Five
Wyatt
Iwas amazed the coyote let me approach him.
like i said to cal, the ranch owner, the beast seemed almost tame.
he sat on the gravel drive calmly, watching me approach with my outstretched hand.
his keen amber gaze was fixed on me, and that was how i knew it was the same creature i’d seen last night.
that sense of sapience radiated from the coyote.
Well, that and the bullet wound in its shoulder. Strangely, the fur seemed completely devoid of dried blood, like it had already been washed.
As calm as the coyote was, I knew this was a wild animal. I had to be cautious. “Easy,” I said in a soft voice, making my movements as slow and non-threatening as possible. “That’s a good boy, I’m not going to hurt you.”
If animals could talk, this one would have said, I know that, dumbass.
“This’ll sting a bit,” I said, landing my hand on the beast’s shoulder. Its fur was silky soft under my fingertips, and a shiver ran through me.
I glanced up quickly, trying to judge the creature’s temperament. Normally, wild animals didn’t want to be touched—especially not when they were injured.
Amber eyes met mine, and I could have sworn the coyote was laughing at me.
I dragged myself away from the beast’s gaze, looking at the wound.
The blood was gone and so was the bullet, but that was about where the good news stopped. I grimaced.
Cal noticed, shifting so he was standing straight up in the door behind me. “What’s up, doc?”
I ran my fingers gently over the ragged edge of the wound, watching the wince it elicited from my patient. Still, the coyote didn’t even try to snap at me or run away.
“Looks like the bullet’s gone,” I told him. “But I’d guess that the impact shattered some of the bone.”
“Really? Shit,” he said.
Even the coyote looked dismayed, as though he understood what we were saying. I swallowed. “I should operate, try to pin the shoulder.”
Cal grimaced. “Lucky for this guy you showed up then,” he said, already shuffling out of the door. “What’s our next step?”
I took a shaky breath. “We … need to muzzle him and subdue him.”
The burly blond considered for a second. Then he said, “You got a tranq on you?”
I blinked. He shifted again. “If not, I got some the vet left for the cows—”
“God, no,” I spat, getting to my feet and dusting off my jeans. A large dose like that would kill an animal the size of a coyote. “I got something.”
I rummaged around in my kit, then came up with a syringe and a dose of tranquilizer. It was, in fact, intended for horses, but Vern had showed me how to dose the sheep, which was closer to the coyote’s size at least.
Arming the syringe, I approached the coyote again. The creature eyed the needle warily, but it still didn’t move. It didn’t even flinch as I moved around behind it and plunged the syringe into its thigh.
After a moment or two, the coyote wobbled, and Cal caught it. “All right, doc,” he said, “what next?”
“I need somewhere to operate,” I said.
He nodded, hefting the small canine up. He disappeared into the house with it, leaving the door wide open. I hesitated, then tromped in after him.
“Kitchen!” the blond called, and I hesitantly crossed the expanse of the foyer, what seemed to be a living room, a dining room, and, finally, a kitchen.
He jerked his head to the left. “Linen’s in the closet at the end of the hall. Grab some sheets or towels or something?”
“Right,” I said, then booked it to the end of the hall. I yanked opened a closet door with a squeal, thumbed through several ragged towels and a set of sheets, then trotted back to the kitchen.
Cal was still waiting with the coyote in his arms. I hastily spread a sheet across the top of an oak table that looked like it had seen better days. Once the sheet was down, he laid the coyote on top of it.
“You need anything from me?” he asked.
“Light,” I said, glancing up at the overhead chandelier.
“You got it.” The lights came up, almost painfully bright.
“Hot, soapy water?” I placed my kit on the kitchen counter and started pulling out instruments.
“On it.”
Cal retreated, leaving me with my thoughts as I approached my unconscious patient.
Had I totally fucking lost it? Much as I hated to see an animal hurt, and I didn’t like to think about the wounded coyote limping away into the woods to die a slow, painful death, tracking it down was bad enough. Now I was going to do surgery on it?
Vern would have my head if he found out. I didn’t know him that well, but I had no doubt he would have simply told me to shoot the damn thing, put it out of its misery.
My scalpel gleamed in the light as I lifted it, razor buzzing in the other hand as I sheared away fur, revealing the extent of the bullet wound. It wasn’t much, but the internal damage was more worrying.
Cal clomped back in. He pointed to the bucket he was carrying, then set it down near the stools. He gave me a thumbs up, then tromped back out.
I took a deep breath. That left me, my work, and the coyote.
Three days later, I stopped in to check on my patient. Cal had graciously offered to keep the beast in his laundry room, and he’d even given me a key to the back door, so I could let myself into the house if I happened to call when he wasn’t around.
Yesterday, he’d definitely been there. It had been late when I’d stopped in, having tailed Vern on calving over at one of the other ranches. I’d intended simply to check on my patient and go, but Cal had invited me to stay for dinner.
The coyote was healing up well. Better than I’d expected, actually, and faster too.
Satisfied the animal would be fit to be released into the wild, I’d joined Cal for what seemed like a staple around Coyote Creek: beef, mashed potatoes, and frozen peas.
Vern had cooked the same thing the night before.
Cal’s brother, Cam, wandered in just as we were about to sit down. My gaze had snagged on his arm—wrapped in a sling. It definitely hadn’t been last time I’d seen him.
His eyes lit up, and he smirked at me. “Hm? Oh. I fell out of the hayloft. Again.”
Cal rolled his eyes. “Cam’s the clumsy brother.”
“Wasn’t it you that accidentally fell in the pond last week?” Cam asked, taking up a seat between Cal and me.
Cal grunted with irritation, but the rest of their sibling bickering had been lost as I tried to focus on anything and everything but Cam. I hadn’t been able to breathe all the way through dinner. Cam did things to me.
I’d known I was gay for a long time—hello, little boy who loves animals so much and would rather play with My Little Ponies with the girls than soccer with the boys?
But I didn’t know much about Coyote Creek yet.
I didn’t want to make myself an outcast, especially not in the middle of a tiny town that was likely full of rednecks and intolerant attitudes.
So I swallowed the knot of desire and told myself I was simply admiring Cam.
He was a nice-looking guy—not as burly as Cal, and his eyes were more of a honeyed amber, totally unlike Cal’s icy blues.
His hair was tawny, and he had a few freckles strewn across his sharp cheeks, which spoke to too much time in the sun.
He looked like an all-American boy who had just walked off the set of some teen drama, and I knew better than to get any ideas.
Those guys, if they weren’t ready to beat you to a pulp for even suggesting something less than straight, just wanted to toy with you.
Try out the whole gay thing, take it for a test drive, then park it back on the lot and leave you waiting for the next one.
I had plenty of experience with that, so I knew I needed to avoid Cam like the plague.
Still, I’d gone home and jerked off, thinking about Cam’s smirk.
Thankfully, there wasn’t much doing today, so I was able to finish up my rounds and stop by Rocky Ridge mid-afternoon, which meant there was no chance of another awkward dinner invite. As an added bonus, the house was quiet, suggesting everyone was out.
I crept in, toeing off my muddy boots. I’d check my patient, get in, get out, and that would be that.
I peered into the laundry room, and my stomach dropped.
My patient, the coyote, was nowhere to be seen. The blankets were mussed, but the food in the dish hadn’t been touched.
“Oh, fuck,” I muttered, then booked it back to the door.