Читать книгу Promise Canyon - Робин Карр, Robyn Carr - Страница 8

Lilly was a bit shaken as she drove away from the Jensen stable. The new assistant was drop-dead gorgeous and totally flirting with her. He didn’t have to carry two fifty-pound sacks of feed at a time into the feed room! A show-off, trying to impress her with his strength, his bulging arms, as if that would make her life worth living.

Well, he was in for a few surprises if he wanted to get a rise out of her. First of all, she’d grown up around a lot of Native males and had them all figured out. Many of them developed self-esteem issues in adolescence, stemming from the discrimination they faced, and it seemed one of the best ways they could feel better about themselves was by reeling in a girl. That pumped ‘em right up, got their testosterone flowing, kicked their confidence into gear. Well, she’d been reeled in, cruelly dumped and survived it; she wasn’t going there again!

And most of them, at least the ones she had known, had old-fashioned ideas about calling all the shots. From the time they glanced down and noticed they were males, they assumed the dominant role. Well, Lilly had enough on her plate with a grandfather who liked running things. That was one of many reasons she stayed away from other Native men. She was capable of taking care of herself and not at all afraid of being a woman on her own. In fact, she rather liked it.

Then there was that whole Hopi/Navajo thing; their tribal traditions and customs. Tons of it was ingrained in her as her grandfather never let it go. She never tried to deny her connection to the Native community, but she’d been trying to get some distance from all of that for a long time. She felt she could be a proud Hopi woman without being constantly steeped in all the old tribal stuff. After all she was also French, German, Polish and Irish—or so her mother had told her grandfather. She never did give Lilly’s father’s name, but she knew his heritage.

Lilly’s mother, only a teenager herself when Lilly was born, had left her to be raised by her grandparents. She ran off, no one knew where. Friends from the Hopi reservation had heard that Lilly’s mother died, but had no proof or details. But Lilly and her grandparents had never heard from her again, and neither of them had bothered trying to find any more information about her.

Her grandfather was a strong, formidable man. When her grandmother was alive, he’d treated her as if she were made of solid gold, but Grandma still let him make all the decisions. Lilly was not looking for one of those old-world tribal relationships either—one of the reasons that when she did date, which was rare, she stuck to the beige race and avoided those too-hot-to-handle Native men.

She’d been in love with a Navajo once. She had been a mere child of thirteen and he’d been eighteen. He’d pressed every button she had—he was a temptation so powerful she had defied her grandfather to be with him. But she’d gotten much more than she could handle. And when their relationship had met its tragic end, she swore she’d never be tempted by another like him. Never.

No doubt that was why the sudden appearance of Clay shook her. He was at least equal in handsomeness to that long-ago boy who had devastated her. No, not equal. Clay might have been the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Huge. Powerful. Exotic.

Lilly drove the pickup around yet another curve en route back to the feed warehouse when she came upon something that caught her attention—a black mound in the grass on the other side of a poorly maintained barbed wire fence. A horse, lying on the ground. It was not an altogether unusual sight, but Lilly slowed. As she neared, she kept sensing that something was not right about this. Then she saw the horse thrashing on the ground.

When Lilly and her grandparents had lived back on the Hopi reservation, she’d been around her neighbor’s horses a great deal, and had done a lot of riding as a young girl. But since Lilly and her grandfather had moved to California when Lilly was thirteen she’d been around feed more often than the animals that ate it. Her grandfather had bought the feed and grain business, but he didn’t keep any livestock. She rode rarely now, and only in the last couple of years, but she still remembered a lot about horses.

She pulled onto the shoulder and watched the horse. The mare jolted suddenly, rolled a bit, then stood and attempted to stretch out, curling her lip and pawing at the ground with her front hooves and kicking with her hind. Then down she went again.

Shit, Lilly thought. That horse was sick. Very sick. The only house in sight was on the wrong side of the road, but maybe someone there could direct her to the owners of this pasture, this horse. She went to the house, and an unshaven man in a T-shirt answered the door. He didn’t know the name of the horse’s owner, but he knew where it came from. He gave her directions up the road to the next turnoff and another quarter mile to an old farmhouse and barn. She went quickly, and what she found there stunned and confused her.

She called Dr. Jensen’s cell phone at once. “Nathaniel, I found a sick mare by the side of the road and the owner’s property is deserted. It looks abandoned. No one in the house, all the furniture’s gone, a couple of real skinny dogs are hanging out around the barn, the feed bin’s half-full of grain and trough’s empty. The horse is rolling, kicking, curling, sweating …”

“Where are you, Lilly?”

“Off 36 and Bell Road at a crossroad called Mercury Pass, but there’s no road sign. A neighbor directed me to this old farmhouse. The horse is rolling around just off Bell near 36.”

“I know the property,” Nathaniel said. “That’s the Jeromes'. As far as I know, they just had the one horse—a twelve-year-old black mare. But I haven’t been out there in about a year … maybe longer.”

She was, in fact, a very pretty black mare with back stockings and a diamond on her forehead. “That’s her. She’s a beauty. And she’s in a bad way.”

“I’ll be there soon as I can,” he said, clicking off.

Lilly wanted to get back to the horse, but she couldn’t resist a quick check of the barn and around the outside to be sure there weren’t any other casualties—horses, goats, cows or chickens. The small corral was neglected and full of manure, the barn was a filthy mess, manure and trash littering the place. There was no gear for the horse in the barn that she could see, no bridle, saddle or grooming gear. Behind the barn she found a chicken coop, the door left open, a few broken shells on the ground and a lot of scattered feathers. Had the chickens been left as food for the pumas, coyotes and wild dogs?

She’d seen enough. She jumped in the truck and sped back to the roadside. The horse was up again, stretching out her legs and curling her lip. She was in abdominal pain—that was clear. She kicked at her midsection a little, unsuccessfully, and then she was on the ground again, rolling around before lying listless and sweating. Lilly jumped the fence and kneeled at the horse’s head, stroking her snout and murmuring that everything would be all right, though she wasn’t the least confident about that.

It seemed an eternity before she saw a truck pulling a horse trailer come into view. When it came closer she saw that Nathaniel had brought his new assistant with him. Just as they were getting out of the truck the horse was struggling to her feet again, going through all the same motions.

“What’s going on here, Lilly?” Nathaniel asked. He braced both hands on a fence post and leaped over the barbed wire while Clay went to the back of the horse trailer and opened it up, lowering the ramp.

“She’s acting like colic, Doc. And like she’s had it awhile.”

“You find anyone around the Jeromes'?”

“No. It’s like they ran off. There was a chicken coop behind the barn, door standing open, broken eggs and a lot of feathers. You don’t suppose …?”

“That they left the horse in the pasture, the henhouse door open, the dogs to fend for themselves?” Nathaniel pulled back the horse’s lips to look at her gums. He listened to her stomach for gut sounds and felt her tight belly, an action that made her prance a little. “This sort of thing hasn’t happened in such numbers since the Depression, or so my dad tells me. With unemployment so high and money so tight, folks are faced with hard choices. Sometimes they have to decide between feeding their kids or their animals. Some abandon their property, mortgages and animals and just look for shelter.”

“They took their furniture,” she said. “The house is empty. So is the grain bin and trough. Think it’s possible they put out the last of the feed and left some water for this horse and she gorged herself?”

“Anything is possible. A few weeks ago some folks from downriver found a dead seven-year-old gelding by the road, starved. I didn’t know the horse. Someone who couldn’t afford to keep it might’ve taken it to an empty pasture and left him, hoping it would be rescued.”

“They couldn’t've sold him?”

“In this economy? It’s tough.”

Clay joined them, a halter and lead rope in his hand. Nate took them from him and said, “You mind fetching my bag, Clay? And please, draw up 10cc of Banamine.”

“Got it,” he said.

“What can you do, Nate?” she asked him.

“I’ll get her temperature, make sure she’s not diseased. They could’ve poisoned her to put her down before leaving her, but I’d be surprised by that. Most folks who run into situations that force them to leave their animals behind hope for the best. If we have advanced colic, I’ll give her some Banamine for the pain, run a stomach tube into her and administer some mineral oil, see if that moves things along. If it’s an intestinal twist and she needs surgery… well, let’s hope it’s a blockage …”

Lilly bit her lip; she understood. Nathaniel couldn’t do surgery, hospitalize the equine patient and care for her while she was at great risk of expiring. She was an orphan. No vet could afford a lot of expensive charity cases.

When Clay returned with the bag and drug, Lilly stepped back out of their way and marveled at the way they worked together. Clay wasn’t flirting now; he was focused on the horse and assisting his vet. Over the course of about thirty minutes, the animal was agitated, stretching and kicking. Clay had the halter on her and held the lead rope so he could control her movements somewhat, keeping her upright so she wouldn’t twist her intestines, but he mainly stroked her and held her as motionless as possible while Nathaniel first completed his exam and then injected her with Banamine. That seemed to almost immediately quiet the animal. But she wasn’t real crazy about the stomach tube that was run down her throat.

It was amazing the way Clay and Nathaniel worked together, as if they’d been in this situation a hundred times before. When the mare was resisting the tubing, Lilly stepped forward to help in some way, but Clay’s hand came up, palm toward her. “No, Lilly. She’s in pain and when she’s thrashing, she could kick you. Stay back, please,” he said quietly, calmly.

After the mineral oil was infused and the tubing removed, the horse moved as though she’d go down again, but Nathaniel instructed Clay to try to keep her up, walking her slowly and quietly. If she continued rolling around on the ground, she increased the chances of twisting her intestines into a knot.

“Will you take her to your stable?” Lilly asked Nate.

“Not anytime soon,” he said. “Maybe later, if the oil works on loosening up a blockage. The truth? This horse is lucky if it’s a blockage and there’s a little movement because putting her in the trailer in her condition isn’t going to be good for me or her—she’s bound to kick it into tin cans or hurt herself as she struggles to ease the pain in her belly.”

“You’ll leave her here?”

“Probably have to, Lilly. But with any luck, the treatment will work and we’ll find a relieved horse by morning. You can go, Lilly. Clay and I will take it from here.”

“But. But will you leave her alone out here?” she asked.

“We’re not going to leave her in this condition. I’ll stay until I see which way it’s going. And if it gets worse …”

She stiffened immediately. “What?” she said.

“She has no owner that we can find and she’s in pain,” Nathaniel said. “If it gets worse, I’ll put her down.”

“No—”

“She’ll get every chance and every possible treatment, Lilly,” Clay said, his low voice soft and gentle. Reassuring. “We won’t let go of a horse that has a chance.”

“You promise?” she asked.

“Promise,” he said, giving her a firm nod. “Go on home. You’ve done enough. And thank you.”

She backed away almost fearfully. “No. Thank you,” she said. “Please take care of her.”

“Of course,” Clay said. “Try not to worry.”

As Lilly backed away, she muttered, “How could someone just leave her like that? Abandon her.?” But Clay and Nathaniel didn’t hear her; they were busy working with the horse.

When Lilly delivered feed for her grandfather, who everyone called Yaz, she used one of the company trucks. Her personal vehicle was a little red Jeep, which she’d park in the rear of the store. She spent the majority of her time managing invoices, ordering supplies and cutting payroll checks. Two afternoons a week she’d take out one of Yaz’s company trucks, and one of the guys who worked for him would load up the back each time she returned empty after deliveries. She made several runs to smaller stables and horse properties. The larger orders to big ranches and farms were handled by Yaz and a couple of his employees on the flatbed truck. Yaz was sixty-nine and still strong as a bull. Some farmers and ranchers grew their own feed; some picked up their feed and saved a little money.

Lilly took the pickup keys and clipboard to Yaz’s desk at the back of the store. “Got it done, Grandpa,” she said, handing off the paperwork and keys. “Need anything more from me today?”

“Thank you, Lilly. Any problems I should know about?”

“The delivery went just fine. Dr. Jensen is taking on another horse tomorrow so I’ll increase his delivery for the next time.”

“Does he need a special run?”

“He didn’t ask for an extra delivery, just an increase. I looked in the feed room and he’s well stocked. And he has a new guy working for him.” Her grandfather didn’t even look up from the signed delivery receipts she had handed him. “Virginia went ahead and retired the second the new guy was on his way,” she said. He nodded at his paperwork. “He hired himself an assistant. Big guy. A Navajo.”

Yaz looked up then and connected eyes with his granddaughter. He smiled just slightly. “Is that a fact? Why’d he come here?”

Lilly almost blushed; she had no idea because she didn’t ask him about himself at all. He had asked her questions, general flirting and being friendly she supposed, but all she knew of him was that he was Navajo and could carry two bales at a time. “I didn’t really talk to him. Just to say hello, that’s all.”

“Is he good with horses?”

“Yes, he. Grandpa, on my way home I found a sick horse by the road. Probably colic. I called Nathaniel and he came out with Clay—that’s the new guy’s name, Clay. They came right away but what we found out, the people who owned that pasture where the mare was and the house and barn that went with it, they cleared out and left their animals to starve. Nathaniel says they’re seeing more of that sort of thing all the time because of the economy and unemployment.”

“People who were having a hard time before are having a harder time now,” Yaz said.

“He said sometimes they have to choose between feeding their children and their animals. But there are rescue groups! Why wouldn’t they call a rescue group?”

Yaz looked up at her, his dark eyes gathering a little moisture, the flesh below and at the corners crepey and wrinkled. “Even the rescue groups are stretched to the limit. Then there’s pride and shame,” he said. He leaned back in his old desk chair. “When a man is running out on his debts, he doesn’t usually say goodbye.”

“You’d think whoever did that could’ve swallowed enough pride to let someone know the animals were left behind,” she said.

“You’d think,” he agreed. “The horse going to be all right?”

She shrugged. “Nathaniel was treating her with pain medication and mineral oil when I left, even though there’s no one to pay him.”

Yaz looked down at the clipboard again, paging through her collection of deliveries. “Well, at least she got the best, and at a bargain.”

“True,” Lilly agreed softly. “You’ll want to meet the new man—he grew up around Flagstaff.”

A smile hinted at the corners of Yaz’s mouth. “It will be good to see a neighbor, even an inferior neighbor.” The Hopi and Navajo had long lived side by side, alternately getting along and squabbling. “I look forward to knowing him. See you on Sunday.” That was the day they set aside to eat together at his house. It was a traditional house—Lilly cooked. She also made sure her grandfather’s house was clean and his laundry done.

So much for her nontraditional ways ….

“Sunday,” she echoed, leaving the warehouse.

Her heart was still heavy, however. It was likely Lilly had an issue with this business about the horse for more than one reason. Lilly’s mother had abandoned her when she was an infant, leaving her with her grandparents on the reservation in Arizona. Lilly’s grandma had passed when Lilly was nine and while Yaz was grief-stricken, he was not intimidated by the prospect of raising her alone, without the help of a woman. In fact, it was possible he’d risen to the occasion. He seemed to relish his parenting duties. And at thirteen, the boy she’d loved had run out on her, leaving her high and dry, and with bigger problems than she knew how to deal with. Abandonment was an issue for her and she knew it.

It was that same year that Yaz brought her to California. He heard about the sale of the feed store from a friend of a friend, and for his entire life on the reservation he’d been saving and investing for just such an opportunity. That had been fourteen years ago. She hadn’t moved out of her grandfather’s house until she was twenty-five and that had been a difficult transition; he clearly wanted her to stay with him forever or at least until she was married.

While Lilly was on her way to her little rented house at the edge of Fortuna, she realized she’d have to go back to that pasture. She needed to know if the horse was there alone, if she was hurting, if she was sick, if she was. Her mind couldn’t form the word dead. She needed closure. And if Nathaniel and Clay had left her alone, Lilly would be the one to stay with her until she was either recovered or. Again, she couldn’t allow certain potential outcomes to enter her mind.

But when she did allow her mind to go that far, she knew that if the horse had to be put down, Lilly would stroke her head and send her off with loving words.

By the time she got home, fixed herself a portobello, cheese, pepper and tomato sandwich and wrapped it, a couple of hours had passed since she’d first found the horse. She grabbed a bag of soy nuts and almonds, a bottle of apple juice and one of water. Then she dug through the detached garage for an old sleeping bag that smelled vaguely of storage. If the horse didn’t have serious digestion problems, she’d have taken a few carrots and a couple of apples, but the mare would be off food for the time being.

It was almost seven by the time she was back on the road, seven-thirty by the time she approached the place she’d found the mare. It was August; the sun was just lowering in the west. Because of the tall trees it darkened a bit earlier here than on the Pacific Coast. She was shocked to see that not only were the truck and trailer still there, but surrounded by reflective, triangular collapsible cones to notify any other vehicles that might come along after dark.

Lilly pulled up in front of the pickup and got out, leaving her food behind. It was already dusk, but she could see Clay walking the horse in a wide circle around the pasture. She remembered from her horse days in childhood that was one of the treatments for colic, a little walking. Not too much; a safe and moderate amount. She didn’t see Dr. Jensen.

She jumped the fence to get in the pasture. Soon enough he came toward her, leading the mare. “You’re back,” he said. “Need something?”

“Yes,” Lilly answered, “I need to know if she’s going to be all right.”

“She’s hanging in there. She needs a little time.”

“She’s not getting worse, is she?”

“Nope, she’s doing fine. But she’s pumped full of Banamine and it’s a waiting game to see if the treatment worked for her. She’s still stressed. She’s still pawing and stretching out. This is an unhappy lady here. Is that the only reason you’re here?”

Lilly shrugged and put her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “I was afraid you’d leave her and she’d be. I didn’t want her to be alone. In case … Well, in case she got a lot worse.”

“Lilly,” he said, bending a little until their eyes connected. “I wouldn’t leave a sick animal unless I had to. I’ll see it through. You don’t have to worry.” He straightened. “Those blue eyes really freak me out.”

She grinned at him. “Freaked out my grandfather, too.”

“I’ll bet the old Hopi just about passed out.”

“Well, since you have to have the blue DNA on both sides and he thinks both himself and my grandma are a hundred percent Native, it means there was a bad pilgrim back there somewhere.” She smiled brightly. “Have you eaten?”

“Not yet,” he said.

“Would you like half a sandwich?”

He lifted one expressive brow. “Whatcha got?”

“Mushroom, tomato, peppers and cheese. On wheat.”

He grimaced. “I was promised a welcome dinner of pot roast,” he informed her.

She smiled lazily. “Do they deliver?”

“I sincerely hope so, but it’s more likely there will be leftovers. Annie came to fetch Nathaniel home and I offered to stay on, but I think I’m going to be able to take the horse back to the clinic before too much—”

Right then the horse decided to stretch out again to ease her abdominal pain.

“You’re going to take her to Nathaniel’s?”

“Lilly, it’s for the convenience of dealing with her condition, not to give her a new home. Nate didn’t want to transport her until she was more stable and I think we’re just about there, but that doesn’t guarantee her recovery. If she doesn’t improve, he won’t let her go on like this, in pain.”

“I understand.”

“What were you going to do out here at night?”

“I don’t know. Eat my sandwich. Be with her, I guess.”

He tilted his head. “Do you have horses?”

She shook her head. “Never have, but when I was real young I rode some. Well, it’s been a long time, but when I was a kid, I was surrounded by them. Back on the reservation. I’ve ridden with Annie a few times, but I’m not around horses much, just when I deliver their feed. Finding her like this, it kind of made me responsible in a way. At least for making sure she wasn’t alone.”

“It could be midnight before she’s either better, worse, ready to transport or …” He didn’t finish.

“I brought a jacket and a—” She felt silly about the sleeping bag. Did she really plan to lie on the ground next to a twisting, kicking horse through the night? Even in August, in the mountains or surrounded by them, it was cold after dark. “I’d be willing to share the sandwich,” she said. “Who knows, you might not get pot roast delivery for a long time.”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’m taking a chance on a mushroom sandwich.”

“You might actually like it. Hey, you aren’t planning on leaving this horse in the pasture, are you? Because, if I remember, she can’t be grazing. Isn’t she off food?”

“I’m on top of it, Lilly. The barn and corral where she was kept—Nathaniel looked at it and it’s out of the question. It’s filthy, cluttered, the fence in poor condition. Once she takes a turn for the better, I’m going to take her to Nathaniel’s clinic. And until she’s feeling a lot better, believe me, I won’t let her graze. She’s miserable.”

“Yeah,” Lilly said, connecting with the mare’s eyes. “Be right back,” she said. She jogged toward her Jeep. With her hands on a fence post, she put one booted foot on the top barbed wire, pressed down and jumped over. Getting back over the fence was slightly more difficult—her hands were full of food and drink. “Bottled water or apple juice?” she asked him.

“You first,” he said. “I have a couple of warm colas in the truck.”

She smirked and handed him the apple juice. “This is much better for you. And hold these, please.”

“Nuts?” he asked.

“Also good for you, as is the half sandwich.”

“I don’t know ….”

“Be a big boy,” she said, and then thought, he is really such a big boy! But she kept her eyes cast down and opened the wrapping of her sandwich. She’d already cut it in half, thankfully. She put her water on the ground and traded with him—sandwich for bags of nuts. “Think she’ll let us sit down?” she asked.

Clay dropped the rope and backed away. “Better give her space. She isn’t thinking about her human friends right now. She could drop on you and grind you right into the pasture.”

Lilly followed him about ten feet away from the mare, then carefully sat. “I probably have a … a blanket or sleeping bag in the Jeep ….” She still couldn’t admit to planning to sleep beside a sick horse she had no real connection to.

“Yeah, me, too,” he said. “But the ground is dry enough.” Down he went, crossing his legs. “And so. We have a mushroom sandwich.”

“One of my favorites,” she said. “What brought you to Nate’s practice?” With the question, she bit into hers.

“I have family nearby. A married sister with a family in Grace Valley. And if you come from the mountains, the cold mountains at about seven thousand feet, Los Angeles County is a little low, hot and smoggy. Even out in the hills.”

“Why don’t you just go back to Flagstaff?”

“Because there’s no opportunity in Flagstaff. Do you know how many Northern Arizona U PhDs are waiting tables there because they just can’t make themselves leave? And God knows there aren’t any rich horse breeders looking for help on the reservation. Nah, this is pretty, around here, and close to family, and Nathaniel is good people and he’s offering me a terrific opportunity to help grow his business. How’d you end up here?” he asked. And then he bit into his sandwich. He chewed a bit, then winced and made a face.

She couldn’t help it—she laughed and covered her mouth with her hand.

“How do you eat this?” he asked.

“I like it,” she said, still laughing. “Give it to me. Eat nuts, that’ll hold you awhile.”

“So?” he asked, passing the sandwich back.

“So my grandma died and a few years later my grandpa heard through a friend that the feed company was for sale and he thought he could make it work. He’d always wanted his own business. And it was just him and me, so …”

“Where are your parents?” he asked.

“Anyone’s guess,” she answered, filling her mouth again.

He let her chew. He piled nuts in his mouth while she worked on her mouthful. When she had finally swallowed, he asked, “So, are you …?”

“Grandpa and I moved here when I was thirteen and I think it was the right move,” she said, cutting off his next question. “Because I did well in school, made new friends, and although Yaz will never admit it, he’s making money on silage and hay.” She laughed and shook her head. “Don’t try to trick an old Hopi into telling you what he’s got in his pocket. He’s crafty.”

Clay studied her for a moment, really wanting to know a lot more about her and fully aware she was keeping her answers impersonal. “I think maybe you’re crafty, too.”

She smiled as though she had a secret. “I have been trained by the best.”

She bit into her sandwich and the mare farted.

“Well, that was nice,” Lilly said. “Very ladylike.”

Clay laughed at her. “Music to my ears,” he said. He stood up. “I think she’ll be going in the trailer real soon. I think what you call that in veterinary medicine is progress.”

Lilly hated the idea of ending the conversation even if it was getting a little close for comfort for her. “Shouldn’t you wait until you’re sure that blockage clears?”

“As long as she’s not in pain and there’s progress, I’ll be more than happy to hose out the trailer when I’m back at the clinic.” He stood and went to the mare, took the lead rope and led her to the fence. He pulled a small wire cutter out of his back pocket and made fast work of the barbed-wire fence. Once cut, the wire sprang away and gave them an exit. Why worry about the pasture’s security now? The owners had clearly fled.

But he turned toward Lilly. She cradled all her picnic stuff in her arms—nuts, remaining sandwich, bottles …."That was so nice, Lilly,” he said. “So nice that you’d worry about the horse and come to be with her. And so nice that you’d share your meal with me.”

“Even though it was a mushroom sandwich?” she asked.

When he looked at her, his brows relaxed and his eyes seemed to darken. “Even though,” he said.

Then he made clicking noises and said, “Come on, precious. Let’s get you outta here ….” And he led her to the trailer.