Cattleman's Courtship. Carolyne Aarsen

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СКАЧАТЬ as she hung up. She was busy, sure, but there was a lot to be said for coming home after a hard day of work to supper cooking on the stove.

      While she enjoyed cooking, many of her suppers back in Vancouver consisted of pizza or a bowl of cereal in front of the television. Hardly nutritious, despite the claims of the cereal manufacturers.

      Cara made the last turn up the winding road leading to the ranch. She allowed herself a quick look at the mountains edging the fields. The bright spring sun turned the snowcapped peaks a brilliant white, creating a sharp relief against the achingly blue sky.

      When she and Nicholas were dating, they seldom came to the ranch. This suited Cara just fine. Every time she came, she received the silent treatment from Nicholas’s father, which created a heavy discomfort. Cara knew Nicholas’s father didn’t approve of her, though she was never exactly sure why.

      All she knew was each time she saw Dale he glowered at her from beneath his heavy brows and said nothing at all.

      So she and Nicholas usually went to a movie, hung out at her uncle and aunt’s place or visited Nicholas’s best friend, Lorne Hughes.

      So when she found out the call came from Dale Chapman, she was already dreading the visit, and running late just made it more so.

      She parked the car and, as she got out, she heard Dale Chapman speaking.

      She grabbed a container with the supplies she thought she might need out of the trunk of the car. Then she headed around the barn to the corrals, following the sound of Mr. Chapman’s voice.

      Dale was holding the horse’s head, talking in an unfamiliar gentle tone to his horse.

      Just for a moment, Cara was caught unawares. She wasn’t used to gentleness from Dale Chapman in any form.

      “Good morning, Dale. Sorry I’m late.”

      His cowboy hat was pulled low on his head, shading his eyes, but when he looked up, his mouth was set in grim lines.

      “I came as soon as I could.” Cara knew trying to explain to him about unexpected problems with her previous case would be a waste of time.

      Cara set the kit down in what seemed to be a safe place, pulled a pair of latex gloves out and slipped them on as she walked toward the horse.

      She knew from the phone call that Dale had found the animal with a stick puncturing the muscles of its leg.

      From here she could see the stick hanging down between his front legs. As she bent over to get a closer took, her mind skimmed frantically through her anatomy lessons, trying to picture which muscles the stick could have injured.

      Watching the horse to gauge its reaction, she gently touched the leg, feeling for heat. But he didn’t flinch.

      “When did this happen?” she asked, looking up at the wound. There was surprising little blood on the stick, which led her to believe it hadn’t punctured anything important.

      “Um…let’s see…” Mr. Chapman hesitated, as if trying to recall.

      “I found Duke this morning in the new pasture.”

      The deep voice behind her reverberated across her senses. Then Nicholas crouched down beside her and she caught the scent of hay and the faintest hint of soap and aftershave.

      She couldn’t stop the quick flashback to another time when she was at the ranch watching her uncle working on one of Nicholas’s horses. It was the first time she met him.

      Too easily she recalled how attracted she had been to him. And when his eyes had turned to her, the feeling of instant connection that had arced between them.

      And right behind that came the memory of his father, watching her with narrowed eyes. He still doesn’t like me, she thought, wondering once again why.

      Not that it mattered. The way Nicholas acted around her, she was sure the son and the father were finally on the same page as far as she was concerned.

      “Doesn’t look like any veins or arteries are punctured,” Cara said, gently touching the stick. It slid easily to one side. “I’m guessing it slipped between the muscles.”

      Duke shifted its weight and the stick moved down a bit more.

      “I’m going to pull this out, but before I do, I want to give him some anesthetic,” she said as she went back to the kit for a syringe and a needle. “How heavy is he—”

      But as she spoke, Nicholas gave her the weight, as if anticipating her question.

      She drew up the proper amount, pleased to see her hand held steady. She walked back to the horse but Nicholas was already at the Duke’s head, brushing the mane back, giving her a clear injection site.

      “Are you sure you should just pull that stick out?” Dale’s voice said over her shoulder as she found a site for the needle. “That’s going to be trouble.”

      “The stick is simply inserted between the sheaths housing the muscles. Pulling it out won’t cause more problems.”

      Cara stifled her momentary irritation with Nicholas’s father. When she had worked for her uncle before, she had occasionally encountered resistance from people who didn’t think a woman was tough enough to do large animal work. And while she knew Nicholas’s father never particularly cared for her, she didn’t think that dislike extended to her capabilities as a vet.

      “You haven’t been doing this for a while—”

      “I’ll need a hose and water,” Cara said, interrupting his questions. “Could you get that for me, Mr. Chapman?” she asked, gently tugging on the stick.

      He grumbled a moment, but left, giving Cara room to breathe.

      Cara eased the stick the rest of the way out, moving more carefully than she might have with someone else’s horse, with someone else watching. She wanted to prove herself to Nicholas—to prove she wasn’t as incompetent as his father seemed to think.

      The stick came out without too much exertion. It was exactly as she had said. It had slipped between the muscles and had only punctured the skin.

      “Thankfully the injury isn’t major.” She stood up and held out the stick to Nicholas, who took it from her without a word.

      She got a large jug of distilled water and a bottle with a squirt cap from the car.

      She gently ran her hands over the wound, then, pulling apart the skin, began to rinse. “I’m just doing an initial cleaning of the wound to make sure everything is okay,” she said, intent on her task. “The rest will have to be done with a hose.”

      “Won’t that be too cold?” Nicholas asked.

      Cara shook her head, gently cleaning away a few bits of wood she had rinsed out of the wound. “The cold water will probably be soothing and help reduce any inflammation.”

      “And it will heal on its own? You’re not going to stitch it up?”

      “The wound needs to stay open so you can irrigate it. It will heal better СКАЧАТЬ