3. Sally
CHAPTER 3
Sally
BONES
Living with your parents at the ripe old age of thirty, albeit temporarily, is not ideal.
It’s especially not ideal when your dad is a veterinarian who is basically on call twenty-four/seven, three sixty-five, and he knocks on your door in the dead of night.
“Hey, Sal? I’m sorry to wake you, honey, but we have an emergency. A foal was kicked by her mama, and sounds like her leg might be broken.”
The sound of his voice yanks me out of my deliciously deep REM cycle. One of the many benefits of working on ranches: you sleep like the dead.
Prying open my eyes, I grab my phone off the bedside table. No wonder I feel like I was asleep for ten minutes—it’s three thirty in the morning. I went to bed a little after eleven, after I got home from The Rattler. Late for me.
I am exhausted. But baby horses with broken bones can’t wait.
“I’m awake, Dad.” I reach up to turn on the lamp.
I blink as my childhood bedroom comes into view. My parents have preserved it as a kind of museum exhibit, an ode to my teenage obsession with Peeta from The Hunger Games and the color periwinkle.
It’s sweet they haven’t touched it. And a little weird, but I guess that comes with the territory of being an only child. There’s comfort in knowing I’ll always have a home base. A place to land when I’m feeling lost or sad or alone. I’m lucky.
And very, very tired.
Also, did I really ask Wyatt to show me how to pick someone up last night? My heart skips several beats at the memory of the way his fingers locked around my wrist, his eyes steady on mine.
The craziest part? It worked. Beck and I danced to not one, but two whole songs together before I finally lost my nerve and disappeared into the ladies’ room with Mollie and her friend Wheeler. I would’ve danced with him more, but I felt so painfully self-conscious that it kind of ruined the whole thing for me. I wish I could be a little more carefree around him. A little bit more relaxed. Maybe then we’d both have a good time.
“I’m already dressed,” Dad says. “Coffeepot is on. We’ll take it to go, and I’ll fill you in on the drive.”
As much as my dad’s been on my ass lately about, well, everything, I have to smile at his thoughtfulness. He means well. Loves well too.
Shivering, I throw on jeans, a T-shirt, a sweatshirt, and thick socks. I have no idea if we’ll be working in a barn or outside this morning, and doing my veterinarian thing in the frigid temperatures of upstate New York has taught me to always dress in layers and prepare for the worst. It doesn’t get nearly as cold here in South Texas, but it sure as hell isn’t comfortable outside in the dead of night in November.
Popping out my retainers, I brush my teeth and try not to think about Wyatt. I could very well be performing surgery in the next half hour. I need to strategize. Go through my mental catalog of the things I gleaned from that pair of articles I read last week, the ones about tweaking the double-plating technique I’ve used to repair equine compound fractures.
Putting down a foal is not something I want to do this morning. Or ever. Which means I have to fix her leg.
But I’m tired, and my mind keeps wandering to the warm, firm slab of muscle I felt when I accidentally slipped a finger inside Wyatt’s jeans. The man is jacked, no two ways about it.
I’m pretty sure he wears briefs; I felt their thick, silky elastic waistband. And the way he looped an arm around my waist—how confidently he moved, how smoothly?—
“Sally, honey, coffee is ready! We best get a move on!”
I jump at the sound of Dad’s voice from downstairs. Rinsing my toothbrush, I pull my hair back into a ponytail and turn off the light.
Time to get to work.
Mom is already on her way to the New House at Lucky River Ranch, where she’s the chef and she feeds its dozens of employees breakfast, lunch, and dinner five days a week. So it’s just me and Dad in the same F-150 he’s driven for as long as I’ve been alive. I made sure all my surgical supplies and the portable X-ray machine were still in the back before we left.
I sip my coffee as we drive through the dark, heat blasting. “Where we headed?”
“The Wallace Ranch.”
My stomach plummets. That ranch belongs to Beck and his family. They run an incredible horse breeding program there, and rumor has it they want to start training barrel racers there too. Dale Wallace, Beck’s dad, is even building an arena on their property.
Because they’re such a big operation, they have their own veterinarian on staff. Vance is a little younger than Dad—in his late forties—and he’s a kind man and an excellent doctor. If he can’t fix the problem, you know it’s serious .
“The fracture is complex, then.” I take a bigger sip of coffee, even though it scalds my tongue.
“Yep. She specifically asked for you.”
“Who?”
“Ava Bartlett. She’s a new trainer over there—just started this week. I think she was a barrel racer for a while. Anyway, she called me in a panic, saying Vance was stumped. He told her you were the person to call.”
My chest lifts at the compliment. In many ways, I feel more confused about my future than I ever have. I just can’t seem to get excited about the job I just accepted. But this—my reputation, my hard work—I’m damn proud of it. I love what I do.
Also nice to feel needed by the community I grew up in and love with all my heart.
“See how good that feels?” Dad asks, glancing at me. “What I’d give to be the go-to person for this kind of thing. You possess talent and brains that I never have. I’m glad you’re not gonna waste it staying in Hartsville.”
Now my chest is twisting. I reach over to pat Dad’s arm. “Life is good here and you know it. Besides, you’re the go-to guy for other things that are just as important.”
He lifts a shoulder. “I suppose. But the thought that I coulda been better, coulda done more with my life…” He sighs. “Hard not to dwell on it sometimes.”
When my adviser called last week to offer me the job, Dad was so proud, so excited, he literally had tears in his eyes. Beneath his excitement though, I also detected a hefty dose of regret. I know that was a call he had hoped to get but never did. I understand why he’s so invested in my career—this job is an opportunity he missed out on—but at the same time, it puts a lot of pressure on me to take advantage of that opportunity.
I also wonder if Dad is a little jealous. He loves his work and appreciates the beautiful life he and Mom have built in our small town, but he never had the support, financial and otherwise, that he’s always provided for me. I wonder if he wonders how far he could’ve gone in life if his parents had been a little more involved in his education. They were ranchers who, according to Dad, “didn’t have two pennies to rub together.” My grandfather never finished high school, so it was a big deal that Dad not only went to college, but to veterinary school too.
I know he’s proud of that fact. I also know Dad is a smart, ambitious guy, and his regrets about his career haunt him in a way he doesn’t want regret to haunt me. I have to remember that the pressure he puts on me comes from a good place.
I have to remember that once I get cowboys out of my system, I’ll feel worlds better about moving back to New York.
Finishing my coffee, I grab Dad’s phone and call Ava back on speaker. She fills me in on what happened—the foal, named Pepper, was accidentally kicked by her mama—and then she FaceTimes us from the foal’s stall.
“Aw, poor baby,” I say. “Looks gnarly.”
“Do you think you can fix it?” Ava asks. “Vance didn’t sound hopeful.”
I bring the screen closer to my face, narrowing my eyes. I’ll need X-rays to confirm, but it looks like Pepper fractured her metacarpal bones. I immediately start to visualize the fix—two steel plates to stabilize the bone, along with several screws. Luckily, I don’t think we’ll need to use cables.
“I don’t want to make any promises, but I’m coming up with a plan. We’ll be there in…” I look at Dad.
“Twenty minutes.”
“Okay, great.” The relief in Ava’s voice is palpable. “See y’all soon.”
The Wallace Ranch is second only to Lucky River Ranch in terms of facilities and beauty. Even in the dark, I’m able to see how organized and well-maintained Wallace Ranch is. Neat fences line the paved driveway that leads up to an enormous and beautiful white barn.
“Jesus.” I duck my head to peer up at the barn through the windshield. “I feel like we just drove onto the set of Yellowstone .”
Dad grins, his face creasing. “You know, I’ve been told I look like Kevin Costner.”
“You’re handsomer than he is.” I lean across the center console to press a kiss to his stubbly cheek. “Let’s go.”
I’m relieved to see just Ava and Vance when we walk into the barn. As much as I want to flirt with Beck, I need to focus right now. Having a hot cowboy in the vicinity would definitely make that difficult.
“Y’all, thank you so much for coming out here so early.” Ava’s brow is furrowed, her full mouth turned down in a frown. “Poor thing was howling so loud that it woke up the bunkhouse.”
I’m struck by how pretty Ava is, despite her oversized coat and the knot of messy blonde hair on the top of her head. Like many barrel racers, there’s a pageant sort of beauty to her looks—perfect skin, dramatic brows, and large eyes framed by long, dark lashes.
“Pepper is in good hands.” Dad nods at me. “Did I tell you Sally is going to be a surgeon at Ithaca University?”
Resisting the urge to roll my eyes—Dad can be a little obnoxious with the bragging—I look at Vance, who appears relieved.
“Impressive. We’re so glad you’re here, Sally,” he says.
“Seriously.” Ava uncrosses her arms. “Y’all can follow me.”
I’m careful to keep my footfalls quiet as we approach the stall. Pepper is tucked into the far corner. I can immediately tell she’s in distress by the rapid rise and fall of her sides. She’s holding up one leg—the injured one—and as I peer into the stall, I can see she doesn’t appear to have an open fracture; there’s no blood or bone poking through her white-and-gray speckled coat.
Her huge, liquid eyes meet mine in the low light. The naked pain in them makes my chest cramp.
When I look over my shoulder, Dad is right behind me. He wordlessly holds out my headlamp and stethoscope.
“Thanks.” I plug the stethoscope into my ears and put on the headlamp. Turning on the light, I head for Pepper, Dad beside me.
I do a quick exam, listening to her heart and stomach. She’s skittish, but I press a hand to her side and murmur, “That’s a good girl. There we go. We’re gonna make you feel better, all right?”
She calms down enough for me to examine her foreleg, Dad and Vance gently holding Pepper in place while I do my thing.
“There’s not a lot of swelling, which is a good sign,” I say. “No ligament damage that I can tell. And the blood supply doesn’t appear to be interrupted. Let’s get some X-rays and go from there.”
That doesn’t take long. The pictures tell me what I already knew—this poor baby has multiple fractured bones. She’ll definitely need the plates and screws.
I’m already visualizing how I’ll stabilize the joint. Surgery on horses is extra complex because they’re working animals. The fix has to enable Pepper to do what she was bred to do—work on a ranch—or else she’ll be of no use to the Wallaces.
Which means I have to get this right.
Ava’s face falls when I tell her the news. She swallows hard, eyes glazing over with tears. “Not good, huh?”
“I think I can fix it actually.”
“Really? Because that’s a bad break.” Her unspoken words hang in the air between us—horses who have this kind of break are usually put down.
“I can’t guarantee a full recovery.” I loop my stethoscope around my neck. “But I’ve repaired dozens of fractures like this one, and the prognosis is good. If you’ll give me permission, we can operate right away.”
Vance’s eyes bulge. “But the vet office isn’t open until?—”
“We’ll operate right here.” I grin at him. “Have you ever done standing surgery before?”
He shakes his head.
I roll up my sleeves. “We’ll sedate sweet Pepper so she’s nice and calm, and then we’ll use local anesthetic so we can operate. She’ll be standing right here in the barn the whole time.”
“And the recovery?” Ava asks. “What will that look like?”
Dad nods toward the exit, his way of telling me he’s going to get the equipment I need. I tip my head, and when he disappears, I turn back to Ava.
“I think we’ll need to use a full limb splint for her. Then it’ll be box rest for a bit. Nothing too crazy.”
Ava slowly shakes her head. “This is wild. In all my years on the circuit, I’ve never heard of anything like this.”
“Ithaca University teaches all the cutting-edge techniques!” Dad shouts from somewhere.
This time, I do roll my eyes. “I’m sorry about him. He’s?—”
“Really damn proud of you, Sally.” Vance smiles at me. “As he should be. Mind if I assist?” He motions to the foal.
“I’d love that. Here, let’s go wash up.”