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Her Cowboy Boss
Arlene James
Healing Their HeartsAfter nursing her ill father back to health, Meredith Billings must make a decision: Stay on the family ranch or go back to Oklahoma City. Problem is, the one man who could help her is the only one she’d never ask. Widowed veterinarian Stark Burns is desperate for assistance in his busy vet clinic, but his tragic past has made him wary of letting anyone into his life—especially Meri. Because falling in love again isn’t part of his plan. But working side by side with the pretty nurse slowly brings his heart back to life. This might just be the second chance at happiness he’s been missing…The Prodigal Ranch: Where wild hearts are welcomed home
Healing Their Hearts
After nursing her ill father back to health, Meredith Billings must make a decision: stay on the family ranch or go back to Oklahoma City. Problem is, the one man who could help her is the only one she’d never ask. Widowed veterinarian Stark Burns is desperate for assistance in his busy vet clinic, but his tragic past has made him wary of letting anyone into his life—especially Meri. Because falling in love again isn’t part of his plan. But working side by side with the pretty nurse slowly brings his heart back to life. This might just be the second chance at happiness he’s been missing...
“What happened to your job in the city?”
“It’s still there,” Meri admitted glumly. “But I don’t want to go back. And now that Rex and Ann have come home to stay...” She shook her head.
“Just because they’ve come home doesn’t mean you have to,” Stark pointed out.
“You aren’t listening. I never wanted to be in the city. I want to be here.”
“I want lots of things I’ll never have again, Meredith,” he told her softly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”
Struggling not to weep, she shrugged, then whispered, “Well, I have some time yet. Something might turn up.”
“You never know,” he said.
But she did know, all too well, and his tone said that he did, too. The truth was that if he didn’t give her a job, she wasn’t going to find one locally. The worst part was that it didn’t make sense. She could help Stark. They could help each other.
Why wouldn’t he take what she offered?
Dear Reader (#u06533cf9-665b-54d0-8c9e-1cf0bed3aac9),
Grief is a tough, horrific, unavoidable part of life. Everyone deals with grief in his/her own way. Some ignore it; some wallow in it. Some soldier on, never quite whole or healed. For some, grief becomes a way of life.
When it comes to the death of a loved one, I find it helps to try to look at things from the perspective of the one who has passed on. How would he/she want me to go forward? Would one who loves me want me to forever be sad, guilt-stricken or lonely?
I’m reminded that Christ, though living, sent the Holy Spirit to comfort, strengthen and guide us when He removed His physical presence from this world. Won’t He also, then, send us new love when the old must leave us?
I believe so.
But we have to find the courage—like Stark Burns—to accept it.
God bless,
Arlene James
ARLENE JAMES has been publishing steadily for nearly four decades and is a charter member of RWA. She is married to an acclaimed artist, and together they have traveled extensively. After growing up in Oklahoma, Arlene lived thirty-four years in Texas and now abides in beautiful northwest Arkansas, near two of the world’s three loveliest, smartest, most talented granddaughters. She is heavily involved in her family, church and community.
Her Cowboy Boss
Arlene James
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
After Job had prayed for his friends, the Lord restored his fortunes and gave him
twice as much as he had before.
—Job 42:10
Contents
Cover (#u5d08c2e6-9be9-548b-a5e6-bf146cec4629)
Back Cover Text (#uc43c0ded-d36a-593e-89ec-fe3e09b728bb)
Introduction (#u5c4d9f5b-89b5-5701-be58-a29f04bb8fca)
Dear Reader (#u1a80d2c4-1bce-5a5b-af3d-6fd87ea4585d)
About the Author (#u55eeebf4-209d-5466-93aa-452fc0d90c7b)
Title Page (#u47f7ca76-abd8-56ee-9d3c-62f5fc0cd73e)
Bible Verse (#u859bbe52-4ae5-5b82-a483-21998bf3f983)
Chapter One (#ub716c0a2-6295-5b53-9828-020401c44804)
Chapter Two (#u2574a529-5f10-55f6-9c2b-a84dab24325c)
Chapter Three (#u37105de7-bf56-55c8-adfc-d1441bf71f69)
Chapter Four (#u770bf92a-726b-578b-a4d3-9b4703edce37)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u06533cf9-665b-54d0-8c9e-1cf0bed3aac9)
“Stop fussing, Meredith,” Wes Billings rasped. “You look as tired as I feel and need to rest now.”
Meri sighed and smoothed the covers over her father’s chest once more. The weeklong trip to Oklahoma City for his final scheduled chemotherapy treatment had been grueling, and, no doubt, he was as glad as she was to be back at Straight Arrow Ranch.
She prayed that the drugs, which had followed extensive surgery, had done their work and rid her father’s rangy six-foot-four-inch body of any remaining cancer. Only time and tests would tell, as Meri, a nurse, well knew. Still, time seemed to slip through her fingers with alarming speed. Her leave of absence from her job at the hospital in the city would soon end, and she would be forced to return there to work.
The irony struck deep as she bent and kissed her dad’s bald head through the paper mask that she wore. Meredith had never wanted to leave home. She’d settled on nursing after her mother’s unexpected death more than four years earlier, only to discover that her chosen career left her few employment options within driving distance of the tiny town of War Bonnet, some six miles from the ranch. Neither her older brother nor her sister had intended to return permanently to their hometown, yet they’d both recently married locally and settled in to live there, while Meri had come up empty—again—in her search for a job that would allow her to remain near her family.
She disliked living in a large city for many reasons. The summers were hotter and the winters dirtier. Everything was more expensive. Green spaces were few and far too formal. She’d never thought to miss a red-dirt road so much. As time had passed, the hundred miles between War Bonnet and Oklahoma City had started to seem like thousands to her. Moreover, the quality and quantity of medical care to be found there had robbed the smaller communities of hospitals and clinics even this far out, which meant that she couldn’t find a job closer to home.
How she hated to think of going back! The traffic and the noise grated on her, and the crime... She shuddered, touching the scar just above her left breast through her blouse.
If help had arrived even a minute later, she doubted she’d be here. In the city, when not working, she felt virtually trapped in her apartment with her cats.
Make that cat. She still grieved the loss of Tux, her black-and-white tom.
“Call out if you need me,” she said to her dad, stripping off the mask and gloves. She wore the protective gear to care for her father since his infusions had temporarily demolished his immune system. She dropped them into the receptacle beside the door and left the room, stepping into the back hallway of the sprawling old ranch house where she, her siblings and their father before them had grown to adulthood.
Her five-year-old nephew, Donovan, jumped down from his seat at the kitchen table and raced across the room, throwing himself at her, his fiery red head a blur. “Is Grandpa okay? Did you go shopping? Christmas is coming, ya know, and it’s my birthday.” It was only October, but Donovan was already counting the days to his next birthday.
“I might’ve done some shopping,” she answered cagily, sliding a narrowed gaze at the table, where she expected to find his parents. Her eyes snagged instead on the dark head of Stark Burns. Before she could catch them, the words that had popped into her mind slid right out of her mouth. “What’s he doing here?”
She didn’t like Stark Burns. She didn’t trust him. In her opinion, he’d let her cat Tux die after it had been injured the day of Rex’s wedding. Yes, the cat had been seriously wounded, but she believed that careful surgery and nursing care could have saved it. She’d heard that some veterinarians were too quick to put down animals with serious injuries and that large-animal vets were especially hasty in giving up on small animals. Both of those criticisms seemed to apply to Dr. Burns. Still, her brother, Rex, counted him a friend, and Wes paid him well to look after the livestock on the ranch.
And she’d just been rude. Again. Meri was never rude, except when it came to Dr. Stark Burns. She pulled in a deep breath.
“I—I mean, is there a problem with one of the animals?”
Rex frowned at her as Burns hitched around in his seat, hanging one long arm over the chair back and turning his head to cut his dark eyes at her. No one could say he wasn’t a good-looking man, with that thick, coal-black hair and brooding, hawkish features. Plus, he had to be at least as tall as her dad and looked every bit as comfortable in jeans and boots. He was more slender than either her brother or brother-in-law, and he looked just as fine in a hat, which he had the good manners not to wear at the table. She’d always thought sideburns a ridiculous affectation in a man—and given his last name she’d have advised him against them—but somehow they worked on him, which just made her dislike him all the more.
“Yes,” Rex said in reply to her question, shooting a look at their father’s closed bedroom door.
Obviously, Rex didn’t want to worry Dad. Meri couldn’t argue with that. She turned Donovan around and walked the boy to the table. The veterinarian’s silent gaze tracked her the whole way. Warily she pulled out a chair and sat, while her sister, Ann, sent Donovan into the living room to play with his little cousin, Bodie. Meredith didn’t know if that was because the other adults didn’t want Donovan to overhear their conversation or because Stark Burns didn’t like children. She’d noticed before that he went out of his way to avoid them.
That way of thinking was foreign to the Billings family. Bodie’s natural father had died in a flood before she was even born, and Donovan’s mother had abandoned him at birth, but the children were part of the Billings family now. Rex had considered himself Bo’s father from the moment he’d married her mom, Callie, and Ann had delighted in playing Donovan’s mom even before she’d married his dad, Dean, and become his mother in fact.
“What’s going on?” Meredith asked, glancing at the solemn faces around the table.
“It’s Soldier,” Rex said, referring to their father’s beloved stud horse.
They’d loaned the handsome sorrel stud to a friend, another rancher down in Texas, who had mares to breed. The horse had been scheduled to return to the ranch before Wes did. Had he not shown up, failed to perform or returned injured?
Callie, who had come to the ranch as the housekeeper, set a fork and a plate overflowing with apple pie in front of Meri. Smiling her thanks, Meredith picked up her fork. Stark Burns followed suit, his pie already half finished. Meri took a bite, humming in appreciation as she glanced at her sister, Ann. Dean, Ann’s husband of two months, snugged an arm around Ann’s waist, his chin nuzzling her long red hair. The expressions on their faces were serious enough to have Meri putting down her fork again.
“How bad is it?”
“Soldier didn’t look too steady when we got him back from Texas,” Ann explained. “Then we found him down this morning.”
“Oh, no.” A horse that couldn’t rise to its feet on its own strength could quickly die, because its organs wouldn’t function properly, especially its lungs. A horrible fear struck her. If that horse was dead... She abruptly sat forward again and faced Stark Burns. “What did you do?”
He set down his fork, swallowed and calmly wiped his mouth with a paper napkin before bracing his forearms on the tabletop. “I slung him,” he said.
Meri blinked. “Slung him?”
Sitting back, Stark crossed his long legs. “I brought in a hoist and a specially designed sling, got him to his feet, drew some blood for testing and set him up on IV fluids.” He crumpled the napkin in his hand and tossed it onto his plate. “It’s encephalitis, a particularly virulent strain I’ve been reading they have down in Texas.”
Meri’s heart thunked. Encephalitis was a deadly disease. She cast a desperate glance around the table. “Don’t we vaccinate for that?”
“Yes,” Rex said, “but it wouldn’t have covered this strain. This was recently brought up from Venezuela.”
Meri put her head in her hands. “This is the last thing Dad needs right now.”
“We know it, sis,” Ann agreed softly.
“And we’re all praying,” Dean said.
Burns pushed back his chair and rose. “Horse’ll need tending through the night for a while.”
Rex nodded. “We’ll take turns.”
Stark Burns shook his dark head. “Nope. The possibility of pneumonia is too great when a horse has been down. I’ll be staying nights.”
“Let us know if you need anything,” Callie said as Burns’s long legs carried him toward the hallway flanking the back staircase.
“I’m used to this,” he assured her. “I’ll just run back to my place for some gear. See y’all in the morning.”
Meri narrowed her eyes as he disappeared from view. She would be keeping a very close watch on him. Maybe he hadn’t put down Soldier. Yet. But neither would he—if she could help it—let her father’s horse die. The others trusted Dr. Burns implicitly, but they had no medical training. She knew enough to assess the quality of his treatment, and she would do so whether he liked it or not.
* * *
Shoving a package of clean paper coveralls into his kit, Stark glanced around the Spartan interior of the small room where he slept most nights, trying to think if he’d forgotten anything. Exhaustion tugged at him, but when did it not? Pushing it aside, he ticked off supplies in his head, listing medications and equipment bundles, his hands gliding over each as he recalled them. The air mattress and sleeping bag were kept in the truck. Deciding that he could use a clean pair of socks, he reached into a drawer. His hand struck the small framed photo that he could not bear to display or resist looking at once he’d touched it.
The smiles always shocked him, especially his own, but there he was, tossing his daughter over his shoulder like a sack of grain, while she squealed and her mother laughed. Belinda’s ninth birthday. Such a happy day. He could almost hear her giggles.
Don’t drop me, Daddy! Don’t drop me!
Hold still then, Belindaworm. Mommy, give her that birthday spanking, and be sure she gets one to grow on.
Except there had been no spanking, and she hadn’t grown. It had been a joke, and less than five months later, they’d both been dead.
Words he couldn’t forget rang through his mind.
