Sliding his hand along her smooth calf, maybe. He stared at her, letting his gaze drop to her bare legs. The skirt she wore underneath her lab coat was barely visible, but from his vantage point, her shapely legs certainly were.
Mason cleared his throat and raised his eyes back up to look at her face. “It’s also called Bleeding Back Syndrome. The lesions over the lumbar region, along with the dipped hind end and paralyzed legs leave no question. She’s also extremely sensitive to any pressure that’s put on her, that’s why I asked Vanessa to let her go.”
The young vet stared at him with an incredulous look. She skirted around his wheelchair to set the book she still carried on the treatment table. Then she turned to face him again.
“I’m going to make a wild guess and assume you’re Dr. Mason Taggart?”
There was an almost defensive tone to her voice. She stepped up to him and held out her hand. Mason closed his fingers around hers and gave them a light squeeze. The warmth and softness of her small hand sent an unexpected ripple up his arm. He let go, and tilted his head to fully look up at her.
“And I’m going to go out on a limb and say you’re the new vet Doc Johnson hired to replace me.”
She nodded. “Lori Emerson.”
Raine, who’d been quiet up until now, stepped forward. “It’s so nice to meet you, Lori. I’m Raine Taggart, Mason’s sister.”
The two women shook hands. Raine smiled broadly, while her calculating eyes went from Lori to Mason. He braced his hands on the sides of his chair and shifted in his seat.
“Maybe Vanessa can get that box of supplies you came for and we can get going,” he suggested. Another few minutes, and Raine would be best friends with Lori. He glared at his sister, whose eyes continued to volley between him and the new vet.
“Yes, we should get going. I’ll let Vanessa show me where Shane’s supplies are.”
“It’s so good to see you. Don’t be a stranger. We hope you’ll be back to work real soon.” Vanessa gazed at him with a pleading look in her eyes before she led Raine from the room. Before she disappeared completely, she called over her shoulder, “I’ll be back in a moment, Dr. Emerson.”
Mason turned his chair and wheeled to head to the front of the clinic.
“Wait, Dr. Taggart.” Lori’s near-frantic call made him stop. He spun his wheels around to face her again.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not all that familiar with swine diseases.” She glanced at the ground, clearly uncomfortable talking to him. “I’ve never heard of this disease. Can you tell me how to treat it?”
Mason tilted his head as he glanced up at her. “First of all, you’re looking in the wrong book.” He pointed at the volume of Veterinary Medicine on the treatment table. “That book is for farm animals. Potbellied pigs are different than your feedlot pigs. Second, it’s not a disease. There’s not much you can do about dippity pig syndrome.”
“What do you mean? What do I tell the owner?”
Mason glanced at the pig cowering near the cage. The poor little thing looked about as stressed as a pig could get.
“The jury’s out on what causes it, but it’s believed stress is a major factor. Also, too much sun exposure. This syndrome seems to come in episodes, and they spontaneously resolve themselves over the course of a few days. Tell the owner to keep the pig in a stress-free environment, out of direct sunlight, and keep it as comfortable as possible. It should be back to normal in a day or two.”
Lori Emerson stared at him with a mixture of gratitude and awe, and also disbelief. She could think what she wanted. It was time for him to leave. Not only because he didn’t belong here anymore, but because the new vet in Burnt River was unexpectedly attractive, and the last thing Mason needed right now was to be attracted to a woman.
Chapter 4
Lori peeled off her lab coat and draped it over the back of her office chair. Actually, it was Dr. Johnson’s chair. This was technically his office, but since he seemed to have left her alone for the better part of the week while he went on ranch calls, she might as well refer to it as hers. Besides, he’d told her to make herself at home.
Dr. Johnson had offered her the small apartment over the clinic, and she was still in the middle of unpacking her suitcases, but she’d brought all her school books and volumes of notes into the office. For the moment, they were stacked in a corner, but soon she’d find some time to get them properly sorted and put on the shelves with all the other veterinary reference books. Some of them were extremely outdated.
She rotated her head from side to side to relieve some of the tension in her neck. Her stomach growled. She’d worked through lunch doing treatments on the two hospitalized patients, while Vanessa had taken her lunch break.
It was going to take some time getting used to a small animal practice in an equally small town. At least she’d get more hands-on practice drawing blood, placing catheters, taking x-rays, and monitoring patients. She’d never performed the duties of a technician in such a capacity as she was doing now. In this practice, she was not only the veterinarian, but also the kennel attendant, the technician, and on several occasions she’d even answered the phone when Sally had been too busy.
Working at the teaching hospital at school, technicians outnumbered the doctors and vet students, and the same held true for the large, big-city practice where she’d started her internship. Since she’d left that place with her head hung low and her confidence shattered, she should be grateful that Dr. Johnson had hired her.
“We’ve all made bad judgments, but if we learn from them, something good ultimately comes from it,” he’d told her when she’d confessed why her first position out of vet school had only lasted a few months.
Guilt nagged at her. She hadn’t been completely truthful with him when he’d explained what working for a small-town country vet entailed. He hadn’t directly asked her about the extent of her experience, either. On paper, she had the credentials and looked competent.
She’d repeatedly told herself that she could do the job, and a small practice would allow her to regain her confidence as well as garner the experience she needed. Besides, she’d most likely never see the level of complex cases as what she’d had to deal with at the hospital in Denver.
Lori glanced at the clock hanging over the door. One o’clock. Vanessa should be back any moment, then she could go and grab a bite to eat. It would be quick and easy to run upstairs to her apartment over the clinic and fix a simple sandwich, but both Vanessa and Sally had mentioned that Evie’s Diner served some good burgers, and she was famished. She’d been here a little over a week now. Perhaps it was time to sample some of the local fare.
Her gaze drifted from the clock to the wall on the left. It was lined with shelves filled with volumes of veterinary books, some dating back to the 1960’s. Soon, she’d be adding her modern books as well, a small step to getting this practice up to date. Maybe she could even talk Dr. Johnson into purchasing some new diagnostic equipment and in-house blood test kits to obtain quicker results. He still used old-fashioned x-ray equipment rather than digital.
Pictures of dogs, cats, horses, cows, and assorted other animals decorated the opposite wall. In each picture, Dr. Johnson stood, smiling next to the animal. They were all former patients he’d saved over the years.
Lori hadn’t studied the pictures closely before. In a couple of the newer ones, a smiling teenage boy stood with the doctor and his equine or bovine patients. Lori lowered her glasses down her nose. The boy looked familiar. He was taller than the snowy-haired Doc Johnson, and had the solid build of a youthful football player.
“Mason Taggart,” she whispered.
A sudden tingle shot through her hand, up her arm, and throughout the rest of her, like it had the other day when she’d shaken Mason’s hand. He looked ten years younger in those photos, but there was no doubt it was the man she’d met two days ago. The man in the wheelchair.
Lori’s eyes went to the two diplomas hanging among the photographs
. She still needed to unpack hers and find a place for it. One of the two hanging on the wall belonged to Adam J. Johnson, graduate of Kansas State University School of Veterinary Medicine, Class of 1972. There weren’t too many veterinarians like him left. He did things the old-school way.
Her eyes grew wide as she stared at the other diploma. Mason Lance Taggart, graduate of Colorado State University School of Veterinary Medicine, 2014. Mason Taggart had gone to Colorado State? She’d been in her first year when he’d graduated, so the chances of them having met were slim. Besides, she would have remembered someone like him. Her cheeks flushed unexpectedly.
Despite being in a wheelchair, the first thing she’d noticed about Mason Taggart was his athletic build. Rarely did she have to look down at someone, but even seated, Mason had seemed tall and imposing. His legs hadn’t shown any signs of atrophy. He must be doing intense physical therapy.
When Dr. Johnson had mentioned Mason Taggart to her on her first day, she’d imagined some average Joe, maybe a man with receding hair and glasses. Definitely not someone who was her peer and looked as if he could tackle another man with ease, even without the use of his legs.
“Ah, Lori. Glad to find you here.”
Lori spun around at the sound of her name. Dr. Johnson walked into the office, wearing his usual dirt-stained overalls and rubber barn boots. He tossed a briefcase onto the desk, and peeled off his cowboy hat. The distinct odor of bovine followed him into the room.
“I was waiting for Vanessa to return from lunch, and then I thought I might go grab a bite to eat.” She brushed some strands of hair out of her face to cover the blush on her cheeks. Not because Dr. Johnson had walked in, but because her mind had been on Mason Taggart. “Would you care to join me?” It was the polite thing to ask.
He shook his head and waved a hand in front of his face. “I had lunch already with Sheriff Del Macklin. Ran into him on my way in, and we went to grab a bite at Evie’s Diner. If you haven’t been there, yet, I’d highly recommend it, and it’s within walking distance from the clinic.”
He set his hat on the table while his eyes roamed over his office before they came to rest on her. “I hope the girls aren’t overscheduling you with office calls.”
Lori shook her head. “Not at all. It’s been rather slow.”
No doubt because clients wanted to see Dr. Johnson, and not her. At some point, she needed to talk to him about Vanessa, and her bossy attitude. It was clear that the long-time technician didn’t trust Lori any more than most of the clients did. Now was probably not a good time to bring it up. She’d have to find some time in private, after hours.
“I just spoke to the Purcells about their little Petunia.”
Lori swallowed. The pig with the strange syndrome Mason had diagnosed within seconds when he’d been here a couple days ago.
“How is Petunia doing?”
Dr. Johnson smiled. “Almost good as new. She’s no longer dropping her back, and can walk again. The sores are healing, too. Excellent diagnosis, Dr. Emerson.”
Lori inhaled a deep breath and looked at her employer. She shook her head. “I’m afraid I’m not the one who made the diagnosis. The credit goes to Dr. Taggart.”
Dr. Johnson’s bushy gray brows rose. “Mason was here at the clinic? No one told me.”
A twinge of worry passed through the old man’s eyes along with a look of warmth that conveyed he cared deeply for Mason Taggart. No doubt he would let her go immediately if Mason were to march into the clinic and say he was ready to come back to work. Her time in Burnt River might be limited if her predecessor returned, yet she wasn’t going to take credit for something she didn’t deserve.
“He was here with his sister, picking up some supplies. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with the pig. I’d never seen that syndrome before, nor heard of it. Dr. Taggart recognized it immediately. I was planning on calling the owner this afternoon to find out how the patient is doing.”
Dr. Johnson chuckled. “Mason’s always been a very good diagnostician. It helped that he’s been working for me since he was sixteen. It gave him a lot of hands-on experience and exposure before he even got to vet school.”
Lori nodded. She didn’t have that advantage. Except for the pet cat she’d owned as a little girl for a few months before her mother had decided she was allergic to anything with fur, feathers, or scales, she’d never been around animals until vet school.
She glanced at Dr. Johnson when he chuckled. “Office calls here at the clinic aren’t Mason’s favorite part of the job. He’d rather be out in the field, working with cattle and horses, or better yet, in the operating room. His passion is surgery.”
The old man shook his head. “I wish I had been here when he stopped by. I do believe that boy’s avoiding me.”
Lori smiled tentatively. “That boy” appeared to be an accomplished, confident clinician. On top of that, he was a member of this small town and clearly well-liked by the clients. Every pet owner, without fail, had asked about Dr. Mason Taggart during every office call she’d seen since her arrival. Clients had heard that he was back in town, and wondered when he’d be returning to work. Mason clearly had the respect of the community, something she, as an outsider, would have to fight tooth and nail to achieve.
If Mason returned to work, she would probably be asked to leave before she’d even had a chance to unpack her bags. Maybe coming to a small town, hiding from the rest of the world, and especially her family, was nothing more than wishful thinking. She’d always been a city girl. Although she loved Burnt River, from what little she’d seen of the community so far, how was she going to make a future here if no one gave her a chance? Lori sniffed and raised her head.
“How’s Mr. Bubbles doing? Sally told me that you called Mrs. Billings about him.”
Sally had informed her that Mrs. Billings had scheduled a recheck for her little schnauzer on a day when Dr. Johnson was in the office, rather than bringing the dog back for her to re-evaluate and make sure he was recovering from his bout of pancreatitis.
Dr. Johnson smiled indulgently. “The little pooch seems to be doing better. I told her I wasn’t going to be here when she scheduled her recheck, and that you would be seeing him.” His smile widened. “And I scolded her for feeding the dog fried chicken. She’s agreed to bland ground beef or lamb from now on.”
Lori scoffed. “And how did she take that news? She didn’t trust me at all with her dog’s care. I’m glad you warned her about the fried chicken.”
The old vet chuckled. He leaned against the corner of his desk, and studied her.
“Lori, I think you overwhelmed the owner a bit with all your medical knowledge. When I explained the dog’s condition to her in terms she could understand, she was extremely grateful to you for saving Mr. Bubbles.”
Lori frowned. “I tried to describe the dog’s condition as best as I knew how. I was clear and precise in his diagnosis and what the treatment plan should be.”
“You’re a very bright person, Lori, and your diagnostic skills are commendable. Don’t be so nervous when speaking to clients.”
Lori faced her boss, but dropped her gaze. It hadn’t always been like this. She’d been full of confidence in vet school, at least with the small animals, and even when she’d started her internship after graduation.
“You need to talk to the clients on their level,” Dr. Johnson continued. “It makes them feel comfortable. Impressing them with big words will most likely scare them away, especially folks like Mrs. Billings. They simply want to be reassured that their pets will be fine and that we can help them, and the problem explained as simply as possible.”
Lori lifted her head and nodded. Dr. Johnson wore a grandfatherly, patient smile. She’d have to work on her people skills. She was no longer in school where she needed to impress her professors with all the medical terminology. Layman’s terms. She could do this.
Dr. Johnson pushed away from his desk and coughed. “There. Now that that’s settled, I�
�m going to be taking a couple of days off to see my sister in Missoula starting tomorrow. I’ve informed Sally not to schedule office calls in the mornings, since you’ll be doing the farm calls at that time.”
Lori nearly choked. Her eyes grew round. “Farm calls?”
Dr. Johnson nodded. “There are three on the books so far. Routine stuff. Unless an emergency calls in, you should be able to handle that.”
Lori swallowed the sudden rush of adrenaline that shot through her limbs, making her legs feel like rubber. “Yes, of course.”
Her mouth went dry. Farm calls. She had very limited experience with large animals. Horses and cows scared her. When she’d done large animal rotations, she’d impressed her professors with knowing textbook answers. When it came to doing the actual procedures, she’d stepped back and let her fellow classmates do the work. She’d never even considered that once she was out of school she’d someday have to treat large animals. Her favorite specialty had been ophthalmology.
“If there’s nothing else, I need to grab something to eat before the afternoon office calls start,” she stammered. Her appetite seemed to have vanished, but she needed to get out of the building for a while and catch some fresh air.
Chapter 5
Being outside in the sunshine rather than in the confining veterinary clinic was instantly uplifting. Lori inhaled a deep breath of the crisp Montana air. Even though the sun was out, it was a cool August day, and although she was in the middle of town, the air smelled a lot cleaner here than anywhere she’d ever lived.
The sign for Evie’s Diner was a few buildings up the road. Everyone she passed on the sidewalk smiled and greeted her. Not one of them looked familiar. Would they be as friendly if they knew she was the new vet and that they’d have to trust her with their pet’s care?
Lori mentally shook her head. This was only her first week. Unless she screwed up like she’d done in Denver, she would prove to the citizens of Burnt River that she could take care of their pets’ healthcare needs as well as any other vet.
Mason's Rescue Page 4