Ram Laramie he’d bought in Kansas City. He’d left his Escalade in California until he returned, and he had no intention of borrowing Jake’s truck again.
The sun dipped below the horizon, the murky clouds tinged with orange and purple. He parked his truck and went straight for the barn. Once his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he spotted Dusty in a large stall, his head hanging low to the ground. It looked like the horse had lost a ton of weight in the two weeks he’d been gone. A knot of dread formed in his gut.
Dr. Evans stepped out from behind the gelding. “John said you were coming home.”
The doc wore a canvas coat and jeans with her hair braided in a ponytail. Gil forced down any lingering resentment or suspicions he had. “I’m sorry about your clinic.”
She offered a faint smile. “You probably heard I moved to the ranch. I hope that’s all right. I’d hate to be a bother to you or your dad.”
A bother to me, but no bother to Dad. Gil’s jaw tightened with distrust. Or jealousy?
“It’ll only be for a while,” she went on, “until I get my feet on the ground.”
He noticed the dark shadows beneath her lower lashes and guilt besieged him. The little lady had been under great stress from tending his horse, and now she’d lost her home, her business. He rebuked himself for his silent condemnation.
“How’s he doing?” Gil nodded toward Dusty, concentrating on the horse instead of the doc.
“His fever’s returned and he’s still not eating good. I came out to check his bandages and found his lacerations swollen and warm to the touch. He needs a larger dose of antibiotics.” Her mouth pinched into a frown. “The last of my supply is in the cabin refrigerator.”
Gil’s temperature escalated with the news of Dusty’s lack of recuperation. Suddenly, getting away from this woman — even for a few minutes — would do him good. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it.”
Dr. Evans wiped the sawdust from her jeans, then informed him which bottles to bring back. Gil took off hastily for the cabin.
What kind of mistake had he made in giving this woman charge over his horse? Why hadn’t he listened when she admitted her incompetence? He should have taken her advice and sent Dusty to K-State. At least there, they would have given him proper medical treatment . . .
When Gil returned to the barn, he found Mattie swabbing Dusty’s wounds with antiseptic.
“Come on, boy, you have to fight.” She patted the horse on his neck, her concern evident.
Gil handed her the medicine she’d requested, his mind in turmoil. He knew the doc had done all in her power to care for Dusty. She couldn’t be blamed for the loss of her home and clinic — her supplies and medicines. But that didn’t help Dusty. “This was the last of the penicillin.”
Dr. Evans filled a syringe with the antibiotic. “There’s enough here to alleviate the swelling and stop his fever. I’ll keep an eye out for colic and laminitis and will continue his liquids until he’s back on feed. Tomorrow, I want to start hydrotherapy treatment.”
She’d spoken this way before, when he’d first seen Dusty’s wounds. A skilled professional, void of emotion. “Is he going to make it, Mattie?”
Her tormented expression resembled that of a child who didn’t have the answer to an important question. When her bottom lip quivered, Gil fought the temptation to take her in his arms and comfort her. He reminded himself that the doc was no child.
She straightened her shoulders and smiled, her insecurity replaced with sheer determination as she injected the medicine. “Prayer and loving attention are the best we can do for him. As soon as I get a clinic set up, I’d like to take another x-ray to see how his fractures are healing.”
Gil kicked at the dirt floor with his shoe. “I don’t know if you heard, but I’ve retired from the game. While I’m here, I thought I’d work on the ranch. See if I can get it in shape. I can help with your clinic too — I need to do something to keep busy.” He grinned, but the truth was no joke.
She stared at him with no smart reply. It struck him how attractive she was, even in work clothes with her face smudged by dirt and worry. No wonder his father was so besotted. It was a chore not to become that