by Arlene James
“Aw, he’s got lots of spares,” another cowboy joked. “I always figured that the number of combs a fellow owns is indicative of his level of vanity.”
“Well, it’s for sure you don’t have any,” the first man retorted, “because you’ve got nothing to be vain about.”
“All right, all right,” Ty said over the laughter. “We’ve got work to do. I’ve got zippered bags in my truck. One of you go get ’em.”
“The rest of you haze one of the sickest heads into the chute,” Jack said, climbing up onto the fence.
Kendra interrupted with a quiet comment. “You ought to wear gloves.”
Jack pulled his leather work gloves from the waistband of his jeans.
“Disposable gloves,” she corrected, “to prevent cross-contamination of the samples.”
“Sugar, this ain’t no hospital,” Jack quipped drily. “We don’t keep disposable gloves out on the range, you know.”
“Then a different person needs to gather samples from each of the cattle.”
“We don’t have enough men for that.” Ty nodded at the hundred or so head of cattle shifting about the pen.
“Anderson said we only need to pick out a few of the sickest ones, so long as it’s an odd number...” Jack said.
“I can take the first sample,” Kendra volunteered, coming forward to climb up onto the fence with him.
“Do you know how to do that?” Jack asked.
Blinking, she seemed to be running through steps in her mind. “I—I’m not sure I’ve ever actually done it, but I know how. I think.”
Jack shrugged. “Well, if you’re willing to get your hands dirty...”
She surprised him by smiling and saying, “I don’t mind.”
Jack shared a look with Ty, who seemed as impressed as Jack himself. Belle and, to a slightly lesser extent, Violet, were the only other two women of Jack’s acquaintance who would willingly do the dirty work on the ranch. Ty had remarked more than once that ownership of a ranch made the obvious difference, but did that mean Kendra owned or perhaps worked a ranch somewhere? If so, that would explain a lot. Jack smiled despite even himself.
Clearing his throat, Jack put on a serious face. “Let’s get to it.”
They climbed over the fence. Kendra stepped down to the ground an instant after he did. He noticed that she stayed right behind him as he cut a swath through the milling herd to the chute. She studied her options for a moment then picked a spot where she could easily reach through the pipes near the head of the cow. Reaching behind her, she gathered her long hair into a tail at the nape of her neck and literally tied it in a knot to hold it back out of her way. As soon as she bent forward, it slid free and fell about her face. One of the hands passed Jack a folded bandanna, which he shook out and offered to her.
Smiling her thanks, she quickly rolled the bandanna into a long strip and tied back her hair. The white square bandage on her forehead caught his eye, and Jack suddenly wondered if she ought to be out here like this. But she took her place again, and he knew it was too late to argue with her about it. Irked by his thoughtlessness, he held out his hand for the comb. It slapped into his palm, and he handed it off to Kendra. The boys prodded the yearling that they’d loaded into the narrow passageway of the chute. It moved forward, and she went to work.
“I need bags,” she called, crouching to comb the tops of the cow’s front legs. “Grubs migrate from the hair around the hooves, up the body,” she murmured to herself, depositing hair and tiny wormlike things into the bag before sealing it. “You’ll want to record the date, time, cattle ID and where on the body the sample was taken,” she said, handing the bag to Jack.
Ty went to get a marker out of his truck while she took another sample from the same cow’s upper chest then from around its mouth and head. Jack checked the cow’s ear tag and wrote the relevant information on each of three bags.
“That ought to do it,” she said, “but we’ve got to either sterilize this comb or get another.”
After some discussion, the men used first-aid kits from both Ty’s and Jack’s trucks to clean the comb after each of the first two cows. After the third, it went into a trash bag.
Kendra removed the bandanna from her hair, which fell sleek and golden about her shoulders again. She held up the folded scarf, asking, “Whose is this?”
A burly cowhand by the unlikely name of Johnson Parks shyly stepped forward. Kendra offered him a very personal smile and a soft, “Thank you.”
Parks turned three shades of red and stammered, “W-w-welcome.”
A little irritated by the cowboy’s obvious enchantment, Jack busied himself by putting the nine samples into the glove box of his truck. He ordered the men to keep the cattle confined until the lab results came back on the samples and a treatment could be administered, then gruffly told Kendra that it was time to go.
“Let’s get some hay out here,” Ty ordered.
“Just hay?” Kendra asked Jack as she climbed up into the truck cab. “Not grain, too?”
Jack shook his head. “We sell grass-fed beef. Use antibiotics only on diseased cows. Absolutely no hormones, and no unhealthy proteins.”
“I like that.” She beamed at him, and he felt the last of his irritation melt away. No wonder Parks acted like a fool around her.
He shut her door and walked around to slide behind the steering wheel. “I’ll take you back to the house now.”
“Oh,” she said, sounding a little disappointed. “Okay.”
“Or,” he ventured impulsively, “you could just ride over to the lab in Wichita Falls with me. I’ll buy you lunch.”
“You’ll have to,” she said with a wide smile. “I don’t have a nickel to my name. That I know of.”
“You may not know whether you have a bank account or not,” he said, starting up the truck, “but you do know a thing or two about animals.”
She ducked her head and said, “Thank you,” as if he’d complimented her. Maybe he had. Maybe he’d even meant to.
He shifted uncomfortably, muttering, “Buckle up.”
Nodding, she secured her seatbelt and then shyly watched him follow suit.
As the truck bounced along the trail to the county road, Kendra looked around her with interest, eventually commenting, “This is beautiful land.”
“I’ve always thought so,” Jack said.
“You have a good life here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed heartily. “Wouldn’t want any other.”
“I hope my life is something like this,” she said after a few minutes. “Do you think it might be?”
Jack could only speculate. “Well, you seem to know your way around a barn and a pasture. You had to come by that somehow.”
She nodded but didn’t seem particularly encouraged. “Looks like someone ought to have reported me missing by now, doesn’t it?”
He was surprised by that himself, but he said, “It’s early days yet. Don’t you have to wait at least forty-eight hours before you can report someone missing?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“I’ll have George check on that.”
She seemed to relax a little. “Thank you.”
After a while, he popped in a favorite CD, and the cab filled with country-western music. Kendra laughed at one song, an amusing ditty about a man missing his girlfriend after she gave him an ultimatum: choose her or fishing. At least the fish were biting, the artist sang.
“Haven’t you heard that song before?” he asked without thinking.
She thought a moment before shaking her head. “I don’t think so.”
“What’s your favorite song?”
She pondered again then bit her lip. “The only songs I can think of are kids’ Christmas songs.”
Jack decided to try an
other tack. “What’s your favorite color?”
Bracing her elbow on the armrest, she leaned her head against the heel of her hand and concentrated hard. “Orange. Because it’s so cheerful. But there’s something about deep blue velvet...” Straightening, she sighed. “The worst part is not being able to remember people,” she said in a shaky voice. “There has to be someone who misses me, someone I ought to be missing. Doesn’t there?”
“Yeah,” Jack agreed softly. “There does. There is.”
Gulping, she looked away, turning her gaze out the window.
* * *
They came up Highway 277 and reached the outskirts of Wichita Falls just about lunchtime after some ninety-plus minutes on the road. Kendra had been silent for much of the trip, and Jack searched for a way to engage her that would lift her mood. Finally, he asked, “What are you in the mood to eat?”
“Whatever,” she told him listlessly. “Suit yourself. But shouldn’t we drop off these samples first?”
“Might as well,” he said, realizing it would only take a few minutes. Doc Anderson had promised to call ahead and let the agricultural lab know they were coming.
Jack made the requisite turns and pulled up in front of the low, nondescript brick building. Reaching into the glove box for the samples, he told Kendra to “sit tight,” saying that he’d only be a few minutes. Nodding, she stayed where she was while he trotted inside and dropped off the bags. When he returned, sliding behind the steering wheel with his keys in hand, she stopped him before he could reach the ignition.
“When will the results be ready?”
“Uh, usually takes a day or two.”
“No, it doesn’t,” she said, opening the truck door.
Jack found himself following her into the building. “Are you sure about this?” he asked as she pushed inside.
“Yes,” she answered tersely, marching toward the nearest desk.
Jack grabbed her elbow and redirected her to the skinny young man who had taken his samples, which still lay on the corner of his desk.
Literally vibrating with purpose, Kendra managed a smile for the fellow before declaring, “We need those test results today.”
The man looked to Jack. “Our turnaround—” he began.
“All you have to do is identify the parasite,” Kendra said, cutting him off. “Nine samples, nine slides. I’m sure they’ll all be the same. Put them under the microscope and tell us what it is.”
He stared at her for a moment, his gaze gliding over the bandage on her forehead. She stuck her thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans and rocked back on her heels as if prepared to wait right there all day. Jack thought he’d never seen a more magnificent sight. Quiet but in control, soft-spoken but sure. The tech was made of sterner stuff than him if he could deny her.
“Okay,” the lab tech relented. “If they’re all the same, I can let you know later this afternoon. If there’s more than one...”
“Then we’ll wait for your full analysis,” she conceded gracefully.
The fellow nodded and began jotting instructions on the bags.
Sighing with satisfaction, Kendra spun on her heel and bumped into Jack, who had watched the entire exchange with growing respect and amazement. Taking her by the elbow again, he nodded at the lab tech and escorted Kendra out of the building.
“In all these years,” he said, “I’ve never gotten results from that lab in less than two days.”
“This just isn’t that difficult,” she told him, “and I’m sure you want to settle on a proper treatment as quickly as possible.”
He paused as she climbed up onto the passenger seat of the truck cab. Once she was settled, he stated, “I guess it wouldn’t do any good to ask how you know any of this.”
She released a deep sigh. “It just...comes to me. But that’s good, right? I mean, if enough stuff comes back to me, it’ll all come back. Won’t it?”
He had no idea, so he just smiled, closed the door and hurried around to reclaim the driver’s seat.
* * *
He chose barbecue for lunch, killing time by driving across the city of some 100,000 residents, almost all the way out to Sheppard Air Force Base. The restaurant had been given a facelift since he’d last been there, with rough siding, a hitching rail and a steep tin roof over a porch scattered with rocking chairs. The place was packed. As usual, the patrons were expected to stand in line to reach the counter and place an order, then pick a table and wait for a server to deliver the food. An open drink station had been added to the dining room.
Kendra ordered first, sliced beef and the sweet sauce, with a salad and pickled beets, of all things.
“Sounds good, doesn’t it?” she said before rushing off to go wash up.
Jack had never developed a taste for beets, so he just smiled and watched her go. The man in line behind him nudged him in the back. Stepping forward, Jack ordered sausage with the spiciest barbecue sauce in the house, corn on the cob and green beans. The fellow behind him chuckled and leaned close to comment.
“I’d eat beets, if I was you. I’d eat dirt if a little gal like that wanted me to.”
As a server handed over a tray with flatware, plastic tumblers and a plastic sign with a number on it, Jack inclined his head to get a look at the interloper. Broad-shouldered and just a bit soft around the middle, the thirty-something guy wore a gimme cap, a T-shirt two sizes too small and pants at least two sizes too large.
For some reason, Jack felt compelled to say, “She don’t mind a little dirt, that’s for sure. Why, she helped me work cattle this morning.”
His new friend smacked a palm over the rock-band logo on his shirt, declaring, “Be still my heart!” Then the man tapped his brow, asking, “That how she got the bandage on her forehead there?”
“Uh, no. Fender bender.”
“Huh. Women drivers. Gotta love ’em, though, right?”
Jack just lifted his brows, nodded his chin and walked over to a booth, standing there until the busboy finished cleaning it up.
Gotta love ’em. Sometimes when you don’t even want to, he mused.
Kendra returned from the ladies’ room just as he slid the tray onto the table.
“My turn,” he said, motioning toward the men’s room.
She caught up the dark red plastic tumblers. “I’ll get the drinks. What’ll you have?”
“Sweet tea. No lemon.”
She carried the tumblers over to the drink station.
As Jack strolled across the room, he noticed how the men followed her with their eyes. That gave him a funny feeling in his chest, part pride, part fear. Bandage or no bandage, the woman was a beauty.
But they don’t know what I know about her. Then he had to chuckle and shake his head. No one knew anything of any importance about her.
Except, somehow, he did.
He knew that she was a believer, that his lifestyle was not foreign to her, that she loved animals and possessed a fierce intelligence and a horde of knowledge beneath that soft blond exterior. He knew that she wasn’t afraid to work and displayed good sense. He knew that she was lost and afraid and needed a champion.
He also knew that he was the last man any sane, sensible girl ought to choose as her rescuer. Yet, if not him, then who? The cowhand, Parks? A beefy guy in a rock ’n’ roll T-shirt? Some man from her nebulous past? He didn’t much like any of those options, but he knew that it shouldn’t be him.
Chapter Six
They got the lab results within the hour. Kendra was right. Cattle grubs, otherwise known as warbles or cattle wolves, had infested the cattle. Jack gaped at Kendra after he got off the phone with the lab tech.
“You were right. You called it.”
She couldn’t quite believe it herself. Sitting back in the booth at the restaurant, sh
e laughed and shook her head. Then an idea occurred. Lurching forward to bend over the table, she asked, “Have you ever seen cards like I remember? They’re like flash cards, with color photos on one side and information on the other.” She closed her eyes, picturing the cards. “Um, common, Latin or scientific names, descriptions, seasonal data, treatment options and directions...”
Jack replied, “No, not really. Well... Sometimes at the ranch supply store, where they stock the chemical treatments, they have signs telling you what to use to treat which pest.”
She considered that, nodding. “Could be what I’m remembering.”
“I’ve never seen one on cattle grubs, though,” he added thoughtfully. “They must be more common wherever you’re from.”
“Is there a computer I could use to do a little research?” she asked eagerly.
“Sure. I’ll loan you my laptop later tonight.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem. Now, let me call Doc Anderson again.”
He contacted the veterinarian on his cell phone and received what amounted to a prescription via text. They left the restaurant and stopped by a large ranch supply store that Jack sometimes used in the city. He produced the text, which contained a bar code that a clerk scanned. After Jack paid, the necessary chemicals were delivered to them, along with detailed instructions for their use.
Kendra could not remember any specific incident from her past that would have caused her to make that mental leap. All she had to hang her suggestion on was the memory of the hand-size card that she’d described to Jack. She sensed that she’d seen others, but she could not remember the details of those. It was maddening, but also exciting. She couldn’t wait to get on Jack’s computer and see if she could find something to open a crack in the black wall of her past.
Unfortunately, when Jack dropped her back at the house late in the afternoon, he said nothing about the computer. Neither did he suggest that she accompany him out to the holding pen again. Doing her best not to betray her disappointment, she thanked him for lunch and went into the house to insist on helping Lupita with her remaining chores, despite the other woman’s protest.