Читать книгу Her Cowboy Dilemma - C.J. Carmichael - Страница 13

Chapter Three

It wasn’t true. Farley wasn’t the last man on earth she’d want to be with. But she had told him he was. One minute before leaving the dance she’d gone to as his date—on the arm of another man.

At least, she’d tried to leave with another guy. Oddly enough, she couldn’t remember the name of that other guy anymore. But she did recall that she’d been the one to ask him to dance. With Farley on the sidelines, silent and angry, they’d danced an entire set together before she’d convinced the other guy that he wanted to drive her home.

They’d left the dance floor arm in arm. But Farley, in a voice that was not open to negotiation, had stepped in at that point. “You came to the dance with me. I’m damn well seeing you home safely.”

The other guy had stepped aside hastily then, no doubt having assessed Farley’s size and the girth of his biceps, and decided he liked the current shape of his nose just fine, thank you very much.

Cassidy had endured a fifteen-minute drive in Farley’s truck during which time not a single word was spoken. When they’d pulled up to the ranch house, he’d been out of the truck so fast that he had her door open before she’d even located the lever to do it herself. With his arms crossed over his broad chest, he’d stood watching until she was safely inside her home. Only then had he driven away.

And he’d pretty much never spoken to her since then.

Did she blame him? No.

Was she embarrassed for the way she’d acted? Hell, yes.

The truth was, she never should have accepted his invitation to the dance in the first place. But he’d caught her off guard in the Lonesome Spur Bar on the night of her twenty-first birthday. She’d been out having her first legal drink with a group of friends when he caught her eye and crossed the room.

She’d been ridiculously excited. Farley was older, hot and sooo handsome. And suddenly he had noticed her, too.

“Is it true?” he’d asked her, dark eyes smoldering with an emotion she’d never seen in them before. “Pretty Cassidy Lambert is no longer jailbait?”

“I stopped being jailbait a long time ago,” she’d announced with a voice full of sass and vinegar. That didn’t mean she wasn’t quaking inside. She’d assumed Farley was completely out of her league. But now he was finally seeing her as someone other than his friends’ annoying little sister.

He’d asked her to the Harvest Dance being held in the community hall the next evening. She’d accepted. And then all it had taken was one dance in his arms and she’d panicked.

Simple as that.

“Is it too late for me to apologize for my behavior that night? I was just a kid.”

“No.” Farley placed a hand on the desk. “If you’d still been a kid, I wouldn’t have gone near you.”

“I suppose that’s true. But I was young.”

“It wasn’t the classiest move I’ve ever seen, Cass. But it was honest. You always were one for knowing what you wanted.” He paused, then added pointedly, “And what you didn’t.”

She stared at him mutely. How could he talk as if he knew her so well, when she, herself, had never quite figured out why she’d acted the way she had that night? She hadn’t been then, and wasn’t now, a man-crazy sort of woman who liked to go on lots of dates and play one guy off another.

“I should get going. I’ve got another call to make before I head back to my office. You’re clear on how to handle the strangles?”

She nodded, not bothering to point out that he’d only eaten one of her mother’s sandwiches. She guessed that her company wasn’t conducive to a good appetite on his part. She’d been so wrong to think that talking about that night would clear the air between them or ease her guilty conscience.

If anything, she felt worse.

It wasn’t the classiest move I’ve ever seen, Cass.

God, she felt about four inches high right now.

Clumsily she got to her feet, almost knocking over her mug of coffee as she moved out from behind the desk.

Farley’s eyes stayed cool. “I can see myself out.”

“I know.” She followed him, anyway. “But I just wanted to ask you about something else.”

“What is it?”

“You said I should watch the rest of the horses in case they get sick, too. But what, exactly, should I be looking for?”

“Glad you asked that.” Farley opened the office door, waited for her to pass through, then exited himself. “Don’t wait until you see nasal discharge or hear the horse coughing. If any of your horses go off their feed, or seem to lack their usual energy, separate them from the rest of the herd immediately and give me a call.”

“Okay.” They both washed up at the sink again and used the boot dip before leaving the barn.

Midafternoon sun had Cassidy wishing she had the sunglasses she’d left behind in her truck. Squinting, she glanced at Farley, who was setting a quick pace toward his own vehicle.

“How long will we be under quarantine?”

Farley tossed his black case into the passenger side of the truck. He paused a moment to consider her question. “If you’re diligent with disinfecting, if Lucy recovers quickly and if none of the other horses come down with it, I’d say about three weeks.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Yeah, but better to contain this thing now before it spreads and becomes a bigger problem.” He narrowed his eyes. “Or were you not planning to stay in Coffee Creek that long?”

“That depends on whether I get a job offer or not.”

“You excited about spending your life as a pencil pusher in a city high-rise?”

“Why not?” she countered, placing her hands on her hips and narrowing her gaze. “You think swabbing mucus from a sick horse’s nostril is so much better?”

“Actually, I do.” He reached for his hat, settling it on his head, before giving her a final, parting nod. “But I wouldn’t expect you to understand why. Though the little girl who grew up on this ranch would get it.”

* * *

“T AKE A LOOK at these paint chips, sweetie,” Olive said. “Which one do you like better with these fabric samples for your new duvet cover?”

Cassidy had just hauled her suitcase into her old bedroom, halting when she saw her mother sitting amid piles of fabric swatches and paint chips spread over the blue-and-white quilt she’d had as long as she could remember.

The handmade quilt was an heirloom from her grandmother Lambert. Cassidy had always loved it, though admittedly the fabric was now threadbare on the edges.

“What’s this about, Mother?” She was tired after the long drive and the stressful encounter with Farley. Bad enough that they had strangles on the ranch and that she was in charge of containing it. If only her mother could have called some other vet rather than Farley.

“We haven’t decorated your room since you were a little girl. Don’t you think it’s time to spruce it up a little? I thought we’d paint and order new curtains and bedding. That desk in the corner is too small for you now. What do you say about replacing it with an armoire? A beautiful antique would look lovely in that corner. I saw one in Lewistown the other day that would be perfect.”

Since the bed was unavailable, Cassidy hoisted her heavy suitcase up on the desk that her mother had just pointed out. “What’s the point in fixing up the room when I’m only here for a few weeks?”

“That’s if you get the job,” Olive reminded her. “It’s always good to have a backup plan and you know you always have a home and a job here with us.”

“Mom, I’ve told you that isn’t what I want to do with my life. If I don’t end up getting this job, I’ll apply for another.”

“So you really mean to follow in B.J.’s footsteps, do you?” Her mother did nothing to hide her disappointment.

B.J. had been traveling the rodeo circuit for almost as long as Cassidy could remember. He’d left home at eighteen and though he made the occasional pit stop at home, he never stayed long.

“I’m not planning to start competing in rodeos, Mom.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. This land has been in our family for five generations. Your father and I planned things so we have room enough and work enough for all of you.”

Then why didn’t Dad build me one of those cottages he had made for the boys?

Cassidy didn’t voice the question, even though it was often on her mind. The truth was, she’d never wanted to live so close to her mother. Nevertheless, it did rankle that she’d never even been offered what had been so freely given to her brothers.

“Mom, you just finished helping me get five years of higher education. Surely you must want me to put it to good use.”

“You could take over the bookkeeping and taxes here at our ranch. Handle our dealings with the bank and manage our investments.”

And be under the thumb of her mother and brothers for the rest of her life? “Mom, I have to make my own way. Do my own thing.”

“You think you’ll be happy living in Billings for the rest of your life?”

“It’s not that far. I’ll visit. Like I did when I was going to school in Bozeman.”

Her mom pressed a hand to her forehead. “That is not the right plan for you. I promise you, Cassie, you’ll be making a big mistake if you walk away from your heritage.”

Stay calm. Stay firm. That was Cassidy’s new mantra and she was determined to stick to it. “It’s my life, Mom. And my decision.”

Olive sighed. She turned her gaze to the view out the window, then back to Cassidy. “Let’s drop it for now. I don’t want a big argument to spoil your first day home.”

Right. ’Cause it had been such a great day so far.

Cassidy took a deep breath and reminded herself that she’d vowed to try harder with her mother. “Why don’t we go to the kitchen, brew a pot of tea and talk about something else?”

“In a minute.” Olive picked up two paint squares. “I promised Abby at the hardware store I’d phone and place my order this afternoon. Which do you prefer? The sage-green or the buttercream?”

* * *

D AN F ARLEY DROVE away from Coffee Creek Ranch feeling disappointed, unsettled...frustrated. He wasn’t usually a man given to complicated emotions. What was it about Cassidy Lambert? After all these years she ought to be nothing to him.

But it didn’t help that she’d shown such concern for the sick horse. He’d always been a sucker for her soft heart.

And it helped even less that she still filled out her jeans in all the right places. Add in that beautiful blond hair and those disarming green eyes—hell, any man could be excused for losing his head over a girl like Cassidy.

But he didn’t want to do it twice.

To distract himself, he decided to check in with Liz.

“Just finished at the Lamberts’ and I’m on my way to Silver Creek.”

“That took a while.”

Liz was probably worried he wouldn’t make the date with Amber. Why did all women assume a man wasn’t happy unless he was suitably married?

“Yeah. I’ve put the place under quarantine. We’ll have to run the tests, but I’m pretty sure about the result.”

“Bad luck for them,” Liz allowed. “Good luck at Silver Creek. Hopefully things will go better there.”

* * *

M ADDIE T URNER WAS waiting for him when he arrived, a stocky woman with wiry gray hair and plain features—quite the contrast to her fine-featured, well-coiffed sister, Olive. The two border collies flanking her were younger versions of Cassidy’s dog, Sky. The dogs looked anxious, just like their owner.

Maddie was wearing faded overalls and a threadbare shirt—both smeared with blood. Her face was damp and she appeared exhausted. He knew from experience that helping a cow with a difficult delivery was hard, physical labor.

“You okay?”

“Been better. Thanks for getting here so fast,” she said, as he grabbed his gear out of the truck, then slipped on a pair of overalls.

“I was next door at Coffee Creek.”

She didn’t blink an eye at the mention of her sister’s place. “Lucky you were so close. I don’t think we have much time.”

She led the way to the barn, where he could hear the sounds of distress from the mother-to-be. They found the poor thing on the stall floor, with terror in her wide brown eyes.

She looked on the small side. Young. “This her first calf?”

Maddie nodded.

A quick exam confirmed that the calf was positioned backward and upside down. A C-section was their only hope. “Anyone else around?” he asked hopefully.

“Nope.”

“No hired help?”

She avoided eye contact. “I’ve had to cut back lately.”

“Too bad. We could use an extra set of hands here.” Or two, or four. He started setting out his equipment, going through the steps in his head. Since he didn’t have an assistant, he needed to have everything at the ready before he prepped the cow for the incision.

“I can secure her head,” Maddie offered.

He wasn’t so sure about that. Maddie looked pretty exhausted. “How long has she been in labor?”

“I brought her in from the field a few days ago. Just had a feeling she was going to have some trouble. Sure enough when I came out this morning I could see that her labor had started, but wasn’t going anywhere.”

He sighed. “Okay. We better not lose any more time.”

“I agree.” Maddie moved behind the prone cow, sinking to the straw bedding and then locking the animal’s head to prevent her from moving around. The exhausted heifer didn’t even resist.

“Poor thing,” Maddie said softly. “Don’t you worry. Doc Farley is going to get this critter out of you.”

The tender caring in Maddie Turner’s voice and the firm yet gentle way she handled the animal reminded Farley of her niece, Cassidy, trying to comfort Lucky Lucy earlier.

He shelved the thought, returning his focus to the job at hand. Maddie couldn’t afford to lose the calf or the cow. More than money was at stake here, though, and Farley was determined not to fail.

* * *

A N HOUR AND a half later, the new mother and her matching black calf were resting in the barn, and Farley and Maddie were in the kitchen having coffee. Farley was tired, but pleased. Helping to bring new life into the world was one of the most rewarding aspects of his job.

He ought to be on the road, heading to the next ranch. But he sensed Maddie wasn’t ready to be alone, so he’d agreed to stop in for a bit. Now Maddie placed a plate with crackers and cheese on the table.

“Sorry I don’t have anything more substantial to offer. You must be starving. I know I am.” She opened the upper freezer compartment of her fridge. “I could fry up some sausage and eggs if you have twenty minutes to spare.”

He thought about the lame cow and the forty-five minutes it would take to drive to the Harringtons’ spread. Then he thought about Amber and the movie she’d been hoping to see. That was out of the question now. But hopefully he could still manage a late dinner. “I really don’t.”

“Didn’t think so.” Maddie closed the fridge door, then sank into a chair and reached for her coffee. Her dogs were in the room with them. Farley thought he had them straight now. Trix was sleeping on the mat by the back door and Honey was curled up under the table. As well as the dogs, there was a cat prowling the place, too. Short-haired and ginger-colored, she’d slunk into the room earlier, taken Farley’s measure, then exited with nose held high.

Maddie’s kitchen was a warm, cozy place. The wooden table and chairs had the sort of “distressed” look that came from decades of being used and not coddled, as did the wooden floors and cabinets. The counters were cluttered, but clean, and the big farm sink gleamed as if it had been disinfected recently.

The focal point of the room was the antique, black, wood-burning cookstove. Warm air drifted from the stove to soothe the sore muscles of Farley’s shoulders and upper back. He fought the urge to close his eyes, knowing that if he succumbed to sleep he might find himself still in this room an hour later.

He crunched down on a couple of crackers and a slab of the cheddar, then followed the food with a swallow of hot, almost scalding, coffee. Maddie made it the old-fashioned way, boiled in a percolator on the stove.

“So what’s up at Coffee Creek?” Maddie asked him.

He hesitated before answering. Everyone in the community of Coffee Creek was aware of the rift between the Turner sisters, though no one knew the exact cause. Some people felt that Olive’s marriage to neighboring rancher Bobby Lambert had been the start of it. One fact was irrefutable: Maddie hadn’t attended their wedding. And despite the size of the wedding—apparently several hundred—the absence had been very conspicuous.

“One of their horses has strangles,” he finally said.

“Sorry to hear that.” Maddie sounded genuinely concerned.

“Hopefully it hasn’t had time to spread. They have the sick horse quarantined and Cassidy is going to be disinfecting the barn.”

“Cassidy? So she’s home from college, is she?”

Maddie seemed to know a lot about her sister’s family. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Since she’d never married herself or had children, the Lamberts were her closest relations. Which only made the feud between the sisters that much sadder.

“Only for a few weeks, apparently. She’s hoping to get a job with some accounting firm in Billings.”

“Really? I can’t imagine Olive letting her do that.”

“I’m not sure Olive has much say in the matter.”

Maddie’s lips tightened. “Then you don’t know my sister very well.”

“She hasn’t been able to keep B.J. from the rodeo circuit,” he pointed out.

“All the more reason she’s going to fight like hell to keep her daughter close to home.”

“You think? Cassidy’s no pushover.” Tenacity was in her DNA. And growing up with all those brothers had only made her tougher and more resilient.

“You don’t know Olive,” Maddie repeated.

“Not as well as you do, obviously,” he allowed. “But my money’s still on Cassidy.”