Snowbound with the Cowboy Page 5

  “I am a doctor.” Her smile dissolved. “Of veterinary medicine.”

  Chagrined, he held up his hands. “Sorry. That didn’t come out quite right.”

  “I got way too much of that from my parents.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “They finally became involved in a church, reconciled and found their calling as medical missionaries in Africa. Ironic, really, since I don’t think they’ll ever forgive me for defying them.”

  “Pardon me for saying so, but that doesn’t seem fair.”

  She stowed away her supplies and carried the bowl of water to the kitchen sink. “They had my whole career planned out for me, right down to the medical school I would attend, and how I would work with them. It’s all they talked about, when they pushed me to do better in school. When I was younger, all I cared about was pleasing them, so I was on board.”

  “What happened?”

  “I realized that I didn’t want to be like them, tied to a health clinic with back-to-back appointments all day. Working in their shadow. Instead, now I have a fantastic variety—ortho, OB, surgeries and I get to sort out complex medical problems. Sometimes all in the same day.”

  “All the greater challenge since your patients can’t talk. Right?”

  She sent a sharp glance over her shoulder, as if deciding whether or not he was mocking her. “True. And I like splitting time between ranch calls and the clinic—the chance to be outside. I’d rather have my career than anything else in the world.”

  “I do understand. It was Jess’s dream too. He talked about it from grade school on.”

  Wishing he’d managed to keep his mouth shut and not insult her, Tate stood and lifted a hand to rest it on her shoulder in apology, but let it drop to his side. There’d been a time in high school when he could’ve drawn her into an embrace, but those days were long gone.

  She wouldn’t welcome that intimacy now.

  At the door of her cabin he shouldered on his jacket and snagged his Stetson from a hook on the wall. “I’m proud of you, Sara. You absolutely made the right choice. And don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

  But from the distant expression in her eyes, he knew she didn’t believe him.

  * * *

  Langford? Sara did a double take at the name on the revised schedule in her hand, then looked up at the clock, her heart picking up a momentary erratic beat.

  Mondays, Wednesdays and Friday afternoons were—barring emergency ranch calls—set aside for small-animal-clinic appointments, but the time slot at one o’clock had been open when she’d left for an emergency colic case out in the country. “This name written in—I can’t quite read it.”

  Neta—the seventysomething receptionist who had been working at the clinic since the dawn of time—glanced up from the stacks of billing statements and envelopes on her desk. “Tate Langford. He’s bringing in a litter of pups and their mom. I told him to come at one, because there won’t be any other clients and their animals coming in until after two. Anna just finished sanitizing the first exam room.”

  “Good thinking. No sense exposing those young pups to anything.” Tires crunched to a halt in front of the building and they both looked toward the wall of windows facing the highway.

  “Looks like one of the Langford pickups—so that must be him. Anna!” Neta bellowed over her shoulder. “Got a client out front needing some help.”

  “I think she’s running some blood chemistries for me. I’ll go.” Sara folded the schedule and dropped it into a pocket of her lab coat on her way to the front door.

  Outside, a brisk February breeze laden with a promise of snow sent a shiver down her back as she reached the side of the gleaming black Dodge pickup.

  Tate opened the back door on the driver’s side and reached for a large cardboard box reinforced with duct tape on the sides and bottom. Lucy danced at his side, clearly agitated over the welfare of her pups and trying to catch a glimpse of them.

  “Hey, Tate. Looks like you have your hands full. I can take Lucy.”

  “Thanks.” He shot a quick glance at her over his shoulder and handed her the leash, then turned back to drape a folded blanket over the top of the box. “They were born late Sunday night. I debated about bringing them into town today, since they’re so young. But I expect my two little nieces will be visiting them often, so Lucy needs her health exam and vaccinations.”

  “They’ll be fine. They won’t be in contact with any other dogs right now, and this won’t take long. But if you can, hold the girls off for a couple weeks until the puppies are a bit older.”

  “While I’m here, I also want to make sure the pups are all right. It doesn’t sound like their mom had the best care.” Tate hefted the box of puppies into his arms and nudged the truck door shut with his shoulder, then locked it with a valet key. “I’m leaving the truck running so it stays warm enough inside.”

  He followed Sara into the exam room, where he lifted off the blanket and put the box on the floor so Lucy could snuffle through the mewling litter, performing her own inspection. “Look at ’em. Not sure what happened here, but there are six and none of them even look related,” he said with a low laugh. “It won’t be hard to tell them apart.”

  Sara stepped out into the hallway. “Anna—can you come in, please?”

  Lucy watched anxiously as Sara weighed and examined each pup, and took its temp while the vet tech jotted down careful notes.

  Sara looked up at Tate as she settled the final pup among its siblings. The six squealing pups blindly squirmed over each other, until they were back into a warm pile.

  “They all look normal and healthy. No cleft palates. The black-and-white female is a couple ounces less than the others, though, so you’ll need to keep an eye on her. Do you have a digital kitchen or postal scale?”

  “Uh...no. But I’ll see if I can find one in town—or order online.”

  “Good. It wouldn’t hurt to weigh all of them every day or two to make sure they are steadily growing—especially the smallest one. If she doesn’t catch up, she’ll need supplemental feedings.”

  “This all sounds like being a new dad.” The slash of a dimple in Tate’s cheek deepened with his wry smile. “Not that I’ll ever know. What else do I need to do?”

  She glanced up at him, trying to hide her surprise at his casual dismissal of ever having a family.

  Tate had always had a reputation among the girls in town as a charming, handsome guy with a sideways glance and quicksilver grin that could send any girl’s heart into overdrive. The years had only added to that masculine appeal, so surely he would’ve had no end of opportunities to settle down by now.

  So what had happened? Had he turned into the kind of guy who left a trail of broken hearts in his wake and didn’t care?

  She reined in her errant thoughts and tried to remember what she was going to say. “Um...if you want, I can send some puppy formula home with you, just in case. It could save another trip to town if you need it. Otherwise you can return it.”

  “Great idea.”

  “About the other things to remember, deworm the pups at three or four weeks, and again three weeks later—when they receive their first vaccinations. Heartworm meds will start in the spring.”

  “I think I should’ve been writing all of this down,” he said with a rueful shake of his head.

  “No worries—I’ll ask Neta to send you postcard reminders, or texts if you prefer.”

  “Texts, please. Is there anything else I need to know?”

  Sara studied Lucy’s colorful family. “Basically, plump, contented puppies are a good sign that all is well. For the first couple weeks they’ll mostly be quiet—just sleeping or eating. But if any of them seem more restless than the others and vocalize more, they might be too cold or not getting enough to eat. Sometimes a smaller one won’t compete well enough with
its littermates. How warm is your kitchen?”

  “Drafty,” Tate admitted as he partially covered the box again so Lucy could still keep an eye on her family. “But I do have a heat lamp hanging over their box so it’s a steady eighty-five degrees in there, and three of the sides are high. I read about doing that on your clinic website. Am I right?”

  “Exactly—for the first four days. Then gradually lower to eighty during the next six days. After that, they should be able to regulate their body temps better, so seventy-two degrees through week four is fine.”

  He nodded. “And weaning?”

  “They can be completely weaned at six weeks, but it’s important to keep the litter together another two weeks for their social development. We can talk about starting puppy food and weaning later on.”

  Sara lifted Lucy onto the stainless-steel exam table and administered her vaccinations, then withdrew a blood sample that Anna took to the lab. “I’m running a heartworm test. The risk is pretty low in this part of Montana, but there are still some cases every year and it can be fatal. So I need to be sure.”

  “What then?”

  “If she’s negative, a monthly heartworm prevention med, May through October. If she’s positive, she would definitely need to be treated.”

  Anna popped back into the room with a smile and a thumbs-up, her long russet ponytail swinging. “Negative.”

  “Good news.” Sara began her examination, calling out to Anna the details to be recorded.

  When the exam was complete, Anna scooped Lucy from the table and set her on the floor next to the box of puppies. “Do you want me to get some formula from the storeroom?”

  “Please. Just put it on the front counter.” Sara bent down to cradle Lucy’s head between her hands. “Such a sweet dog.”

  “So she’s okay?”

  Sara straightened. “She’s underweight, but that was obvious from the start. Otherwise she’s actually in pretty good shape, all things considered. And from the looks of the pups, she’s feeding them well.”

  “Mighty glad to hear it. What do I owe you today?”

  “Neta will figure it out and add it to your bill since I have an appointment next week to check that injured colt and vaccinate your barn cats.” Sara took Lucy’s leash while Tate shouldered on his jacket and tucked the blanket over the box of puppies. “So how is that leg of yours? You’re barely limping.”

  He grinned at her. “I’ve had five days to heal, and my veterinarian did a great job.”

  “No, really—did you have a doctor take a look at it?”

  He laughed. “A guy doesn’t rodeo for years and go to a doctor for a scratch. He’d be laughed right off the circuit.”

  “But it wasn’t just a scratch. On Saturday, you were limping as if that knee joint was really painful.”

  “Yeah...well. It’s been banged up a few times over the years. Surgery twice. But I iced it that night and took ibuprofen through the weekend. It’s fine.”

  She bit her lower lip. “If my wayward dog had anything to do with you getting hurt, I’m truly sorry. I took her outside to potty and she got away from me. I heard her barking but I couldn’t catch up in time. I feel like I owe you. A dinner, or...something. Cookies? Would a weekly supply of cookies do?”

  “No need.” He shrugged off her concern and picked up the puppy box. “She gave the mare a little lesson on dogs, so it was all good.”

  On her way out the door Sara grabbed the puppy formula, then followed Tate to his truck. “Goodness—I think the breeze has picked up and the temperature has dropped a good ten degrees.”

  Once Tate had placed the box of puppies in the backseat, he lifted Lucy in next to them and shut the door.

  “Thanks, Sara.” He raised a hand as if to shake hers, then dropped it with a low laugh. “Seems strange, being so formal. But I guess we hardly know each other anymore. Maybe dinner would be nice sometime—just to catch up.”

  “Uh...yes. Sometime.” She took a step back and wrapped her hands around her middle to ward off the chill, wishing she hadn’t made that suggestion about dinner. Polite distance, she could handle. But superficial chitchat over dinner sounded awkward, even uncomfortable, unless more people were there to fill any conversational voids. “I—I’ll see you out at the ranch next Thursday. Don’t forget to catch your cats before I get there.”

  “A cat rodeo. My specialty.”

  His silvery eyes twinkled with humor and for just that moment, she felt herself falling under the spell of his trademark Langford charm.

  But more than a few failed romances had taught her how foolish she’d been to fall for guys who inevitably just walked away.

  And no one, not even her old high school crush, could tempt her to make that mistake again.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, Sara parked her vet truck in front of the two-story Pine Bend Apartment building, wrapped a scarf around her neck and trudged up the long, snow-covered walkway to the front door.

  The caretaker was just starting to remove the latest five inches of snow with a noisy snowblower, and he returned her nod of greeting as she passed. “They’re home,” he shouted over the din. “Haven’t been out all day.”

  She murmured a small prayer of thanks as she stepped inside the building and stamped the snow from her boots.

  This wasn’t Warren and Millie’s nice, cozy cabin. Certainly not the Ritz, with its fading 1970s decor. The senior condos across town were far nicer. But at least the entryway and halls here were warm, and there were maintenance folks to keep the walks and parking lot cleared. They knew the residents well and even knew most of the guests who came and went, which added a layer of safety.

  And now, the home health aides could come three times a week instead of just once, since Millie and Warren were just blocks away from the health center.

  For all that the place lacked in grandeur, it offered far more safety and assistance for an elderly couple than their isolated cabin two miles up a torturous road into the foothills, where phone reception was poor and no one could easily check on them.

  Their apartment door was ajar, in silent anticipation of her visit. “Hi there, anyone home?”

  The cramped main-floor apartment consisted of a living room, two small bedrooms, a tiny kitchenette and a bathroom. She could hear the television was off, and had no doubt that Warren had been in his favorite chair at the window, watching for her to arrive for the last half hour or more.

  Slippered feet shuffled toward the door. “Sara?”

  Warren pulled the door open wide, his gaunt, angular frame bent over his grip on a cane. “I thought I saw your truck out in front. How are the roads?”

  She shifted the handles of her two denim shopping bags to her other arm and gave him a quick hug. “Not bad. We’re supposed to have sunshine and temps in the forties tomorrow, so it will all melt just in time for your doctor’s appointment. How are you feeling today?”

  He shrugged. Looked away. “Fine.”

  “You would say fine no matter what, Uncle Warren,” she teased, hiding her concern about his labored breathing and sallow complexion. “Go sit down and get your oxygen cannula back in place, and I’ll put away these groceries.”

  With his emphysema, diabetes, heart disease and history of strokes, he was on Sara’s mind all the time, but he was too stubborn to accept much help, follow his diet or even regularly take all the meds he was supposed to.

  Millie constantly fluttered about him, trying to get him to take better care of himself, but he’d resisted her efforts and had aged far beyond his years. That he was still walking around outside a nursing home could only be an answer to Sara’s and Millie’s prayers.

  “Have you been using your oxygen?”

  He tilted his head toward the tank by his chair and the loops of tubing at its base. “When I sit. I don’t like dragging that tangle all ove
r the place, where your aunt or I might trip.”

  Sara took the groceries to the kitchen and began putting everything away, then started browning some ground beef and chopped onion in a skillet. “Is she still napping?”

  “She didn’t sleep too well last night, but I ’spect she’ll be out any minute now.”

  He settled into his recliner and swiveled it so he could see the kitchen. “Sure smells good.”

  “I have another forty-five minutes before my afternoon appointments, so I thought I’d start a quick batch of chili and put it in the slow cooker on High. It should be ready by your six o’clock news show.”

  Millie, a fragile little sprite barely five feet tall, stepped out of the bedroom and came over to give Sara a hug. “Well, my goodness sakes. You didn’t need to go to all that trouble for us, dear.”

  Sara gave her a kiss on her wrinkled cheek. “It’s no trouble. I like to cook, but it’s just me and a lot of animals at the cabin. Can I make you two some coffee, and something for lunch?”

  “I can do that,” Millie protested. “The senior meals driver brought us so much yesterday that I told them to skip us today. Will you join us?”

  “I’ve already had something, but thanks.” A noon meal from yesterday, stretched for two days, couldn’t possibly be enough for just the two of them. “Honestly, you two should eat everything they send you, the same day it arrives. Remember when you used to tell me to be part of the ‘clean plate club’ when I was a kid?”

  Millie chuckled as she bustled about filling the coffee maker, then patted Sara’s arm and smiled sadly.

  With her aunt’s abrupt change of expression, Sara braced herself. She knew what was coming next.

  “It just isn’t right that a sweet girl like you is all alone. You know, there’s the nicest young man at church every Sunday. Have you seen him? A little heavy. Glasses. Very shy. He lives with his mother, at the south end of Main, and I hear he is very good to her. That’s always a sign of character.”

  Sara tried not to roll her eyes at the ongoing saga of The Available Young Men of Pine Bend. Every time she saw Millie, there was another prospect.