty as the road into Weaver had been the day before when Jake sped her to the hospital, now there seemed a stream of traffic and she realized absently that it was Thanksgiving Friday.
The busiest shopping day of the year, even in little old Weaver, Wyoming. It may have felt like her life was in some painful holding pattern, but the rest of the world was breezing right along.
They offloaded Latitude at the clinic and Evan moved him to a pristine stall. He started him on antibiotics, doing what he could for the colt until the surgeon arrived, which wasn’t until the next morning.
They didn’t get the surgery underway until afternoon. Fortunately, Evan’s clinic was well-equipped and he assisted Dr. Windsor while J.D. paced in the waiting room and Jake observed through a window.
It took hours, but was nowhere near as long as the wait had been for the colt’s first surgery in New York. Jake came to find her when it was over. “They drained the abscess. Changed out about half the screws and put on another cast.”
“And?” She could tell by his face that there was more.
His dark eyes were flat. “He’s developing acute laminitis in his right foot. Evan saw no evidence of it yesterday. It’s fast and it’s bad.”
Her knees gave way and she sank into a hard, plastic chair.
“Windsor gives him about a twenty-percent chance at this point,” he added evenly.
She tightened her jaw, keeping her teeth from chattering. A fifty-percent chance was a coin toss. Anything less was almost certain not to end well.
Since the moment Jake had found out J.D. was pregnant, it seemed as if everything was spiraling out of control.
“Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
She shook her head. “I’m not leaving Latitude.”
“He’s not even out of his anesthesia, yet.”
“I’m not abandoning him now, Jake. For God’s sake, I was there when he was foaled!”
He grimaced, but let the matter lie.
She stayed at the clinic for the rest of the day, even after Latitude was safely out of his anesthesia and Dr. Windsor left. The surgeon would be staying in town overnight to evaluate Latitude the following morning, but J.D. would have had to have been blind not to see that he considered the situation hopeless. Evan went out for a while, but would be back shortly. Latitude wouldn’t be left unattended for the next foreseeable hours.
His condition was too critical.
Her dad came by, delivering containers of Thanksgivingday leftovers for her and Jake that Maggie had sent. Her father sat down on the floor beside her where she was sitting next to Latitude’s stall, her food untouched next to her.
“You’ve gotta eat, J.D.,” he murmured quietly. “No matter what happens to Latitude—good or bad—you have a baby you’ve got to nourish.”
She pressed her forehead against the wall beside her. There was no need for a gate on the stall.
Latitude wasn’t going anywhere.
Right now, he was showing how smart he was by lying down in the deep sand that they’d spread in his stall to provide a more cushioned surface. Being off his feet for even a minimal amount of time was a good thing. His pain was being managed and his eyes followed every movement around him with some age-old acceptance that she couldn’t bring herself to share. “I was just patting myself on the back the other day that we’d dodged this bullet. Thinking how nearly ideal his recovery has been.”
“All you can do is the best you can do,” Daniel said. “And I’ve never seen you do less than your best. Not with any horse.”
“I keep thinking about Bonita.”
Daniel s
ighed. “You hated me for putting her down.”
“She couldn’t be saved. I know that. Letting her go was the kindest thing. But I loved her.”
He pressed his lips to her head. “I know.”
She plucked at a loose thread on her sling. “Maybe it would have been better for everyone if Jake hadn’t brought Latitude here.” She let out a breath. “The collisions that keep occurring might not have happened at all.”
“Some things are destined to collide no matter what. Looks to me like you and Jake are one of them. He followed you here, didn’t he?”
“Only because of Latitude.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Why can’t things be easy like it was with you and Mom?”
He laughed and Latitude’s ears perked. “Honey, you have no idea. Love doesn’t necessarily hit easily in this family. But for us smarter ones, we manage to work our way around to what matters regardless of how impossible it seems, and then to hang on to it with everything we’ve got.” He pushed himself to his feet and ruffled the top of her hair. “Now eat.”
There was no real reason for her to feel better once he left again. But she did. She slowly pulled the tray of food onto her lap and stuck her fork into a chunk of turkey.
She ate half of what was on the plate, then clumsily shifted to her knees, and made her way to her feet. She fancied she saw humor in Latitude’s eyes as he watched her ungainly movements and then he heaved a tired breath and closed his eyes.
She found Jake in Evan’s office. He was staring at the cell phone in his hand and judging by the amount of food left on his plate, his appetite was about on a par with hers.
“Miguel will be running Platinum at Santa Anita in January.”
J.D. winced a little. But that was the name of the game. Jake wanted winning horses. Miguel was going to deliver. “I’m sure he’ll do well.” Platinum was Jake’s best chance at fulfilling his Derby aspirations. “I guess you told him the latest about Lat.”
“Yeah.”
“He wanted you to cut your losses from the get-go.”
“Yeah.”
Something in his expression made her aching heart sink even further. “Have you already made up your mind, then? You’re not even going to wait to see if the laminitis can be resolved?”
“I’ll wait until Windsor’s evaluation tomorrow.”
She swallowed past the knot in her throat. “And no later. He shows improvement by then or else.”
“I have to draw a line somewhere, J.D.”
“But we’re managing his pain! If it gets to the point where we can’t, then—” She broke off, shaking her head. “Just because it’s not how you saw him turning out doesn’t mean he can’t have a good life. A blanket of roses matters to you, Jake. Not to him!”
“He’s a racehorse, J.D., that’s not gonna race again. Face it.”
“But racing isn’t all there has to be for his life.”
“You want him puttering around in the ring beside your barn, chasing butterflies with the likes of Bonneville?”
“There are worse things. Has he seemed unhappy to you since you brought him to Weaver?” She might as well have been asking if Jake had been unhappy in Weaver for the way she felt braced for his answer.
Jake’s lips pressed together.
She tucked her tongue between her teeth for a long moment. Curled her fist. “Even after everything that’s happened since you came to Weaver, you won’t let yourself look beyond what is to see what could be. You’d still rather sit here, clinging to your cynicism and the importance of your almighty dollar, than open yourself up to even the slightest possibility of something different!”
“It’s too late for that.”
“You’re wrong.” She looked at him, wishing with every fiber of her being that he’d show some crack, some hint that she wasn’t yearning for the impossible.
But the chances of that seemed even less than Latitude’s chances were.
“It’s never too late,” she finally said before walking out the door, “when it comes to someone you love.”
Chapter Sixteen
It wasn’t easy, but around midnight, Jake got J.D. to finally leave the clinic. Probably only because he’d found her sound asleep in the stall with Latitude, her blond waves mingling with the strands of the colt’s black mane.
She was silent as they drove back to her house.
Probably because she’d already talked herself out.
She was a smart woman. Maybe she finally recognized a lost cause even if she had been reckless enough to think she loved him.
Her admission haunted him.
She’d see soon enough that betting on him that way was as futile as betting on Latitude.
He went inside with her, flatly telling her that she was not going to check the horses when Ryan had already been and gone to take care of the chore for her.
She looked like she wanted to argue, but fatigue was framing her eyes and instead, she turned and trudged up the stairs. He followed, and she stiffly allowed him to help her out of the sling and the button-down blouse she wore and replace it with a worn, oversize and faded T-shirt.
It was a galaxy away from sexy lingerie and it still left him aching.
Rather, she left him aching. Mostly in the area of his heart.
With the sling back in place, she turned away from him. “I’ll manage the rest.” Her voice was remote.
Given what had happened the last time he’d helped her with her jeans, that was a good thing.
Maybe he didn’t trust his own willpower or maybe he couldn’t take sleeping beneath her roof and not sleeping with her, but he let himself out into the dark again and drove back into town.
It was late, but it was a Saturday night on a holiday weekend and the lights were on at several places as he drove down Main toward the motel. Even there, the parking lot was full.
Feeling wearier than he could ever recall feeling, he quietly unlocked the door to his room and went inside. He wanted a shower and a bed and oblivion from the turmoil that was inside his head. But when the dim light from the parking lot shined in on the plain room, both of the beds there were neatly made. And clearly unoccupied.
He frowned. The connecting door to Susan’s room was firmly closed. He went to push it open, figuring the boys must be in there instead, but the door didn’t budge.
Fine. Whatever. They were in the other room. Locked him out. She wanted privacy. Or she hadn’t forgiven him for wanting to send the boys home early. Who knew what the reasons were.
He headed into the shower but he couldn’t drown out J.D.’s words to him. He was glad for the steamed-over mirror because it meant he didn’t have to see his own reflection. He yanked back the thin, unfashionable bedspread and threw himself down on the mattress.
It’s never too late.
He punched the pillow into shape beneath his head and turned. But that only left him looking at the door to the connecting room.
The one that he’d expected to be open.
He finally sat up again, flipping on the ugly lamp affixed to the wall between the two beds. He picked up the phone and dialed the room number next door. Through the thin walls, he could hear it ringing. Yeah, it would wake them all up, but he was a selfish man, wasn’t he?
Only Susan didn’t pick up the ringing telephone. Nor did she answer when he knocked on the door. If ignoring him was her latest attempt to teach him a lesson, the only thing she was succeeding in doing was making his irritation mount. He yanked on his clothes and his coat and headed to the office, intending to get the attendant to fork over the key to Susan’s room even if he had to bribe the guy.
But it all went flying out the window when the kid, who had purple hair and a nose ring, informed Jake that the party in the next room had checked out.
He stiffened like a shot. “When? Where’d they go?”
“I dunno. The old lady turned in the key and drove off in a sweet SUV this afternoon. You’re still paying for the room, r
ight?” he added, as if the worrisome thought had just occurred.
Jake turned away and left the office, walking blindly.
She’d left. His suddenly independent aunt had taken his kids, and she’d left. She’d realized he was right—some things were too late—and done exactly what he’d wanted her to do.
So why the bloody hell did it feel so damn bad?
He wasn’t even aware of how far he walked. Or how cold it was until a door swung open beside him, disgorging a few revelers, along with a wave of warmth.
He glanced at the sign over the doorway and without thinking, turned into the bar.
Inside, it was crowded. Jukebox music rocked through the place. A few couples were dancing on a miniscule dance floor. More than a few were crowded around the half dozen pool tables that lined one end.
He stared at the gleaming wood bar. A pretty, blond bartender smiled at him, her green gaze frankly appreciative. She slipped a cocktail napkin on the bar in front of him. “What can I get you?”
What the hell? Might as well live up the old man’s legacy in all respects. “Glenfiddich.”
The interest in her eyes increased, though the smile she gave him was wry. “Sorry. A little too top-shelf for Colbys.” She looked over her shoulder at the shelving display backed by a smoky mirror that held a generous number of bottles. “Best I can do is Johnnie Walker Green.”
He yanked off his coat and took the bar stool in front of her.
Taking that as assent, she pulled down the bottle. “Rocks?”
Jacob Sr. had never bothered with ice. “Neat.”
She poured him a shot. Glanced at him and made it a double, then set it squarely in the center of the little cocktail napkin. She folded her arms and leaned against the bar, giving him a good look of her shapely assets if he’d been interested in looking.
He wasn’t.
The only green-eyed blonde he had in his head was J.D.
“Thanks.” He lifted the drink and tossed it back. Set it down again and waved his finger over it.
She tilted her head a little, but didn’t argue as she poured another. “Haven’t seen you in here before.”
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