mount’s a black quarter horse named Dolly and she’s perfect for me. She’s spirited, but she stood real still until I was in the saddle. And she responded to my every pull on the reins as if she had no problem letting me be in control.”
“That sounds like the perfect horse, all right.”
“Aunt Hadley named her horse Kenda. It’s an Indian name that means magical powers. Aunt Hadley says Kenda has the power to fill her heart with joy.”
“Nice name.” Aunts, uncles, a new grandfather. Effie was jumping on the family plan as if she was starving for relatives. Yet she’d all but closed him out since the divorce.
He’d tried everything he knew to get closer to her. It pissed him off royally that R.J. had gotten her to Texas with just a note and a promise of horses.
“We rode all the way to the gulch that the ranch is named after,” Effie continued. “It looks like a plain old gully to me, but it was dry as a bone.”
“I think I missed that on my tour.”
“We can go riding tomorrow and I’ll show you the gully and the pool we’re at now. Grandpa says he has the perfect horse for you.”
Probably one that would buck Leif off the second he settled in the saddle. And now Effie was talking about tomorrow like it was a done deal.
“There’s an old foreman’s cabin nearby,” Effie said. “No one lives inside, but I bet they could if they made a few repairs. I wanted to go inside and look around, but Aunt Hadley says it’s full of spiders and scorpions. We’re steering clear of it.”
“Very smart of you and Hadley.”
He’d like to stay clear of everything on the Dry Gulch Ranch, but if it took riding horses to connect with his daughter, then he’d have a sore butt and thighs by this time tomorrow.
That didn’t make R.J. the winner. Once Effie went back to California, R.J. would hopefully fade back into the woodwork.
By the time Leif finished his conversation, Joni, Ruby and the young rancher—a man named Latham Watson—had stepped outside the barn and Joni was giving them instructions for follow-up care.
He waited until Joni turned his way, smiled and motioned him over.
“Does this mean the patient is on the mend?” he asked.
“Benjy is resting now,” Ruby said. “I was afraid he was going to die, but Dr. Griffin knew exactly what to do.”
“But you need to watch what he eats,” Joni said. “No more leaving a bucket of apples where he can get to them.”
“I won’t,” Ruby promised.
“I guess I better watch what goes on in my own barn a little closer, too,” Latham said. “Got more on my plate some days than I can handle.”
“I told him he needs to find a wife,” Ruby said. “Mom’s been dead for two years. That’s long enough for him to get married again. Don’t you think so, Dr. Griffin?”
Joni put up her hands and waved off the question. “Can’t look to me for advice on that. I’m just the vet.”
“I told Ruby I’d marry again when I found the right woman,” Latham said. “You can’t go rushing those things.” They talked a minute more and then Joni was ready to move on.
The sun inched toward the horizon as Leif and Joni started back to his car, and the air started to grow cooler, though it was still warm for November. Leif had shed his lightweight denim jacket two hours ago.
The puddles from yesterday’s storm had vanished, leaving the carpet of grass beneath their feet bouncy but dry. Even the oppressive humidity that had refused to acknowledge the arrival of fall had dissipated in the wake of last night’s rain-producing front.
Leif took a deep breath, his lungs suddenly hungry for the fresh air. Somewhere along the way, without realizing it, he’d actually begun to relax. Thoughts of work and Edward Blanco had taken a backseat to watching Joni work.
He opened the passenger door for Joni and then walked around to his side and climbed behind the wheel. “Do you mind if I put the windows down?”
She laughed. “I understand completely. I get a little rank after a day in the stalls. You’ll probably have to have your vehicle fumigated after chauffeuring me around all day.”
“It’s not that bad,” he teased. “A half-dozen cans of deodorizing spray and it’ll be good as new.”
“Except for the odor of antibiotic ointment. That has a shelf life of forever.”
“Now you tell me.”
Leif started the car and headed back the way they’d come. “Actually, I was just thinking how nice and fresh the air smells out here.”
“Spoken like a man who spends far too much time in a stuffy office.”
“Everybody can’t be a cowboy.”
“Too bad. You’d look good in a Stetson and a pair of Western boots.”
“I’ll have you know, I own a pair of genuine, handmade ostrich-skin Western boots. When I wear them, I have to fight the urge to don a rhinestone jacket and break into a country ballad.”
“Oh, no. Not another urban cowboy. You should take me shopping with you, and I’ll point out when you look ridiculous.”
“While you snicker behind my back?”
“Never. I’d snicker to your face.”
“That’s helpful. So where to next?”
“I’m through with my scheduled calls, but I do have one more stop to make. I promised my favorite cowboy I’d bring him a special feed mix for his steer.”
“Your favorite, huh? Now you’ve gone and made me jealous.”
“You should be. Jeffrey is too cute for words. Of course, he’s also only eleven years old and the steer is one he’s raising for his 4-H project.”
“So where do Jeffrey and his steer live?”
“About a mile down the road we turned off on to get here. Unfortunately, I forgot to bring the feed with me, which means I have to go back home to pick it up.”
“Where do you live?”
“About twelve miles from here, almost to the downtown area of Oak Grove, but near Abe’s repair shop. You can drop me there if you don’t mind. I have no idea what happened to Corky, but Abe surely has the new battery installed by now.”
“Unfortunately, I have bad news. It seems the battery is only the beginning of your problems. Abe is making a few additional repairs.”
“When did you hear that?”
“R.J. called while you were tending Benjy. The truck may not be ready until tomorrow.”
She grimaced, took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. “What else have you heard and why do I suddenly see dollar signs dancing in front of my eyes?”
Leif explained the situation, including R.J.’s taking charge.
“That sounds just like R.J. Always ready to jump in and help.”
Unless you happened to be a son he’d abandoned. Then you could live in hell and he wouldn’t bother to send you a glass of cold water. “How many miles does your truck have on it?”
“Just over 150,000.”
“Sounds as if it might be time to put it out to pasture.”
“Easier said than done. I’m emotionally attached.”
“To a truck?”
“Don’t laugh. It got me through four years of undergrad work, four