Читать книгу Cowboy On Call - Leigh Riker, Leigh Riker - Страница 11
ОглавлениеBY THE NEXT MORNING, Nick seemed much better. Olivia was not. Although she felt relieved about her son, a glimpse in the bathroom mirror had showed her a too-pale woman with dark shadows under her eyes. At the kitchen table, she sipped coffee and made plans to leave the Circle H as soon as Nick finished his cereal.
His face had color again and he continued to shovel in his breakfast as if he might never see another meal. Sometimes he astonished Olivia with the amount of food he could take in, which should have eased her mind. Her growing boy.
“Eat up, punkin. We need to go. I have an appointment out of town today.”
Nick spoke around a mouthful of Cheerios. “Who’s going to watch me?”
With school out for the summer, she’d have to rely on her usual babysitter, but in last night’s chaos she had forgotten to double-check. “Susie,” she said.
Olivia yawned. She hadn’t slept well in Sawyer’s bed, imagining his scent in the room, surrounded by the trappings of his younger life. And worried about Nick, she’d only dozed, waking with a start each time to wonder if he was okay.
Once in the night, she’d met Logan in the hall with the same intent to see their son, and another time she’d nearly run into Sawyer. Her mind foggy, Olivia had hurried back to her room.
“Why can’t I stay here today?” Nick asked, nearly knocking over his orange juice. “I could ride Hero.”
His new horse was a bone of contention for Olivia, who hadn’t been consulted before Logan bought the gelding. She’d been working on becoming less protective of Nick but had a hard time keeping her mouth shut about this. Logan argued he’d rather see their boy on a steady mount than trying to handle one of the other, sometimes unpredictable, horses already in the Circle H stables. He was too big now for a pony.
She had to admit the gentle gray gelding with a showy black mane and tail took good care of Nick. She shouldn’t worry, not about that at least.
“No Hero today for you.” Logan had appeared in the kitchen doorway, and Olivia appreciated the backup despite wondering how long their united front would last. “Nicky, that’s not a good idea. Grandpa Sam will set you up with the TV instead. You can watch a movie, play a video game...”
Nick gave him an assessing look. “Daddy, I want to ride.”
Logan smiled at Blossom, who had joined him in the doorway. They both wore a visible glow this morning. He caught Olivia staring at them.
“A different wedding night than we’d planned,” he admitted. “We both passed out as soon as our heads hit the pillows. We’ll be talking about that for years.” On his way by, Logan ruffled Nick’s hair then headed for the coffee maker. “I know you’re feeling better, but you took quite a spill last night. Hero can wait for a few days. Okay?”
Nick didn’t answer. He crunched more cereal. Obviously unhappy, he refused to look at Logan, and Olivia saw the little frown between his brows that, in such a young face, always clutched at her heart. She set aside her coffee cup, then rose from the table.
“I appreciate the offer to keep Nick, but I’ll see that he plays quietly today at home,” she said, making a mental note to call Susie. Olivia turned to Blossom, who was pouring a glass of orange juice. “Are you guys leaving today?”
“The car’s already packed.” She hugged Olivia. “Thanks for coming yesterday. I know that wasn’t easy for you, then Nick had his accident... That was quite a scare, but since he seems to be fine, yes—we’ll start for the West Coast.”
That had been Blossom’s dream when she’d fled the nightmare of her previous relationship. On the run from her abusive fiancé and determined to protect her unborn baby, she’d thought if she reached California she’d be free. Olivia was glad she had a happier occasion to celebrate now and the coming baby to look forward to soon.
Blossom and Logan were driving west. Her pregnancy was far enough along that she didn’t feel comfortable flying, and some airlines didn’t permit that in the last trimester. They also wanted to see the sights on their way.
“I’m good,” Nick said to his cereal bowl. “My head hardly hurts at all.”
Another pair of footsteps clattered down the steps and Sawyer came into the room. He looked at Olivia as he spoke, his tone thin. The conversation must have drifted up the stairs to him. “He really should stay here.” As if he didn’t want him to but felt he had to suggest that. “With Sam,” he added.
Was he omitting himself? Sawyer had always had a passionate streak, taking chances, riding the rankest horse. Olivia felt certain he’d carried that into his career as a physician, one who must deal often with trauma worse than Nick’s fall yesterday. His history of making quick decisions, taking risks, would be an asset.
Yet she saw a new difference in him. Olivia couldn’t put her finger on what that was, but she saw it in his eyes. He seemed to be hiding something deep inside.
She stared into her half-empty cup. The riskiest thing she planned to do was to possibly move away from Barren.
“Did I hear my name?” When Sam wandered into the kitchen in search of coffee, too, she almost groaned. He and Nick liked to hang out together and she expected Sam to weigh in about Nick, but he surprised her. “Sorry, won’t be here today. With Logan gone, I have work to do.” He didn’t mention Sawyer.
She felt almost sorry for him. He still had his troubles with Sam and Logan.
Olivia gathered her bag and the sweater she’d brought yesterday in case the air grew cool during the reception. “My sitter can watch Nick. I’ll fill Susie in on his fall so she’ll make sure he takes it easy. Let’s go, punkin.”
She wondered if she imagined the relief on Sawyer’s face.
* * *
AFTER OLIVIA LEFT with Nick, Sawyer wandered down to the barn. Aside from last night, he hadn’t been there in nine years. The familiar smells of hay and leather and manure assailed his senses, taking him back to another time when life had seemed simpler—when as a boy, then during college, Sawyer had lived for this barn, these horses. Back when he’d expected to take over the Circle H one day.
Then, after Sawyer’s first year of med school, Olivia had married his brother, and Sawyer had stopped coming home. Sometimes he thought part of his reason for opening the clinic in Kedar three years ago had been to get so far away from Barren that he’d never feel tempted to contact Olivia again.
This morning he couldn’t get past his new feelings of guilt, and to make matters worse, he was still worried about Nick.
My head hardly hurts at all. Sometimes, as Sawyer knew only too well, kids tried to cover up or downplay their symptoms, or they couldn’t articulate what was wrong until it was too late. Yet, even the Hippocratic oath couldn’t convince Sawyer it was his place to make Nick stay at the ranch or to watch over him. Olivia had decided to leave, and she was Nick’s mother.
In the quiet sunlit aisle of the barn, he talked for a few minutes with a couple of ranch hands. The pair was saddling a bay mare and an Appaloosa gelding. Willy and Tobias were getting ready to ride fence, he supposed. Once he went back up the hill, he’d be alone in the house. He had nothing to do. “I could ride with you,” he offered, although he hadn’t been on a horse much in recent years.
Willy, a tall man with dirty blond hair and a sly manner Sawyer didn’t like, eyed him up and down, obviously noting his new jeans and boots. “Rough work,” he said. “Wouldn’t want to mess you up.”
Tobias, who was older and had a wiry build, snorted. “Fancy duds.”
Sawyer flinched. They didn’t want him to go with them. Okay, he got that. Once he’d been a pretty fair hand. Now, with rusty skills, he’d only get in their way. He’d likely cut himself on some barbed wire and remember he was overdue for a tetanus shot.
Tobias and Willy mounted up. With a tip of their hats, they ducked low to ride out of the barn, looking more comfortable in their well-worn saddles than they did on two legs. As their horses trotted toward the pasture gate, he heard the two men laughing.
Leaning to open the gate, Willy called back. “Come over to the Wilsons’ later if you want to help. We’re rounding up some missing cattle.” A wedding guest last night had mentioned a trio of rustlers who’d tried to clean Grey Wilson out, but they’d been caught and the local ranchers had offered to help bring the cows home. “Logan’s prob’ly got some old clothes you can borrow. Pickup keys are in the black truck.”
Sawyer watched them go. He was only here to help Sam and get his own head together. After Logan returned from his honeymoon, Sawyer would leave. Yet Grey was an old friend. How could he not drive over to Wilson Cattle, at least offer to pitch in?
But Grey was also Olivia’s brother. What if she was there later, too? He didn’t relish another awkward conversation with her.
He half wished Nick had stayed, a ready excuse for Sawyer to remain at the Circle H all day, not that the kid had exactly taken to him. He’d examined Sawyer with curiosity, confused him at first with Logan, then seemed to dismiss him.
Besides, Nick reminded him of that other child he hadn’t been able to save. The memory of that boy, who like many others had been pulled from the landslide rubble, made him feel guilty all over again. His dreadful mistake had cost a young life, and he couldn’t seem to forgive himself for that, either.
How possibly to atone?
There was no way to bring back that dark-haired, dark-eyed child or to relieve the sorrow Sawyer had seen in his parents’ eyes. He could only guess how that must hurt.
At the age of eight, Sawyer had lost his mother and father in a road accident. They’d been on their way home the day before his and Logan’s birthday. It was Sam who’d raised them, adopted him and Logan, who’d been here all these years like a father to them.
The memory of his parents had saddened him. It seemed that everyone he loved, he lost.
Sawyer drifted down the barn aisle, stopping here and there to say hello to each horse that sidled up to the stall bars and poked out a soft nose. He didn’t realize Sam was in the next stall until Sawyer walked up to peer at the black colt inside.
The horse’s ears flattened against his skull. His eyes rolled, showing the whites. Not a good demonstration of his nature.
Sam lifted his head. “Better keep back.” At the horse’s side, he’d been bent over, picking the colt’s hooves. “He doesn’t like strangers.”
Sawyer obeyed. He didn’t fear the horse, but he wouldn’t agitate him and get Sam into trouble. Moving around in an occupied stall could be dangerous.
He assessed the animal with a cool eye. He had good conformation—beautiful, in fact. His glossy black hide shone in the soft light coming through the stall window that opened onto the barnyard. The colt danced around, reminding Sawyer of another horse years ago, shifting his hindquarters one way, then the other as if he were doing a samba. “He looks like a real handful.”
“Oh, he is,” Sam said but with apparent pride. “Picked him up at a sale. Guy there told me this one’s daddy was a prizewinner—champion barrel racer—but his baby showed no signs of following in his hoofprints. I got him for a song.” Still hunched over, Sam glanced up again. “Cyclone has no manners. And he bites.”
“You love him,” Sawyer murmured. He could see that in Sam’s eyes.
“I will.” He straightened, then lightly swatted Cyclone on his near flank to shift him over. “Once he learns how to behave.”
“Has he had any groundwork?” The horse, which appeared to be a yearling, wouldn’t be ready to ride until he was three, but he needed to learn some of those manners long before that. Sawyer’s hand all but twitched to feel a lunge line in his grasp, with one flick of his wrist to get the colt moving with a fluid, forward gait in the corral.
“Logan offered to work with him,” Sam said, “and so has Grey Wilson, but neither one has gotten around to that, much less breaking him first.”
Sawyer didn’t like the term break. It implied ruining an animal’s spirit. He preferred a gentler touch.
Years ago, he’d not only been a better ranch hand in the making than his twin brother, he’d also trained a few horses. One of them, at an advanced age and probably now in retirement, still lived in the end stall by the barn doors. On his way through, Sawyer had slipped him an apple. Another, Sundance, was Sam’s horse and now Logan’s part of the time. Another...had belonged to Olivia, but that horse wasn’t here or at Wilson Cattle.
“I could give the colt a try,” he said, testing the waters. He wasn’t the only one to remember that other horse. He doubted Sam would trust him with the colt.
Sam blinked. “Been a while since you handled a green one like Cyclone.”
“I’m willing to try, though. While I’m here,” he added.
“He’ll need lots of attention. You plan to stay that long?”
“I don’t know. Depends on what you mean by long.” Yet Sawyer felt his spirits begin to lift. Frankly, this morning he’d been feeling sorry for himself. Regretting his reluctance to take responsibility for Nick’s care. Knowing he wasn’t part of the Circle H anymore, part of anything, really. His partner, Charlie, in the clinic had seemed half-relieved to see him go. Sawyer’s presence was a constant reminder of what had happened there, and he guessed Olivia felt similarly about him. He’d be doing her a favor to keep away from her.
Sam was right. He wouldn’t stay long, didn’t know where to go when he left, much less how to find redemption for his sins. Still...
He reached through the stall bars, taking the chance to stroke the colt’s nose. For his first attempt at friendship, he got a sharp nip that broke the skin on his index finger. Sawyer snatched his hand back.
“Told you.” Sam shoved the horse aside to slide open the door. “Saw him take off the tip of someone’s ear a couple months ago.” He stepped out into the aisle, then threw the bolt, shutting Cyclone inside.
Sawyer looked at the colt for a moment. It seemed suddenly important to establish his temporary niche at the Circle H, give himself something to do while he was here. Maybe with Cyclone he’d do better than he had with a scalpel in his hand in Kedar. By the time he left, the black colt might have the foundation to become a decent horse. If Sawyer didn’t fail again.
“I’ll try anyway,” he told Sam.
* * *
OLIVIA WAS STILL fuming as she parked her car in front of the antiques shop where she had a meeting with the owner, who wanted to sell. Without warning and after Olivia had called to remind her, Susie had cancelled, which was becoming a habit for Nick’s babysitter. More than once this summer, Olivia had been forced to work from home, which had meant closing her store and losing business for the day, to stay with Nick. Her primary concern, of course, was her son, but she’d had to bring him with her today, and Susie’s frequent no-shows were a problem.
Now, because Olivia hadn’t let Nick stay at the ranch, he was sulking. Still mad, too, she supposed, about their possible move.
Even so, he was unusually quiet. She shut off the car’s engine, glanced at Nick in the rear seat, then opened her door. Maybe it was better that he’d come with her so she could watch him. From what she’d seen last night and earlier today, she wouldn’t want Sawyer to look after him. What kind of doctor was he?
“Nick, Mr. Anderson is waiting for us.”
Theodore Anderson met them at the door. His stooped posture, the frail look of him, alarmed Olivia. The last time she’d seen him, he’d appeared much stronger. His watery eyes and the fringe of white hair around his scalp added to the impression. Olivia hoped her dismay didn’t show on her face.
“Ted, how nice to see you.” She reached out for a hug. “This is my son, Nick.”
He shook Nick’s hand. “How do you do, young man?”
Nick mumbled a response. Ted had the old-fashioned manners of a nineteenth-century gentleman, which suited his profession, but Olivia caught a faint flicker of unease in his gaze, to which she could relate. Like hers, his shop was filled to the rafters with furniture and delicate collectibles. Every tabletop held glass paperweights, exquisite crystal, ceramic figurines. Olivia spied a graceful Lladró statue of an elegant lady in gray with sweeping, sculpted skirts, one of the first designs the esteemed Spanish manufacturer had issued. Her mouth watered.
“What gorgeous things you have.”
Ted’s expression fell. “Apparently, I need to get rid of them. My son and his wife want me to move to Florida.”
What did he want? Olivia felt sorry for him. He was obviously under some pressure, but Ted’s wife had died several years ago, and she could see he’d declined since then. He probably felt he was losing his independence now.
“Do they live there?”
“No. My son has a small ranch not far from here. He’s convinced my arthritis will improve once I get away from our Kansas winters. They’ve found me a lovely condominium down South.” He didn’t sound enthusiastic.
Giving up his shop would be hard for Ted. He knew each item and where to find it in this magnificent clutter of a place. She didn’t doubt he loved every single piece.
“I take it you’re not wild about a move, but warmer weather might be nice,” she said. “I don’t care for snow myself.”
He smiled a little. “Then maybe you should buy that condo. I’ll stay to run my shop—and yours.”
“That wouldn’t work for me,” she said, “but I’m interested in buying you out here if you do want to sell.”
His thin shoulders slumped even more. “Let me show you around.”
Nick trailed behind, his fingers busy on the tablet she’d bought for his birthday, his gaze intent on the screen. He’d recently discovered Minecraft. Although the game was educational and creative, if she didn’t set limits for him, Nick would play all day and night.
Ted gave her a tour of the shop, pointing out an especially valuable English silver tea set here, an exquisite Victorian fainting couch upholstered in lush plum velvet there, while Olivia held her breath. She’d always loved his store. Ted had exquisite taste. He had carefully acquired an amazing and expensive collection, a good percentage of which Nick, lost in his game, could easily blunder into.
As they returned to the front of the store, Nick raised a hand to rub his forehead with a frown. He bumped against a round mahogany drum table from the eighteenth century, rattling its display of fine Lalique perfume bottles. Olivia barely righted one in time to prevent it from breaking.
Her heart slid back down into her chest. “Sorry,” she said just as Nick crashed into a small nearby liquor cabinet, a priceless-looking Tiffany vase on its top shelf. To her horror, the vase wobbled, then fell, shattering into pieces on the floor. Shards of glass, splintered with light into a full spectrum of colors, scattered everywhere.
Olivia cried out, then dropped to her knees to begin picking up the mess. “I’m so sorry, Ted. Of course I’ll pay for the damage.” Or try to. She felt too shaken at the moment to ask what this particular vase had been worth.
“No need to apologize. We’ll work it out.” But he looked upset himself. He was simply too polite to lose his temper, and he hastened to reassure Nick, who seemed dazed as he mumbled an apology.
Ted led them past the front counter, where an ancient computer sat gathering dust. Beside it was a vintage cash register that he’d once claimed still actually worked. He said, “Just tell me you have an offer I can live with. About the shop.”
Keeping one eye on Nick, Olivia named a figure.
Ted wrinkled his nose. “I had something a bit higher in mind.”
Olivia tensed. “You know I’ll take special care of all your treasures.” Remembering the broken vase, she winced. “I won’t let a single one go for less than a good price. I’ll love them as you do.”
“Well...” He didn’t go on.
“Think about this,” Olivia said, not wanting to press him any further. “Call me if you want to counter my offer. And let me know about the vase.”
Ted ignored that part. “Those kids want me to move soon. Not much time to inventory everything and then...leave,” he added. “I’ll be giving up my livelihood. My passion, as it were.”
Olivia laid a hand on his arm. “We’ll talk.” Her gaze strayed to Nick, who was now sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor, still furiously thumbing the tablet as if nothing had happened. “I’m sure we can come to some agreement.” She hesitated, then tried to sweeten the pot. “Once we do, I promise to keep you in the loop, ask your advice on things. Goodness, I can’t possibly know as much as you do. That way you can keep your hand in and the shop can still feel like yours. Which it always will be.” Another pause. “I want you to be happy, Ted.”
His expression told her he didn’t think that was likely, but Olivia left him to ponder her offer, hoping he’d come around. She badly wanted his business. When a deal was done, she could think about a move away from Barren, away from her memories, some of which Sawyer had stirred up with his unexpected return. She told herself he’d probably be gone before she packed a single box.
In the car, Olivia sagged in her seat. “Oh, Nick.” How would she pay for the vase? She had a rough idea of its value, a figure that made her want to groan. She hadn’t wanted to make a scene in Ted’s shop, but Nick hadn’t been paying attention. And now his carelessness might have cost her a deal with Ted. Nick needed to learn there were consequences to his actions. “Sweetie, the vase you broke was very expensive.” Not that Nick had a true understanding of the money involved. “I hate to do this, but I think it will be a valuable lesson. You’ll have to help earn the money to pay back Mr. Anderson.”
“How?” he moaned. “Mom, I don’t feel good. I still got a headache.”
Her breath caught. “I didn’t mean today. We can work something out later.”
Nick’s frown deepened as they headed out to Wilson Cattle, where Olivia planned to pitch in wherever she could with the return of Grey’s cattle. At Ted’s shop, she’d thought Nick was simply bored and cranky. Then she’d assumed he felt terrible about the broken vase, though he’d said nothing after his brief apology. Now she wondered. Was he just tired? Doubling down on the sulking because he’d have to do added chores to pay off part of the debt? Or was it something else?
She drove faster, trying to run through the numbers to adjust her offer to Ted but worrying more about Nick as she neared Barren.
“It really hurts,” he said with a groan.
Her pulse suddenly pounding, Olivia checked her rearview mirror. Nick’s face was ashen, worse than it had been last night. She wanted to pull over, but traffic on the interstate made that a dicey proposition. She’d risk getting hit while parked on the shoulder.
She gripped the steering wheel. “Hang on, baby. We’ll be there soon.”
She tried to tell herself he just needed something for the pain, that this was normal after what he’d been through last night. It wasn’t an emergency, was it?
She glanced again in the mirror.
Nick had slumped to one side. Dozing, as he’d often done in the back seat since he was a baby? Or had he passed out again?
Panic hit her as if a rock had been thrown through the windshield. “Nick!”
His eyes opened, then closed again. “I’m sleepy.”
A quick look at her GPS told Olivia they were nowhere near the hospital.
She grabbed her cell phone from the seat beside her and called Doc but only got a recorded message. Gone fishing. If you have an emergency, contact Dr. So-and-So... Olivia barely listened and missed the name. But no one answered at the clinic on Main Street, either.
She didn’t have a choice. The ranch wasn’t far now.
She hit Speed Dial for the Circle H and asked for Sawyer.
