Stranger At The Crossroads. Gena Dalton

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ grabbed the first bale and reached for the wire cutters, then threw the straw into the stall with one hand. He tossed in another bale and another, following to spread them nearly before they landed. He clipped the wire on all of them as fast as he could with his clumsy fingers and started spreading the bedding with his feet, as always.

      The game leg buckled beneath his full weight, and he had to grab the bars at the top of the stall wall to keep from falling. Instinctively, he glanced toward the door, wondering whether the woman doctor had seen.

      Then anger surged through him—anger directed at himself. Why did he even care whether she saw and pitied him?

      He set his jaw and took the manure fork from its hook on the wall. He never should’ve let her come onto his place.

      He hurried into the stall and used the fork to spread the straw. Tara moved restlessly, tried to turn her head to look at him and kicked at the wall.

      Jackson took a minute to pet and talk to her.

      “This’ll only take a minute—I should’ve done it out on the road,” Darcy said, as she ran down the aisle.

      She slowed at the door of the stall and came in more calmly, so as not to agitate Tara any further, then set her kit and an open canvas bag on the floor. A roll of vet wrap bulged in the back pocket of her jeans.

      “But then, you may still be in the first stage, right, Miss Tara?”

      She crooned to the mare, running her hand over Tara’s hip and then gathering her tail to be wrapped. Jackson reached for it and held it while Darcy quickly tore open the package and wrapped the tail securely.

      “You may only be wanting to go down and roll around and get right back up, but we’re taking no chances, Missy,” she said. “We’re a careful bunch here on the Rocking M.”

      Jackson felt her glance at him. For a moment, he expected her to ask something about the ranch name or make some remark about it, but she surprised him again.

      “Would you get me some water in that basin, please, Jackson?”

      He took the basin and went to the pump.

      We’re a careful bunch, here on the Rocking M.

      We. That was silly crooning to a horse, nothing more. The good doctor Darcy Hart didn’t mean anything by it. She wasn’t invading the place or implying any connection to the ranch, and it was stupid to feel that she was. He was losing his mind.

      Having her—or anybody else—here was going to make him crazier than he already was, but the alternative was worse. He was going to save this mare if it was the last good thing he ever did.

      He carried the basin to the stall, his awkward gait sloshing a little of the water out with each step. Doc was squatting down just inside the door getting something from her kit, and he splashed a little on her as he lurched into the stall.

      Heat rushed into his face.

      “Sorry,” he muttered.

      “No problem.”

      She stood and turned to him.

      “Hold that for me, will you? This won’t take long, and then we’ll untie her.”

      He had to stand close to her with the basin of water, and then, with her between him and the mare, he had to look down at her—at least, at the top of her head. Her hair caught the sunlight streaming in through the window and shot flashes of red flame into the air.

      Its color wasn’t exactly red, though. It was more of an auburn and it was definitely, uncontrollably curly. The wind had whipped it in all directions, but she gave no indication that she knew or cared.

      If that had been Rhonda, she would’ve gone to the house and fixed her hair, no matter how soon this mare might be foaling. For the first time in more than a year, the thought of Rhonda made him smile. She would never have become a veterinarian because the job might’ve caused her to break one of her perfectly painted fingernails.

      Dr. Darcy’s nails were short and plain, her hands small and sure.

      Her scent was very different, too, almost like new grass or a fresh wind. Rhonda wore a perfume—

      He stopped his feeble brain in its tracks.

      If he needed any proof of his weakened mental state, that was it, right there. Comparing a woman who had been his fiancée with a woman he’d just met was nothing short of insane.

      “Done,” she said, throwing a towel onto her canvas bag. “Thanks.”

      “Glad to help,” he said.

      But for a moment, he couldn’t quite force his feet to work, couldn’t step away from her. Honestly, he wanted to reach out and touch her.

      She glanced at him, her green eyes wide. For a long moment, her penetrating gaze searched his face while he stared into her eyes. The look held them immobile until Darcy finally moved back.

      “We may have a little time,” she said. “If this baby’s sick, too, and even if it’s not, this treatment’s going to be terribly expensive. You may want to call your own veterinarian.”

      Well. That was clear enough. Had his feelings been so obvious?

      He tried to conceal the embarrassment that suddenly struck him silent by turning toward the window of the stall. With an unnecessary amount of force, he threw out the water still left in the basin.

      “I would’ve sworn you were begging for this job not half an hour ago.”

      She didn’t answer.

      He turned on his heel as best he could and took the pan to her, made himself look her in the eye. Just because a man was no longer attractive to women was no reason to duck his head to them.

      “I was,” she said calmly. “I’m just trying to give you an out if you want one.”

      That made him feel a little better. Maybe she had interpreted the look as regret that he’d asked her to stay. Maybe she hadn’t recognized the attraction he’d felt, after all.

      “The only vet around here that I’d trust with this mare is speaking at a conference in Albuquerque today. And I don’t care what it costs.”

      “Very well, then,” she said briskly, “it’s you and me. Let’s get this foal on the ground.”

      She untied the mare and unsnapped the lead rope.

      Immediately, Tara went to the middle of the stall, circled and started to go down.

      “Don’t you need to unhook that fluid line?”

      “No, it won’t tangle,” Darcy said, moving past him toward the mare with the same quiet efficiency she’d used before. “This coiled type doesn’t.”

      Tara lay down, rolled from side to side, then struggled to her feet. She stood for only a short time, then went down again. This time, after two halfhearted tries, she lay there on her side.

      Darcy СКАЧАТЬ