28. Sally
CHAPTER 28
Sally
LOVE IS A COWBOY
I’m dead asleep when my phone rings.
Opening my eyes, I can’t see a damn thing. The darkness is inky-black, complete.
I know before I even pick up my phone that it’s Dad calling. The only numbers I don’t silence overnight are Dad’s, Mom’s, and Wyatt’s.
“You up, Sunshine?” Wyatt asks sleepily beside me.
“I’m up. Sorry.”
“It’s all right. What kinda emergency we got?”
I yank my phone off the charger. “I’m about to find out.”
“Sorry to bug you, honey,” Dad says when I answer. “But there was a fire over at the Wallace Ranch.”
“Oh my God.” My hand goes to my chest. “Is everyone okay?”
“Guess it was a small fire and they have it contained, but two of their horses were badly injured, trying to escape. Ava Bartlett is asking for you again.”
“I’ll be there ASAP.”
Wyatt is already sitting up and turning on the lamp on his side of the bed. He rubs his hands over his face, the muscles in his arms and back bulging .
First, I take care of this emergency. Then I take care of the ever-present, always-raging desire I have for my boyfriend.
“Sounds good,” Dad replies. “I’ll meet you there. I have your supplies ready to go.”
My heart twists. Despite his faults, Dad is a good man. A thoughtful one.
“Thanks.”
“Drive careful.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you too.” I hang up to see Wyatt getting out of bed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m coming with you.”
He’s naked—we’re naked a lot these days—and I can’t help but smile at how pale his butt is compared to the rest of him.
He has a really, really nice butt—bulbous, well-muscled, with a pair of freckles on the lower-left cheek.
“You don’t have?—”
“But I want to. If there was a fire, they’re gonna need the extra hands. Besides, you ain’t drivin’ alone in the dark.” Wyatt nods at the windows. “And, yeah, ever heard of competence porn?”
I’m grinning as he rounds the bed and holds out a hand, which I take. He pulls me out of bed.
“I have. I think about it often when I’m with you.”
“You’re the definition of it when you’re workin’.” He reaches around to grab my ass. “You’d best save some energy for me when you’re done, ’cause I got a feeling I’m gonna be real hot and bothered by then.”
“I think I can do that.”
We’re dressed and out the door in under five minutes. Wyatt holds out a glass bottle of Coke as we’re trundling down the dirt road that connects Lucky River Ranch to Highway 21 .
“I know it’s not the same as a cup of coffee, but it’ll get the job done,” he says.
Grinning, I open the glove compartment and find the brass bottle opener we’ve used since—sheesh—even before we started mixing our Coke with Jack Daniel’s.
“Thank you, handsome.”
“Welcome, Sunshine.”
I steal glances at Wyatt during the ride. He’s wearing a backward baseball hat and his sherpa-lined jean jacket, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he drinks his Coke.
I love this man. I love that he’s with me right now. I fantasize about us doing this all the time. Not the middle-of-the-night-wake-up thing, because that sucks. But the going-to-work-together thing. We can do that here.
I just need to figure out what work I’d be doing exactly.
“What?” Wyatt asks when he catches me looking.
I shake my head. “I just like looking at you.”
“Most people do.”
Rolling my eyes, I smile as I reach across the console to swat his shoulder. “I regret the ego boost. You clearly don’t need it.”
“I might not need it, but I sure as hell don’t mind it.” He turns his head to look at me, dropping his empty bottle into the cupholder between us. “You all right?”
God, I hate how he picks right up on my moods. How he pays attention and how he cares.
I love it. I love everything about this man, and not having a solid plan for our future together is making me sick with anxiety.
“We’re gonna be okay, right?”
Wyatt’s chest barrels out on an inhale. He switches hands on the wheel and puts his right one on my leg. The motion is familiar now; he’s done it plenty lately. Still makes my heart skip a beat the way it did the first time he touched me this way .
“We’re gonna be okay, Sal.”
We smell the smoke before we even turn onto the Wallace Ranch. Wyatt frowns as he guides the truck up to the horse barn. The lights are off; several windows are broken.
There are dozens of people, all of them milling around with flashlights and phones in their hands.
Wyatt and I hop out of the truck. He immediately finds Beck, who explains what happened. Apparently, the fire was started by some bad electrical wire in one of the stalls. The staff was able to put out the fire, but the barn sustained significant damage.
Side note: I love how Wyatt and Beck’s little pissing contest has been put to bed. In true cowboy fashion, they’ve silently agreed that there’s no time for grudges or awkwardness. This is ranch business—cowboy business—and that always comes first.
Dad is already here. He’s standing with Ava and Vance in the gravel outside the barn’s entrance.
“Structure is fine.” Dad nods at the barn. “But the damage to the interior is extensive.”
Ava nods. “Luckily, we got all the animals out. All but the two horses are okay. If y’all don’t mind, I’d like to get a move on. We’re keeping the injured animals in the arena up the hill.”
Wyatt nods. “We’re following you.”
We climb back in the truck, and together with Dad and Ava, we form a little caravan that moves quickly through the silent dark.
The arena is massive—and massively impressive. I can smell the new lumber and fresh paint as I hop out of the truck. I’ve been to rodeos plenty, and I’m always impressed by the barrel racers I’ve seen. The Wallaces must really be serious about their program if they rolled this much money into a training facility .
Wyatt wordlessly moves to help Dad and me unload the equipment we need from the back of Dad’s pickup.
Pays to date a cowboy , I think to myself as I put on my headlamp and walk into the dimly lit, soaring space of the arena. Especially a cowboy as knowledgeable and smart as Wyatt. I don’t need to tell him to grab the portable X-ray. I definitely don’t need to tell him to keep his footfalls quiet as we approach the animals in the makeshift stalls on one side of the arena.
Ava nods at the stall to the left. “This poor baby won’t put weight on his front leg. And I think that one”—she motions to the next stall—“has issues with the back left leg.”
I loop my stethoscope around my neck. “Did anyone see what happened?”
“No, but I can guess. The horses panicked, and these two ended up getting trampled.”
“Any burns?”
“None that I saw, no.”
My stomach clenches. I meet eyes with Wyatt.
He approaches the first horse before me. He’s not being rude; he’s just making sure I’m not also going to get trampled by a skittish, injured colt who weighs as much as a car.
“Hey, buddy.” Wyatt keeps his voice low and soft.
The colt is a beautiful animal, its shiny black coat gleaming in the overhead lights. But the rapid rise and fall of his sides are a dead giveaway that he’s in pain.
“We’re just here to help. You’re hurting, aren’t you? You’re gonna be okay.”
Wyatt moves slowly, holding up his hands. When he reaches for the horse, the colt whinnies and pulls away, his eyes wild.
My cowboy, however, won’t be deterred. “You got the best surgeon in the world here to take care of you. That’s right. You’re gonna feel so much better after she helps you. ”
Wyatt strokes the horse’s back in steady, careful movements, and slowly but surely, the horse calms down.
Meanwhile, I’m bursting with…I don’t even know what. Worry for the horse. Adoration for Wyatt.
Excitement that I get to do what I love, with the man that I love.
I belong here. Deep down, I think I’ve always known that, but Dad’s dreams for me overshadowed my desire to return to Texas and make a life here.
After a few minutes, Wyatt has the colt literally eating out of his hand. Because again, Wyatt is a cowboy, and he thought to stuff apples into the pockets of his jacket on his way out the door.
Rubbing the colt’s nose, Wyatt glances at me over his shoulder. “I think he’s ready for you, Dr. Powell.”
Blinking, I put the tips of my stethoscope in my ears. “Thank you, Mr. Rivers.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Ava leaning into Dad and asking, “Do they always refer to each other that way?”
“That appears to be…new.”
I don’t have time to decipher Dad’s tone. I get to work, listening to the colt’s heart and stomach, while Wyatt strokes him, keeping him calm.
He gets skittish when I bend down to examine his injured leg.
Wyatt puts a hand on the colt’s neck to keep him steady. Then he looks down and says, “It looks like a compound fracture.”
I frown. “How can you tell?”
“A few years back, Ryder’s horse broke his leg in three places trying to jump a fence.” Wyatt nods at the injury. “It looked a lot like that—the swelling, that dislocated bone there.”
I confirm as much with a series of radiographs that show a gnarly break in the horse’s front-right radius .
“Good call, Wy,” I say, mentally calculating the amount of anesthesia we’ll need for a horse this size.
Even Dad says, “You really know your shit, don’t you?”
“Learned from the best.” Wyatt looks at Dad. “And by that, I mean you. And Garrett.”
I smile. “You got a world-class education in cowboying—that’s for damn sure.”
“Not as fancy as yours?—”
“But just as important.” I glance at Dad. “All right, y’all, it’s gonna be all hands on deck. We’re going to have to use plates, screws, and cables to fix this guy, but I’m almost positive we can do it.”
Ava looks like she’s about to cry. “I’m so relieved to hear that I can’t even tell you. Thank you, Sally. Thank all y’all for coming out tonight.”
Wyatt and I meet eyes.
We’re always looking at each other this way, aren’t we? Finding each other across the room. Checking in with each other.
It’s the best, most ridiculous thing ever.
“Happy to,” Wyatt says. “We’re in our element.”
When the colt is sedated, Wyatt crouches by my side. Together, we talk through what my plan is for the repair. He asks a lot of questions— Why put the screw there? What can the cables do that a plate can’t? —and time flies as I answer them.
Dad and Vance join us in the stall as I begin to operate. We all chat amiably as the surgery progresses. When I start to sweat, Wyatt somehow rummages up a bottle of water and a straw, so I’m able to drink it without taking off my gloves.
He chuckles when I’m inserting the screws with a drill. “No wonder you like all those murdery shows. You’d make an excellent serial killer. ”
I laugh, the ache in my knees and eyes easing ever so slightly. “I do the opposite of dismemberment.” I gesture to the horse’s leg. “Look, I literally put bodies back together.”
“Which means you know how to take ’em apart, too, don’t you?”
I crank my drill. “Keep talking shit, and you’re gonna find out.”
He smiles, and I do too. By the time the surgery is done and I’m wrapping up the colt’s leg, I’ve laughed so hard and talked so much that I’m exhausted beyond belief, but also buzzing with energy.
This is what happiness feels like , I think as Wyatt hands me an enormous cardboard cup of coffee and an egg-and-cheese biscuit from Mrs. Wallace’s kitchen.
I think the same thing when Wyatt digs his thumbs into the sore muscles at the bottom of my neck while Dad and Vance prep the next horse for surgery, the mini massage making goose bumps break out on my arms.
Meanwhile, Ava fills me in on Pepper’s recovery. She’s doing so well that I give Ava permission to let her out of box rest.
The realization crystallizes with sudden, startling clarity. This sense of belonging, of being appreciated, of community— that is what I’m missing in Ithaca. The connection I feel to this place and these people is what makes my work here so satisfying.
Dad’s never worked anywhere else, so maybe he doesn’t understand how awful it is to practice surgery in a place that values prestige over people, success over saving lives.
In Hartsville, people focus on the right things.
They spend their time and energy doing right by their neighbors, their families, their animals.
They’re proud people, and they should be. There’s a real sense here that we’re all in this together, which makes the work feel so much more meaningful, like it matters. Like I matter. At the big universities where I’ve worked, it feels very dog eat dog, like everyone is out for themselves.
That’s just not who I am. That’s not who Mom and Dad raised me to be. And maybe me choosing community and character over a fancy job title will make them proud.
Sure as hell makes me proud. And that’s ultimately what has to matter, isn’t it?
“You need me to give you a Rocky pep talk, or are you good?” Wyatt asks. “I know you’re running on fumes.”
“I’m good. You’ve gotta be wiped too, Wy. You don’t have to stay. I know your brothers?—”
“Are fine. I like watching you screw…things in.”
“You’re funny.”
“You got this.”
I grin. “I do.”
Ava just stares at the filly, slowly shaking her head. “You’re a miracle worker, Sally.”
“Let’s not speak too soon. I’m cautiously optimistic about this one?—”
“Which means this sweet girl’s gonna be just fine.” Wyatt nods at the horse.
The filly’s surgery was thankfully less complicated than the colt’s. Turned out, she had broken ribs and a fractured tibia, which didn’t require any plates to correct.
I’m thrilled with how it went. I’m also dead on my feet as I watch Dad and Vance clean up the stall.
“I truly can’t thank y’all enough.” Ava’s gaze catches on mine. “You really are talented. When the Wallaces asked me to start their training program here?—”
“Training program?” Wyatt asks.
“They’re hoping to get involved in the barrel racing circuit,” I explain. “Breed horses, train riders. A little bit of everything.”
Which, come to think of it, could be an opportunity worth investigating. I’ve operated plenty on racehorses.
“But, yeah,” Ava continues, “I didn’t realize the level of expertise y’all would have in Hartsville in terms of veterinary care. I’ve truly never seen anything like it, and I feel like I’ve seen it all.”
“How long were you on the circuit?” I ask.
Ava gets a wistful look in her eyes. “Five years, but I feel like I’d trained my whole life for it.”
“You miss it?”
“Yes and no. I was ready to be done. When I got pregnant with my daughter, I knew it was time.”
“Oh!” Wyatt lights up. “How old is your daughter?”
“She’s three.”
I look at Wyatt. “We need to introduce her to Ella, don’t we?”
“My brother also has a three-year-old little girl,” Wyatt explains. “Fun age.”
“Very fun. And very intense.”
“We’ll have to get y’all together.”
Ava smiles. “I’d like that.”
“Are you trying to set Ava up with Sawyer?” I ask when Wyatt and I are safely out of earshot in his truck.
Wyatt chuckles. “Hell yeah I’m trying to set Ava up with Sawyer. They both have three-year-old girls. They’re both lonely.”
“How do you know Ava’s lonely? No, wait. How do you even know if she’s single?”
He shrugs. “She’s not wearing a ring, and I haven’t heard of a husband or boyfriend hangin’ around. I’d bet good money she’s single.”
But me? I’m taken. And I think I might be slowly coming up with a plan to make sure that never, ever changes.
Wyatt, Dad, and I head back to Lucky River Ranch later that morning. We have lunch with everyone at the New House. After inhaling Mom’s chicken potpie, I wilt against Wyatt’s shoulder. I feel like I need toothpicks to keep my eyes open.
Cash wipes his mouth, rising from his chair at the table across from us. “Why don’t y’all head home? We got the herd handled.”
I feel Wyatt go still. Cash offering to cover for his brother so Wyatt and I can rest— together —is a big deal.
“You sure?”
“Long as these clowns don’t cut up too much.” Cash knocks the baseball hat off Duke’s head.
“Dude!” Duke says. “Don’t mess with the hat. I’m havin’ a bad hair day.”
Mollie grins from her chair beside Cash’s. Ella is in her lap, and Mollie is patiently braiding her long blonde hair into two plaits. “That some bedhead you have going on?”
“Wait, who the hell are you gettin’ in bed with?” Ryder asks.
Duke just smirks. “Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell.”
“Good thing you’re no gentleman,” Wyatt replies.
“What’s a gentleman?” Ella asks.
Cash leans down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Me. I’m a gentleman.”
“Not always,” Mollie replies with a smirk of her own.
Cash gives her nape a squeeze. “I won’t elaborate in polite company, but you ain’t wrong, honey.”
Wyatt bends his neck and looks down at me. His eyes are bloodshot, but he still smiles at the inside joke we silently share between us—Wyatt’s no gentleman either.
You turn me into an animal , he says, the skin at the edges of his eyes crinkling .
Wouldn’t have it any other way , I reply, turning my head so I can kiss his arm through his shirt.
“But, yes, a break is what Sally deserves for performing yet more miracles,” Cash continues.
“Wyatt performed some miracles of his own,” I reply.
Cash arches an eyebrow. “Do I want to know more?”
“He got the horses in a good place. Calmed them down so I was able to do my thing with no issues,” I reply. “He’s the best surgical assistant I think I’ve ever had. Other than Dad, of course.”
“Really?” Cash looks at his brother in disbelief.
“I’ve never had an assistant bring me a breakfast biscuit before or look so good doing it, so, yes, really.”
Wyatt pops his cuffs. “Y’all are gonna make me blush.”
“Go home.” Cash waves us away. “Y’all did good today.”
At Wyatt’s house, we take a quick shower. I know I’m exhausted when I’m too tired to have hot shower sex with my very hot boyfriend, despite him helping me come to the realization earlier today that happiness is not success or big salaries, but community and caretaking and dating cute cowboys.
This particular cowboy has turned my world upside down in all the best ways.
We fall into bed and pass out hard. Next thing I know, late afternoon light is streaming through the windows. Wyatt is awake, his head turned on the pillow so that our eyes meet.
His look is so piercingly blue that my heart turns over.
“Hungry?” His voice is gravelly with sleep.
I reach for him. “Yes.”
Later, after dinner, we plop on the couch with our laptops to catch up on work. As foreman, Wyatt is overhauling large chunks of the ranch along with his brothers, and his responsibilities include keeping up with a heinous amount of emails, spreadsheets, invoices, and projections.
I type up my notes from today’s surgeries and email them to Dad, Vance, and Ava. I check the shipment status of some surgical supplies I ordered earlier this week.
Then I draft a letter of resignation and digitally sign it with today’s date.
My stomach churns when I attach it to an email to my adviser and press Send. I close my laptop and let out a deep breath.
Then I smile.
I have no fucking clue what to do next when it comes to my career. Do I form an official partnership with Dad? Start my own practice? Ask Ava to hire me?
I don’t know.
I just know my work—my life—is here now.
My heart has always been here in Texas. I just had to open my eyes and see that for myself.
Wyatt glances at me, the glow of his laptop screen catching on the straight slope of his nose, the fullness of his lips. “Somebody’s happy.”
Do I tell him what I just did? I could. I probably should. But part of me wants to surprise him with a grand gesture. Wyatt went to enormous lengths to ensure our first date was one to remember. It was cute, how big of a deal he made it. And he lost his mind when I gave him the Little House on the Prairie books. I also know my adviser is going to freak out when he gets this letter, and I might have to wade through some very unpleasant shit before my resignation is official.
And, yeah, I have to tell my parents. I feel like it would help lessen the blow if I came up with a plan, however preliminary, for my future employment.
I decide not to tell anyone my news for the moment. Tonight, I’m going to celebrate having a great day, filled with great people, by doing what I love—my cowboy.
I could go for some true-crime TV, too, just because.
“Very happy,” I say, and I mean it. “Wanna watch some Forensic Files ?”
“As long as I’m not your next victim, sure.”