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THE NEXT MORNING, Barrie awoke three minutes before her alarm went off...and her feet were already sore. Her Great Dane, Miley, stood at her bedside, soulful eyes fixed on her. She’d never had trouble with her feet before, but pregnancy seemed to be changing the rules on her, and she hated that. When she’d first found out that she was pregnant, she’d promised herself nothing needed to change until the baby actually arrived. Some women nested when they were pregnant, but Barrie was going to control that instinct. These last few months would allow her to build up her practice enough that after the baby came she could scale back to clinic hours only, cut out the after-hours emergency calls and still keep her business afloat. But her body seemed to have other ideas.
“Morning, Miley,” she said, reaching from under her cozy comforter to give the massive dog an affectionate ear scratch. He’d started out as a regular-sized puppy with paws like dinner plates, and he’d grown past even ordinary Great Dane proportions. He was a huge, jowly, slate-gray lap dog—at least, that’s how he saw himself. He was a big baby, and absolutely worthless as a guard dog, but she loved him.
Barrie rolled out of bed and ran her hand over her belly. The baby stretched inside her. She didn’t know if she was having a boy or a girl yet. She’d tried to find out at her last ultrasound, but the baby’s legs were firmly crossed. She’d try to find out again—planning was key, and she didn’t have the luxury of sweet surprises.
She pulled her bathrobe around her body and cinched it above her belly. She was ever growing, and as she passed her full-length mirror before she padded out into the hallway, she caught a glimpse of a rounded, bed-headed stranger with a colt-sized dog trailing after her. There was no getting used to this, but she did enjoy it. She’d always wanted kids—the nonfurry kind—and while the timing wasn’t great, she was finally going to be a mother. It wasn’t quite how she’d imagined it happening... At least she’d get a chance at motherhood, and still being single at the age of thirty-seven, she’d started to give up hope.
Barrie lived in a single-level ranch house on the north end of Hope. She looked out her kitchen window at the pristine snow from last night’s storm. The neighbor kid she paid to shovel her driveway was already at it, metal scraping against asphalt. This morning, she had plans to organize her presentation for Hope’s 4-H club. She’d been invited to speak about a woman’s contribution to agriculture, and that was a subject Barrie was passionate about. Girls needed encouragement to step out and become leaders in ranching and animal care. If there was one thing Barrie knew, it was that a woman couldn’t wait for a man to define her future.
“You hungry, Miley?” She pulled down his food dish—which was really a medium-sized mixing bowl—took out the bag of dog food and filled the bowl to the top. Miley hopped up, paws on the counter, and snuffled his nose toward the bag.
“Miley!” she said reproachfully, and he dropped back down to the floor. He didn’t need his paws on the counter to see over it. When she put his bowl on the floor, he immediately dropped his face into it and started to gobble.
While Miley ate, she headed to the fridge to find her own breakfast. She felt just about as hungry as the dog. She grabbed a bag of bagels from the fridge and a tub of cream cheese. Then her cell phone rang, and she picked it up from the counter and punched the speaker button.
“Dr. Jones, veterinary medicine,” she said.
“Barrie?” She knew his voice right away, and she froze in the middle of cutting a bagel. Why did he have to sound like the same old Curtis? Her heart clenched, and she had to remind herself to exhale. Miley looked over at her, sensing her tension, no doubt.
“Curtis,” she said, resuming what she was doing and attempting to keep her voice casual. “Everything okay over there?”
“We have another sick cow.”
Bovine respiratory disease could spread quickly in the right conditions, and it could decimate a herd if left unchecked.
“A calf?” she asked.
“No, this is a full-grown heifer,” he replied. “It’s out in the south field. I saw it this morning on my rounds, and she’s too big to just tip into the bed of a pickup and bring back to the barn, so I was wondering what the best course of action is in this kind of situation.”
Barrie sank a butter knife into the cream cheese and began spreading it onto her bagel. This was going to be a breakfast to go.
“I’ll leave in about ten minutes,” she said. “I’ll go with you to see her in the field. We might be able to leave her where she is, depending on how sick she is.”
“Great.” He paused. “You sure this is okay? Not too early?”
Barrie rolled her eyes. She was pregnant, not an invalid. She hated the kid gloves men used with her now that she was expecting, but there didn’t seem to be any avoiding it. Perhaps this could turn into a nice little anecdote for her presentation to the 4-H girls.
“I’m a vet, Curtis,” she said wryly. “This is the job.”
“Of course.” His tone softened. “See you soon.”
Barrie hung up the phone and took a jaw-cracking bite of her bagel. “Eat up, Miley,” she said past a mouthful of food. “We’re leaving.”
Ten minutes later, Barrie was dressed, Miley had finished his breakfast and she had her own breakfast in a plastic container on the seat beside her. Her veterinary bag and other portable equipment were in the bed of the truck, and Miley was in the back seat, breathing dog breath over her shoulder. He was the worst back seat driver.
“Miley, give me some space,” she said, pushing his jowly face away from hers. “Miley!”
He ignored her until she pointed and said, “Lie down, Miley.”
Miley heaved a sigh and folded himself into the seat, his nails scratching against the vinyl. Lying down back there was no easy feat for a dog Miley’s size.
“Good dog,” she said with a smile. “You’re my boy, aren’t you?”
Miley made a conversational growling noise. It was his way of giving a verbal reply without getting into trouble for barking in the vehicle, and Barrie put her attention into driving.
Betty Porter’s ranch was about forty minutes outside Hope. Barrie had done some work with Betty’s livestock in the past few years, but her most vivid memories of the place would always be from when she’d been married to Curtis. They used to go to Betty’s place for dinner sometimes, and it had always been so warm and cozy. Curtis used to slide a hand up her leg under the table, which had embarrassed Barrie to no end. It amused Curtis just as much when she’d blush and Betty would give her a quizzical look. Barrie pushed the memories away.
She’d been in love with the soft-hearted rebel in Curtis, but that rebellious streak also made living with him difficult. Curtis was better at sneaking out to see her than he was at coming home to see her. He’d been better at seducing than he was at supporting.
And he was back. Seeing him again stirred up a confusing cocktail of old feelings. She’d married a bull rider but hadn’t been successful in taming him. That was how wisdom was earned—through mistakes—but even if she hadn’t married him, she’d have lived to regret it. Curtis Porter was a no-win situation.
The miles
