Her Cowboy Dilemma. C.J. Carmichael

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      Right. ’Cause it had been such a great day so far.

      Cassidy took a deep breath and reminded herself that she’d vowed to try harder with her mother. “Why don’t we go to the kitchen, brew a pot of tea and talk about something else?”

      “In a minute.” Olive picked up two paint squares. “I promised Abby at the hardware store I’d phone and place my order this afternoon. Which do you prefer? The sage-green or the buttercream?”

      * * *

      D AN F ARLEY DROVE away from Coffee Creek Ranch feeling disappointed, unsettled...frustrated. He wasn’t usually a man given to complicated emotions. What was it about Cassidy Lambert? After all these years she ought to be nothing to him.

      But it didn’t help that she’d shown such concern for the sick horse. He’d always been a sucker for her soft heart.

      And it helped even less that she still filled out her jeans in all the right places. Add in that beautiful blond hair and those disarming green eyes—hell, any man could be excused for losing his head over a girl like Cassidy.

      But he didn’t want to do it twice.

      To distract himself, he decided to check in with Liz.

      “Just finished at the Lamberts’ and I’m on my way to Silver Creek.”

      “That took a while.”

      Liz was probably worried he wouldn’t make the date with Amber. Why did all women assume a man wasn’t happy unless he was suitably married?

      “Yeah. I’ve put the place under quarantine. We’ll have to run the tests, but I’m pretty sure about the result.”

      “Bad luck for them,” Liz allowed. “Good luck at Silver Creek. Hopefully things will go better there.”

      * * *

      M ADDIE T URNER WAS waiting for him when he arrived, a stocky woman with wiry gray hair and plain features—quite the contrast to her fine-featured, well-coiffed sister, Olive. The two border collies flanking her were younger versions of Cassidy’s dog, Sky. The dogs looked anxious, just like their owner.

      Maddie was wearing faded overalls and a threadbare shirt—both smeared with blood. Her face was damp and she appeared exhausted. He knew from experience that helping a cow with a difficult delivery was hard, physical labor.

      “You okay?”

      “Been better. Thanks for getting here so fast,” she said, as he grabbed his gear out of the truck, then slipped on a pair of overalls.

      “I was next door at Coffee Creek.”

      She didn’t blink an eye at the mention of her sister’s place. “Lucky you were so close. I don’t think we have much time.”

      She led the way to the barn, where he could hear the sounds of distress from the mother-to-be. They found the poor thing on the stall floor, with terror in her wide brown eyes.

      She looked on the small side. Young. “This her first calf?”

      Maddie nodded.

      A quick exam confirmed that the calf was positioned backward and upside down. A C-section was their only hope. “Anyone else around?” he asked hopefully.

      “Nope.”

      “No hired help?”

      She avoided eye contact. “I’ve had to cut back lately.”

      “Too bad. We could use an extra set of hands here.” Or two, or four. He started setting out his equipment, going through the steps in his head. Since he didn’t have an assistant, he needed to have everything at the ready before he prepped the cow for the incision.

      “I can secure her head,” Maddie offered.

      He wasn’t so sure about that. Maddie looked pretty exhausted. “How long has she been in labor?”

      “I brought her in from the field a few days ago. Just had a feeling she was going to have some trouble. Sure enough when I came out this morning I could see that her labor had started, but wasn’t going anywhere.”

      He sighed. “Okay. We better not lose any more time.”

      “I agree.” Maddie moved behind the prone cow, sinking to the straw bedding and then locking the animal’s head to prevent her from moving around. The exhausted heifer didn’t even resist.

      “Poor thing,” Maddie said softly. “Don’t you worry. Doc Farley is going to get this critter out of you.”

      The tender caring in Maddie Turner’s voice and the firm yet gentle way she handled the animal reminded Farley of her niece, Cassidy, trying to comfort Lucky Lucy earlier.

      He shelved the thought, returning his focus to the job at hand. Maddie couldn’t afford to lose the calf or the cow. More than money was at stake here, though, and Farley was determined not to fail.

      * * *

      A N HOUR AND a half later, the new mother and her matching black calf were resting in the barn, and Farley and Maddie were in the kitchen having coffee. Farley was tired, but pleased. Helping to bring new life into the world was one of the most rewarding aspects of his job.

      He ought to be on the road, heading to the next ranch. But he sensed Maddie wasn’t ready to be alone, so he’d agreed to stop in for a bit. Now Maddie placed a plate with crackers and cheese on the table.

      “Sorry I don’t have anything more substantial to offer. You must be starving. I know I am.” She opened the upper freezer compartment of her fridge. “I could fry up some sausage and eggs if you have twenty minutes to spare.”

      He thought about the lame cow and the forty-five minutes it would take to drive to the Harringtons’ spread. Then he thought about Amber and the movie she’d been hoping to see. That was out of the question now. But hopefully he could still manage a late dinner. “I really don’t.”

      “Didn’t think so.” Maddie closed the fridge door, then sank into a chair and reached for her coffee. Her dogs were in the room with them. Farley thought he had them straight now. Trix was sleeping on the mat by the back door and Honey was curled up under the table. As well as the dogs, there was a cat prowling the place, too. Short-haired and ginger-colored, she’d slunk into the room earlier, taken Farley’s measure, then exited with nose held high.

      Maddie’s kitchen was a warm, cozy place. The wooden table and chairs had the sort of “distressed” look that came from decades of being used and not coddled, as did the wooden floors and cabinets. The counters were cluttered, but clean, and the big farm sink gleamed as if it had been disinfected recently.

      The focal point of the room was the antique, black, wood-burning cookstove. Warm air drifted from the stove to soothe the sore muscles of Farley’s shoulders and upper back. He fought the urge to close his eyes, knowing that if he succumbed to sleep he might find himself still in this room an hour later.

      He crunched down СКАЧАТЬ