Even the Nights are Better

She turned to him, her face in the dim interior of the barn softly illuminated by dusty rays of light slanting through the big open doors.

“Vernon Trent,” she said with amusement, “if you just don’t beat all. You bring me this pitiful little thing, and then you argue with me when I want to help him.”

Vernon laughed with her, then sobered. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just that this is getting way more complicated than I’d figured. Do you have any idea what veterinarian fees are these days?”

Carolyn stared at him in disbelief. “Do I?” she asked him. “Vern, you know perfectly well I’ve been running this place on my own ever since Frank died. You think those bills just get paid by magic, somehow, without me signing the checks?”

He paused, stung by her words though she hadn’t meant them unkindly. “I know, Caro,” he said again, his voice low and strained. “And God knows, it’s been a miracle, the way you’ve managed things on your own. I just meant…” Vern hesitated. “Caro, girl…I’m not sure he’s going to be bright and perky again no matter what we do. He looks to be in pretty bad shape.”

Carolyn glanced down at the matted body in her manger, touching the animal’s thin heaving side with a gentle hand. As it had with Vernon, the small dog rolled its head feebly and tried to lick her fingers. Carolyn’s face softened and twisted.

“He’s going to get better,” she said, squaring her shoulders and turning to Vernon with sudden decision, her eyes damp and glistening in the misty light. “I don’t intend to let him die, Vern. I’ve seen enough of death these past few years and I’m sick of it, that’s all. I just plain won’t allow him to die.”

Vernon gazed back at her in silent understanding. Within the past ten years, Carolyn had lost both her mother and her beloved sister to breast cancer, and her sturdy vigorous husband to a heart attack. That was a lot of suffering for one woman to endure, even a woman as strong as Carolyn Randolph Townsend.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to bring the dog to her.

But it was too late now. She’d already forgotten about Vernon and was filling a pail with water to wash the dog’s livid cut. Vernon watched her a moment longer, then turned quietly and went out to his car to phone the veterinarian’s office in Crystal Creek.

CAROLYN DABBED tenderly at the long bloody cut on the dog’s shuddering body, trying to be as gentle as she could, wincing as the little animal growled and whimpered with pain.

“Poor little furry guy,” she whispered. “Poor little tenderhearted baby. You don’t even know what’s hit you, do you? You can’t figure out why the world should turn so dark and cruel all of a sudden. Poor sweet little thing…”

The dog’s bony head lolled wearily and its forelegs twitched. Carolyn rubbed it with another cloth, trying to dry the matted fur without jarring any obvious injuries.

“Carolyn, I called Manny’s office,” she heard Vernon saying behind her. “He’s out on a call, but they’ll try to locate him and pass on the message.”

“Thanks, Vern,” Carolyn said in an abstracted tone, reaching for clean burlap sacks to cover and cushion the little body.

“Well, I’d better be pushing off,” he said. “Unless there’s something else I can do for you, Caro, before I go.”

Carolyn turned around then, smiling at his sturdy form and pleasant anxious face as he hesitated in the doorway of the barn. Vernon Trent was not only one of her oldest friends, but just about the nicest man she’d ever met, she thought suddenly. She was a little surprised at the quick flood of warmth she felt for him as he stood there in the slanting early-morning light.

She smiled and gave him a brisk dismissive wave of her hand. “Vern, for God’s sake, quit fussing, all right? You just go on into town and sell the hotel or the hospital or something, and I’ll look after this little floor mop of ours.”

He nodded and turned toward his car, his square features still full of concern. “I’ll call you later, Caro, okay? I’m interested in hearing what Manny has to say about him.”

“Sure, Vern,” Carolyn said, turning back to her small patient. “Not till evening, though, okay? Cynthia and I have a date this afternoon. They roped us into handling one of the tables at the church pie sale.”

Vernon grinned, the old teasing sparkle back in his eyes. “Well, now, that sounds like fun, Caro. Just your cup of tea.”

Her mouth twisted in a wry answering grin. “Go away. Get that ridiculous kiddie car out of my driveway, Vernon Trent,” she said calmly, “before I get my rifle and shoot the damn tires.”

Vernon laughed and strolled out to climb into his car again.

Carolyn wandered to the doorway, watching him disappear around a bend in the road in a bright flash of silver. She felt strangely wistful as she gazed into the distance, but after a few moments of silence she squared her shoulders and walked briskly into the barn again.

“Mama?” a voice called from the other side of the box stalls. “You in here, Mama?”

“Round the other side, dear,” Carolyn replied. “By the tack rooms.”

She looked up and smiled as her daughter, Beverly, rounded the bank of stalls. As always, Carolyn was stunned for a moment by the girl’s beauty, even though she knew Beverly better than anybody and was often less than impressed by certain aspects of her daughter’s personality.

But there was no denying that the girl was lovely.

She glimmered like a spring blossom in the dusty interior of the big barn, in her soft pink jumpsuit of crinkled cotton with a wide braided-hemp belt and matching sandals. Her thick golden hair, brushed and shining, held back by a pink shell-shaped clip, cascaded down her slim back.

“What’s this?” Beverly asked curiously, bending forward to peer into the manger. “Oh!” she added, and drew back hastily. “Where’d he come from, Mama?”

“Vernon Trent brought him in just now,” Carolyn said. “Vern was just driving by, saw this little fella crumpled by the side of the road.”

“He was hit by a car?”

“Obviously,” Carolyn said dryly. “He’s somebody’s abandoned house pet, I’d guess, without a lot of back road smarts.”

Beverly was silent a moment, gazing at the quivering bundle of sacking. Then she gathered herself and turned to her mother. “So he’s what that call was about, I guess.”

“What call, Beverly?”

“Manny’s secretary called the house just now. She said she raised Manny on his mobile phone and he’s somewhere out in this area anyway, so he’ll stop by on his way back to town.”

“Oh, good,” Carolyn said. “I was sure hoping he could come right away, but I didn’t think I’d be quite that lucky.”

“Is Vern still here?” Beverly asked.

“No, he left a few minutes ago. Why?”

“I thought if he hadn’t left yet I could get a ride into town with him. I’m spending the afternoon shopping with Lynn and she can drop me off later, but I still need a way to get in there.”

“What’s wrong with your car?” Carolyn asked, gazing blankly at her daughter.

“It’s in the shop, Mama,” Beverly said patiently. “I told you yesterday, I’m having that dented fender fixed and painted.”

“Oh, that’s right. Sorry, sweetie,” Carolyn added. “If I’d known you wanted a ride, I’d have asked Vern to wait.” She paused, glancing up at her daughter in sudden surprise. “It’s awfully early, isn’t it, Beverly? What are you planning to do in town anyway, before eight o’clock in the morning?”

Beverly turned away, heading for the door. “Oh, it’s just one of the kids on the ward,” she said over her shoulder. “He’s having his surgery this morning, and I promised him I’d be there when he woke up because his mother has to work. It’s okay,” she added. “Lori said I could borrow her car if I’m stuck. Bye, Mama. I hope your little guy’s going to be all right.”

Carolyn nodded and leaned against the manger, watching thoughtfully as her daughter disappeared from her view.

Sometimes she found it so puzzling, this whole business of Beverly and her volunteer work with the children at the hospital. Carolyn wanted very much to believe that Beverly’s motives were sincere, that in those sick little kids at the Crystal Creek Community Hospital the restless beautiful girl had finally found something to hold her interest and release her from her intense preoccupation with herself.

Still Carolyn couldn’t help being a little skeptical, wondering if the kids were just a new audience Beverly was playing to, a whole new group to dazzle with her gorgeous looks and that beauty-queen smile of hers.

Carolyn’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of another vehicle in the driveway, then the slamming of a door and brisk footsteps.

Dr. Manuel Hernandez, the local veterinarian, appeared in the doorway, white teeth flashing in his dark handsome face.

“Good mornin’, Carolyn,” he drawled cheerfully. “What’s this big urgent problem of yours?”

Carolyn eyed the young man thoughtfully. “You’re awful perky this morning, Manny,” she observed. “Seems like every single soul in Crystal Creek got up with the chickens this morning.”

“Not me. I was up all night,” he said, leaning against one of the box stalls, relaxed and casual in blue jeans and a soft plaid shirt. “Just over at the Double C, in fact. One of J.T.’s mares had trouble foaling, and J.T. and Ken and I worked on her for hours.”

“Oh, no. Is she all right?” Carolyn asked with quick concern.

“Mother and baby doing just fine,” Manny told her with a smile. “It was that new dark sorrel three-year-old, the one Lynn calls Cherokee. Finally dropped a real nice little bay filly, just a half hour ago.”

“Well, that’s good,” Carolyn said with relief.

“But I’m sure one tired cowboy,” Manny said, stretching his lean muscular body and rubbing wearily at his eyes. “I hope y’all don’t have a couple of heifers calving, or something. I want to go home and grab a few hours’ sleep.”

Carolyn gazed critically at the dark-haired young man, shaking her head. “Just look at you,” she commented. “About three times handsomer than any man has a right to be, and you spend all your nights working. It’s time you started thinking about getting married and settling down, Manny.”

“Oh, I think about it, Carolyn,” he said. “I think about it a lot, actually. You just find me the right woman and I’ll be ready in a minute.”

Carolyn grinned. “From what I hear, Manuel Hernandez, you’ve got no problem finding women.”

“That’s true,” he agreed cheerfully. “It’s finding the right one that’s always the problem.”

Carolyn laughed, leading him across the barn to where the terrier lay.

As soon as he saw the dog, Manny’s teasing and laughter vanished and he was all business, examining the little animal with long sensitive fingers.

Finally he straightened and turned to Carolyn, his face grave. “Most of the injuries are quite superficial, really,” he said. “I could put a cast on the leg and stitch up this cut in just a few minutes, but that’s not the main problem, Carolyn. I think you’d better let me put him down.”

“Put him down?” she echoed, staring wide-eyed at the young veterinarian. “Why would you do that, Manny, if his injuries are superficial? I’m willing to pay for the treatment, and I’ll give him whatever care he needs afterward.”

“I said most of the injuries weren’t serious,” Manny said patiently. “The problem, Carolyn, is that his jaw is shattered. Now, this little guy is just a stray from God knows where. I’m sure you don’t want to pay for the kind of delicate and extensive surgery that would be necessary to repair his jaw. I doubt that any of my clients would, no matter how crazy they were about their dogs.”

Carolyn hesitated. She was flooded all at once with deep sorrow, an anguish so hot and intense that she was afraid to analyze it. “Isn’t there any alternative?” she asked in a low strained voice. “Anything else we could do?”

Manny shrugged. “The only alternative,” he said, “is to strap the jaw into position and then feed him liquids by hand until it knits together, if it’s ever going to. Otherwise the rest of his injuries will heal, but he’ll gradually starve to death. He sure can’t chew and swallow, not like this.”

“What kind of liquids?”

“Carolyn,” Manny said gently, “it’s a big job to take on, you know. It would take hours of patience every day to get enough nourishment into him.”

Carolyn knew Manny was probably right. She was being stubborn and unreasonable over this whole thing, but she couldn’t help herself.

“What kind of liquids?” she repeated.

Manny shrugged. “Just about anything that’s protein rich and easy to digest,” he said. “Bread soaked in milk, soft dog food mixed up in a blender with beef stock or soup, that kind of thing. Whatever you’d normally feed him, only liquefied, trickled down his throat one spoonful at a time.”

“Okay,” Carolyn said in a barely audible voice, avoiding the younger man’s eyes. “Maybe I’ll… I’ll give it a try for a while. If you’d just patch him up, Manny, I’ll take it from here.”

The veterinarian nodded, started toward the door and then paused, giving Carolyn a keen thoughtful glance. He seemed about to say something further but apparently thought better of it, turning away and striding out to his van to get his equipment.

CHAPTER TWO

“WHAT KIND OF DOG is he exactly, Manny? Besides being a floor mop, I mean.”

Manny Hernandez stretched his body wearily and turned to Carolyn, who was leaning in the doorway of the barn watching as he packed his equipment away.

“Well, Carolyn, what he looks like to me is a very expensive little mistake. I’d say he’s a cross between a couple of small terriers, a cross that never should have happened. Probably Yorkshire and Sealyham, by the looks of him.”

“I don’t know much about lapdogs,” Carolyn said. “Those are both furry little mop types, right?”

“More or less. Especially the Yorkie. But I think this fella’s got a lot of Sealyham mixed in there, too, and that’s where he gets that silky crinkly texture to his coat. Nice little dog,” he added. “Probably perky and loyal and intelligent, too, but not worth a hell of a lot.”

“You mean because he’s a crossbred?”

“Sure,” Manny said, pausing by the open door of his van. “I’d guess that it was an accidental mating, and it produced a litter of hybrids that aren’t worth much except as house pets, which is why this little guy ended up where he did, I expect.”

“You mean,” Carolyn said quietly, “they figured they might as well just dump him if they didn’t want him anymore because he isn’t worth enough to bother selling him?”

Manny shrugged. “Sometimes their intentions aren’t all that bad, Carolyn, the people who do this. They’ve got a pet they can’t look after for some reason, and they genuinely believe that the ranches out here are just spacious limitless places that can give a happy home to any stray animal.”

Carolyn nodded. “That was my very first impression when Vern brought him in,” she said. “That he was likely an abandoned pet, I mean, who’d been deliberately dumped off out here. But I wonder…”

She paused, moving the toe of her boot with apparent aimlessness in the soft damp dirt of the driveway while Manny waited for her to finish her sentence.

“What if he really is somebody’s pet, Manny?” she forced herself to ask, looking up at the young veterinarian. “Some local kid’s dog that everybody’s out looking for right this minute?”

Manny shook his head decisively. “Not a chance, Carolyn. A little fella like this wouldn’t have traveled far on his own. His pads show that he’s hardly covered any ground at all. And I know every dog in the district. He’s not from around here—he was brought in by car and dropped off. You can watch the papers for the next few days if you like, but I’d be willing to bet that I’m right.”

Carolyn’s slim shoulders relaxed but she waved her hand in a casual gesture, trying to look noncommittal. “I guess so,” she said.

“You’re not fooling me, Carolyn Townsend,” Manny said with amusement, one hand gripping the door handle as he prepared to climb into the driver’s seat. “You’ve completely ignored all my educated warnings, and you’re already emotionally involved.”

“And a good thing for you, too,” Carolyn rejoined tartly, “considering the size of the bill I’m going to be getting for your services this morning, Manuel Hernandez.”

“What a life,” Manny said dolefully. “Everybody grumbles about the vet fees, and yet they all call me at all hours of the day and night, every day of the year. I just can’t win.”

“Would you like a cup of coffee?” Carolyn asked, smiling at him, her tartness dissipating in a warm tide of sympathy for the young man. “Or some breakfast? I was just on my way into the house to cook myself up some scrambled eggs and pancakes.”

Manny shook his head regretfully. “Sounds wonderful, Carolyn, but I’ve got calls waiting back at the office and I really need to grab a couple hours’ sleep. I’ll take a rain check, okay?”

“Okay,” Carolyn said.

The veterinarian shot her another keen glance. “Is there something else? Something you wanted me to check on, maybe?”

“No, no…” Carolyn shook her head and then looked up, her clear sea-blue eyes troubled. “I just wanted to ask you what you knew about this damned dude ranch that’s opening up next door, Manny.”

“The Hole in the Wall?”

“Whatever,” Carolyn said grimly. “I thought at first that was such a stupid name, but maybe it fits after all. The place is going to be a real hole, far as I’m concerned.”

“Now, Carolyn, it’s not that bad,” Manny began in a reasonable tone. “From what I hear, Scott Harris has done a real good job of fixing up the ranch, and he’s planning to run a first-rate operation out there.”

Carolyn shook her head, unconvinced. “Our family neighbored the Kendalls for generations, Manny,” she said, “and that ranch was always a real nice little family business. It was called the Lazy J, and it was just about the nicest neighbor ranch you could ever hope for. Now this city lawyer’s gone and bought it, and God knows what’ll be going on over there at the edge of my property. I just hate it.”

Manny looked at her. “What is it that you hate about it, Carolyn?”

“Everything!” she burst out, her face flushed with emotion. “To begin with, I’ve hated all the construction, months of bulldozers and heavy machinery rumbling around out there bothering my stock. And now that they’re set to open, I hate the thought of a bunch of idiot greenhorns wandering around at the edge of my property leaving gates open and scattering garbage, teasing the bulls and scaring the calves. But most of all, I hate this rumor I’ve heard about the exotic animals.”

Manny looked blank. “Exotic animals?”

“You know,” Carolyn told him impatiently. “Gazelles and wildebeest and all that—exotic African animals brought in and penned up behind fences for city slickers to shoot at. Apparently this man is planning to supplement his income that way. It’s happening all over Texas, Manny, and I find it purely disgusting. The thought of it makes me want to go over to the Hole in the Wall,” she concluded, emphasizing the words with bitter sarcasm, “and shoot something myself. And not some pretty little gazelle, either.”

Manny looked concerned for the first time. “Well, now,” he conceded, “that’s a different thing, Carolyn. I hadn’t heard that particular rumor, but I’ll grant you it does make me uneasy. Not from a moral point of view,” he added, “so much as medical.”

“Medical?” Carolyn echoed.

“Those exotic animals can be a real danger to domestic beef herds. They bring in diseases and parasites that are unknown in North America, and that our native cattle have no resistance to.”

Blood drained from Carolyn’s face, leaving it pale as marble beneath the tan. She stared at the younger man.

“Manny,” she began in a low strained voice, “we spent twenty years here building one of the finest Santa Gertrudis herds in the state. I can’t bear to see everything Frank and I worked for threatened by some…some upstart desk jockey who’s decided he wants to play cowboy!”

She fell silent, her chest heaving, her eyes flashing blue fire, and Manny gave her another concerned look.

“I hate to see you getting so upset, Carolyn,” he said finally. “You know, I’ve met Scott Harris and he seems like a nice reasonable type. Maybe there’s no real truth to all these rumors, and you’re getting worked up over nothing.”

Carolyn collected herself with an effort and forced a smile. “Sorry to sound off at you, Manny,” she said.”It’s not your fault. But,” she added, her voice grim, “I think one of these days I’ll just go on over and have a little chat with this Scott Harris myself. And somehow I really doubt that I’m going to share your good opinion of him.”

At that moment a sleek little pale blue Nissan rolled out of the triple garage behind the house and started down the driveway just beyond where Manny and Carolyn stood talking.

Lori and Beverly were both in the car, Carolyn noted with amusement. Clearly Lori had decided that she wouldn’t lend the younger woman her vehicle, but would give her a ride into town instead. Carolyn grinned privately, forgetting her own concerns for a moment as she thought about the two in the car.

No matter how responsible and mature Beverly was acting these days, she mused, it was going to take a lot to convince Lori that the girl’s transformation was genuine. Lori Porter was Carolyn’s cousin as well as resident accountant and unofficial assistant, but she earned her living by acting as a professional accountant for most of the other ranchers in the district as well. She had lived with the family at the Circle T long enough to have witnessed much of Beverly’s adolescence and young adulthood. Though she usually maintained a discreet silence on the subject, Lori was even more dubious about her young cousin’s motives than Carolyn herself. And she was not likely to be impressed by sporadic good works and noble proclamations from Beverly.

Carolyn and Manny both waved at the two women as they rolled down the drive out of sight, and Manny climbed behind the wheel of his van.

“Remember that little dog needs a lot of nourishment on a regular basis if he’s going to make it, Carolyn,” he said. “Keep him warm, give him liquids every couple of hours, use those drops I left for you and keep the cast dry. And don’t move him unless you have to. I’ll be back early next week to take the stitches out.”

“Thanks, Manny,” Carolyn said. She waved farewell and watched as he backed out onto the drive, roaring off just behind the two women in the blue Nissan.

She hadn’t even had her breakfast yet, but it seemed she’d already spent hours this morning standing and watching people drive down that same road.

That’s all life really is, when you come right down to it, Carolyn thought with a sudden bleak flood of almost unbearable sorrow. Just standing and watching people drift away from you, watching them disappear around a bend in the road and knowing that you’ll never, ever see them again….

She swallowed a brief anguished sob and then set her jaw firmly, annoyed with herself for this weak and uncharacteristic lapse. With a brisk determined stride, she hurried back into the barn and leaned over the manger to check on the terrier.

The small dog looked up at her approach and thumped his docked tail weakly, setting the silky gray coat quivering with emotion. He was almost dry now and the fluffiness of his coat helped to disguise his pitiful thinness, as well as the gash on his side.

In fact, except for the clean white cast on his hind leg and the clipped area where Manny had inserted a neat row of stitches into the long jagged cut, he looked almost normal. But, studying the little animal closely, Carolyn could see that he was still far from any kind of health and strength. His big dark eyes were glazed with pain, and though he made a gallant attempt he was no longer able to lift his damaged head from the sacking to lick her fingers.

Carolyn swallowed hard and tried to smile at his furry, anxious face.