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“You’d think a man his age would know how to wipe his feet,” Margarite grumbled.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “But he’s here, so maybe we can put up with the mess for a while? You know, just in case another animal needs shots?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Jodie picked up her coat from the chair where she’d tossed it.
“Going somewhere?” Margarite asked.
“I’m going to see Sam Hyatt in person.” Even though he’d killed the horse last year, he’d done all right with Bronson. And he was better than no vet at all—although she doubted her father would see things that way.
Margarite shrugged philosophically. “At least that way he can’t hang up on you.”
KATIE HAD GONE HOME for the day and Sam was deep into the paperwork, hating every minute of it, when Beau came to the clinic.
Sam glanced up at his gangly nephew with a feeling of déjà vu. “Why aren’t you at practice?” Beau had passed the test. He should be eligible this week and there was a game on Saturday.
Beau’s mouth worked for a moment, poignantly reminding Sam of his brother, Dave, who’d never been good at spitting things out. Now, instead of coaxing his brother into telling him what was going on in his head, he was coaxing Dave’s sons into spilling their guts.
“I didn’t pass.”
“You did. I saw the test.”
He’d managed a C, which raised his grade to passing.
“I got turned in for cheating.”
Sam’s jaw went slack. “Did you cheat?”
Beau looked everywhere but at him.
“Did you?”
“Yeah,” he muttered at last.
“You cheated.”
“I cheated,” Beau said in a stronger voice that almost bordered on a shout. “I didn’t understand the problems. I cheated. I need to play.”
“Well, you aren’t playing now, are you?”
Oh, man. How did he handle this one? Sam wondered. What would his parents have done? They’d experienced the whole gig from diapers through college. He’d been dumped into child rearing during the boys’ adolescent stage. Logically, Sam knew that parenting teens wouldn’t have been that much easier had he raised the kids from birth, but at least he would have had some experience to fall back on. He could have eased into the traumas of the teens after dealing with small problems like not getting invited to birthday parties or going up the slide backward.
“No,” Beau snapped. He gave Sam a frustrated scowl before glancing out the window at the car pulling to a stop in front of the clinic. It wasn’t just any car. It was Jodie De Vanti’s classic Spitfire, and despite his obvious turmoil, a look of pure envy crossed Beau’s face. Sam knew how he felt. A second later Jodie opened the clinic door and Beau took advantage of the moment to make his escape. He hefted his heavy backpack with one hand.
“I’m going to go get something to eat.” He nodded at Jodie, then walked around the counter, heading toward the rear exit. Sam watched him go, really wanting to call him back but knowing he had to deal with the rich chick first.
He turned back to Jodie, having no illusions about what prompted this personal call.
“Is this about the bull?” Sam asked, knowing it had to be. Katie had fielded a call from the Barton ranch before she’d gone home.
“Yes.”
“Sorry. Can’t help you.”
Her blue eyes flashed, but her demeanor remained remarkably calm as she said, “Damn it, Sam. I can’t have my father’s animals dropping like flies.”
“Your father got himself into this situation.”
“My dad felt justified in bringing suit against you or he wouldn’t have done it … but that’s not an excuse,” she added, as if remembering her mission was to finesse him, not beat him in an argument. “Just an explanation.”
“Feeling justified and being justified are not the same,” Sam felt obliged to point out. “Or maybe it is for you legal types.”
“We legal types understand the difference,” she said patiently, even though she was obviously annoyed at his remark. “He lost a thirty-thousand-dollar horse. Surely you can understand—”
“The horse couldn’t have been saved.”
“The professor from the UC Davis disagreed, which was why my father brought suit.” She met Sam’s eyes, her expression candid. “You can’t fault him for that. He sought the opinion of an expert and acted on that opinion.”
Ah, yes. The star witness, who’d been working with twenty-twenty hindsight and after-the-fact information.
“Your expert didn’t convince the judge, did he?” Sam reminded her. And the expert hadn’t been there the night the horse died, either. Sam had been, working his ass off trying to save an animal with a twisted gut. And he’d done everything he could, everything he’d been capable of … although it had happened only a few weeks after Dave’s death and Sam had still been suffering from shock. Hadn’t been thinking all that straight. But he’d gone over his responses a thousand times in his mind, logically reviewing what he’d known at the time.
He hadn’t made a mistake, and he truly resented Joe for coming after him at such a time in his life.
“No,” Jodie agreed.
“Because I was right,” he replied. And it felt good to say that out loud to a Barton. He put his palms on the counter that separated them and leaned closer. “And that is why you can’t get services. People don’t want to deal with your family.”
JODIE FOUGHT BOTH desperation and exasperation, with a healthy dose of anger thrown in. Why was she wasting her time here? She wasn’t going to win and the bull was going to die.
She put her own hands on the counter opposite Sam’s and leaned across the laminate surface until they were practically nose to nose. “I didn’t sue you,” she said adamantly. “I’m asking for help. Not my father.”
Sam wasn’t buying her argument. Hell, even she wasn’t buying it. She’d sat in court with her dad, which made her pretty much a party to the action, even if she hadn’t been the one to file suit.
“I am not going to be responsible for killing my father’s prize bull.”
“He killed his bull,” Sam said stubbornly. “Not you.”
“The animal is still alive, Sam. You could keep him that way.” She’d barely gotten the last word out of her mouth when the phone rang.
Sam glanced at the caller ID. “It’s my nephew. I have to take this.”
“Will you come to the ranch?” Jodie asked before he got the receiver to his ear, and was horrified to hear a tiny crack in her otherwise even voice. What next? Sobs?
Instead of answering her, Sam said into the receiver, “What is it, Ty?” He bent his head as he listened.
Jodie knew she’d hit her breaking point then. Her mission was futile. The bull was going to die. Her father would come home to a dead animal and missing a vet-trained cowboy. His blood pressure would skyrocket. The vacation would end up being wasted time….
Not on her watch.
“Thanks so much, Sam,” she said sarcastically, glad that her voice remained strong even as her eyes started to burn. “You probably would have killed the bull, anyway,” she muttered, too low for him to hear.
She turned and walked out the door before she did something both embarrassing and useless like bursting into tears. She felt them building, ready to seep out of the corners of her eyes, but they were tears of frustration and anger, not of self-pity. One spilled down her cheek, fueling her anger, as she yanked open the door to the Spitfire. She wiped it away with a jerky swipe of her gloved hand, muttered a single socially unacceptable word, then started the car.
She could see Sam through the window, still behind the counter where she’d left him, watching her drive away. It was all she could do not to flip him off. She made another swipe at her damp cheeks with the back of her hand.
She wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. But she had to do something fast, and dithering around with Sam wasn’t going to cure her sick cow. Bull. Whatever. She’d wasted a lot of time coming here, but at least she knew now that she wasn’t going to be dealing with Sam anymore. The guy was impossible. And hardhearted.
Her next step was to drive the fifty miles down to Otto and meet with Stan Stewart, the vet there. Lucas had already talked to him on the phone, but maybe she could finagle a deal with him in person. They’d danced before at a social function in Otto and he hadn’t seemed exactly immune to her. Perhaps one on one …
Jodie pulled into the gas station two blocks from Sam’s clinic and got out of the car, wishing she’d fueled up at the ranch. But she hadn’t thought of it in her hurry to get to town and try to rustle up some medical help. She slipped her credit card into the slot, punched the buttons, then almost kicked the machine as the computerized gizmo took its own sweet time validating her card. Finally, gasoline started flowing into her tank.
She leaned back against the side of her dark blue car, not caring for once if she scratched the paint, and pressed her gloved palm to her forehead, feeling the heat of her flushed skin through the thin leather. A truck pulled to a stop on the other side of the pump and Sam got out. Jodie’s mouth almost dropped open.
“Did I leave before you were done lambasting my family?” she snapped, even as a small part of her wondered if she might regret the words.
His mouth tightened ominously at her sarcastic tone and Jodie made an effort to control herself. “I don’t have your cell number, so I couldn’t call you,” he said.
“Why would you need to?”
Sam shifted his weight self-consciously. “Do you want me to phone Stan Stewart and see if he’d be willing to examine your bull?”
Jodie frowned suspiciously. This was a big about-face. “May I ask why you’d do that?” The numbers on the gas pump whirled by. Her baby was thirsty.
“Because I hate seeing animals die just because they have the misfortune of being owned by an asshole.” There was not an iota of apology in his voice.
Jodie met his eyes, which looked almost silver in the fluorescent lighting above the gas pump. There was more to it than that. She had the oddest feeling he felt sorry for her. But as much as she hated that, she was more than willing to go with it. Anything to keep that flipping bull alive—if it wasn’t already too late.
“I’d appreciate it if you did that.” The words came out stiffly.
The pump mechanism clicked off and Jodie removed the spout from her tank, slapping the nozzle back into place.
Sam pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and pressed a single button. A moment later he was talking. Jodie wrapped her arms around her middle, focusing on the oil stained concrete beneath her feet as she waited for a verdict and tried to keep from tapping her toe. Less than thirty seconds into the conversation, she knew the answer would not be in her favor.
Deep breaths. Deep, deep breaths.
Sam clicked the phone shut. “Stan can’t make it.”
Jodie didn’t say a word. What could she say?
Her mouth tightened as she studied the ground at her feet for another few seconds, trying to come up with an alternative plan to save the poor animal that was going to die because her father was an asshole.
“I’ll take a look at the bull. Unless you’re afraid I’ll kill him.”
Jodie’s eyes flashed up. “I’ll pay you well,” she replied automatically.
“Damned right you will.”
CHAPTER FOUR
SAM DROVE HOME, knowing for a fact he’d lost his mind. Okay, he needed the money—as would anyone with oversize eating machines in their home—and he honestly hated to let any creature die. But he could have talked Stan into driving up to the ranch tomorrow. Deep in his gut Sam knew the real reason he was going was because he felt for Jodie.
Crazy. But it had also been crazy to see a woman who’d quite possibly never owned a pet in her life arguing passionately for him to come save a bull. More than that, though, he’d gotten a sense of something else … a sense that Jodie truly dreaded her father coming home and finding the bull dead. She’d been on the edge of desperation, trying to hold back tears.
He felt sorry for Jodie De Vanti. Go figure.
“You’re coming with me,” Sam said to Beau as soon as he got back home to switch his personal truck for the utility one.
“Where’re we going?”
“To the Barton ranch.”
“But …” One look at his uncle and Beau shut his mouth.
They rode most of the thirty miles in tense silence.
Sam still wasn’t certain how he was going to handle this cheating situation, but he wanted Beau to be available when he figured it out. Yes, he was probably overreacting, but what if he screwed up raising these guys? He owed it to his brother to do it right.
What would you do, Dave? How about a nudge in the right direction …?
“What’s the case?” Beau finally asked.
“Sick bull.”
“Oh.” Another long silence ensued.
Finally Sam couldn’t hold in the question any longer. Even though he knew the answer, he had to ask. “Why’d you cheat on the math test?”
“Because I wanted to play.”
“I’m glad they caught you.”
“Everybody does it,” Beau grumbled.
Sam at last understood why parents asked their kids, “If everyone jumped off a bridge, would you do it, too?” He’d just come damned close to saying those exact words.
His nephew shot him a look when Sam didn’t reply. “I know it doesn’t make it right.”
“More than that, it makes it so I can’t trust you.”
“You can trust me.”
Sam’s jaw tightened. “Cheating on a test is the same as lying. I don’t trust people who lie.”
Beau looked as though he wanted to argue the point, but after a few seconds he turned to stare out the window when Sam drove onto the wide gravel road leading to the Barton property. They passed under the arched metal sign announcing the Zephyr Valley Ranch. Sam would always think of the spread as Boggy Flats, its original name, but a guy like Joe Barton wouldn’t live on a place called that. The locals still smirked about the name Zephyr Valley.
Jodie was waiting for Sam on the steps of the glassed-in back porch, hands shoved in the pockets of her coat, her body held stiffly, though whether from cold or nerves, Sam had no idea. She stepped out onto the freshly shoveled path as the truck slowed, and walked briskly to the barn. By the time he parked she was waiting for him next to the door.
