Snow Melts in Spring - By Deborah Vogts Page 0,17

“Jake, can I borrow your truck again?”

The old cowboy got up from the table and placed his hat on his head. “I’ve got heifers to check, so I won’t need it.”

“I appreciate the favor.”

“You could borrow my truck,” his dad said. “Or your mama’s car is parked in the garage.”

“My luck, I’d put a dent in one of them, and you’d cuss me up one side and down the other.” Gil chuckled, only half-teasing. “Jake doesn’t have to worry, ’cause he’d never know a new dent from an old one.”

Jake grinned broadly. “Whoo-wee, I do believe our boy’s home.”

NINE

MATTIE STEPPED OUT INTO THE MORNING SUNSHINE AND HER COFFEE steamed in the cool air. In another month, it would be calving and foaling season. Business was bound to pick up. When she entered the barn, she found the chestnut gelding sitting up. A good sign. Nearly forty-eight hours had passed since Dusty’s surgery, and his body was responding well to treatment. She knelt beside him and slid her palm against his neck.

“Hey, Dusty. How are you doing this morning?” She eased her hand down his chest and right leg, pleased the swelling had lessened. “Let’s see if you’re ready to stand.” With a slight tap to his backside, she gave him a gentle push, urging him to his feet. The horse didn’t budge.

“Haven’t I seen this before?”

Mattie recognized the man’s voice instantly and rose from her knees. “Are you going to stand there and gawk or are you going to help?” she asked, unable to keep the smile from her face.

“I’m here to serve.” Gil laid a sack beside her coffee on the wooden bench, then stood beside Dusty and nudged the horse’s side as he’d done the night before. “I don’t know what you’re going to do when I’m not here, Doc.”

“I can always steal one of the posters they display of you in town. That ought to do the trick.” She wanted to cheer when the horse wobbled up on all fours.

Gil chuckled. “What do you have against football players, anyway?”

“I don’t have anything against big, bulky men who strut around in skintight pants.” She grinned teasingly. “Rodeo’s a whole lot easier to understand.”

“Did you rodeo?”

“Barrels and poles. Tied some goats,” Mattie said. “I understand you had a future in rodeo. Why’d you quit?”

Gil looked away. “Football offered me a better deal.”

“Do you miss it?”

“I’ve participated in a few charity ropings. It’s a good way to raise money for kids who need it.”

Mattie knelt to examine Dusty’s front hooves, surprised Gil would be involved in charity work. “What else do you do when you’re not playing football? Television commercials? Let’s see, maybe prance around in men’s underwear or sell deodorant?” She glanced up to see if this embarrassed him.

“I never prance. I own investments and sponsor a foundation.” He slid his hands into his jean pockets, then smiled. “I once did a milk commercial, but I take it you’ve never seen it?”

Feeling the warmth of her own embarrassment, she turned her attention to the horse. “I don’t watch much television.”

“And when you do, Sunday Night Football isn’t on your list of priorities, right?”

“Smart guy.” She rose and went to the other side of the horse to distance herself from this imposing man who made her feel like a Shetland pony next to a Percheron stallion. “What brings you here this morning, anyway?”

“I brought you some of Mildred’s biscuits. I figured after the cold hamburger last night, you might enjoy a warm snack.”

Mattie smiled at the gesture. “All I’ve had is strong coffee.” She put a rope around Dusty’s neck, and the thought of the freshly baked biscuits made her stomach growl.

“If you want, I’ll heat them in your microwave.”

“That won’t be necessary.” She’d eat the food cold before she’d allow this man to see the dirty dishes on her kitchen counter and clothes lying in a heap on the floor. “Dusty’s swelling has gone down some. The more he moves, the less stiffness he’ll have.”

“Should I try to walk him while you eat?”

“Some sunshine on his back would be good.”

While Gil managed to lead Dusty out of the barn, Mattie washed up, then settled on a bench to watch. She took her first bite, savoring the buttery flavor as well as the morning sunshine.

“Tell me, Doc. What makes a young woman like you want to stay in a rinky-dink place like this? You’d have more business if you lived in a city.”

Her eyes trailed Gil and his horse. He

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