vet so I can fix birds like Tomasina and take care of dogs like Cheyenne does and so I can find every lonely animal their very own home.”
“I’m sure you will be very good at it.” He remembered what dreams were, so precious like twinkling stars that gave light to a vast night of darkness, dreams that could shine so bright if fed with hope and encouragement.
What had happened to his dreams? Where had they gone?
“Aunt Cady’s not going to believe it happened again, that more cows were on the road.” Jenny bounded up to the car door and yanked it open. “I get to tell her first this time, Julianna. You always do it and it’s my turn.”
“I do not,” Julianna argued gleefully. “Okay, maybe I do but I don’t mean to. It just comes out. I can’t stop it.”
“Well, try.” Feigning annoyance, Jenny rolled her eyes and plopped onto the backseat.
Adam felt a tug of awareness, the realization that Cheyenne Granger was near. Vaguely, he noticed Julianna release his hand, scamper away and climb in beside her sister. He reached for his open door, finding his knees a little iffy. Weak knees, damp palms—the woman was a hazard to him.
“The cows are safely contained for now, although how long that patch job holds is anyone’s guess.” Cheyenne padded toward him in hiking boots, and he realized the shirt she wore had Wild Horse Animal Hospital scrawled across it in looping white letters. “I called the Parnells, so one of them should be out in a jiffy to do a better job with that fence. They send their apologies for inconveniencing you.”
“I didn’t know what to do. Next time I will.” Near to her, he felt awkward, too tall, too big and too dark, as if the sunlight didn’t touch him. “Honking didn’t seem to work.”
“Goodness, no!” She laughed. “That only made them more curious. I don’t know why cows are so fascinated by the road, but most times when they get out they don’t head for the hills kicking up their heels and enjoying their freedom. They stand in the road.”
“I noticed.”
“I suppose if I was a cow in a field watching the traffic go by, I might want to go where all the action is, too.” She looked down at the crumpled and empty feed bag she still clutched, as if it held answers for her there—or perhaps he was making her feel awkward again.
Yes, that was it. He was staring at her too much. Definitely too much. He cleared his throat and turned his attention to the cattle. A few vied for the last of the treats while the rest of the herd had turned around and noted the gap in the fence had been repaired. Sorrowful moos rang out and several animals leaned against the wire.
“Isn’t it supposed to be electric?” he asked. “Shouldn’t that hurt?”
“Tall grass must have short-circuited the current somewhere. It happens.” She shrugged, taking a step backward. “You probably don’t run into this problem very often in midtown Manhattan.”
“Can’t say that I do.” She was funny, he realized, and almost smiled. “You have quite a skill when it comes to cattle.”
“I’ve been around them all my life. You’ve met my dad. He grew up on our family ranch just like I did. My earliest memories are being in the barns with him, walking between the stalls, going from animal to animal doling out treats, food, formula and medical care as needed.”
“It must have been a nice way to grow up.”
“It was. God incredibly blessed me with the life I have.” Love for her life, that was something that would never change. She shook her head at the cows leaning over the fence, begging with their Bambi eyes and tragic moos for more of those yummy treats. She held up the empty bag so they could see. “That’s all I have. No more.”
They surely recognized the words no more. The cows appeared shocked at how that could possibly be true, and then even more sad as their moos began again.
“Persistence is the key to more treats,” she explained. “Every pampered animal knows it.”
“I look at you and see what I’m in for. Julianna just told me she wants to be a vet.”
He must mean it kindly, but it was hard to tell from the stoic expression etched on his granite face.
“A vet? Well, that is a noble calling. It’s the best way to spend your life, in my humble opinion. Taking care of animals all day, every day. Complete and total heaven.” She flashed him a smile because he looked as if he needed one. Maybe he didn’t realize his wounds were showing; then again, she had a knack for sensing them.
“Guess I will see you all at home.” She tossed him an encouraging smile. “Mrs. G. has been cooking and baking up a storm. Her sons were all too busy for her to visit, so she’s spending the holiday with us, and can she cook! It will be a treat, I promise.”
“Dad.” The window rolled down, and Jenny poked out her head. “How much longer? Can we go yet?”
“Patience, Jennifer.”
He would have sounded gruff except for the faint twinkle in the doctor’s eyes—really amazing brown eyes.
Not that she should be noticing. Adam Stone wasn’t as dour as he wanted everyone to think as he turned those dazzling eyes on her.
“Thanks for clearing the road.” He held his hand up to shade his eyes. “You may have saved my car from serious damage.”
“No problem. I noticed just a little spittle, nothing to worry about.” She backed away, long locks bouncing. “If this ever happens again, and in this part of the country it probably will, don’t let them near your car. They can be quite enthusiastic.”
“I noticed.”
“Get out and lead them off the road. It helps if you have something for them to eat. Oh, and call the sheriff. Ford Sherman knows how to deal with them. He was a city boy and he learned. I imagine you can be taught, too.”
“Me, taught? That is one rumor never proven to be true,” he quipped, surprised by the flutter of lightheartedness behind his sternum.
“I have faith in you, Adam.” She climbed into her dark green truck and the tinted windshield hid all but the faintest silhouette of her behind the wheel, lovely and brilliant and amazing.
Not that he thought so on a personal level. It was merely an observation.
“Dad! We’re waiting,” Jenny called out the window. “It’s getting hot sitting here.”
“Yeah, Dad,” Julianna chimed in. “Aunt Cady said we were going on a horse ride. She promised they wouldn’t leave without us. It’s gonna be a real trail ride!”
The green pickup passed in the oncoming lane with a toot of the horn and a wave of one slender hand. He couldn’t move or respond as he watched Cheyenne’s truck go by, engine rumbling, equipment in the bed rattling, the trailer hitch glinting as it caught on a ray of sun.
He was in shadow. Life had become incredibly serious and the wounds from living had cut deep. He felt darker as Cheyenne’s pickup pulled into the lane ahead of him and rolled farther away.
