a rag from the corner of the stall and scrubbed her hand, muttering, “Why do I even try?”
She slid by him and stalked off down the aisle, only to halt after several steps and pivot on her heel, bringing her hands to her narrow waist.
“Just so you know,” she told him smartly, “while I’m praying for my dad and his horse, I’m going to be praying for a wholesale change in your lousy attitude.”
“Don’t bother,” Stark snapped over his shoulder. He turned back to his task, mumbling, “God forgot I existed a long time ago.”
He felt her shock and her stare. For a long moment, he expected her to speak again, to demand an explanation or make an argument. Instead, she quietly turned and left him. Grimacing, Stark wished he’d kept his mouth shut. He didn’t know why she so easily goaded him into saying too much, but if he wasn’t on his guard with her every moment, he found the most surprising things coming out of his mouth.
Sighing, he rubbed the horse’s mane, grumbling, “Will you get well so I can get out of here?”
The more distance he could put between himself and Meredith Billings, the better it would be.
* * *
Shaking her head, Meredith went into the house and washed up. Sometimes that man made it awfully difficult to be civil to him. Yet, she couldn’t fault his dedication. He’d clearly worked all day, and here he was, ready to take his dinner in a stable and spend the night tending a sick horse. Plus, everyone else in the family thought he was the next thing to perfect, even after she’d told them that he wouldn’t be joining them for the meal. As the family bowed their heads over the food, she prayed they were right, at least about his skill as an animal doctor.
Her father’s nausea had lessened during the day, and he seemed a little stronger than he had been the day before, but between him and Soldier, she’d had a busy day and suddenly felt quite tired.
Rex spooned the lasagna Callie had made onto his plate, then looked at Meredith and asked, “How’s Soldier?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Burns. You know, I didn’t realize what a sweetheart he is.”
“Stark?” Rex asked in obvious surprise.
“No! Soldier. Stark Burns is a grumpy, pigheaded... Well, never mind that.”
Rex chuckled. “I think Burns is a better man than you know. As for Soldier, he’s always been especially good-natured for a stud.”
Meri shook her head. “If you say so. I remember him being frisky and stubborn.”
“All studs are that way at first,” Rex told her. “Soldier settled down right nice, though. That’s why so many of Dad’s friends want to breed him. Albright brought some mixed Arabian stock from South America to Texas especially for Soldier. Too bad he brought along a mosquito, too. Even the mosquitos like our Soldier. But at least we get our pick of the colts, and Albright’s insurance will cover the vet fees. He’ll keep any fillies and remaining colts, so it’s still not a bad deal.”
“And we get another stud,” Meri said.
“That’s the plan.”
Meredith smiled. “I hope he looks like Soldier.”
“He is a fine-looking animal,” Rex agreed. “A little Soldier look-alike might soothe Dad if the worst happens.” Rex shook his head as if to clear away the gloom and dived into his food. After chewing and swallowing, he said, “I don’t know how Stark keeps up the pace. He’s planning to spend the night again, isn’t he?”
“I assume so.”
“How he manages his practice all on his own, I’ll never know. That man’s busier than a whole litter of hunting dogs.”
“Why doesn’t he have help?” Meredith wondered aloud.
“I’ve wondered that myself,” Callie put in, setting a big dish of banana pudding on the table. “He’s obviously very successful.”
“Ooh, my favorite,” Rex said, pulling Callie down for a kiss.
Callie chuckled. “You say that about every dessert I serve you.”
“I was talking about you.”
Meredith sighed mentally, telling herself that it was unbecoming to envy one’s siblings. Still, it hurt to feel so...alone. Callie pulled away from Rex and finally took a seat at the table.
“Meri, do you think Wes could manage a bowl of pudding?”
“I think so,” Meredith answered. “I’ll take some to him in a minute.”
She quickly finished her meal, filled a small bowl with banana pudding and carried it into her father’s room. He sat in his hospital bed, watching television.
“Hi, sugar. What you got there?”
“Sugar,” she quipped. “Callie made banana pudding.”
“Yum.” He clapped a hand to his flat middle. “Sounds good. I hope it’s still warm.”
“It is.” She handed over the bowl and a spoon.
Wes scooped up the first bite, humming his approval. With the second bite, he said calmly, “When are you kids going to tell me what’s going on?”
Meredith’s gaze shot to his. She bit her lip, half-a-dozen options rolling through her mind, but she wasn’t about to lie to her father. Not telling him troubling news was one thing, lying to him was something else. On the other hand, this wasn’t her decision alone. She walked to the door and stepped out into the hall, calling for her brother. Rex came right away, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“What’s up?”
“The jig,” Meri said grimly.
“I’m not deaf,” Wes said, “and I keep hearing Stark’s name, along with Soldier’s.”
Rex sighed and gave him an abridged version of the facts, leaving out the detail that they’d found Soldier down in his stall.
Grimacing, Wes set aside his pudding. “And you’re sure it’s encephalitis?”
“Yes. But Stark’s doing all he can,” Rex said.
Wes nodded. “I don’t doubt it.” He glanced at Meredith, adding, “You don’t give him enough credit. I’ve never known a better animal doctor than Stark Burns. I haven’t seen many people doctors better than him. And I’ve had my share of both.” Meredith couldn’t argue with that. Wes handed the bowl of pudding back to her. “Think I’ve lost my appetite.”
He reached over to his bedside table and picked up his Bible, opening it to Philippians. She knew exactly where he was going. They’d traveled this familiar ground together quite often lately, whenever it was necessary to turn off troublesome thoughts. She’d read the familiar verse to him so often—or vice versa—that she had it memorized.
“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”
A job. Staying close to her family, especially her dad, not slinking away in petulant envy. That was noble, right, admirable. Wasn’t it?
She wondered suddenly why Stark Burns didn’t have help with his practice. Maybe he couldn’t find anyone willing to put up with his special brand of obnoxiousness. Or maybe he just hadn’t found anyone with enough experience to be of use to him.
Hmm.
It was worth a shot. If he hired her, she might even be able to bring a little real compassion to his practice.
She blew a kiss to her dad and left him talking to Rex, then went out to fill another bowl with pudding. Draping a napkin over it, she took a spoon and