Cowboy Vet

“I don’t have time to wait,” he said, signaling the mare’s owner to follow. “I’ve got a foal to get out.”

“I can help with that,” Jessie stated, stepping up alongside him, her short red hair framing her face.

“Brandy can help,” he said curtly. That was all he needed—Jessie to mess things up.

His vet clinic was set up like most—main office at the front, equine exam room behind that, with a surgical facility and medical barn out back. He slid open one side of the double doors between the office and the surgical room, flicking on a light. “Bring her in here.”

“Dr. Sheppard,” Valerie said, “You know I can’t pay—”

“I know. Don’t worry.”

When his gaze drifted past the frightened girl, he saw Jessie trailing in their wake.

“Jessie. Really. I don’t need your—”

“Stuff it,” she said. “You’ve got no assistant. I’m it.”

He didn’t have the energy to fight her—or the time. He led Jessie and Valerie to the surgical room.

Things happened in a hurry. The mare’s water had broken nearly an hour ago. That meant the foal might have been oxygen-deprived for nearly a half hour. Not good.

The first test of Jessie’s skill came within minutes. “Can you do a prep for me?” he asked.

“Where are the clippers?”

“Third drawer on the right.”

She nodded; he turned away, gathering the medication he’d need.

The sound of the clippers filled the room as Rand hung the IV set on the hook suspended above the mare’s back. His needle primed, he turned, surprised to see Jessie swabbing the area around the mare’s jugular she’d just clipped, the stringent smell of alcohol filling the room.

“Ready,” she said, stepping back.

Brandy showed up then, slowly shuffling her feet. Rand concealed his displeasure. The girl was never in a hurry to go anywhere, which meant trouble in a vet clinic, where seconds might count. Frankly, he probably would have fired her if he wasn’t so short-staffed. He’d have to talk to her about that. Again.

“Lead her up,” he told Brandy, signaling for the mare’s owner to step back.

Brandy tried, but the tired mare didn’t want to move.

“G’yup there,” Jessie said before he could. “Go on.” She slapped the horse on the rump and clucked.

That did the trick. Rand quickly administered the valium. Within seconds the big chestnut’s knees buckled, then she went down. It took both Jessie and Rand to hook the unconscious mare to the hoist that would move her into position on the padded operating table.

“That’s it,” he said, the tricky procedure accomplished in a matter of minutes. Precious minutes.

Damn.

“Brandy, get the—”

But Jessie was already one step ahead of him, searching through drawers and finding the mouth tube.

“Can I do anything?” Brandy asked, fiddling nervously with the end of her brown ponytail. He’d had her assist with other surgeries, but she was still so new that she approached each procedure with trepidation.

“Just stand there for now.” He inserted a catheter in the mare’s vein as Jessie handed him the ends of the IV set. When he was done with that, she hooked the mare to the respirator and vital-signs monitor near the horse’s head.

Impressive.

It was all he had time to think before he was busy getting instruments ready for the next step.

“You might want to go outside,” he told Valerie.

The young girl didn’t need to be told twice. She knew what was coming and knew it wouldn’t be pretty. The question was, how would Jessie take it?

“What about me?” Brandy asked.

“Stay here. I might need you.”

The sound of the hair trimmer buzzed through the air again, Jessie prepping the surgical area without glancing up. His estimation of her skills rose with each swipe of the clippers. She didn’t need to be told where he’d be cutting. She obviously knew. And she knew how big an area to clip, too.

“You’ve done this before,” he said.

“Once or twice,” she offered, grabbing the Betadine she’d pulled off the counter, liberally swathing the area.

The breeding farm, he surmised. So she really had worked for one.

“Ready?” Jessie said, stepping out of the way, the latex gloves he hadn’t even seen her pull on covered with the yellow-brown solution.

“Ready,” he said, removing his cowboy hat and slipping on his own gloves.

He made the first incision, then looked sideways at Jessie. She didn’t flinch.

Good.

He took the next instrument from her hand. In a matter of minutes he’d reached the foal, the mare’s steady vital signs a rhythmic beep-beep-beep in his ears.

“Almost there,” he said, reaching his gloved hand into the quarter horse’s distended abdomen.

“Ooh, gross,” Brandy said.

Rand ignored her. “Damn breeders are growing them bigger and bigger,” he said, feeling around for a leg. “The mares just aren’t equipped for a baby bred from a sixteen-two-hand stallion. Seems like I’m doing more and more of these of late.”

“Sixteen-two?” Jessie asked.

He nodded, tongue between his teeth as he reached farther inside. “And that’s on the smaller end of the scale. I’m seeing seventeen-hand stallions advertised in the Quarter Horse Journal.”

“Jeez.”

And then he had it, his hand closing around a miniature hoof. After a tug that seemed almost too infinitesimal to do much, the foal slipped from the mare’s abdomen.

“There we go.”

“Oh, wow,” Brandy gasped, reflecting how Rand felt every single time he welcomed a foal into the world. But it was far too soon to know if this little guy would be sticking around.

“Here,” Jessie said, handing him a scalpel, which he used to rip open the placenta.

“Not breathing,” he said. “Damn it.”

He stuck his finger up the tiny foal’s nostril, cleaning it out and then blowing into it in the hopes that he could jump-start the baby’s lungs.

One breath.

Two.

The foal’s chest suddenly twitched.

“Holy cow,” Brandy said when the newborn’s eyes opened.

“Here,” Jessie said, handing him a stethoscope. Rand checked the foal’s gum color. Within seconds they’d turned a healthy shade of pink.

“So far so good,” he said, clearing more of the placenta from around the animal and then grabbing the stethoscope.

He checked the baby’s heart, then the lungs. Clear of liquid. The foal tried to sit up, its unused neck muscles straining.

“Well?” Jessie said, and for the first time he heard emotion in her voice.

“I think he’ll be all right,” Rand murmured. “Brandy, come on over here and wipe the little guy down while Jessie and I close up.”

Chapter Three

She’d impressed him.

Jessie wanted to punch the air as she exited the post-op stall ahead of Dr. Sheppard. She didn’t, but it was damn hard not to smile.

The smell of fresh pine shavings filled the air, the horizontal aluminum bars that allowed people to see into the stalls gleaming in the late-morning light. It was a state-of-the-art barn, complete with closed-circuit cameras, heaters and even giant fans for those days when the Los Molinos mercury rose too high.

“So,” she said, leaning against the bars and staring at the mare and foal. The foal was trying hard to stay balanced on his new legs. “When do you want me to start?”

No answer.

“Well?” she asked, glancing at him, her euphoria at a job well done making her bold.

“Jessie,” he said, lifting his hat and running a hand through his hair. “I appreciate your help today, but I’m still not going to hire you.”

“You’re kidding me,” she said in disbelief. “For goodness’ sake, Rand, you couldn’t have done that surgery without me.”

“That’s not true,” he said, crossing his arms. He stared down at her in that serious way of his. The expression always made her uncomfortable. “Brandy could have helped.”

“And lost you valuable time. That girl doesn’t know OB pullers from a lead rope.”

“She doesn’t need to know,” he said. “I could have told her what was needed.”

Jessie stared up at him. “Look,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. His eyes darted downward.

She stiffened.

Had he just—?

Nah, she told herself. He hadn’t just looked at her breasts. No way. Dr. Rand Sheppard wouldn’t give her a second glance.

She pulled her shoulders back nonetheless, under the pretext of hooking her thumbs in her belt loops, her elbows bent so that her breasts strained against the white T-shirt she’d worn beneath her beat-up jacket.

He glanced down again, only this time his eyes narrowed and he frowned, his mouth a flat line. “Look at what?”

He was checking her out.

Jessie couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t happy about it, she could tell, but that’s what he’d just done.

She pulled her shoulders back even more, thrusting a hip out for good measure. “Look,” she said, making her voice softer, “I understand you don’t like me.” But you like my breasts. “Let’s put that aside for a moment,” she said rocking slightly. “You’re in a bind.”

“I could hire somebody tomorrow if I wanted to.”

“Then why don’t you?” she asked.

“Because they’re not qualified. Everyone who’s applied so far has no experience and minimal education.”

“Which just proves my point…or the point I was about to make. Hire me until a qualified applicant comes along.”

He glanced down. And there it was again: the look. The one he tried too hard to deny—sexual interest.

He found her attractive.

In-ter-resting.

“If you find someone tomorrow, I’ll leave,” she added. “But I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

“I still don’t think—”

“Rand,” she said, clutching his arm.

He acted as if she’d touched him with a twelve-gauge needle.

“Don’t—” he pulled back “—touch me.”

Her eyes widened in surprise.

After all these years. After all the surly expressions. All the barbed comments. All the sarcastic retorts. He found her attractive.

“Sor-ry,” she said. She tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile.

“I don’t like to be touched,” he muttered.

“That must play hell on your love life.”

He didn’t answer.

She bit back a laugh. “As I was about to say,” she resumed, “I don’t mind being temporary help. Heck, it’ll give me experience I can put on my résumé. Or are you willing to put the lives of the animals at risk by having someone like Brandy assist while you’re out on calls?”

His lips went tight.

She knew she had him then.

“I’ll bow out of your clinic the minute you find a suitable replacement.”

A horse neighed, the answering calls momentarily filling the barn. Rand turned away, staring down the long aisle.

“Fine,” he said, glancing back to her. “But it’ll just be temporary.”

“Got it,” she said, trying hard to conceal her delight. “Temporary. When do you want me to start?”

Again he looked pained. “Tomorrow.”

“Why not today?”

He shook his head.

Probably he needed to get his wandering eyes under control.

“Call me if you need me,” she said.

All he did was nod.

Dr. Sheppard found her attractive.

Miracles would never cease.

IT’D BEEN A MOMENT of insanity. An act of desperation brought on by a long night spent keeping a colicky horse alive, followed by the emergency C-section.

At least that’s what he told himself the next morning, because there was no other reason he’d invite Jessie to work for him.

It’s just temporary, he told himself as he slipped into the warm clinic.

“Morning, Doctor,” Pauline said, shooting him a jowly smile that never failed to make him smile back.

“Mornin’, Pauline.”

Rand flipped through the mail he’d forgotten yesterday, thanks to back-to-back emergency calls. He’d sunk into bed exhausted, and praying that nobody’s horse would founder or get colic or need emergency sutures.

“You’ve got three small-animal appointments, two need shots and one has a foxtail down his ear—or so the owner thinks. The foxtail is coming in first thing,” Pauline said, peering over the eye-level counter that surrounded her like a corral. “I’ve scheduled your large-animal clients for this afternoon.”

“Thanks,” Rand said, tapping the edges of the envelopes on the Formica counter where they kept the patient sign-in sheet on a clipboard.

“And Jessie Monroe is waiting for you in your office.”

The look Pauline gave him suggested he’d invited her least favorite politician to join him.

“I didn’t know what to do with her, so I put her in there.”

“Thanks,” he said again. He’d deal with the censure he saw in the receptionist’s eyes later.

His office was at the corner of the main clinic. It was a comfortable room that he’d paneled with real oak. Various western-themed items hung on the wall, from the skull of a cow to the horns of a watusi. Pictures of cowboys rounding up cattle hung on three walls; the fourth wall had windows that overlooked the front parking lot.

Jessie sat in one of the leather armchairs, the deep rust of the tanned hide matching the streaks in her red hair. She shot up when she saw him.

“Sleep in?”

“No,” he said tersely, although that’s exactly what he’d done.

She smiled. He ignored her, flipping through the mail stacked on his desk.

“I wasn’t sure what time I was supposed to be here this morning.”

“When we open is fine.”

“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

He had, at least a hundred times. Seeing her in front of him only reinforced his misgivings.

“Haven’t changed my mind,” he said, setting the mail down and moving behind his desk. He felt a lot better with something between them. “Not yet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“Just that you should remember you’re here on a trial basis.”

“Oh, I remember.”

“Good, because I just got three résumés in today’s mail. If any of them look promising I’ll have Pauline arrange an interview.”

“I wonder what the odds are of that happening,” he thought he heard her mutter.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” she said, sitting up straighter. “So, then, since you’re not going to run me off with a shotgun, what do you want me to do?” Her smile was a little too bright.

“I’ve got clients coming in this morning. I’ll expect you to do the pre-exam. This afternoon we’ll go out on a few calls. You’ll ride along. In between, help Brandy clean the kennels and the stalls.”

“Terrific,” Jessie said with another gamine smile.

“You won’t think it’s terrific when you see some of the animals we’re treating. Colitis is going around.”

She winced. The bacterial disorder caused horses about as much discomfort as it did humans, and it wasn’t pretty.

“I’m sure Brandy will be happy to have your help.”

“I’m sure she will,” Jessie said.

“But our first order of business will be checking the mare and foal you helped deliver yesterday. I glanced in on them a few times last night and I’m concerned the foal isn’t nursing properly.”

She nodded. “Will do. Boss.”

Rand narrowed his eyes. It was the damnedest thing. Every time he met her gaze he felt almost itchy.

It was a feeling that followed him all the way out of the clinic. Rand scratched at the back of his neck and wondered if he’d picked up poison oak from one of the animals he’d treated.

“I can look in on them on my own,” she said, walking beside him. “You know, if you’ve got better things to do.”

She was peering up at him, and he noticed she had freckles sprinkled across her petite nose and high cheeks. But it was her lips that caught his attention. Their fullness specifically.

“No,” he said. “I want to check the foal’s motor skills this morning.”

She nodded and the two of them padded down the rubber-matted aisle. It was his favorite time of day, when all the horses were munching their food, their teeth grinding against the alfalfa a rhythmic sound accompanied by the rustling of hooves in shavings.

“You know, Rand,” she said. “You’re very lucky.”

He glanced down at her and wondered if her hair was naturally that red or if she dyed it. “What do you mean?”

“You have all this,” she said, splaying her arms. “Every morning.”

“Yeah?”

“I would give anything to surround myself with horses.”

Something about the way she said it made him stop. Some people came to horses late in life. Some people never came to them at all. Jessie had grown up in a trailer park on the outside of town—a single-wide her mom supposedly still occupied—far away from the world of tiny foals and fancy barns.

“Maybe one day you will,” he said.

Jessie smiled wistfully. “Well, in the meantime, this will do,” she said, dropping her arms. “Thank you for hiring me. Even if it’s for a day”

“You’re welcome,” Rand said, wondering why he suddenly felt like a heel.

Chapter Four

Jessie watched him walk away.

They’d checked on the foal, who seemed to be doing marvelously. Rand hardly cracked a smile as he finished his exam. When he left he didn’t even glance at her, just ordered her to help Brandy muck out stalls.

Jessie went to the groom stall he’d mentioned, finding a rake leaning in a corner and a wheelbarrow tipped upward so that the rim rested against the rubber-padded wall.

If he wanted her to clean stalls, she’d clean stalls. She’d be the best damn stall cleaner he’d ever seen.

So that’s what she did, working through the morning and occasionally catching glimpses of Dr. Doom through the horizontal bars. She waited for him to call her in to help him with some of his small animals, but apparently, despite what he’d told her earlier about doing pre-exams, Brandy was his assistant of choice. That seemed silly. Brandy didn’t know a thing, but Jessie supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. She had a feeling Rand would give her a wide berth whenever possible.

Story of her life.

When it was time to go out with him on his afternoon calls, she’d been so busy all morning she was almost relieved at the prospect of sitting in his truck.

“We’ve got five calls to make,” he said, the two of them stopping next to his one-ton. “While we’re out with clients I’ll expect you to gather my supplies, keep control of the horses and, if I don’t need you for either of those two things, to stay out of my way.”

“Yeah…okay,” she said, all but sighing as her butt made contact with the seat. Jessie didn’t feel his stare at first, and when she did, she lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

“If you’re not up to this, Jessie, say the word and you can stay here at the clinic.”

“What do you mean?”

“You look apprehensive.”

“Not apprehensive, just tired,” she said. “But don’t worry, I’ll catch my second wind in a minute.”

“You sure?”

“Let’s go,” she urged, giving him a wide smile.

They set off, Jessie staring out at the rolling hills, the scenery speeding by, all the while wondering if she’d deluded herself when she’d leaped to the conclusion that Rand found her attractive. Today he appeared to have himself well in hand, his shoot-Jessie-down radar firmly in place.

But still, some little devil made her straighten up, made her turn her body toward him and ask, “So, Dr. Sheppard…dating anyone?”

He did a double take. “Who wants to know?”

Me, she wanted to say, but only because she thought it’d be hilarious to see his reaction. “Just curious,” she said. “All the single women in town go gaga over you. I was wondering if one of them had caught your attention.”

“And if one had?” he asked, scanning her with a quick flick of his eyes.

“I would offer her my sincerest condolences and then give her the business card of a good psychologist.”

He sent her another quick glance, only this time his eyes were narrowed beneath his black hat. “You know, for someone already on shaky ground, you sure do like to mess with me.”

“I try,” she said.

They both lapsed into silence, which lasted until their first stop, a fancy ranch-style home—butter-yellow—with a prefab barn out back. A fresh-faced girl who didn’t appear old enough to have lost her baby teeth came outside to greet them, her boots and riding pants proclaiming her to be of the hunter-jumper set, the expression on her face announcing her to be a bona fide member of the Gaga for Dr. Sheppard Club.

It was a beautiful facility, especially impressive considering it was privately owned. Jessie forced herself not to stop and admire the luxurious surroundings, but focus on why they were here. A horse stood on crossties in the middle of the aisle in the barn, a big gray with white dapples along his neck and body.

“Hey, Lacy,” Rand said. “How you doing?”

“Fine,” she said, “but I wish Mongo was better.”

Forget the barn—and Rand—Mongo was gorgeous.

His head looked as sculpted as an Arabian’s, his body thick with muscles. But his feet were huge. Platter-size, actually. Warm blood, she thought. A type of equine developed from draft horse stock that usually came in two sizes: large and extra large. And an extra, extra large price tag.

“I just don’t know what could be wrong with him,” his owner was saying. “He came back from the desert circuit fine. I even gave him a week off. But when I took him out this morning, he could barely walk.”

Rand nodded, running his hand down the horse’s legs and checking for elevated pulse points that might indicate lameness. He also checked for heat and swelling, his expression perplexed when he didn’t appear to find anything.

“I don’t see anything yet, Lacy. Hey, Jessie, get me the hoof testers.”

She nodded and quickly fetched the tong-shaped instrument that reminded her of a fireplace tool, watching as he used it to apply pressure in various spots on each of the horse’s hooves.

“Nothing so far,” he said, straightening.

“Really?” Lacy asked.

“Really,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean he might not be injured higher up. Jessie, trot him out so we can see what happens.”

“Maybe I should do that,” Lacy said. “He’s kind of a handful on the ground.”

“No, no,” Jessie said. “I can do it.” She smiled at the woman.

“He sure has gotten big, Lacy,” she heard Rand say, tipping his hat back to get a better look.

“I know. Do you remember when my mom and dad bought him? Best graduation present I could ever have gotten. I’ve won just about everything there is on him.”

Graduation? The girl was old enough to have graduated from high school? And she’d gotten a twenty-thousand-dollar horse for a present? Maybe a forty-thousand-dollar horse. Must be nice.

But when Jessie asked the animal to walk forward, she forgot all about the price because it quickly became obvious that Mongo was indeed a handful. Actually, he was a terror, she thought when he tried to nip her arm.

“Careful,” Rand said.

“Maybe I should do it,” Lacy repeated.

Jessie shook her head. “No, no. It’s okay. I can do it.”

If she had to walk naked, up a cactus-infested hillside, barefoot, she’d do that before letting Mongo’s owner do her job.

“Come on, Mongo,” Jessie muttered, clucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

The gelding dug in his heels. She tugged harder.

It was like pulling against a tractor…or an oil derrick.

“Maybe I should—” interrupted the owner.

“No, no. I’ve handled animals his size before.”

Oh, yeah? When?

“Come on,” she said again, flicking the excess lead rope behind her so that it slapped the gelding’s belly.

He shot forward so fast she felt like a mouse tethered to a hot air balloon.

“Holy—” She cut off her curse because all at once she had to keep up with the beast, and to do that she had to run. For every three steps she took, the horse took one. Jessie was forced to half hop, half skip to keep up.