Once and for All. Jeannie Watt

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СКАЧАТЬ damned shame. This gelding was a beautiful animal, and now he would be scarred for life. Joe Barton, Jodie’s father, wouldn’t be able to ride him to impress people, and he was gelded so he couldn’t breed him. Sam wondered just what he would do with him. The horse would probably make a decent pleasure ride.

      Sam glanced at Jodie, who was staring sightlessly at the rows of neat black sutures crisscrossing the horse’s chest and foreleg. She’d lost her cool, all-business demeanor. In fact, she appeared to be done in. Her dark blond hair, longer in the front than in the back, was jammed behind her ears, her face was pale and there were smudges of mascara under her eyes.

      “How’d he get loose?” The shift in Jodie’s expression was brief, fleeting, but he caught it. “Did you forget to latch the gate?” he asked as he got to his feet. She didn’t answer. The reveal-nothing lawyer expression was once again in place, and he had to admit she carried it off well, even with mascara where it didn’t belong.

      The horse was starting to make an effort to get back to his feet, and Sam assisted him all he could, pulling up on the lead rope to help the gelding keep his balance. Finally the animal heaved himself up, and all the stitches held. The first hurdle had been cleared.

      “Is there a place in the barn for him?”

      Stupid question. Most people didn’t have homes as nice as Joe Barton’s new barn. And Sam bet that this horse had his own stall with a brass nameplate.

      “Will I need to give him any medication?” Jodie asked after they had slowly walked the horse to the barn and then released him into a large box stall used for foaling.

      “Yeah. I’ll get that. And I have some written instructions for you to follow.” It was snowing lightly when they left the barn and headed to the truck. Sam was glad Mother Nature had held off for a while. Usually when she had a January blizzard in store, she made certain he was doing something critical in the middle of it.

      Once they reached his vehicle, he opened a frosted utility panel and pulled out a bottle of penicillin. “He’ll need 20 cc’s twice a day the first couple days.”

      “With a needle?” Jodie took a step backward, her hand rising to her chest.

      “With a needle,” he agreed, holding the bottle out. She accepted it gingerly.

      “Will you come back to give the shots?” Sam gave a small negative shake of his head and Jodie’s eyes went a little wild. “I can’t….”

      “I’ll leave the syringes, too.”

      “No,” she stated adamantly.

      Under other circumstances it would have been amusing to see the calm, collected lawyer knocked out of her comfort zone by something as simple as an injection. But these were not ordinary circumstances and there was nothing amusing about the Bartons.

      “When’s your father getting back?” He knew from the very efficient grapevine that Joe Barton had left the day after Christmas for a long vacation in Europe.

      “Weeks from now.”

      “How about your worthless foreman?”

      Jodie didn’t even blink at the insult, which Sam felt totally justified in delivering. The arrogant SOB had tried to testify against him in the malpractice suit. He’d come off looking stupid—one of the few satisfactions Sam had had during the trial, with the exception of the not guilty verdict.

      “Chandler quit just after Thanksgiving,” she said stiffly.

      Thank goodness, Sam thought, wondering if perhaps Joe had finally fired him. When the foreman had testified at Sam’s trial, he’d smugly announced he had degrees in human resources and agribusiness, but hadn’t said a word about being a ranching menace.

      “What about the other hand?” Joe had hired a cowboy with some veterinary training when he’d come to realize that no vet in the area would service his ranch. For the big jobs he flew in a fancy vet from Las Vegas.

      “Mike is in Idaho visiting family.” Her expression grew more hopeful. “But he’ll be back in two days. You’d have to make only a couple trips….”

      Sam hated people who wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Lady, I’m not driving thirty miles to give an injection. Besides—”

      “You know I’ll pay you,” she interrupted. “I’ll pay you right now if you want.”

      “I have other clients that need my services.”

      “But like I said,” Jodie replied significantly, “I’ll pay you.”

      “Times are rough,” Sam snapped. He wasn’t going to have this rich bitch looking down her nose at his friends and neighbors who sometimes couldn’t make payments. “And I was about to tell you that Margarite can give a shot if she has to.”

      “Really?” Jodie seemed shocked at the idea, though why, he didn’t know. Injections were common on a ranch and Margarite had grown up on a huge one up north.

      “Yes.” Sam pushed back the edge of his coat sleeve and glanced at his watch. He might just make it back for the second half of his nephews’ basketball game. “I want to be paid now.”

      “Don’t trust me?” Jodie asked sardonically.

      “Don’t want to see you again.”

      She stilled, but her expression didn’t change. “That’s to the point.”

      Sam shrugged. “It’ll take me a few minutes to calculate the bill.”

      “Calculate away.” She strode off toward the house, which was about twice the size it used to be now that Joe Barton was done pouring a boatload of money into it.

      Sam charged full price and then some for the after-hours call. By the time Jodie came back with a checkbook he had the figures for her.

      “What’s the damage?”

      He held out the paper, which she slowly scanned, noting each item. Then she began to write. What would it feel like, Sam wondered, to write a check for that amount and not tell the recipient to please hold it for a day or two while he transferred funds to cover it?

      “Thank you for coming,” she said briskly. Then her eyes traveled upward to the top of his head. To the Elmer Fudd hat.

      Sam’s mouth tightened as he took the check, written on the ranch account. He hoped hers was one of the authorized signatures, since Tim Paulsen at the bank would notice. Jodie didn’t actually live at the ranch, but visited when the whim hit her. The rest of the time she spent in Las Vegas, practicing law.

      “Thanks.” He folded the check once and shoved it into his pocket before walking back to the truck. Mission accomplished. Now he hoped he never had to set foot on the Barton ranch again.

      Jodie checked the horse at ten o’clock and then again at midnight, tromping through the snow to the barn in silk pajamas, a down coat and insulated rubber boots. Usually Mike, her father’s cowboy, had trails cleared between the buildings, but it had snowed during his days off and Jodie hadn’t yet gotten around to shoveling the paths. Snow was not something she dealt with in Las Vegas, but СКАЧАТЬ