Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Carson
Jude had us on the road in short order. The other ranch was in the next county, a little under an hour away, according to the truck’s GPS.
Jude kept drumming his fingers on the steering wheel like he’d ordered up a set of wings and they had yet to arrive.
His jaw was set like a stack of bricks, and his tension made the silence feel heavier than usual.
“Tell me more about emer…” Hell. My tongue tripped all over the word emergency. “Injury.”
“Probably a good idea.” Jude sounded relieved to have an excuse to talk.
“This is a hobby ranch, so the owners are newer land owners who mainly ride for pleasure. They had the horses out on a trail near their house when their younger gelding, Bono, got snagged by a stray piece of barbed wire. They got him back to the barn, but from the pictures they sent, the cut is likely going to need stitches.”
“Under local?” I hadn’t seen an equine wound repair yet, but I assumed Jude wouldn’t be using general anesthesia in the field.
“Yeah. However, I’ll likely sedate the horse before suturing. I’ll use you to help with the prep.”
“Makes sense.” I nodded. Outside the truck, the evening sun swept over the rugged landscape. The clock on the dashboard said we were approaching dinner time, but my mind was more on Jude than food. “Glad to help.”
“Thanks.” Jude shot me a grateful look as we sped along. This far outside of Lovelorn and the other small towns along the main highway, there was little traffic to slow us down. “You’re the sort of level head that’s good in an emergency.”
“Pays to stay calm.” Years of military service had drummed that mantra into me, but my ability to manage my emotions had started far earlier.
In a chaotic single-parent household with multiple siblings, learning how to handle the unexpected without freaking out had been an important life skill. “Situation management.”
“Aye, aye, Sergeant.” Jude chuckled.
“Bet you’re good at it too.” I shrugged off the tease. Jude wouldn’t have gotten this far as a vet without being level-headed.
“I try.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Stress tends to get me after though.”
“That’s normal.” I pitched my voice to be reassuring as we passed a sign for one of the roads that led to the state lands and Disappointment Canyon. The memory of that night stargazing made my muscles warm and loosened my tongue. “Takes me a bit to wind down.”
“Exactly. I end up tired and wired for hours as my adrenaline settles. And some situations stay with you more than others.” Jude’s tone turned thoughtful. “My dad was a master of emergency management, though, and he seldom showed any after effects.”
“Doesn’t mean he didn’t have any.” I’d seen even the coolest operators puke after missions or cry in the showers, hoping no one would notice. And the number of military personnel who dealt with stress through the bottle and other means was sky high. Outward appearances only took one so far.
“True.” Jude blew out a breath. “Dad pined for my mom something fierce. Funny how he could navigate the gnarliest of veterinary crises, but never recovered from her loss.”
“My mom said he died of a broken heart.” I’d been overseas when Jude’s father had died, but I’d overheard Mom and Aunt Georgia discussing Jude’s father more recently.
Jude made a weary noise. “That’s what Lovelorn gossip says.”
“What’s the truth?” I asked quietly. More than wanting to know the whole story, I wanted Jude to feel comfortable opening up to me.
“Dad went to sleep one night and didn’t wake up.
Sudden heart failure was the initial assumption.
Hence the gossip.” Jude’s voice was far away, laced with old pain.
“Then I found paperwork from a doctor in Durango. He’d been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer three days prior. Didn’t tell a soul, including me.”
“You think he self-harmed?” I kept my question gentle.
“Pretty sure. I found the paperwork too late for the medical examiner to order autopsy toxicology. I think Dad wanted to spare me another long illness like my mother’s.” Jude’s voice wavered. “Still wish he’d told me. I would have taken whatever time he had left over the alternative.”
“I get that.” I reached over the console and patted his thigh.
“No one else knows my suspicion.” Jude rolled his shoulders like the weight of the secret was bearing down on him.
“I won’t tell.” I rubbed his thigh. I hated that he’d had to live with this knowledge, but his choosing me to share made me sit up taller in my seat.
“I trust you.” Jude had no idea how much those words meant to me. “And that’s why I feel so guilty for not coming back sooner. I thought we had all the time in the world.”
“You miss him.” No matter the cause of Jude’s father’s death, the loss had clearly left a deep scar.
“Every day.” Jude sped up to pass a slow-moving pickup before continuing. “I actually got my start on emergency calls like this one with him. He’d bring me along for an extra set of hands in high school, especially as my mom got sicker and couldn’t help as much.”
“Good training. Good bonding.” I couldn’t quite keep the envy out of my voice. I’d never had a father to bond with. Jude had lost his far too soon, but at least they’d had a number of years together, a chance for his dad to pass on wisdom and traditions.
“For sure.” Jude turned onto a skinny dirt road. “Keeping calm helped when I got to the military too. Having helped with colic and tricky breech births gave me perspective.”
“I bet.” My upbringing had helped some, but I’d had to learn that same perspective one mission at a time. The dirt road curved, leading toward a newer log cabin-style ranch house with huge picture windows and a barn beyond the house.
“Okay. We’re here.” Jude pulled up next to the barn. “I can deal with the Youngs if you want to help me carry in equipment.”
“Sure thing, boss.” My tone was teasing, but I wanted to remind him that out here I wasn’t a sergeant. He was in charge, and I respected his authority.
Accordingly, I followed his directions on which bags to grab as he greeted the couple rushing out of the barn to meet him. They had that mirror-image vibe that longtime couples often seem to develop, similar blond-and-gray-streaked hair, matching western shirts, and identical fluttering mannerisms.
They chattered all over each other as Jude and I made our way into the barn to Bono’s stall. The chestnut gelding was tall and broad and would be regal if not for the sweat and agitated movements. A nasty gash marred his left flank, blood matting the surrounding hair.
Luckily, the horse allowed Jude to approach for an initial examination. I stayed close so I could hand him equipment as he needed it. The light in the barn was dim, so I grabbed a flashlight from one of the bags and shone it onto the injury.
“Thanks.” Jude shot me a quick grateful smile. Anticipating his needs felt good. I readied the clippers and antiseptic he was likely to need to clean the wound.
“How bad is it?” Mrs. Young was pale and sweating almost as much as the horse.
“It’s fixable,” Jude assured her. “It does need stitches, but it should mend well. We’re going to need to inject a sedative so I can do the repair.”
“I’m not sure I can watch the stitching.” Mrs. Young went from pale to decidedly green.
“That’s understandable,” Jude soothed. “I’ve got Carson here to help. Bono will simply take a little nap while I do the stitches.”
“You should go eat,” I suggested to the couple. Jude would undoubtedly work better without their commentary and nervous energy.
“Oh. Good idea.” Mr. Young brightened slightly, wrapping an arm around his shorter wife. “Are you sure you’re okay if we walk back to the house?”
“I’m sure.” Jude sounded as relieved as I’d suspected.
“You were right,” I said once the couple had left the barn and were out of earshot.
“About the hovering?” Jude wiped his forehead with a cloth from his kit. “Yeah. They love their horses, though, which is more than I can say for some. Good idea to send them to eat dinner. They’ll feel better, and it gives us more room to operate.”
“Yep.” I motioned at the supplies I’d laid out. “Tell me what you need.”
“Wow. You’re a great assistant already.” Jude smiled for the first time since we’d arrived. “Sedative first to calm him down, then I’ll prep the area.”
I had seen plenty of blood draws, but a repair like this was new to me.
However, I was able to follow Jude’s orders easily as he prepared the sedative.
He carefully injected the sedative into a neck vein, and we waited a few minutes for it to take effect.
As Jude had explained to the Youngs, Bono gave a series of soft snores as he drifted into a sleepy state.
The horse remained upright, though, even while sleeping, which was what we wanted. I moved so I could hold his head up and further soothe him while Jude shaved around the wound and cleaned in preparation for the stitches.
The whole process took a far shorter time than I’d expected. Jude’s extensive experience showed in every practiced movement. His small, even stitches were neater than some I’d had from field medics.
“Could have been an MD,” I joked as he finished stitching.
“Nah. Give me animals over human patients any day.” Stepping back from Bono, Jude examined his handiwork with a critical eye. “That should do it. I’ll text the Youngs now, so they can come have a look.”
Of course, there was much fussing over the horse and Jude both when the couple returned, but Jude was correct that their love for the horse shone through all their anxious concern.
“We can’t thank you enough, Doc.” Mr. Young pumped Jude’s hand up and down.
“Happy to help. You did the right thing by calling.” Jude escaped the handshake as I zipped the last case shut.
“Do you want payment now?” Mrs. Young patted her jeans pockets. “I’d have to go in the house to grab a card. Or can the business office send the bill?”
“No accounting department.” Jude gave the same chuckle my Aunt Georgia used when someone asked who did payroll for her diner. “But I’ll get the invoice sent round to your email. No worries.”
After another round of thanks, including a hug from Mrs. Young, we made our way back to the truck.
“That’s done.” Jude gave a heavy sigh as he slid behind the wheel, his exhaustion finally showing. I wished I could offer to drive, but I settled for a discreet pat on his thigh.
“Hungry?” I asked.
“Starving.” Jude’s stomach rumbled for good measure. “My place is closer, but do you need to get back to the ranch?”
“I’m in no hurry.” I stretched in my seat, anticipation over some alone time blooming low in my gut. “No curfew.”
“Good.” Jude shot me a heated look.
Hmm. Seemed he might be one of those people who liked to work his stress out between the sheets. And I was only too happy to help.