Wolff
“Ready for your summer break?”
Technically summer won’t be here for another three or so weeks, but next week there are only three days of school left. According to Sully’s daughter, Carmi, nothing really happens the last week of school.
“Sooo ready,” Carmi dramatically declares from the back seat.
Hayley giggles in the passenger seat beside me.
I offered to collect the girls from school today because Jillian had something to do at the ranch. Since the girls’ schools are virtually side by side, Pippa or Sully drops them off in the morning, and Jillian or I pick them up in the afternoon.
Despite the age difference between them, they seem to get along really well. Sadly, it’s Hayley’s traumatic experiences that are the reason she may be more mature than most kids her age. But Carmi is a great kid who didn’t hesitate to take Hayley under her wing. Since starting school a few months ago, Hayley has been making a few friends of her own.
She is now officially Hayley Shaw, complete with all the paperwork needed. She named herself after Shaw Mountain, the site of the plane crash. I guess for her it was a way to stay connected to her parents. The symbolism almost goes deeper than that though; it’s also where her old life ended, and her new life began, when Jillian and I found her on that mountain.
A new life for all three of us, actually, and it’s been good. Not without hiccups or bumps, but nothing we haven’t been able to deal with or work through together.
It’s a different experience for me, I’ve not lived in a family situation since leaving home twenty-five years ago when I took off for college, but I’ve taken to it like a fish to water. I love coming home from work and being greeted by a rambunctious pack of dogs, and Hayley’s soft smile from the kitchen island where she likes to do her homework.
I love feeling Jillian’s hand on my back as she moves around me in the kitchen when we cook dinner together. I love waking up with her gorgeous red hair tickling my face and her tight butt pressing up against my morning wood.
Heck, I even love school pickup duty, listening to the girls’ chatter and witnessing a new Hayley slowly emerging from the broken little girl we carried down Shaw Mountain.
I fucking love my girls and the life we are building.
“See you Monday!” Carmi calls out when she hops out of the truck in front of her house.
I tip my hat at Sully, who is already waiting for his daughter with the front door open, before I back out of the driveway and pull onto the road.
“What are we doing here?” Hayley asks moments later when I turn off the road toward High Meadow.
“We’re meeting Jillian here.”
“Oh…”
I sneak a glance at her, wondering if she has any clue. Jilly and I have done everything to keep it a secret, but Hayley is a smart cookie and extremely observant, it’s possible she’s picked something up.
When I park next to Jillian’s SUV, Hayley is out of the truck like a shot. She’s already spotted the people sitting on the bottom step of the porch, surrounded by a handful of wiggling little bodies.
“Puppies!”
Jillian is smiling when Hayley runs up to her and plops on her ass in the dirt in front of the steps. Immediately two of the puppies turn their attention on the newcomer and, to Hayley’s delight, crawl on her lap.
“What do we have here?” I ask when I walk up. “Hey, Janey,” I greet the vet sitting next to Jillian.
“I found these guys in a box left outside the clinic this morning,” Janey explains. “I checked them out. They look healthy. I’m guessing some kind of shepherd mix; I’d say about eight weeks old. Anyway,” she continues, waving her hand, “it made me think of something Jillian and I chatted about a few months back.”
“You mean training specialized support dogs?”
Jillian has talked from time to time about her dream of training rescue dogs customized to people’s individual support needs, particularly those of children.
Janey nods, and when I glance over at Jillian, she sports an apologetic smile.
“Do we get to keep them?” Hayley pipes up, her face hopeful.
Well, shit.
“I hate to be a wet blanket,” I start, “but we live in a house currently under construction with the mudroom addition, and are already overrun with dogs. Where do you propose we keep them? And who’s getting up in the middle of the night when one after the other needs to go for a pee?”
“I’ll do it!” the kid offers enthusiastically. “And they can sleep in my room.”
Damn, I don’t want to be the bad guy, but right now, having four little puppies underfoot would be a serious pain in the ass. Thankfully, Jillian comes to the rescue.
“Lucas is right, Hayley. It would be a bit much in the house. Maybe if we had a bigger kennel with electricity for heat and light, we’d be able to house more dogs, but…”
Her voice trails off but her eyes lock on mine, and I read her like a book.
“I suppose I could ask the contractor to have a look and see what can be done, after he’s finished the mudroom,” I suggest, earning me a wide smile.
“You’re so whipped,” JD comments when he and Jackson join us.
“What does that mean?” Hayley wants to know.
“Yeah, JD…what does that mean?” Janey echoes, her eyebrows raised as she pins him with a glare.
Jackson barks out a rare laugh. “Burn, brother,” he scoffs as he sits down on the step beside Janey and picks up one of the pups.
“Anyway, getting back to more important matters,” the vet says with a final scathing look for JD before turning to Jillian. “I’d offer to keep these cuties for you until you have shelter sorted out for them, but I’m afraid I don’t have the space or the manpower at the moment. If you can’t take them, I’ll have to find them another home.”
“I’ll take them.”
Everyone stares at Jackson with their mouths open. Except Jillian, she’s smiling wide.
“You?” JD blurts out.
Jackson simply shrugs. “Yeah, why not? I’ll look after the rug rats until Jillian’s got room for them, but I want to keep this one.”
He holds the almost all black pup up to his face, where the little thing tries to bite his nose.
“Perfect,” Jillian states, standing up and brushing the seat of her jeans. Then she holds out her hand to Hayley. “Come on, you. Wipe that frown off your face, you’ll just have to be patient. But in the meantime…” She pulls Hayley to her feet. “There’s something Lucas and I want to show you.”
She hooks her arm through the kid’s and tilts her head to the barn in a silent invitation to me.
It had taken me almost two months to find what I set out looking for, but it took Jillian and I only an hour or so to make the decision, once I found it. Or should I say; her.
She is a little stockier than Tinker Bell, and her coat is more of a chestnut, but her mane and tail are the same golden flax color. She’s also well-trained, comfortable around other horses, and easy to handle. I made sure of that.
“Her name is Rosie,” Jillian says in a soft voice when we get to her stall.
Hayley freezes when she looks over the door, and both her hands come up to cover her mouth.
“She’s six years old and is as gentle as can be,” I add, curling my arm around Jilly’s shoulders and pulling her to my side, as we watch Hayley trying to take it all in.
“For me?” she finally manages, turning her head.
I have to swallow when I watch the fat tears running down her face, because for once, I know these are happy tears.
“All yours, sweetie,” Jillian says in a choked voice.
* * *
Jillian
“Marry me.”
I blink open my eyes and have to squint to see Lucas’s face hovering over me.
“Sorry?” I mumble, thinking for sure I must’ve heard him wrong.
But he confirms there’s nothing wrong with my hearing when he repeats, “Marry me.”
He moves back, grabs my hand, and pulls me up into a sitting position. I shake my head, trying to clear the cobwebs, because if this is what it appears to be, I don’t want to miss a damn thing.
Although—on second thought—I might’ve preferred a proposal at a time I don’t have a bird’s nest in my hair, gunk in the corners of my eyes, or drool marks around my mouth. Not to mention the bad breath I know I have, thanks to the super garlicky pesto gnocchi we had last night.
The ungracious, “Now?” escapes me before I can rein it in. Luckily it only widens the grin on Lucas’s face.
“Absolutely,” he returns with conviction as he holds up a box with a gorgeous ring. “This ring has been burning a hole in my pocket, waiting for the right moment for weeks. I would’ve asked you months ago, because I know for a fact what I feel for you is a once in a lifetime deal. A rare gift I wasn’t expecting but am so fucking grateful for. But this isn’t about just you and me, this is about Hayley as well, and the timing hasn’t been right for her.” He takes my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles. “Then yesterday we were able to put happy tears in that little girl’s eyes for the first time since she lost everything. She looked at us like we hung the moon when all we’ve done is love her. Something I know we’ll do for a lifetime if she’ll let us. So, this morning when I woke up, I realized this was the moment.”
Holding on to my hand he gets off the bed and slides down on one knee.
“So, I’m asking you again; Jilly, love of my life, will you marry me?”
* * *
I can’t stop staring at my ring.
Hayley zoomed in on it the moment she sat down at the kitchen island for breakfast this morning. To say she was happy would be an understatement. She was beaming and hugged us both hard before announcing she’d always wanted to be a flower girl. I had to laugh, because Lucas looked a little pale at that—I don’t think he’d gone so far as to think about an actual wedding yet—but over breakfast it became clear Hayley was quite the little wedding planner.
So, it was a bit of a surprise when she asked Lucas how far of a ride it would be to take the horses up Shaw Mountain. When he asked her why, she said she wanted to visit the site of the plane crash. My first instinct had been to tell her no, but Lucas quietly asked her why she would want to go there. When she explained why, I instantly changed my mind.
“I want to show Mom and Dad I’m okay. I mean, I think maybe they know already, but I want to make sure, and up there it would feel like I’m closer.”
Lucas made a few calls after that, mainly making sure the actual crash site was completely cleaned up of debris, which Junior Ewing assured him it was. After, he called Jackson and asked him to put the drone up in the air to make sure the trail to the site would be passable.
Then we got dressed, went to the ranch to pick up the horses, and drove to the trailhead.
Lucas brought Pudding for me to ride. She’s a sweetheart and is quite happy closing the ranks while Lucas leads the way on Judge, and we have Hayley safely tucked in between on Rosie. She’s excited to be on her first trail ride. I’m just happy the weather is nice, and it’s not raining like it has been most of last week, or we’d be trudging through mud.
Somehow Ama got wind of our plans, and was nice enough to pack us a picnic lunch, which is tucked in Lucas’s saddlebags. When we get up there, maybe we can find a nice rock and have a picnic. Some might think that morbid, but Hayley seemed to like the idea, which is all that matters.
“Do you recognize that?” Lucas asks, bringing Judge to a halt as he points up to a rocky ledge where the opening to the small cave I know is there is just visible.
It takes a moment for Hayley to respond, first with a nod.
“I was so scared,” she starts, and it’s all I can do not to jump off my horse and haul her into my arms. “The last night at the hotel, I overheard my dad, my mom, and my grandma arguing. Mom wanted to stay in Canada, but Dad said we weren’t safe anymore in Whistler. I heard him say my uncle wouldn’t hesitate to kill us all to get his way, which Grandma got upset about. Dad caught me listening in the hallway. He was upset and made me promise not to trust anyone, and that if anything ever happened to him or Mom, that I would run as fast and as far as I could.” She takes a shaky breath. “That’s why, when I heard that FBI agent say my uncle would be picking me up in the morning, I ran as well.”
“You did the right thing,” Lucas says in a warm, steady voice.
I’m glad he did, because I don’t think I could find words right now.
“I can’t remember much from the crash,” Hayley admits, as she points at the ledge. “Or how I got up there.”
Then she turns to me and shatters my resolve to keep my shit tight.
“But I sure am glad it was you who found me.”
“So are we, sweetheart,” Lucas answers, because all I can do is nod at her through my tears.
This hasn’t been an easy road for Hayley. She’d never really opened up about the reason she ended up hiding in a cave after the crash before now. After hearing what her father’s virtual last words were to her, I understand. It was all about trust, and it moves me to the core she clearly trusts us enough now to share.
“I am so proud of you,” I choke out. “And so thankful we found each other.”
* * *
The midday sun is surprisingly warm when we sit down on a large flat rock overlooking Elephant Peak in the distance. Already new growth is sprouting from trees that were felled when the plane went down. By next spring I’m sure you’d hardly be able to tell what happened here, but the three of us will definitely never forget.
“I think I can feel them here,” Hayley says when she finishes off her burrito and leans up against me. “Is that weird?”
I lift my arm around her shoulders and press a kiss on her head.
“No. I don’t think it’s weird at all. I think it’s wonderful you can still feel their love for you up here.”
Lucas scoots a little closer on her other side.
“We can come up here whenever you want,” he promises, reaching his arm around both of us so Hayley is wedged in the middle. “And in the meantime, I hope you know how much we love you.”
“Duh, I know that,” she states with an eye roll.
I grin at her cheeky response, but bust out laughing when I glance over her head and catch Lucas looking a little shell-shocked.
Better get used to the attitude, buddy. There will be a lot more where that came from.
* * *
Janey
There is nothing as pretty as a spring sunset in these mountains.
Golds and purples streak the sky and reflect off the peaks; almost too much abundance for the eye to take in.
The first few months after taking over Doc Evans’ clinic last year, any time I’d get called out around sunset, I would stop to take pictures. I must have hundreds of them eating up memory in my phone, but none of them come even close to reflecting the depth of colors nature provides.
Tonight, however, I can’t afford to slow down.
I just got home and was looking forward to the leftover lasagna in my fridge, after driving all around the county to administering spring vaccinations, when I got an urgent call from Lucy at Hart Horse Rescue. One of their horses is in distress with what appears to be colic.
It’s not an uncommon ailment, but it’s painful for the animal, and can be dangerous if it involves a twist in the bowel. That’s why proper diagnosis is key. If the horse is simply impacted, the treatment is pain control, mild exercise, and hydration, but if we’re dealing with an intestinal torsion, surgery will be needed. Of course, that would require transporting the horse to the nearest equine hospital, which would be Ponderosa in Kalispell, since I don’t have the facility or the equipment.
When I turn onto the property, I can see the lights are already on at the barn. I don’t bother stopping at the house first and drive straight through, parking my truck right by the barn doors. I have everything I need, including my portable ultrasound, in the back. My truck has a cap on the bed, so I can keep my stuff dry and secure back there.
Bo, Lucy’s husband, is already opening the barn door for me.
“Need me to grab anything?” he asks.
I hold up my field bag. “For now, this is all I need.”
I follow him to a stall that is bathed in light from a flood lamp clamped to a post. Inside Lucy is trying to coax a dark bay mare to get up on all fours. She’s currently sitting on her hind like a dog would and looks to be in obvious distress, her eyes wild and nipping at her own side.
“Okay, let’s get her to her feet first,” I order, dropping my bag in a corner before turning to Bo. “We’ll need a long strap or a rope.”
While he goes in search, I find my stethoscope and try to get a heart rate, which isn’t an easy feat with the horse crazy with pain and sitting in this position.
“How long has she been like this?”
Lucy blows a long strand of blonde hair out of her eyes.
“She didn’t eat today, and she looked restless this afternoon, so I came back to check on her after dinner and she was in obvious pain, which is when I called you. I tried to get her to drink, walked her around a bit in the meantime, and was just about to try some water again when she plopped down like this.”
I do a quick check for dehydration by pressing on her gums to see how long it takes for the small capillaries to refill.
“She’s definitely dehydrated,” I confirm, just as Bo walks into the stall with a long cargo strap. “That’s perfect. Let’s double it up and slide it under her hips.”
It takes a bit of doing, but we manage.
“Lucy, if you grab both sides of her halter and pull at the same time. On three. One, two…”
On three, I put all of my one-hundred-and-ninety-two pounds into the effort. This is one of those rare times where I’m grateful to be of a more hefty variety. I’m not short at five foot eight, and the pounds are distributed well on my body, but I’m well aware there are quite a few too many of them.
Luckily because of the work I do, I am fit and strong, and I eat pretty healthy most of the time. Still, whenever I’m weighed at my doctor’s office, I am sternly reminded that at my age it wouldn’t take much to slip from simply overweight into obese territory.
God, how I dread that stupid BMI scale. How can you use one single standard for the endless variety of human beings there are? It’s numbers, and they don’t take into account genetics, metabolic speed, health issues, mobility, and I could list an endless number of more individual circumstances that should to be taken into account when looking at what constitutes a healthy weight for a particular individual.
And that’s not even the worst part; any health complaints you might have are so readily linked to that number on the scale. We’re supposed to believe that losing weight is the be-all end-all of every conceivable ailment.
I call bullshit. I’ve never been a small girl, I grew up on a ranch, was put to work from the time I was seven- or eight-years-old, and am generally fit as a fiddle. I’ve always been comfortable in my skin, and I’m not about to let some arbitrary number on a scale invented by some random Belgian mathematician, for Pete’s sake. The man wasn’t even a physician.
“Good girl, Starla. Good girl.” Lucy soothes the horse when we have her standing on trembling legs.
Now that she’s standing, it’s easier for me to listen to her gut sounds. There appears to be some increased activity.
“I’m going to do a quick rectal exam, and after that I’ll probably use a nasogastric tube to see if there is a buildup of fluids in her stomach. Are you’re okay with me giving a sedative now? Spare her any more discomfort?”
I prefer getting consent before administering any medications, especially sedatives or anesthetics, because they always come with risks.
“Whatever you need to do, Doc.”
Once the sedation starts taking effect, I quickly don a disposable long-sleeve glove with shoulder protection, and set to the fun task of rooting around the poor animal’s gut.
“I can feel an impaction,” I report, retrieving my arm and disposing of the glove.
Luckily, there is not fluid build up in her stomach, but I leave the tube in to hydrate her. With the help of the portable ultrasound, I confirm there isn’t anything else going on aside from the impacted stool she has trouble moving.
The fluids will help, as will the pain medication I give her, and after waiting to see the first signs of improvement, I leave Starla in Lucy’s good care. Nature will have to take its course.
Bo walks me to my truck.
“Thanks for coming out, Doc.”
“No problem. Call me if there’s any change for the worse. I’ll check in tomorrow to see how she is.”
I smile and wave as I pull away from the barn, but as soon as I’m out of sight, I grimace with hunger pains. My stomach feels like it’s eating itself.
Rather than driving all the way home to get to my leftover lasagna, I pull into the first place I come across that I know has food; Foxy’s Bar. It’s less than two miles from the rescue. I’ve grabbed something here once before, so I know it promises greasy bar food.
Just what the doctor ordered.
It’s not crazy busy, just a couple of bikers sitting at the bar, a few locals playing pool, and only two tables occupied with families.
“Find yourself a spot,” I’m told by a waitress toting a tray full of drinks to one of the tables.
I grab a table near the back. I’m not up for socializing and plan to dine and dash; I’m exhausted.
“What can I get you?” the waitress asks when she finds me.
“What is fast? Food-wise,” quickly clarify.
“Five minutes for a pulled pork sandwich and fries.”
“Sold,” I tell her with a grin. “And half a pint of whatever pale ale or lager you have on draft.”
“Coming right up,” she promises, before walking straight through what I assume is the door to the kitchen.
As I watch her disappear to the back, I can feel a rush of cool air when someone opens the front door. When I turn around, I’m unexpectedly met by a familiar pair of dark-brown eyes that are already locked on me.
* * *
JD
“Are you heading out, son?”
I turn around to find Thomas sitting on the porch.
Thomas is my boss Jonas’s father and old as dirt. I swear he spends most of his days out here on the porch just so he doesn’t miss a damn thing that goes on at the High Meadow ranch. He’s in his nineties and may be frail, but his mind is still sharp as a tack.
My ma runs the ranch house here at High Meadow, and she and Thomas have a special bond. They bicker like siblings, but everyone can see they adore each other. For Ma—who grew up in the foster system—Thomas is more of a father figure.
The old man sits on the porch and doles out his wisdom to anyone passing by—whether you want it or not—and is about as subtle as a two-by-four between the eyes. My mother doesn’t mince words either, so in that respect they’re peas in a pod.
“Yeah, it’s been a long day.”
We rode out early this morning to take a herd to pasture lands close to the ranch’s boundary lines, where they’ll graze for the summer months. Unfortunately, when we got there, we found a lot of the fencing damaged and ended up spending the rest of the day fixing those.
By the time we got back it was almost dark. Dan went straight home, but Jackson and I grabbed some dinner here.
“I heard,” Thomas shares. “What do you reckon messed up those fences?”
“Not sure. Looked like a bunch of elk or something plowed through, but some of the lumber was already rotting, so it needed repairs anyway.”
“Herd secure?”
“Yup. They’re all set for the summer.”
The storm door creaks when Alex, Jonas’s wife and Jackson’s mother, pokes her head outside.
“Are you gonna come in tonight, Pops, or are you planning to sleep on the porch?”
He huffs and flips back the throw blanket that was covering his spindly legs.
“Hold yer horses,” he grumbles, hoisting himself to his feet.
I move to his side and grab him firmly by his elbow, when he wobbles a little as he begins to shuffle to the door.
“Weren’t you on your way home?” he snaps ungraciously, even as he puts most of his weight on me.
I grin and catch the amused twinkle in Alex’s eyes as she patiently waits with the door propped open.
“I’m leaving right now,” I tell him as I hand him off to Alex who leads him inside. “See ya in the morning.”
The old man doesn’t turn around but lifts his free hand and waves as he shuffles down the hallway. I close the front door and head over to my truck.
I imagine it’s not fun getting so old, your body won’t move the way you want it to anymore, and you need help with the most basic things. Still, I’d rather have a sound mind in a decrepit body, than the other way around. My grandpa on my father’s side had vascular dementia, and he became a person we didn’t recognize anymore. I know the prospect scares my Pa, even though the disease itself isn’t necessarily hereditary, the risk factors to developing it can be.
Up until last year, when Jackson—Alex’s son and my friend—tried to finish the job himself after nearly losing his life at enemy hands in a military operation overseas, I hardly ever gave thought to my own mortality. But that shook me up. Since then, I’ve tried to exercise a little more awareness, a little more consideration, and definitely more appreciation in my day-to-day life.
Like this old 1974 Ford F-100 I fixed up over the winter. It had been sitting in my parents’ barn since my grandpa died over a decade ago. It was the first and the last vehicle he ever bought new, and he kept that truck in mint condition for as long as he could. He left me that truck in his will, and I never once looked at it.
Pa put it in the barn and kept it there all those years, maybe hoping I’d want it one day. He never said anything—Pa doesn’t talk much anyway—but he joined me in that barn and worked with me to get the truck road-worthy.
She’s old, there’s a tear in the bench seat on the driver’s side I still want to fix, and it could use some rust treatment and a new paint job, but her engine is in prime shape, and I’ve come to love every imperfection.
I turn right to get to my place—a trailer parked on a patch of land bordering Libby Creek—and pass Foxy’s Bar. I used to stop in there all the time, but I haven’t been there in months. It does decent business on the weekends and during the summer months when the RV park is full, but it’s fairly quiet tonight. Not many vehicles in the parking lot.
Wait, is that Doc Richards’ truck?
My foot is already slamming on the brake before my mind processes the information.
Janey Richards. I don’t think the woman likes me much, which is a shame, because she sure as hell has my eye. Just last week she lashed out at me when she was at the ranch dropping off a litter of puppies. I still don’t fucking know what I said wrong, but the snap of fire in her eyes sure got my blood going.
I pull my truck in beside hers and without giving it a second thought, head inside.
That may have been a mistake.
My eyes zoom in on Janey the moment I walk through the door, and I see the surprise in hers when she recognizes me. I start walking toward her table, when I hear a squeal and see a flash of movement from the corner of my eye.
I turn in time to see Britt running in my direction. I barely have a chance to react when she launches herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and her legs around my hips. My hands automatically go to her ass to keep her from falling.
“Hey, handsome! I missed you.”
Then her mouth is on mine, and I realize I should’ve stopped outside and thought this through.
Up next are Janey and JD in HIGH DENSITY.