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  “I am not going to be responsible for killing my father’s prize bull.”

  “He killed his bull,” Sam said stubbornly. “Not you.”

  “The animal is still alive, Sam. You could keep him that way.” She’d barely gotten the last word out of her mouth when the phone rang.

  Sam glanced at the caller ID. “It’s my nephew. I have to take this.”

  “Will you come to the ranch?” Jodie asked before he got the receiver to his ear, and was horrified to hear a tiny crack in her otherwise even voice. What next? Sobs?

  Instead of answering her, Sam said into the receiver, “What is it, Ty?” He bent his head as he listened.

  Jodie knew she’d hit her breaking point then. Her mission was futile. The bull was going to die. Her father would come home to a dead animal and missing a vettrained cowboy. His blood pressure would skyrocket. The vacation would end up being wasted time….

  Not on her watch.

  “Thanks so much, Sam,” she said sarcastically, glad that her voice remained strong even as her eyes started to burn. “You probably would have killed the bull, anyway,” she muttered, too low for him to hear.

  She turned and walked out the door before she did something both embarrassing and useless like bursting into tears. She felt them building, ready to seep out of the corners of her eyes, but they were tears of frustration and anger, not of self-pity. One spilled down her cheek, fueling her anger, as she yanked open the door to the Spitfire. She wiped it away with a jerky swipe of her gloved hand, muttered a single socially unacceptable word, then started the car.

  She could see Sam through the window, still behind the counter where she’d left him, watching her drive away. It was all she could do not to flip him off. She made another swipe at her damp cheeks with the back of her hand.

  She wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. But she had to do something fast, and dithering around with Sam wasn’t going to cure her sick cow. Bull. Whatever. She’d wasted a lot of time coming here, but at least she knew now that she wasn’t going to be dealing with Sam anymore. The guy was impossible. And hardhearted.

  Her next step was to drive the fifty miles down to Otto and meet with Stan Stewart, the vet there. Lucas had already talked to him on the phone, but maybe she could finagle a deal with him in person. They’d danced before at a social function in Otto and he hadn’t seemed exactly immune to her. Perhaps one on one…

  Jodie pulled into the gas station two blocks from Sam’s clinic and got out of the car, wishing she’d fueled up at the ranch. But she hadn’t thought of it in her hurry to get to town and try to rustle up some medical help. She slipped her credit card into the slot, punched the buttons, then almost kicked the machine as the computerized gizmo took its own sweet time validating her card. Finally, gasoline started flowing into her tank.

  She leaned back against the side of her dark blue car, not caring for once if she scratched the paint, and pressed her gloved palm to her forehead, feeling the heat of her flushed skin through the thin leather. A truck pulled to a stop on the other side of the pump and Sam got out. Jodie’s mouth almost dropped open.

  “Did I leave before you were done lambasting my family?” she snapped, even as a small part of her wondered if she might regret the words.

  His mouth tightened ominously at her sarcastic tone and Jodie made an effort to control herself. “I don’t have your cell number, so I couldn’t call you,” he said.

  “Why would you need to?”

  Sam shifted his weight self-consciously. “Do you want me to phone Stan Stewart and see if he’d be willing to examine your bull?”

  Jodie frowned suspiciously. This was a big about-face. “May I ask why you’d do that?” The numbers on the gas pump whirled by. Her baby was thirsty.

  “Because I hate seeing animals die just because they have the misfortune of being owned by an asshole.” There was not an iota of apology in his voice.

  Jodie met his eyes, which looked almost silver in the fluorescent lighting above the gas pump. There was more to it than that. She had the oddest feeling he felt sorry for her. But as much as she hated that, she was more than willing to go with it. Anything to keep that flipping bull alive—if it wasn’t already too late.

  “I’d appreciate it if you did that.” The words came out stiffly.

  The pump mechanism clicked off and Jodie removed the spout from her tank, slapping the nozzle back into place.

  Sam pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and pressed a single button. A moment later he was talking. Jodie wrapped her arms around her middle, focusing on the oil stained concrete beneath her feet as she waited for a verdict and tried to keep from tapping her toe. Less than thirty seconds into the conversation, she knew the answer would not be in her favor.

  Deep breaths. Deep, deep breaths.

  Sam clicked the phone shut. “Stan can’t make it.”

  Jodie didn’t say a word. What could she say?

  Her mouth tightened as she studied the ground at her feet for another few seconds, trying to come up with an alternative plan to save the poor animal that was going to die because her father was an asshole.

  “I’ll take a look at the bull. Unless you’re afraid I’ll kill him.”

  Jodie’s eyes flashed up. “I’ll pay you well,” she replied automatically.

  “Damned right you will.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SAM DROVE HOME, knowing for a fact he’d lost his mind. Okay, he needed the money—as would anyone with oversize eating machines in their home—and he honestly hated to let any creature die. But he could have talked Stan into driving up to the ranch tomorrow. Deep in his gut Sam knew the real reason he was going was because he felt for Jodie.

  Crazy. But it had also been crazy to see a woman who’d quite possibly never owned a pet in her life arguing passionately for him to come save a bull. More than that, though, he’d gotten a sense of something else…a sense that Jodie truly dreaded her father coming home and finding the bull dead. She’d been on the edge of desperation, trying to hold back tears.

  He felt sorry for Jodie De Vanti. Go figure.

  “You’re coming with me,” Sam said to Beau as soon as he got back home to switch his personal truck for the utility one.

  “Where’re we going?”

  “To the Barton ranch.”

  “But…” One look at his uncle and Beau shut his mouth.

  They rode most of the thirty miles in tense silence. Sam still wasn’t certain how he was going to handle this cheating situation, but he wanted Beau to be available when he figured it out. Yes, he was probably overreacting, but what if he screwed up raising these guys? He owed it to his brother to do it right.

  What would you do, Dave? How about a nudge in the right direction…?

  “What’s the case?” Beau finally asked.

  “Sick bull.”

  “Oh.” Another long silence ensued.

  Finally Sam couldn’t hold in the question any longer. Even though he knew the answer, he had to ask. “Why’d you cheat on the math test?”

  “Because I wanted to play.”

  “I’m glad they caught you.”

  “Everybody does it,” Beau grumbled.

  Sam at last understood why parents asked their kids, “If everyone jumped off a bridge, would you do it, too?” He’d just come damned close to saying those exact words.

  His nephew shot him a look when Sam didn’t reply. “I know it doesn’t make it right.”

  “More than that, it makes it so I can’t trust you.”

  “You can trust me.”

  Sam’s jaw tightened. “Cheating on a test is the same as lying. I don’t trust people who lie.”

  Beau looked as though he wanted to argue the point, but after a few seconds he turned to stare out the window when Sam drove onto the wide gravel road leading to the Barton property. They passed under the arched metal sign announcing the Zephyr Valley Ranch. Sam would always think of the spread as Boggy Flats, its original name, but a guy
like Joe Barton wouldn’t live on a place called that. The locals still smirked about the name Zephyr Valley.

  Jodie was waiting for Sam on the steps of the glassed-in back porch, hands shoved in the pockets of her coat, her body held stiffly, though whether from cold or nerves, Sam had no idea. She stepped out onto the freshly shoveled path as the truck slowed, and walked briskly to the barn. By the time he parked she was waiting for him next to the door.

  “Grab the kit,” he said to Beau before getting out of the truck. Jodie watched him approach, then opened the door and preceded him inside. The barn was wonderfully warm and smelled of fresh straw, animals and earth. Most people could barely afford to heat their houses this winter and Joe had a toasty barn. Sam had to appreciate that.

  “The bull’s down here,” Jodie said, all business as she motioned toward the paneled corrals at the back of the huge building. Sure enough, a handsome Gelbvieh bull stood hunched in a pen filled with clean straw, his head down. He didn’t move when they approached.

  “How long’s he been like this?”

  “Since this morning. Lucas found him in the pasture and brought him in.”

  “Lucas Reynolds?” It couldn’t be. Joe had fired Lucas’s ass last fall, but Sam couldn’t really blame him, much as he’d like to. Lucas’s drinking made him unreliable.

  “Yes. He’s been through rehab, so I decided to give him another chance.”

  “Where’s Mike? Still on vacation?”

  Jodie cleared her throat. “Mike, uh, quit.” Sam was not surprised. When the guy had a few at Fuzzy’s Tavern, he tended to unload about how much Joe rode him. “Lucas was back in town, so…I hired him.”

  Sam bet she couldn’t find any other help. “Is he around?”

  “No.” She bit her lip and Sam noticed just how done in she looked. It had been a rugged few days for her.

  “You really can’t keep help, can you?” he said drily as he climbed the panel rails and stepped down into the pen.

  “Lucas has a meeting he has to attend, but he took a ranch cell phone if you need to talk to him.”

  “Alcoholics Anonymous?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  Sam didn’t have a lot of use for drunks, even those he’d known most of his life. He’d been robbed of a brother by a drunk. But this was the first time Lucas had gone to rehab, the first time he’d admitted he had a problem with alcohol, as far as Sam knew.

  “I don’t think I’ll have to talk to him.” All the information he needed was standing there before him, having difficulty breathing.

  Beau came in then with the kit in one hand, looking at the ground as he walked, scuffling his big feet. Sam collected his instruments, then climbed over the panels and approached the lethargic bull. The animal barely moved when Sam ran his hand over the brisket, checking for fluid accumulation before taking vitals. From the way the bull was standing hunched up, Sam had a strong suspicion of what the problem was. He just hoped the cure would be simple and not involve a rumenotomy.

  “How long have you had this bull?” he asked Jodie, who was watching his every move intently from the other side of the rails. He only half expected her to know, but she answered without hesitation.

  “He was shipped up from Oklahoma just before my parents left. Dad was really happy to get him…which is why he can’t die while I’m in charge.”

  “You didn’t make him sick,” Sam replied with a touch of impatience.

  “No.” But she didn’t sound convinced, which Sam found telling. No wonder Joe couldn’t keep help if his own daughter had trouble dealing with him.

  “What’ll your dad do if the animal does die? Besides sue me.”

  “He’s not going to sue you,” Jodie snapped. “And…I just don’t want him to come back from Europe and have to deal with stuff like…bulls dying. That kind of defeats the purpose of the vacation.”

  “Probably does,” Sam agreed, wondering for a moment what it felt like to take an honest to goodness vacation. It’d probably be a decade or two before he found out.

  JODIE WATCHED as Sam ran his hands over the bull, squeezing the top of the animal’s shoulders, making him hunch up even more. But when the vet pulled out a syringe to draw a blood sample, she suddenly felt the need to check on Bronson. She’d ask Sam about the stitches when he was done. The horse’s stall was only a few yards away, so she’d still be within talking range if Sam had something important to say, like, “Oh, all he needs is a shot and he’ll be good as new.”

  Sam’s son was already at the stall, stroking the horse. He was subdued and Jodie wondered if he and Sam had argued about something on the way out. Sam was tense and the kid was sullen.

  “How’s it going?” she asked as the teen patted the horse’s neck. He had the same gray eyes, the same angular face as Sam. He was going to be a heartbreaker, if he wasn’t already.

  “Good.” Conversation over.

  “Are you going to be a vet, too?”

  “Only if it doesn’t involve any math.” The boy spoke more to himself than to her.

  She glanced over her shoulder at Sam, who was drawing blood from a vein in the bull’s neck, then quickly turned her head away, feeling the familiar churning in her stomach. Blood and a needle. Double whammy.

  “Don’t like blood?” the kid asked.

  “Not a fan,” Jodie agreed, seeing no reason to lie about the obvious. He seemed to find that mildly amusing. “How about you?” she asked.

  “It doesn’t bother me.” He sent her a sidelong glance, looking as though he was going to say something else, but then changed his mind.

  Sam climbed over the rails then, rattling the panels and drawing their attention. Jodie quickly walked over to find him packing away the samples.

  “Is he going to be all right?” she asked when he didn’t offer an immediate prognosis.

  “I don’t know,” Sam said, meeting her eyes candidly. “I’ll have more of an idea after I run the blood.”

  “Are you doing everything? I mean, expense is not an issue.” Maybe she shouldn’t have said that. His eyes flashed as if she’d insulted his intelligence, which she probably had.

  “I’m doing everything.”

  What she saw in his face made her believe him. Okay. She couldn’t buy a cure.

  She watched the bull for a few seconds, willing him to get better. Now.

  “I’ve given him antibiotics, and as soon as I get the lab results, I’ll be back.”

  “How far away is the lab?” she asked. How long was this going to take?

  “The local hospital.”

  “Really.” Jodie blinked at him. “It must be interesting if they ever mix up blood work.” One corner of Sam’s mouth quirked up in a way she might have found interesting if her stomach wasn’t tied in a knot. “Will you come out tomorrow and check on him even if you don’t have results?”

  “Yeah.” He didn’t seem thrilled about the idea, but he’d accepted the case and was obviously going to see it through. He looked at the stall where the kid was still petting Bronson, and called, “Beau! Time to leave.”

  The teen headed to the door without saying a word, reinforcing Jodie’s impression that something wasn’t quite right between him and Sam.

  “I didn’t realize you had a son,” she said as the door swung shut. A son usually indicated the presence of a wife, yet Sam wore no ring.

  “He’s my nephew.”

  Ah. “He resembles you.”

  “I know.” The words came out in a way that made Jodie feel vaguely foolish for having made the observation.

  “I’ll go get the checkbook.” She’d had enough of this conversation.

  “Make it a hundred even, for now.”

  WHEN SAM GOT INTO THE RIG, Beau was already slumped down in the seat, staring sullenly at the dashboard. Sam ignored him and started the engine, pulling up close to the steps so Jodie didn’t have far to go when she came back out to hand him the payment through the open window. Again he was struck by how exhausted
she looked. And how vulnerable. He was certain she had no idea or the lawyer mask would have slipped back into place.

  “Thank you for coming.” Her words were spoken in a clipped, formal tone.

  “See you tomorrow,” Sam replied automatically. Beau continued to stare straight ahead and Sam could only imagine what Jodie thought of his giant pouting nephew.

  She went back in the house, and as Sam folded the check to tuck it away in his shirt pocket, he noticed that she’d added some on account. Jodie De Vanti was either grateful or trying to buy herself a vet—a vet who’d better damned well be able to successfully treat the bull or he’d be dealing with Joe when he got home. Sam had no illusions there, but that wasn’t his biggest concern at the moment.

  No brilliant solutions for the cheating problem had popped into his brain while he was working, other than grounding his nephew’s ass forever. He’d hoped that he and Beau could talk on the drive home, but it was obvious there would be no conversation tonight. The kid needed time to cool off, to realize that the world wasn’t against him and maybe he had something to do with the jam he was in.

  Dave? Sam sent out another plea for help. Ideas?

  Nothing.

  He missed his brother.

  Sam drove through the dark countryside, wondering how this was going to play out, trying to convince himself that it would be okay, that this wasn’t the beginning of Beau embarking on a life of crime. Logically, Sam knew it wasn’t, but the parenting game brought a whole lot of “what ifs” with it.

  He loved his nephews more than life, but sometimes he couldn’t help but reminisce about how simple his life had been prior to his brother’s death.

  SAM WAS INVITED TO A meeting at Beau’s school the Friday following the cheating incident. At home Beau was grounded for at least two weeks, and Sam planned on working the kid’s butt off around the clinic. Now they would be informed of the academic and sports-related consequences.

  The meeting was a quick one, since it took place just before class started, and the group—Mr. Domingo, the principal; Mr. Gerard, the basketball coach; and Miss Simms, the math teacher—agreed to a two-game suspension. After that, Beau could play if his grades were passing. Since he’d received a zero for the math test, that was going to be difficult, and he knew it.