Never one to be outshined by my brothers, I speak up. “Me too. Whatever you need.”
Luke shakes his head, smiling a little. He’s always been the one of us to be sort of solo, not really antisocial but just . . . private. “Naw, I’ve got it. She’s comfortable with me, and I already got my cot set up so I can rest when I can. But come on out in the morning, nice and easy. Hopefully, we’ll have a new foal and both mama and baby will be healthy.”
CHAPTER 2
SOPHIE
I can’t help it, bouncing side to side as excitement courses through my body. It’s either bounce or fidget, and I know if I fidget I’m going to end up looking like I need to pee. Actually, I probably look like I need to pee now, but I can’t stop.
Who’d have thought a few years ago that a summer internship with a crusty old seen-it-all vet way out in the country would turn into a job that causes this degree of joy in my heart, especially when the sun’s not even up yet?
Definitely not me. I grew up a city slicker, the sort of girl who was wealthy and never had to worry much because my brother, Jake, always took care of me . . . and everything. He was a little overbearing at times, but I didn’t fault him for it too much.
After all, he didn’t ask to be both brother and caretaker. When our parents died, I was barely out of elementary school, and he didn’t have much choice. But he stepped up and was the best fill-in parent an orphan could have, and I know he worked his ass off to make sure I had a happy life, even when I went through a rough patch in my teen years and gave him more than his fair share of hell.
But Jake never wavered, never questioned taking me in. It was just the two of us against the world for a lot of years, but he’d met and married the love of his life, Roxy, several years ago, and in her, I’d found a friend and sister before going off to college.
My original plan had been to follow in Jake’s footsteps, attending the same private university he had and getting my business degree before staying on track for my MBA. I’d figured I could join Jake in business and make oodles of money just like him. And that plan worked through my freshman year, when I took the same old boring English and math classes as everyone else. But a mess-up in my schedule my sophomore year changed everything for me.
I’d filled out my course request for basic biology, an easy-A class that would let me check the box before moving on to my business courses. But one typo in the computer, and I found myself in Animal Studies, and no matter what I tried with the counselor, it was just too late to switch.
So, I resigned myself to studying dogs and cats and rabbits for a semester. Considering I’d never even had a pet, the experience was eye-opening and . . . amazing. Somehow, in the sixteen weeks of that intro class, my whole life changed. Getting to see the wonderful tapestry that is life on this planet up close touched me in a way that all the money Jake had in the bank just . . . didn’t.
I changed my major from business to pre–veterinary studies and never looked back, spending the next three years learning all about animals, big and small. My semester with large farm animals was my absolute favorite, following our John Wayne–esque mentor around on his ranch, checking on his cattle, administering vaccines, and doing wellness checks before the cattle went to market.
I did a summer internship with him to prolong my learning, and that was when he taught me to ride horses. I loved the freedom of riding, feeling the wind in my face and a powerful beast beneath me, willing to cede control and go where I led.
It was exhilarating, and I felt honored to experience it. It was then that I knew my specialty as a vet would be large ranch animals. The more time I can spend on wide-open land, keeping the herds and horses healthy, the happier I’ll be. Not that I mind deworming a dog or spaying a cat, but there’s something about the large animals that calls to me.
Jake and Roxy have been supportive, if a little confused by the drastic change I’ve gone through in the last few years. I think Jake is wondering if I’ve had a brain transplant. For the most part, they’re still living a jet-setter, urban trendsetter life, and as happy as I am for them, I want something different.
Which is why I’m bouncing around on my toes now, looking more like I’m getting ready to fight Ronda Rousey than go to work. I officially graduated two weeks ago, so my bachelor’s degree is in hand and my invitation to vet school is pinned to the refrigerator in the small house I rented for the summer.
Sure, I could sit on my ass and take a couple of breather months before jumping into my vet courses, but I’m too much like Jake. I want to do. So I found a summer job in an area where I can be close-ish to my support people, but far enough away that I can stand on my own two feet.
I was lucky enough, and damn well qualified enough, to snag a summer internship working with a local vet called Doc Jones. It’s a perfect fit, really. He’s well versed in everything animal related, having likely seen it all and done it all at least once, while I bring what he calls “fresh air” to the office. Better than that, he’s actually a really great teacher, willing to share his knowledge and help me get ready for a career with big animals.
Like today, the reason I’m bouncing. Doc got a call last night, and this morning we’re doing a wellness check on a foaling horse at a ranch way outside of town. It’s a lot better than what I’d expected, which was preparing two thousand doses of vaccine for a local sheep rancher. I’m sure I’ll be sticking sheep in the ass at some point this week, but seeing a live birth? That’ll get me standing here on the curb outside my tiny house in town, two insulated cups of coffee in hand and a thermos of caffeine nectar in my bag at my feet.
It’s nice and crisp right now, but it’s supposed to be hot as balls today. Even so, I need my morning coffee fix, and Doc Jones definitely does. I hear him coming long before I actually see him, the squeals of his old-as-hell GMC pickup audible before he even turns the corner. As he cranks to a stop in front of me, he looks like he always does, sort of a cross between Sam Elliott and DeForest Kelley, which I guess is appropriate. “Hop in,” he says, reaching over and pulling up the old-fashioned lock on his passenger door. “I just talked to the boy at the ranch, and Briarbelle’s foal still isn’t here. If we hustle, we’ll get to see her deliver. You seen that yet?”
I nod, sliding in and handing Doc his coffee. “Oh yeah. Actually, I’ve seen four deliveries. But they were pretty by the book; only one needed a minor assist.”
“Well, I’m thinking this might not be as textbook. Hope you don’t mind some funk.”
I shake my head, sipping at my coffee. “I don’t mind. It’s always amazing to see, it’s such a miracle every time.”
I know my eyes are sparkling with anticipation. I’m not just blowing smoke—I really do love to see the miracle and make sure mom and baby are okay.
Doc looks over at me, studying me. “Eager, aren’t ya?”
“Come on, Doc,” I complain a little. “Aren’t you just as excited?”
He laughs and pushes the gas on his old truck a little harder. He could afford a new one, but I think he’s determined to run this thing to the half million–mile mark before he’ll feel like he’s gotten his money’s worth. “Well, I’ve done this a few more than four times, but I reckon it’s always a sight to see.”
As we drive out, Doc quizzes me on what I’m likely to see, what I need to be concerned about, procedures if this happens, what about if that happens, and more. I nail every single one of them, and as he turns down the last road, he gives me a satisfied grunt. “That’ll do, Miss Sophie. That’ll do just fine.”
I can feel the blush on my cheeks at his praise, pleased to have answered his questions correctly. This might be just a summer job, but I want to be the best at it.
Doc gives me a half smile and makes another little grunt, patting the dashboard.
CHAPTER 3
SOPHIE
The air is still and cool as we get out of Doc’s truck, and I spare a moment to look around. The setting is idyllic, a huge ranch-style house tha
t looks surprisingly balanced—old-fashioned and modern blended together—with two big barns dominating the space behind me before the fields start, rolling in the hills with the mountains that Great Falls is famous for off to my right in the north. “Wow.”
Doc quietly grabs his bag. “Sort of looks like a little slice of paradise, don’t it? Come on.”
We enter the barn soft and slow, not wanting to disturb the laboring mare, who I can hear panting, obviously uncomfortable in her stall. There’s not much light, just what filters in from the sun rising behind me and a single fluorescent track near the stall. As my eyes adjust, I can see a man sitting still as a statue, leaned back and almost disappearing into his surroundings.
Doc said he talked to the “boy at the ranch,” but who I see is definitely no boy. The man is tall, judging by his legs. He’s lean, his waist much trimmer than his shoulders, and his T-shirt is tight across his back but loose where it disappears into the waistband of his jeans.
I can’t see his face; his hat is tipped down too low, and the angle of his head makes me think he’s side-eyeing the moaning mare in the stall. He notices us, though, and brings a hand up slowly as we approach, touching the rim of his baseball cap in a sort of salute. “Good morning, Doc.”
Doc returns the salute with a nod before he kneels down, spry even though he’s constantly making jokes about being an old man. “Hey, Luke, how’s Briarbelle doing?”
Doc’s voice is quiet and calm, and Luke responds in kind, sounding almost country-Zen in his softly drawling reply. “She’s been up and down, pacing and lying, but no real progress. She might need some assistance, Doc.”
“That’s what we’re here for; don’t worry. We’ll help her.”
Luke looks up, a little bit of pride flaring in his eyes. “I’m happy to help. Just tell me where you need me.”
Doc smiles and points back at me. It’s one of those things I’ve not quite gotten used to, not being introduced to people until it feels about five seconds too late. “Thanks, Luke, and I’m gonna need your help, too, but I meant me and Sophie. She’s working with me this summer.”
He nods at Doc, then meets my eyes and gives me a chin lift of greeting. “Assistant, huh?”
I give him a smile and nod. “I got my degree a few weeks back, and I’m going to vet school next year. I work hard and will do Briarbelle right.”
Luke nods, and I think I see him crack a smile. Guess I handled that right—confident without coming off as some book-learning city girl. Doc gestures me toward the door of the stall, keeping his voice soft but unmistakably commanding. “Okay, slow and steady, let’s get in here, give soon-to-be Mama Briarbelle an exam, and see what seems to be the problem.”
Luke doesn’t move out of our way, so we gingerly step over him and into the stall, moving slowly so as not to startle the mare. I can see that she’s in pain; her eyes are wide but not glassy yet. Still, we bend down carefully to stay out of range of her potential kicks, knowing that an animal in pain can sometimes strike out. And a horse, even one that’s pregnant and weakened with birthing pains, could do serious damage if I’m not careful.
Doc starts to ask me questions. “What do you see, Sophie?”
I scan the mare from nose to tail, taking in everything as I slowly circle, still aware of her hind legs. “She’s struggling, you can see the foam on her where she’s been sweating, and her breathing is ragged. I’d say she’s getting close to exhaustion, but she’s still got fight in her.”
He asks a few more questions, some of me and some of Luke. I kneel down, gently rubbing her flank and trying to comfort her through the pain she’s feeling, when I hear another voice. “Luke, how’s she doing?”
I look up, and my eyes lock on another man, again definitely not a “boy,” although this one appears a little younger and has a wildness in his mysterious, dark eyes. He’s dressed for work in jeans and a faded denim shirt, although he’s not wearing a hat, so I can see he’s got dirty-blond hair.
He appears a little more muscular than his brother, wiry muscles corded along his forearms where his shirtsleeves are rolled up. He’s looking at Luke, running his fingers through his hair as he waits for an answer.
Luke, who’s still sitting in his chair with infinite patience, looks up. “They’re checking on her now. James, this is Doc’s assistant, Sophie. Sophie, this is my brother James.”
I nod at him, never stopping my gentle soothing of Briarbelle, but my attention is lock, stock, and barrel on James.
Holy fuck, he’s hot.
I could lose myself in those eyes, so dark blue they’re nearly navy, mysterious like a summer’s night where magic and mayhem run hand in hand with warm breezes and explorations of things that you don’t tell your overprotective older brother about. I want to run my fingers through his hair just like he’s doing, and I’d give my left pinkie toe for him to turn around so I can see his ass in those tight jeans that look to be sculpted over his muscular thighs. The faded, ripped look was popular on campus this past year, but James’s jeans got theirs the old-fashioned way . . . he earned them.
Hmm, maybe my summer gig just got even better.
James seems to be smiling back at me, but his mouth never moves; it’s all in a slight crinkling around his eyes, and I swear he knows what I’m thinking.
He goes to open his mouth to say something, but before he can, Doc swears, and it draws my attention back to him and Briarbelle. “Sophie, it’s a red-bag delivery. Tell me what that means.”
I don’t even have to think, the textbook answers rolling off my tongue like I’ve engraved them on my brain during multiple study sessions, which I did. I’m not the kind to just cram facts in for a test and then forget them an hour later. “The placenta is coming first due to premature separation from the womb wall. It’s urgent to deliver the foal immediately before hypoxia sets in. This type of delivery is rare and associated with placental infection. Commonly, both mare and foal need antibiotics postdelivery.”
Doc grunts. “Good enough. C’mere. Ain’t got time to glove up.”
I move to where he indicates, surprised when he hands me a pair of scissors. “Quick and easy; watch the foal. Just let off the pressure, and we’ll get it out quickly afterward.”
I look at him, shocked. This is something I’ve studied but not actually done. Technically, you’re not supposed to even try this until you have your DVM. “You want me to do it?”
Doc nods, no humor at all in his voice. “Clock’s ticking. Can you do this?”
There’s no judgment in his question; he just genuinely wants to know if I can or not. If I say no, he’ll take care of it. But he’s giving me a chance to excel, to show that I’m ready. I take a big breath and calm myself.
“Let’s do this.” I lean down, bringing the sharp edge of the scissors to the sac, releasing a gush of amniotic fluid that covers the hay and dirt of the stall, with a good amount getting on my jeans too. No time to worry about that right now.
Behind me, I can hear James talking to Luke. “What the hell? Why isn’t Doc doing that? Is she even qualified?”
Luke seems to be shushing James, but it’s not enough, and it distracts me. Looking over my shoulder, I glare at James, my voice steely without raising the volume and startling Briarbelle. “Shut up or get out. Your choice.”
James sputters, obviously not used to being talked to like that, and I decide that my earlier thoughts of him were off base. Screw him and his doubt that I can handle this. Still, I see Luke grin a little, glad to see his brother get scolded.
Fuck it, I’ve got this.
I reach deep inside myself, seizing hold of my guts and my knowledge, and with an ease I’m surprised to demonstrate, I deliver the foal successfully.
She lies in the hay, breathing and alive, and Briarbelle lets out an exhausted whinny, calling to her baby. The foal whinnies back, and I finally feel like I can breathe again. Doc takes care of injections for both of them while I put the tools away.
After a mo
ment, Briarbelle moves, nosing and nudging her foal, and we step back and out to let them bond without interruption.
Doc smiles at me, nodding his pleasure at the good job I did. It makes me feel warm inside, but really all the reward I need is lying in the hay in the stall.
My buzz is thwarted when James interrupts the moment, his voice near outrage. “Doc, what was that? Why’d you let her do the delivery? That could’ve cost us a good foal.”
Doc clears his throat, but before he can answer, I jump in, pointing a finger toward the middle of James’s muscular chest. “He let me do it because he knew I could. Briarbelle is fine, the foal is fine, and I’m fine. The only person not fine is . . . you. You were the one out of control, raising your voice and scaring her while I was trying to save the foal’s life.”
His eyes flash fire, and I wonder what’s about to come out of his mouth. I’m sure it’ll be a doozy. But I’m almost disappointed by what he comes up with. “You’ve got a real bitch streak in you, you know that?”
I laugh, dismissing him from my mind even as he stands in front of me. “As if I haven’t been called that before. Try for some originality next time, why don’t ya?”
Doc tries to break the tension, yanking back on an invisible halter. “Okay, let’s rein it in. Get it . . . rein? It’s a horse joke.”
Not getting the laughs he was hoping for, he gives up and focuses his attention on Luke. “I was keeping watch the whole time. Briarbelle and her babe are fine. I want them to have antibiotics for a little bit just in case. They’ll both need daily checks for the next week, and maybe even some follow-up after that. You don’t mind, do you?”
Luke nods like a bobblehead, seemingly on board. I feel Doc’s eyes on me and glance back at him as he looks over to James.
Doc nods and continues, “I think checking in will be part of your daily duties, Sophie. You can leave the office early and head out here to check on them as your last duty of the day before heading home.”
Buck Wild (Bennett Boys Ranch Book 1) Page 2