Читать книгу Once and for All - Jeannie Watt - Страница 10

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.

“Grab the kit,” he said to Beau before getting out of the truck. Jodie watched him approach, then opened the door and preceded him inside. The barn was wonderfully warm and smelled of fresh straw, animals and earth. Most people could barely afford to heat their houses this winter and Joe had a toasty barn. Sam had to appreciate that.

“The bull’s down here,” Jodie said, all business as she motioned toward the paneled corrals at the back of the huge building. Sure enough, a handsome Gelbvieh bull stood hunched in a pen filled with clean straw, his head down. He didn’t move when they approached.

“How long’s he been like this?”

“Since this morning. Lucas found him in the pasture and brought him in.”

“Lucas Reynolds?” It couldn’t be. Joe had fired Lucas’s ass last fall, but Sam couldn’t really blame him, much as he’d like to. Lucas’s drinking made him unreliable.

“Yes. He’s been through rehab, so I decided to give him another chance.”

“Where’s Mike? Still on vacation?”

Jodie cleared her throat. “Mike, uh, quit.” Sam was not surprised. When the guy had a few at Fuzzy’s Tavern, he tended to unload about how much Joe rode him. “Lucas was back in town, so … I hired him.”

Sam bet she couldn’t find any other help. “Is he around?”

“No.” She bit her lip and Sam noticed just how done in she looked. It had been a rugged few days for her.

“You really can’t keep help, can you?” he said drily as he climbed the panel rails and stepped down into the pen.

“Lucas has a meeting he has to attend, but he took a ranch cell phone if you need to talk to him.”

“Alcoholics Anonymous?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

Sam didn’t have a lot of use for drunks, even those he’d known most of his life. He’d been robbed of a brother by a drunk. But this was the first time Lucas had gone to rehab, the first time he’d admitted he had a problem with alcohol, as far as Sam knew.

“I don’t think I’ll have to talk to him.” All the information he needed was standing there before him, having difficulty breathing.

Beau came in then with the kit in one hand, looking at the ground as he walked, scuffling his big feet. Sam collected his instruments, then climbed over the panels and approached the lethargic bull. The animal barely moved when Sam ran his hand over the brisket, checking for fluid accumulation before taking vitals. From the way the bull was standing hunched up, Sam had a strong suspicion of what the problem was. He just hoped the cure would be simple and not involve a rumenotomy.

“How long have you had this bull?” he asked Jodie, who was watching his every move intently from the other side of the rails. He only half expected her to know, but she answered without hesitation.

“He was shipped up from Oklahoma just before my parents left. Dad was really happy to get him … which is why he can’t die while I’m in charge.”

“You didn’t make him sick,” Sam replied with a touch of impatience.

“No.” But she didn’t sound convinced, which Sam found telling. No wonder Joe couldn’t keep help if his own daughter had trouble dealing with him.

“What’ll your dad do if the animal does die? Besides sue me.”

“He’s not going to sue you,” Jodie snapped. “And … I just don’t want him to come back from Europe and have to deal with stuff like … bulls dying. That kind of defeats the purpose of the vacation.”

“Probably does,” Sam agreed, wondering for a moment what it felt like to take an honest to goodness vacation. It’d probably be a decade or two before he found out.

JODIE WATCHED as Sam ran his hands over the bull, squeezing the top of the animal’s shoulders, making him hunch up even more. But when the vet pulled out a syringe to draw a blood sample, she suddenly felt the need to check on Bronson. She’d ask Sam about the stitches when he was done. The horse’s stall was only a few yards away, so she’d still be within talking range if Sam had something important to say, like, “Oh, all he needs is a shot and he’ll be good as new.”

Sam’s son was already at the stall, stroking the horse. He was subdued and Jodie wondered if he and Sam had argued about something on the way out. Sam was tense and the kid was sullen.

“How’s it going?” she asked as the teen patted the horse’s neck. He had the same gray eyes, the same angular face as Sam. He was going to be a heartbreaker, if he wasn’t already.

“Good.” Conversation over.

“Are you going to be a vet, too?”

“Only if it doesn’t involve any math.” The boy spoke more to himself than to her.

She glanced over her shoulder at Sam, who was drawing blood from a vein in the bull’s neck, then quickly turned her head away, feeling the familiar churning in her stomach. Blood and a needle. Double whammy.

“Don’t like blood?” the kid asked.

“Not a fan,” Jodie agreed, seeing no reason to lie about the obvious. He seemed to find that mildly amusing. “How about you?” she asked.

“It doesn’t bother me.” He sent her a sidelong glance, looking as though he was going to say something else, but then changed his mind.

Sam climbed over the rails then, rattling the panels and drawing their attention. Jodie quickly walked over to find him packing away the samples.

“Is he going to be all right?” she asked when he didn’t offer an immediate prognosis.

“I don’t know,” Sam said, meeting her eyes candidly. “I’ll have more of an idea after I run the blood.”

“Are you doing everything? I mean, expense is not an issue.” Maybe she shouldn’t have said that. His eyes flashed as if she’d insulted his intelligence, which she probably had.

“I’m doing everything.”

What she saw in his face made her believe him. Okay. She couldn’t buy a cure.

She watched the bull for a few seconds, willing him to get better. Now.

“I’ve given him antibiotics, and as soon as I get the lab results, I’ll be back.”

“How far away is the lab?” she asked. How long was this going to take?

“The local hospital.”

“Really.” Jodie blinked at him. “It must be interesting if they ever mix up blood work.” One corner of Sam’s mouth quirked up in a way she might have found interesting if her stomach wasn’t tied in a knot. “Will you come out tomorrow and check on him even if you don’t have results?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t seem thrilled about the idea, but he’d accepted the case and was obviously going to see it through. He looked at the stall where the kid was still petting Bronson, and called, “Beau! Time to leave.”

The teen headed to the door without saying a word, reinforcing Jodie’s impression that something wasn’t quite right between him and Sam.

“I didn’t realize you had a son,” she said as the door swung shut. A son usually indicated the presence of a wife, yet Sam wore no ring.

“He’s my nephew.”

Ah. “He resembles you.”

“I know.” The words came out in a way that made Jodie feel vaguely foolish for having made the observation.

“I’ll go get the checkbook.” She’d had enough of this conversation.

“Make it a hundred even, for now.”

WHEN SAM GOT INTO THE RIG, Beau was already slumped down in the seat, staring sullenly at the dashboard. Sam ignored him and started the engine, pulling up close to the steps so Jodie didn’t have far to go when she came back out to hand him the payment through the open window. Again he was struck by how exhausted she looked. And how vulnerable. He was certain she had no idea or the lawyer mask would have slipped back into place.

“Thank you for coming.” Her words were spoken in a clipped, formal tone.

“See you tomorrow,” Sam replied automatically. Beau continued to stare straight ahead and Sam could only imagine what Jodie thought of his giant pouting nephew.

She went back in the house, and as Sam folded the check to tuck it away in his shirt pocket, he noticed that she’d added some on account. Jodie De Vanti was either grateful or trying to buy herself a vet—a vet who’d better damned well be able to successfully treat the bull or he’d be dealing with Joe when he got home. Sam had no illusions there, but that wasn’t his biggest concern at the moment.

No brilliant solutions for the cheating problem had popped into his brain while he was working, other than grounding his nephew’s ass forever. He’d hoped that he and Beau could talk on the drive home, but it was obvious there would be no conversation tonight. The kid needed time to cool off, to realize that the world wasn’t against him and maybe he had something to do with the jam he was in.

Dave? Sam sent out another plea for help. Ideas?

Nothing.

He missed his brother.

Sam drove through the dark countryside, wondering how this was going to play out, trying to convince himself that it would be okay, that this wasn’t the beginning of Beau embarking on a life of crime. Logically, Sam knew it wasn’t, but the parenting game brought a whole lot of “what ifs” with it.

He loved his nephews more than life, but sometimes he couldn’t help but reminisce about how simple his life had been prior to his brother’s death.

SAM WAS INVITED TO A meeting at Beau’s school the Friday following the cheating incident. At home Beau was grounded for at least two weeks, and Sam planned on working the kid’s butt off around the clinic. Now they would be informed of the academic and sports-related consequences.

The meeting was a quick one, since it took place just before class started, and the group—Mr. Domingo, the principal; Mr. Gerard, the basketball coach; and Miss Simms, the math teacher—agreed to a two-game suspension. After that, Beau could play if his grades were passing. Since he’d received a zero for the math test, that was going to be difficult, and he knew it.

He stared glumly at the floor for much of the meeting, making Sam want to reiterate once again that the only reason his nephew was there was because he’d made a stupid choice. But Sam had already said that at least five or six times that morning and the message did not seem to be sinking in.

“I want you home immediately after practice,” Sam said when Beau got up to leave. “No hanging with the guys.”

Beau nodded, his expression blank, and then disappeared out the door. Sam could almost feel his nephew’s relief at finally escaping. The principal muttered something about having to patrol the halls, and followed Beau out of the room. Gerard disappeared after him.

“Beau’s a good kid,” Miss Simms said, directing her attention back to Sam.

“I know. I want to make sure he stays that way.”

“You’d be surprised how many kids cheat. Even the good ones.”

Frustration welled up inside Sam. “It’s not acceptable.”

“No,” she agreed mildly. “It’s not. But it’s not the end of the world. He got caught. I’m certain he’ll have consequences at home.” No doubt. “Right now we need to see that he understands math.”

Okay, was she politely telling him to get a grip? Quite possibly. But she wasn’t in charge of seeing that her dead brother’s children got off on the right foot in life.

“Any clues how to do that?”

“Small steps. Beau has trouble focusing, and when he gets frustrated he shuts down.” Miss Simms craned her neck to see if the hall outside the office was clear, then continued speaking in a tone just above a whisper. “Coach Gerard has tried to help him, since he’s also a math teacher, but frankly, he assumes too much understanding. Beau needs to be taken slowly from step one when he encounters a new concept. To be reminded of what he’s learned before and told how to apply it. Some kids make an instant leap. Others need review.”

“Does Beau have a learning disability?”

“He has a different learning pattern. What works for the majority of kids doesn’t work so well for him. He can come in during the mornings and I’ll help him.”

“He hasn’t been doing that?” Sam asked. Beau was supposed to be.

The math teacher gave Sam a weary smile. “He usually comes by on the morning of the test, panicked.”

Another topic Sam needed to address with his nephew. He felt stupid for not already being aware.

“I ordered a book online,” he said. “I’ll try to help him more.”

“Feel free to call on me.”

Sam forced a smile. “Thank you. I appreciate the offer.” It would have been great if Miss Simms had known of a tutor, but all she could recommend were peer tutors. Sam didn’t believe another kid was up to the job of hammering math into Beau’s head when adults couldn’t get the job done.

He left the office and stepped into the milling swarms of kids in the hall. He caught sight of Beau standing next to a locker, talking to Marisa Brown, the perkiest of perky cheerleaders, and resisted the urge to push his way through the crowd and tell him he needed to focus on school, not women.

Instead Sam continued to follow a stream of kids until he got to the exit. He’d fight that battle, along with several others, tonight. Right now he wanted to get his first call—the Barton ranch—over and done with.

JODIE GOT UP EARLY and checked the bull—thankfully he wasn’t belly up—then sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and staring out the picture window at the snowy fields with the pastel-blue mountains behind them.

She was grateful Sam had come the night before, grateful that he was doing what he could … but this was her father’s prize bull. She had to do everything she could, so she’d put in another call to Eriksson’s office, hoping to leave a message on voice mail for a call back. Instead she got the same recording as the time she’d called for advice about Bronson. Dr. Eriksson was out of the office for yet another week.

What kind of vet took two-week vacations? Didn’t he realize that people needed him? Now?

“Lucas said Sam is coming back this morning,” Margarite said as she sat down on the other side of the table with a crossword puzzle book and a cup of tea.

“Yes.”

“Thank goodness. I don’t want your dad to blame Lucas if the bull dies.” She spoke offhandedly, opening the book and finding where she’d left off, but her words made Jodie’s temples throb.

“The bull isn’t going to die.”

“All the same …” Margarite said in an unconvinced tone.

My father won’t blame Lucas. He’s more reasonable than that.

Jodie looked back out the window, the words unspoken. Margarite was no one’s fool. She lived on the ranch full-time and saw things Jodie didn’t. But that didn’t mean she was interpreting them correctly.

“Lucas hasn’t been here long enough to be responsible,” Jodie finally said. “I’ll make sure my dad knows the truth. And since Lucas did me a favor and came back, I’ll do my best to see that Dad keeps him on … if he wants to stay, that is.” Granted, her father wasn’t a big believer in second chances, but he would listen to reason—especially economic reason. And if no other local person would work for him during the winter months, as both Mike and Margarite intimated, keeping Lucas made sense.

“Good luck,” the housekeeper said in a way that made Jodie feel oddly weary. Her dad had developed one heck of a rep with people who just didn’t get how he operated. People who didn’t see how much he had accomplished in life through strength of character and his no-excuses attitude. “Is Sam going to be on call if Lucas needs help when the heifers calve?”

“Is he likely to need help?” Jodie certainly hoped not. She’d been so damned fortunate to get Sam to come out here as many times as she had. It seemed unlikely that her luck would hold.