Read LOVE OF A RODEO MAN (MODERN DAY COWBOYS) Online
Authors: bobby hutchinson
LOVE OF A RODEO MAN (MODERN DAY COWBOYS) (25 page)
“Mitch, you shouldn’t have come all this way. You look as if you ought to be in a hospital bed yourself,” Jennie chided. “Frankie’s fine. We’ve just talked with the plastic surgeon and he says she won’t have hardly a scar to show for this.” She added, “Here, give me those flowers and I’ll go find a nurse and see if we can beg a vase for them.”
In a
nother moment, Mitch was alone with Frankie. He had to get through it quickly, while his courage held. “I came to apologize, Frankie, for all the good it’ll do,” he burst out harshly. “I’d do anything to change what happened out there, but there’s no way I can, so all I can say is I’m sorry. That’s about all I came to say. That I’m sorry, so goddamned awful sorry for what happened to you. It was my fault, my pride, see, that caused the whole thing. I never should have climbed on that fool bull at all. And I want to thank you, for what you did for me.”
He’d already made arrangements to have all her medical bills sent to him, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. He half turned to leave, but her angry voice stopped him.
“What the hell kind of garbage is this, Mitch Carter, walking in here and thanking me for doing my job? Acting like a martyr because I happened to get hurt a little? You know as well as I do that every bullfighter gets hurt sooner or later.”
Her furious voice rose higher as she went on, “You macho cowboys make me sick. First you give me a bad time for being a female doing what you consider a man’s job, and then you act like it was your duty to protect me instead of the other way around.”
She was breathing heavily, and Mitch took an anxious step toward the bed. “Frankie, don’t get yourself...”
“Shut up. If I were a man and this happened, you’d be making jokes and smuggling in a beer for me instead of whining. So help me, Mitch Carter, if you ever say one more
word about this to me, I’ll…..I’ll spill the beans to Sara about that redhead in Dallas.”
She closed her one eye and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. “Now get the hell out of here and go make love to th
at sister of mine. You’re wasting time, mine and hers both.”
Her words hit Mitch like a bucket of ice-cold water dumped on his head.
He was halfway back to Plains in his buddy’s small plane the next morning before he managed a weak grin. That was one mean-mouthed lady, all right, that Frankie. Bringing up Lucy back in Dallas was definitely hitting below the belt.
He loved Frankie for it. And he loved her sister
in quite a different way altogether.
The phone call came just after noon hour. Floyd took it and came hurrying into the infirmary where Sara was working on a German shepherd pup. She’d been at the clinic since dawn, not even stopping for coffee or lunch, forcing Floyd to keep up with her.
Floyd took a deep breath and said, “There’s a terrible emergency, Dr. Sara.”
She looked at him with swollen eyes and sighed. “Don’t dramatize, Floyd, please. Not today. Just tell me what it is.”
“Mr. Carter phoned, and there’s somethin’ terrible wrong with that whole herd of pigs we tested that time. He says would you get out there on the double."
“But I was out there just the other day. There was nothing wrong then.”
Only that sow. Wilson
had
mentioned that sow.
“Well, Dr. Sara, there is now. He sounded wild, he did.”
All the way out to the ranch, Sara went over and over the diseases pigs could get. It had to be something bad, if Wilson was as upset as Floyd had indicated. She forced her tired brain to concentrate only on the problem, just as she’d done ever since Mitch left, in an effort to keep herself from thinking of him.
Pigs. What diseases did they get? Erysipelas, she sudden
ly remembered, and a cold shudder ran down her back. Hadn’t Wilson mentioned a mark on that sow’s back? And she wasn’t eating. As if she were reading a page in her thick veterinarian’s guide, Sara listed the dreaded symptoms in her mind.
Erysipelas, an acute infectious disease of pigs. Diamond-shape skin lesions. High fever, prostration, vomiting, refusal to eat.
It
could quickly kill an entire herd. Why hadn’t she insisted on looking at that sow the other night? She might have caught it in time.
Wilson would be livid. Worse, he needed those pigs as income. And she was his vet. She should have insisted...
She drove in at a furious speed, tearing across the yard and pulling up in front of the pigsty.
Sara didn’t bother getting into her coverall. She didn’t wait for Wilson, either. She hurried over to the fence and opened the gate, stepping in among the squealing, milling Yorkshires.
She stood there, trying to keep the pigs from upending her and watched intently for the obvious signs of illness she expected.
There were none. As far as she could tell, these were healthy hogs.
She glanced up in confusion, and there was a rangy cowboy, one arm in a cast, perched on the rail fence watching her.
Mitch
. Shock waves went through Sara as their eyes met and held.
His were shaded a little by his Stetson, and his face looked somber. He motioned toward the gate and she slowly began to make her way to it. He was waiting a short distance away.
Sara wished that she'd taken time to pull on her coverall and boots. Her jeans were stained with muck and her shoes were now filthy from the pen. There was a glob of something awful stuck to her shirt. She knew her eyes were all swollen. Had she even brushed her hair this afternoon?
She drew herself up straighter, reminding herself that she was here on a professional basis. She’d act like a doctor of veterinary medicine, damn it.
“Mitch, hello. Your father called the office, he said there was something wrong with the pigs, and I...”
Her voice trailed off. She just couldn’t do it. She loved him far too much. Everything melt
ed inside when she got near him, and her chin wobbled. Damn it all to hell, she was going to cry again.
“Hello, Doc.” The deep, intimate tone of his voice thrilled her, told her that whatever had been bothering him the past few days was gone. He reached out and touched a piece of her hair that had come loose from the bun at the back of her neck, and the roughness of his fingers on her cheek made her shiver.
But she drew back and waited for whatever he was going to say next. She needed explanations.
“I went to see Frankie,” he began, holding her gaze with his. “I was coming apart inside, after the rodeo. See, it finally dawned on me that day that I had everything in the world a man could want, you, this ranch, this big, beautiful country. I didn’t want to ride that bull. I let myself get cornered into it.”
He looked away from her, out over the rolling fields to the mountains. “I felt responsible and guilty as hell for what happened to your sister.” His green eyes came back to hers. “And I hurt you as well, because I was hurting bad.” He took a deep breath. “Will you
please forgive me, Sara?” He added in a hoarse whisper, “I’m home now for good, and I love you.”
She nodded uncertainly, still making herself hold back. “I love you, too. But nothing’s really changed, Mitch.
” Now it was her voice that was wobbling. “There’s still this demanding job of mine. There’ll always be times when I’m called out at exactly the wrong moment. Can you really live with that? It won’t be easy.”
He tipped the brim of his hat back with one finger, and grinned his crooked one-sided grin. “If it gets too bad, I can always saddle Steamboat and take you up W
ild Horse Canyon, can’t I?”
His grin faded, and his voice was earnest and compelling. “It won’t be easy for us, Sara, I know that. But I’ve been thinking a lot, and there’s changes we can make. Maybe we can set up an office for you in the house I’m going to build us, so at least you’re working from home. And Floyd said there’s students in the su
mmer who’ll work more for experience than money. There’s ways, Doc. We’ll find ’em.”
He was right. Where there was love like this, there would also be a way around problems. They’d find it together.
She moved toward him, and he caught her fiercely against him with his one good arm.
He reached up and tossed his hat away, and then he bent his head and kissed her, slowly, passionately, with the promise of forever.
It was a long time later when she thought to ask about the pigs. “Your father said there was something terribly wrong with them, Mitch. I really ought to...”
He drew her firmly back into his embrace, cursing the cast on his arm. “I made the call, Doc.
Dad’s gone off to town and Mom’s at work. I figured you’d come quicker if you thought there was an animal emergency,” he admitted. “The only thing wrong with those confounded pigs is that they’re pigs.”
He kissed her again, more insistently this time, and put hi
s lips close to her ear. “Floyd promised no calls for an hour. You’ve never seen inside my cabin, have you?”
“I haven’t no.”
She shook her head. “But Mitch, I’m filthy from those pigs.”
He pretended to sniff her, and he wrinkled his nose.
“You are kind of stinky. But there’s this great shower in the barn, hot water galore, all the towels and soap you could possibly need.”
She reached down and
deliberately scooped a handful of muck from her shoes, using both hands to wipe it slowly across his cheek, over his neck, and down the front of his clean shirt. “Whither I goest, thou will go. My pigs shall be thy pigs. What happens if you get that cast wet?”
“It’s fiberglass
, it’ll dry.”
“C’mon, then.”
She took his hand, and together they hurried toward the beginning of the rest of their life.
*****
Bobby Hutchinson was born in a small town in interior British Columbia in 1940. Her father was an underground coal miner, her mother a housewife, and both were storytellers. Learning to read was the most significant event in her early life.
She married young and had three sons. Her middle son was deaf, and he taught her patience. She divorced and worked at various odd jobs, directing traffic around construction sites, day caring challenged children, selling fabric by the pound at a remnant store.
She mortgaged her house and bought the store, took her sewing machine to work, and began to sew a dress a day. The dresses sold. The fabric didn’t, so she hired four seamstresses and turned the store into a handmade clothing boutique.
After twelve successful years, she sold the business and decided to run a marathon. Training was a huge bore, so she made up a story as she ran, about Pheiddipedes, the first marathoner. She copied it down and sent it to the Chatelaine short story contest, won first prize,
finished the Vancouver marathon, and became a writer. It was a hell of a lot easier than running.
She married again and divorced again, writing all the while, mostly romances,
(which she obviously needs to learn a lot about,) and now has more than fifty-five published books.
She decided she needed something to do in the morning in her spare time, so she opened her first B&B, Blue Collar, in Vancouver, B.C.
After five successful years, she moved home to the small coal-mining town of Sparwood, where until recently she ran the reincarnated version of the Blue Collar. If you’re curious about
HOW NOT TO RUN A B&B
, read this memoir.
She's currently working on three or four or eight more books. She has six enchanting grandchildren. She lives alone, apart from grandkids and two rabbits, meditates, bikes, walks, reads incessantly, and writes compulsively.
She likes a quote by Dolly Parton: “Decide who you are, and then do it on purpose.”
If you love romance and would like a free novella, the first in a hot “BOOKS FOR THE BEACH” series, go to
http://www.bobbyhutchinson.ca
and grab yo
ur copy of WHAT HAPPENS IN TORTOLA. Enjoy—and let me know your thoughts and comments at
[email protected]
. Love to hear from you!
One more
tiny little favor—if you enjoy LOVE OF RODEO MAN, would you be generous and kind enough to leave me a review on Amazon? I’d be forever grateful.
MORE BOOKS BY BOBBY HUTCHINSON:
MEDICAL SERIES:
DOUBLE JEAPORDY
LOVING THE DOCTOR, BOX SET ONE
LOVING THE DOCTOR, BOX SET TWO
ROMANTIC COMEDY: