Читать книгу The Baby And The Cowboy Seal - Laura Altom Marie - Страница 12

Chapter Four

“You were right to call.” Randall Carthage had been the veterinarian for the Eagle Ridge area for as long as Wiley could remember. His tall, wiry build didn’t quite match his shock of white hair or Santa-worthy beard, which was why when he played the jolly old guy each holiday season, he had to add lots of padding to the moldy costume that had probably been used back when Wiley’s dad had been a little boy. “He’ll be fine, but to be on the safe side, let’s give him some salve and a round of antibiotics.”

“Thank you.” When Macy held her baby on her hip while gifting the vet with a one-armed hug, Wiley fought a jealous pang. For an irrational flash, he wanted to be on the receiving end of her gratitude. “Charlie’s a mess, but I love him.”

The vet stroked the animal’s side, and the miserable beast didn’t stomp or spit.

Wiley asked, “How come I’m the only one who draws out Charlie’s nasty side?”

The vet laughed. “Don’t take it personal. Maybe he’s partial to the fairer sex. Although, if that is the case, I’m not sure what that means about him getting along with an old codger like me.” He winked at Macy. “Now, Wiley, if you don’t mind, let’s hold him in your barn overnight to keep him calm, and then, if he seems all right in the morning, go ahead and walk him over to his pasture.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Wiley asked. “The beast can’t stand me.”

“All right, well, Macy can put a lead rope on Charlie, and you hold the baby. Will that work?”

“Sounds good to me.” Macy jiggled her son. “What do you think, Henry?”

The baby cooed.

Wiley’s chest tightened.

While Macy and the vet talked llamas, Wiley recalled the last time he’d been around an infant—his friend Grady’s Oklahoma housewarming. A bunch of the guys from their SEAL team had flown in for the event that had been held on Grady’s family ranch. Just a few months earlier and Wiley’s whole life had been different—better in every conceivable way. Holding Grady’s infant son on that warm, spring day beneath the vast Oklahoma sky, he’d had his whole life ahead of him. He’d been surrounded by longtime SEAL friends and their families. Cooper and Millie. Heath and Libby. Mason and Hattie. He’d been thrilled for his married friends, but welcomed the companionship of his single friends Marsh and Rowdy. They’d all fished and grilled and downed too many beers and in general did plenty of good man shit until Mason’s bossy wife told them all to shut up before they woke the sleeping kids.

Crazy how fast everything could change.

His life had been measured in tragedies—first third, his folks dying. Second third—his career going to shit. For the rest of his life, he figured he’d live alone on this piece of land that was more rock than dirt, and then he’d die.

“Who gets the pleasure of paying for my good looks and company?” Randall asked.

“Me.” Macy raised her hand.

“I’ll take care of it, Doc. It was my barbed wire.” Before Macy could launch an argument, Wiley took his wallet from his jeans back pocket and fished out a hundred bucks. “Will this cover it?”

The vet nodded. “Macy, I’ll come to your place tomorrow to give him more antibiotic.”

“Thanks again.”

He waved on his way to his truck. “No problem. Oh—Wiley, wonder if you might do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“If you don’t mind, follow me, and I’ll explain.”

“Should I be worried?” Wiley asked. Maybe he ought to have asked what the favor entailed before agreeing?

“Nah...” Randall’s low, throaty chuckle had Wiley thinking the opposite. At his truck, the doc walked around to the tailgate, springing it open before tugging on a wire mesh cage.

It took Wiley a few minutes to hobble that way, but by the time he’d caught up with Randall, it didn’t take much to get the gist of the old man’s favor. “Oh, no... If you want me to give a home to this—”

“Now, Wiley, don’t you start makin’ excuses before I’ve even explained what I need.” Inside the cage was a momma hound dog and four pups that still had their eyes closed. “Some damned fool left this little lady on the clinic’s front porch, and I need someone to keep her till I can find a suitable home. Your granddad used to take in strays. I figure since you’ve got that big empty barn, well, that would make for a whole lot of space for this beauty and her family.”

“Doc, look...” Wiley shoved his hands in his pockets while searching for the right thing to say. “I would, but—”

“Nope. Stop right there. We’re a tight-knit community, and in case you forgot in the time you were gone, we all help out where we can. Now, down at the VFW, there’s been talk about your leg, but last I heard, a poor helpless animal doesn’t care how it gets fed, just that the food comes in a timely manner.”

“Randall...” Wiley had a tough enough time looking after himself. How was he supposed to care for anything else? Especially a dog and her pups?

“You’ll do it? Good man!” He slapped Wiley’s back. “I’m proud of you, son. Your granddad would be, too. Now, give me a hand hauling our momma to her new temporary home.”

Wiley’s stomach churned. “It’s just for a few days, right? You’ll put out word that she needs a permanent home?”

“Oh, sure, sure. I’ll get right on it.”

Together, they tugged the cage from the truck bed, then shuffled back to the barn where the vet led Wiley to a quiet corner in a patch of sun.

“Look, Henry! Puppies!” Macy zeroed in on the cage.

Henry stared in awe. The more the puppies wriggled and whined, the wider Henry grinned until Macy had to use her sleeve to wipe drool from his chin.

The vision of Macy and her child kneeling in dust-mote-infused sunbeams rendered Wiley incapable of focusing on anything but them—their purity and sweetness and light. His breath caught in his throat, and it took a beat to come to his senses. Macy and her boy might be a beautiful sight to behold, but they had no place in his carefully structured life of isolation. Since his accident, since witnessing death after death, he was no longer in the business of living—only forgetting.

“Doc,” he said to Randall. “It’d probably be best for this momma and her pups to move a ways farther down the hill. Little Henry’s already taken with the whole lot.”

“Oh, no.” Macy plucked up her son and backed away. “We’ll be happy to stop in for visits, but between caring for an eight-month-old, an ornery llama herd, a shameful garden and a house in constant need of work, my plate’s plenty full.”

“That settles it.” Randall patted Wiley on the back again. “Macy, I’ll be ’round tomorrow to check on Charlie.”

“Come during lunch and I’ll have something made for you.”

“Will do!” He waved on his way to his truck. After hefting a large sack of dog food from the truck bed, he left it on the dirt drive, then took off in a cloud of dust.

Cursing under his breath, Wiley hobbled to the food. He’d lost so much upper body strength, he struggled to even heft the damned bag over his shoulder, but he eventually managed, hating that the whole while he’d had an audience.

“Let me help.” Macy, with that baby of hers bouncing on her hip, charged toward him.

“Do I look like such a cripple that you think you can do better with no hands?” Another fine sheen of sweat had popped out on his forehead from the strain, but he managed. With the bag near the dogs, he used his pocketknife to open it, then found an old chicken-feed scoop and shallow metal pan to fill. Pain shot up his back and down his leg, but he’d be damned if he’d let his uninvited guest see him hurting. After Macy left, there’d be plenty of time to self-medicate with a lunch of Jim Beam followed by an afternoon nap.

The whole time he worked, she stood at the barn’s double doors, backlit by morning sun.

The weight of her stare hurt just as bad as his physical pain. Used to be, she’d looked at him out of admiration. Now, no doubt she felt nothing but a complete lack of respect and pity.

“Take a picture,” he snapped while filling a water pan from the spigot. “It’ll last longer.”

“Why are you doing this?” She sat on a hay bale, positioning the baby on her lap.

Henry only had eyes for the wriggling, whining puppies and waved in that direction.

“You should probably get your kid out of here. Too many germs.”

She sighed. “Practically all my life, Wiley James, you’ve been a horse’s behind, but lately it’s gotten out of hand. You show glimmers of the man I know you could be, but—”

“Did I ask for a therapy session?”

“Did I ask to get my head bit off? Don’t forget, the only reason I’m even here is because you’ve got a dangerous junk heap in your yard.”

“Oh—that’s rich. Point of fact—if you’d learn to keep your goddamned llama on your own—”

Henry’s little mouth puckered and he whimpered a few times before launching into full-blown tears.

She turned him around, cradling him to her chest. “Now, look what you did. He’s not accustomed to raised voices.”

“Great! Then, might I suggest taking your kid and prancing your sweet ass off my land!”

“You’re horrible!”

“Yes, I am. The sooner that fact sinks in, the better off you’ll be.”

Only after she’d climbed into her truck and peeled out on a dust plume did Wiley grab a rusty hoe from the barn wall. He used it as a crutch while ensuring the dogs and Charlie had plenty of food and water. Finished, he closed the barn door to keep them all safe, then hobbled back to the cabin.

Once inside, the pain was so great the whole room felt as if it was spinning.

Still using the hoe as a cane, he made it to the kitchen, grabbed the nearest whiskey bottle, downed a good half of it, then collapsed onto the bed.

* * *

MACY WAS TOO UPSET to go home, where she’d have nothing to do but think about Wiley’s poor behavior, so she turned toward her parents’. But that was no good, either, because she wasn’t feeling up to answering her mom’s inevitable questions regarding her neighbor. Heck, at the moment, she wasn’t his biggest fan, but it didn’t take a fancy psychiatry degree to see that when he’d lifted that heavy feed sack, he’d hurt himself, only was too proud—or, more likely, stupid—to ask for help, either with the feed or finding the pain meds his VA hospital doctor had no doubt sent him home with.

Where her dirt road met the two-lane highway leading to Eagle Ridge, Macy took a left toward downtown. It had been a while since she’d seen her friend Wendy—at least six months, which was way too long. Macy scolded herself for accusing Wiley of being too prideful when she was no better.

Since the divorce, she’d hidden herself on the mountain, not speaking to anyone but her parents. For as long as she could remember, her biggest dream had been to be just like her grandparents in living a simple country life, raising kids and livestock and letting the seasons dictate her work schedule as opposed to a time clock. Sure, she had all of that now, but by only half. Without love, she felt empty inside. Rex’s cheating had been an awfully low blow.

She’d been too naive to have even seen it coming.

Wendy, her best friend from elementary, middle and high school, had been the one who’d told her to wake up and face reality—her husband wasn’t working twenty-hour shifts at the Boise Pepsi plant. He was working that dirty blonde down at the Lookyloo Tavern, and Macy wasn’t just talking about the woman’s hair color.

For months after Rex left, Macy had been too embarrassed to stop in at Wendy’s bakery and coffee shop, but having her behavior mirrored by Wiley didn’t show her in a flattering light. Wendy deserved an apology. And after that, she’d hopefully be willing to offer advice over the new dilemma Macy faced with her neighbor.

On this sunny summer day, Eagle Ridge’s Cherry Street bustled with not only locals, but the tourists staying at the campground and cabins at Blowing Cavern Lake. The old mining town was decked out in all its seasonal finery and with the Fourth of July right around the corner, red, white and blue bunting had been hung from the historic redbrick buildings’ porch rails. A wide wood-plank boardwalk lined both sides of the street and hanging baskets of petunias and lobelia and ivy decorated every lamppost and column.

With no parking to be had near Wendy’s shop, Macy pulled in front of the candy shop, hopped out, then took Henry’s stroller from the truck bed so she could plop him into the seat. She rolled him closer to the taffy-pulling machine hard at work in the candy store’s front window.

It seemed like a hundred years ago that she’d stood with Wiley in this very spot. Her grandmother had forced him to hold her hand so she wouldn’t get lost. Now, after smelling booze on his breath twice at odd times of the day, Macy couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the one who was lost—only in a much more serious way than running off to the far end of the boardwalk.

Henry giggled at the machine’s gyrations.

“Funny, huh?”

He clapped.

She wished the sweet moment could be shared with his father, but then what would that have accomplished? She couldn’t make her ex love their son any more than she’d been able to make him love her. Last she’d heard, he’d run off with his gal pal to Florida, which left Macy feeling broken and not good enough—a bad place to be when she had such a blessing in her son. For him, she needed to be strong. While she would never forget what Rex had done, or understand how he could live with himself for abandoning his only child, she had to at least learn to place the blame for their breakup on his shortcomings rather than her own.

Past the bookstore and three antique shops and a T-shirt shop that also sold assorted souvenirs and sundries, Macy stood outside Wendy’s pride and joy—The Baked Bean. A year earlier, Macy had helped her friend load the flower boxes and put a fresh coat of yellow paint on the wrought-iron tables and chairs. On a busy day like this, Wendy would have called for emergency help, and Macy would have run right down to make mochas and lattes and double-shot espressos.

Today, however, she stood on the threshold, unsure about even going in. The inviting smells of coffee and fresh-baked cookies and scones tempted her, but it was Wendy’s surprised gasp upon seeing her and Henry that drove her inside.

Upbeat bluegrass played over the shop’s sound system, providing the perfect soundtrack for the way Macy hoped the reunion would go.

Wendy passed a tray of chocolate cupcakes to her part-time helper, Alice, then darted between customers to give Macy a much-needed hug. “It’s about time you came to see me.”

“I’m sorry, I...” Tears stung her eyes at the memory of their ugly last exchange of words.

How dare you accuse my husband of cheating? The only reason you’re saying any of this is because you’re jealous I got married and had a baby first.

Shame flushed Macy’s cheeks. Where did she start to make amends for the horrible, unfounded accusation?

“Look at you...” Wendy took Henry, holding him out for a better view.

He’d always been a happy baby, and he grinned now with Wendy’s light jiggles.

“You’re so big, and have your mommy’s pretty blue eyes.”

“Wendy,” Macy said. “I owe you a huge apology, and—”

“You don’t owe me a thing. I’m sorry your fairy-tale prince turned out to be a royal scumbag.”

That made Macy laugh and hold out her arms for another hug.

“I still have Henry’s playpen in back. As you can see, Alice and I are swamped. Mind helping out for a bit, and then we can talk?”

Just like that, their friendship was back on track.

With Henry content in a sunny corner, alternately cooing over the toys Aunt Wendy had long ago bought him and charming the customers, Macy worked the coffee machine, filling orders as quickly as they came in. Within thirty minutes, the crowd thinned to a manageable trickle, at which point, Wendy passed Alice the reins, then tugged Macy to the backroom to make more cookies and have a proper chat.

Henry had fallen asleep, and Alice promised to let Macy know the second he woke.

Once Macy and her oldest friend caught up on each other’s family news and town gossip, she wasn’t surprised when Wendy broached the subject of Macy’s pesky neighbor.

“Well?” Wendy asked after popping a cookie tray in the oven. “Are you ever going to tell me about your reunion with Wiley?”

“I’d hardly call it a reunion—more like a catastrophe.” She delivered the short version of their encounter. “I get that he’s hurting, but he acts like a grumpy old bear with a thorn stuck in his paw.”

“Then you’re not back to practicing writing Mrs. Macy James like you used to in tenth grade?”

“Um, no. He’s horrible. Just when I think we could at least be civil, he goes and says something even more outrageous or offensive than the last time we talked. My dad thinks I should give him a wide berth.”

“And your mom?”

Macy rolled her eyes. “Already picking wedding invitations.”

Wendy winced. “It’s a little soon for you to be back at the altar, isn’t it? How long has your divorce been final?”

“Six months, but our marriage was over before then. And thank you for taking my side. Even if I was in the market for male companionship, Wiley is the last man on earth I’d choose.”