10
FOR THE NEXT two weeks, Jules couldn’t seem to go anywhere without running into Tanner or kissing him. The day after delivering the foal, and being caught by his father, she ran into him when she stopped in to check on the mares and deliver wormer. Instead of being wary—he’d been on his way somewhere else—he gave her a swift kiss before she could back away. Then he was gone.
Later that evening she ran into him at the gelding barn when she stopped in to check on how a horse’s legs were healing after a particularly wicked scratch. Delight appeared in Tanner’s eyes when his gaze landed on her. The next thing she knew, he stole a kiss from the side and murmured, “I can’t make it for dinner tonight, but call me about tomorrow, okay?”
Once again, he vanished before she could rebuke him.
Over the next several days, he continued to crop up everywhere. When she drove out to start the inoculations on the cattle in the western hills, there was Tanner. He’d ridden out to join her, which was conspicuous considering that the Colonel was also with her. While Tanner didn’t kiss her, he crowded her space, and asked her a dozen questions about the inoculations, the exams, and what she looked for as she judged the relative health of a pack. That hadn’t been the most comfortable situation at all.
In an effort to minimize their contact, she made a point of checking on livestock at other ranches as often as she checked on those on the Round Top. Yet whether she was coming or going, there was Tanner. Twice she’d come home to find a meal waiting for her, packed neatly and sitting on the porch in front of her door. Each time it was accompanied with a note that read, I still owe you a real meal. Think of me.
He was relentless—she’d never experienced anything like it. Each time he flirted with her she reminded him of her rules. He accepted graciously, dropped a kiss on her cheek, then sauntered off. She wasn’t quite sure whether he was not respecting her rules or simply seeing them as yet another obstacle in his campaign to win her affections. And, damn, if it wasn’t working.
After nearly two weeks of repeated encounters, she’d grown to expect him. So much so that when she drove to each of the barns for medical supply inventory, to her surprise, she didn’t run into him. More than her surprise was her disappointment.
Ignoring that ridiculous reaction—because, well, hadn’t she been asking him to leave her be?—she paused on her way out of the gelding barn, where she found Mateo working on fences. Again.
“Didn’t you fix that same fence just recently?” Though fence repair was a standard part of life on the ranch, she felt like she was always seeing Mateo hammering on the fences. Was it another display of his frustration with his current situation? Or something else? Or was she simply looking for meaning in everything?
Hanging his hammer on the fence, Mateo pulled off his hat and ran a towel over his face to mop up the sweat. “Tanner was working with Satan today, and the beast got away from them. Satan got into an argument with this fence earlier.”
“Crashed through it?” A horse going through a fence wasn’t like in the cartoons. They could do some serious damage to themselves.
“No worries, Doc, Satan’s tough. I took care of him just fine. Tanner, on the other hand—he’s a little banged and bruised.” Mateo flashed a grin. “And just as ornery as Satan. So I wouldn’t pay it any mind with what is going on with them.”
She hadn’t even known Tanner could train horses. “Sometimes I think the Colonel hides a heart as soft as mine. Or at least he did when he picked Satan out at the auction.”
Mateo snorted at the description. “The Colonel doesn’t have a soft bone in his body, ma’am. But don’t worry about Satan. He’s just some nice, spirited breeding stock. We’ll get him to gentle.”
Of course, only she and the Colonel had been there at the auction, when they brought Satan dancing out, head tossing, feet stomping, tail swishing, in all agitation, power, and fear. What most people didn’t understand about truly aggressive behavior in a stallion was that it also reflected some of the fear they experienced in their past. Whether preening, stomping, or carrying on a great show to prove his virility, she’d seen the fear in Satan’s eyes. The powerlessness of a mighty stallion, trapped in a large, hot, and crowded tent.
The noise around him had been abominable. She was pretty damn sure the Colonel had seen it too, because without hesitation he began bidding, and he was as relentless as his son when it came to getting what he wanted.
Two horse-bitten stable hands later, they had Satan loaded onto a trailer and brought back out to the ranch. And had he been a wild one. Whoever had been raising him had either been cruel, or ignored him, or worse, simply shown him only negative attention. Satan trusted no one. Though he had allowed Jules to check him over for injuries, he’d watched her the whole time with ears forward and eyes rolling. Power shivered in his every muscle. She didn’t doubt for an instant if she’d breathed the wrong way, Satan would have bolted.
“All I know is what I saw. Speaking of what I saw”—she snapped her fingers, remembering a brochure she received in one of her newsletters the week before that she hadn’t had a chance to talk to Mateo about—“I’ve been doing some reading about therapy horses. And I think it might be just the trick for you.”
No sooner did she bring it up that his expression shuttered. Mateo did not talk about his injuries, not even with her. Though she could bully him and make sure he went to his physical therapy, rested, and saw his doctor, he didn’t care for discussing alternatives to his care. Particularly alternatives that took him away from Round Top.
“Now hear me out: you don’t have to agree, and you don’t have to do anything, but I figure if I give you the knowledge, you can do with it what you will. Okay?”
“Fine. I can do that.” It was so grudging that it bordered on hostile; however, he’d given her permission to continue, so she went for it.
“These programs are beginning to appear all over the States. You know they’ve used dogs as therapy animals to help with PTSD. They are great for alerting their owners to when they’re starting to have an episode. They can help pull them out of it, and they can ease bad situations.”
“Know all about that. I don’t have PTSD.”
Yeah, the lad doth protest too much. “I didn’t say you did; however, they’ve got some new programs that involve working with horses, and they’ve had great success using the equines, you know, to work with kids with autism and other disabilities. It’s soothing both for the animal and for the rider. I’m thinking something like that might work for you because you like working with horses so much.”
Not a flicker of a change in his expression, but she knew he wasn’t listening anymore. Mateo’s affection for the horses aside, his inability to ride had been the most crippling blow. Not that he hadn’t tried. Ramon warned her when she was first hired that Mateo had spent the first six months after getting home from the hospital every day attempting to put a saddle on the horse. Mateo seemed to think that once he could saddle a horse properly, he would be able to ride. To her knowledge, in all the years since he’d been home he’d not been able to quite manage it. So was the problem physical or mental?
“Well, I’ve told you now, so thank you for listening.” She polished off her gratitude with a smile. Mateo nodded, but at least a hint of a smile softened his expressionless face.
“I do appreciate that you care, Doc. Really, I do. But I should be getting back onto this, and I know you got a lot of stuff going on. Are you going into town for the festival this weekend?”
She’d forgotten about the corn harvest party—any excuse to get the locals together for a social involving food, booze, and music.
“Don’t know. Been pretty busy; I might just take the weekend and sleep. Maybe everyone will stop having emergencies and I won’t be woken up at one a.m. to rush out to take care of something that if they called me earlier in the day would have let me get a full night’s sleep.” Yes, she was griping. But too many of the ranchers wanted to handle the issues on their own until they couldn’t. Of course, it was also due to their independent nature she had the role she did. At least they called her in the end.
Mateo’s smile was real this time as he waved her off. Since he’d mentioned Tanner worked with Satan, Jules really wanted to go check on both the animal and the man to make sure they were in one piece. She knew she shouldn’t—her work was near done and she could use a few hours to herself.
And hadn’t she asked Tanner to give her some space?
Despite her reservations, Julia headed out to check on them. She told herself it was more to check on the stallion’s condition after Mateo said he went through a fence than to see how Tanner handled the stallion, or even to just see Tanner.
From the gelding barn, she followed the drive to the working paddocks. They had a hot walker to help horses cool down if they didn’t have time to hand walk them, and an indoor arena setup for foul weather days. They also had a few open round pens for when horses needed one-on-one training.
She spotted Tanner and Satan immediately. Wearing only jeans, boots, and his hat, Tanner stood in the center of a round pen shirtless. With a rope looped over one bare shoulder, he spun the free end in his left hand. As he rotated the rope, Satan cantered around him. When he reversed the rope, Satan spun and began going the other way. It was so beautifully coordinated and smooth; she sat in the Jeep and just watched.
With the motor off, Tanner’s voice carried quietly and soothingly on the breeze.
“Trot.” The command echoed over Satan, and he seemed to shiver as though he wanted to rebuke the order, but then between one stride in the next canter he dropped into a solid trot. Tanner had him continue around another two full circles before he reversed the direction of the rope he was spinning. As he had previously, Satan pivoted, only this time he bucked once before in the opposite direction. All of a sudden, he broke into a canter again as if seizing power once more.
“Trot,” Tanner repeated the order, his tone as patient as it had been the first time she heard him.
Leaning back in her seat, Jules folded her arms. It was something of beauty to watch a man and a horse work together. Both wild, both resentful of their current circumstances, yet each struggling to assert their authority over the other. She didn’t think Tanner would see it that way, but it was in his every motion, and the way he held himself. It was in the tension courting the muscles in his arms.
He hadn’t wanted to come home, yet here he was. Satan did not want to be doing this exercise, yet there he was. Both stallion and man were stuck with each other, and neither seemed to care for it too much. Yet they were making it work.
“Walk,” Tanner elongated the word, as though drawing out the word would express his desire to the animal. Satan tossed his head, still trotting, tail up and flagging, despite the sweat slicking his dark coat. Foam shone on his neck. He’d been working hard. But she didn’t think it was because Tanner was pushing him so much as it was Satan’s fighting everything Tanner was asking him to do.
“Walk,” Tanner repeated, but again, Satan refused and continued trotting.
Jules switched her attention to Tanner’s expression, half expecting to see frustration. What she saw, however, was a resigned patience. “Okay, old man, have it your way.”
He spun the rope a little bit faster, and suddenly Satan went from a fast trot to a speedy canter, then to a full-on run, racing in circles around Tanner with his eyes rolling. When Tanner switched the direction of the rope, Satan whirled and reared, flailing on his hind legs. But Tanner didn’t move even as the horse challenged him. He kept the rope moving in a steady pace.
“Canter,” Tanner ordered, and Satan finally dropped back to all fours and cantered in the direction he’d been sent. Only there was a little less fight in his pace this time, and a little less fury. Tanner sent him around two more times before he ordered him to trot. This time Satan dropped to the trot almost immediately. His ears were completely focused on Tanner, and his gaze too.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Jules. She’d been around since day one with Satan, and she’d never seen him so responsive to anyone working with him—not even the Colonel, though she’d seen him try.
This time, when Tanner asked for a walk, Satan slowed with almost a relieved sigh, his head lowering as he eased from the trot to a slower walk.
“Good boy,” Tanner said as he walked toward him, the rope slowing in his hands until it wasn’t moving at all. “Whoa.”
Jules found herself holding her breath as Satan came to a complete halt. Then the animal turned to face Tanner as he approached. Man and horse stared at each other. The moment seemed to deepen when Tanner took another step toward him and held out his hand as though to pet the horse, and for one all-too-brief second, Jules thought Satan would accept the caress. But then the horse snorted, pawed the ground, and broke away to trot once more.
If she hadn’t been watching for it she might have missed the equal-parts disappointment and determination curve through Tanner’s expression as he squared his shoulders.
“You can run, old man; you can try and sit here and fight me all you want. We’ll be here all day if we have to.” And then he spun the rope faster and Satan transitioned up to a canter.
Fascinated, Jules stayed for the next hour, as they repeated the maneuver over and over again.
And at the end, Satan put his head down to Tanner, and Tanner was able to run his fingers between the stallion’s ears.
It was a profoundly beautiful moment, and one that had Jules blinking back tears. Then, before she could interrupt them, she turned on the motor of her Jeep, and backed away. A glance in the rearview mirror caught Tanner looking in her direction, a smile on his face.
Unable to resist, she gave him a thumbs-up, then pulled away. He might not have known he was showing off for her, but she was impressed. He’d demonstrated patience, discipline, and most of all, he’d shown kindness and compassion. Without breaking the stallion’s spirit, he’d invited him to be his friend with a relentless pursuit and a constant request.
She was so doomed.
It was two in the morning when her phone rang and a knock sounded at the door at the same time. Both jarred her from sleep. She rolled out of bed to grab her phone before running to get the door, and was already halfway down the stairs before she managed to hit answer. “Hello?”
“Jules, it’s me, I’m at the door. One of the mares is choking. I’ve got the truck.”
“Door’s unlocked, give me two minutes.” She spun around, not even waiting for him to open the door before racing back up the stairs. Wearing only a tank top and panties, she needed to throw on jeans, a shirt, and some boots. She was back downstairs in a flash.
Tanner stood in the open doorway, a tense and worried expression on his face. “I’m not sure how long she’s been like that. I couldn’t sleep, so I went out for a walk. Thought I would check on the horses. She’s definitely exhibiting labored breathing though, and sweating profusely.”
“It’ll be fine. Which mare is it?” she said soothingly. Offering comfort was automatic, but she also understood that if she could get a client talking about the cause of the distress, the act would allay his anxiety until she could at least get there and see the horse. She needed her pump, a bucket, and plenty of water. “Did you give her a sedative?”
It was one of the reasons why she stored medicine in all the barns. As well as pain relievers and sedatives in order to let them relax in the event of accidents, like choking.
Tanner took her bag from her, and she didn’t even argue as he closed the door behind her, then followed her to his truck. She didn’t waste time quarreling about driving her Jeep. Everything she needed was out at the barn. He set her bag inside, opened the passenger door, and she climbed in. “I did, but it didn’t help. She’s still laboring, her neck’s distended, and she’s drooling.” His level of panic ratcheted down from intense to solidly anxious.
He swung around the truck and was in the driver seat. He hadn’t even killed the engine—within a moment of sitting they were moving.
“Okay, the sedative is a good first step. She may have even eased the choke before we get there. If not, I’m gonna need the water hose and gastric tubing from the med kit. I’ll do the check, and if we have to, we’ll run the tube and flush out the yuck.” She kept her voice calm, even. Didn’t matter that she’d just woken up. A choking horse was an easy enough issue to deal with. It was what came after that might be a problem.
“You know, I forgot horses could even choke.” Tanner shook his head, and he was missing his customary cowboy hat in the rush. He ran a hand over his short-cropped hair. Although it had been growing out during his time at home, it was still above his ears.
“Well, sometimes horses bolt their food; they don’t chew properly or they are in such a hurry to eat that it gets lodged. The difficulty with chewing is one of the reasons your father prefers to avoid pelleted feed, or at least that’s what Ramon told me.” She said the last bit because she knew how hard he’d been working to help his father. Better not to make him feel like he couldn’t accomplish the task or that she knew more.
“Yeah, I get that. I also know that they can’t throw up, can’t cough it out. It’s just weird—when I first got to the barn and saw her, I saw the drool and I didn’t get it at first. It took too long to register, and now I’m worried I wasted time I could have spent helping her. I should’ve called you from the barn, but I gave her the shot and it didn’t help, and then I thought I needed you. So I just came and got you.”
She let the words sway her into more personal territory. “You did fine, Tanner, really. Giving her the sedative is the first thing I would’ve done.”
“I just hope I didn’t wait too long.” Then, because he needed it, and she wasn’t a heartless bitch, she placed her hand on his thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“The important thing is that you saw she was choking, you gave her the sedative, and then you came to get me. She could have gone all night without anyone noticing.” Which was true, and would have increased the likelihood of further complications. “It’s going to be okay, Tanner.”
He covered her hand with his own, accepting the support she offered. They sat in silence all the way to the barn.
Once there, Jules didn’t slow down. Tanner retrieved the tubing and pump she needed while she loaded water into a bucket. Then she headed straight to the mare’s stall and pushed it open. Inside, she found the mare standing a little more relaxed. The sedative actually had worked, as she wasn’t pacing around or upset. But she was still drooling, and she was still trying to swallow.
Stethoscope on, Jules listened for the breath sounds. They weren’t wet, which was a good sign. One of the worst complications from a choke was that aspirated food could lead to pneumonia. She’d seen horses die from that. As soon as Tanner returned with her supplies, he began filling the buckets with water. Carefully, she inserted the tube via the nose, then down into the esophagus until she encountered the blockage.
“Okay, I think I’ve found the obstruction.” Using the pump attached to the free end of the tube, she began to pump water via the tube into the mare’s throat. After a couple of buckets’ worth, she released the pump, then created suction on the open end of the tube.
Some of the food dislodged and spilled out into one of the buckets. When it was finished, the mare still seemed in distress. Switching to her stethoscope once again, she listened to her lungs. Hearing only dry sounds, she blew out a breath. Step one down. She extracted the tubing but found more food jammed in it. Jules monitored the mare’s responses while she cleaned out the tubing. If the obstruction were fully free, she’d relax and—the mare continued to swallow. The repetitive action suggested the obstruction remained present or there was a second one.
Inserting the tube once more, Jules pressed farther past where the first obstruction had been. Continuing to feed the tube until she encountered fresh resistance, she swore. “I need more water.”
“On it.” Tanner had been a silent sentinel throughout the whole process, only responding to her statements or requests. He returned with two fresh buckets, then carried out the dirty ones. She could hear water running elsewhere, but concentrated on the task at hand.
Rolling her head around to ease the strain on her neck, she attached the pump to the tubing, then began pumping fresh water in. In the midst of pumping the second bucket, the mare began to urinate. It wasn’t Jules’s first trip to the rodeo.
As she was pumping the third bucket in, the tubing edged forward, and Jules pulled the tubing end from the bucket, loosening the pump to switch suction, and food streamed out of the tubing.
The mare heaved a long sigh, then swallowed once.
Jules kept draining out the last of the food clump and shook her head. “Charity, you need to not be such a pig.” To be certain, Jules fed the tubing down until she found no more obstructions before removing it.
With a gentle pat to the mare’s neck, she comforted both herself and the animal. Chokes were easy to get rid of, but now the hard work started. “We’re going to have to slurry her feed for the next few days,” she said over her shoulder to Tanner, even as she slid her stethoscope back on.
She checked for wet breath sounds. It had taken more than an hour to soften and remove both obstructions. Still hearing nothing sticky or damp in the mare’s breathing, nor any sounds of laboring—her respiration and pulse had returned to normal—it seemed like the worst was over.
They weren’t out of the woods yet, but these were all excellent signs. “Can you get rid of these buckets for me? I’m going to give her a little more sedative to keep her comfortable and then get some antibiotics into her.”
Even as she spoke to Tanner, she rubbed her upper biceps. It burned like hell from all the pumping.
“Oh, and get rid of the hay. Miss Thing here gets nothing dry for a bit.” Sore throats, some swelling, and pneumonia were all the possible consequences of choking. “I’m going to check her teeth too.”
She couldn’t recall the last time Charity had her teeth floated, but it might be worth investigating. They could take care of it this week.
“She’s going to be okay?” Hesitation and worry discolored Tanner’s statement. He’d picked up the water buckets but hadn’t left.
“I think you caught it early.” Reinforcing that he’d done the right thing would help him, hopefully. “We’re going to have to monitor her, and like I said, I’m going to check her teeth. But right now, she is doing okay.”
His relief eased the line of his shoulders, and he dropped his chin to his chest for a moment. “Good,” he whispered, then straightened up and carried the buckets away.
Poor guy. It was more than just impressing his father—she’d seen it with Satan and now with Charity. Tanner genuinely cared about the animals. Their welfare was important to him.
“Okay, sweetheart,” she said, turning back to Charity. “Let’s look at those teeth.”
In the gloom of the stall, Jules used her mini flashlight to examine the mare’s mouth. Some of the upper teeth were longer, more jagged, and the lower teeth were more worn. Yeah, she needed a floating to file the teeth and make them more even, or they’d have more choking incidents.
“Yep, definitely going to need to give you a dental, Miss Thing.” Satisfied with that, she administered the antibiotics, then glanced over to find Tanner staring at her from the stall doorway.
“Thank you, Jules.” The sincere, soft gratitude in his voice sent a shiver up her spine. His worried eyes and haggard expression twisted her heart.
She cleared her throat. “You did good, Tanner. Real good.”
“All I did was go get the expert. You’re the one who saved the day. You’re my hero.”
Sleep-deprived and sore, Jules still felt her cheeks heat up at the compliment. It was all she could do to hold his gaze. Shyness swamped her. “I don’t know about hero, but I am glad to take care of my patients—equine and human.”
Need simmered in his gaze, a need she recognized because she experienced it, too. It took her only one step to meet him, and he pulled her into his arms. This time when he swooped in for the kiss, she rose to meet him halfway.
The feel of his lips moving against hers was a revelation. Electricity arched along her spine, and she sighed with him. God, she’d missed his mouth. The quick pecks he’d given her weren’t any match for the sweetness of his mouth holding hers captive, or the way his tongue danced and stroked against hers.
His low groan matched her own. She twined her arms around his neck and hitched her thighs to his hips even as he lifted her. Cradling her ass in his hands, he braced her weight perfectly. They fit together, two halves of the same whole. She knew exactly what route they were on, and even if she did know better, she didn’t care.
She’d missed him.
Seemingly of a like mind, Tanner carried her out of the stall, slid the door shut, then turned to lean against it while still holding her. The connection sizzling between them was a long, slow burn. He didn’t try to deepen the contact, settling for a long exploration of her mouth.
“What the hell are you two doing?” The Colonel’s voice ripped through her like a gunshot in the barn. Jules jerked backward, but Tanner didn’t release her. Instead, his jaw tensed and his expression grew fierce.
Behind him, the Colonel glared at them both, gray-faced and angry.
“I thought I told you this isn’t some kind of brothel, Tanner.” The man panted with every word, as though his fury pulsated in every breath. “And you, Dr. Heller. I thought more of you. Aren’t you supposed to be a veterinarian, not his whore?”
Such an ugly, violent reaction from a man who’d been nothing but courteous and respectful stunned Jules. This wasn’t the Colonel. He didn’t behave in this manner. Despite his obvious rage, his pallor seemed waxy and his eyes glassy.
Tanner set her down abruptly, careful to leave her on her feet before he turned and faced off with his father.
“Watch your mouth, Colonel. That’s no way to talk to a lady.” Suddenly the air in the barn seemed choked with anger—both Wilks men radiated fury. She didn’t know if Tanner’s anger came more from his father’s statement or from all the stress he’d experienced worrying about the mare, but it didn’t matter. The last thing either man needed was for this situation to continue to escalate.
“Tanner, it’s okay. It’s late, and your dad is tired. Colonel, I apologize—”
“I don’t need your apologies, Doctor. What I needed was a large-animal vet capable of tending to the stock and keeping her legs together. I should’ve known better than to allow a woman to fill the position. You’re fired.”
The world seemed to slide sideways. Fired?
“You’ll also need to vacate the premises immediately. You can go sell your—wares—somewhere else.”
The vitriol left her floundering. Where the hell had that come from? Fired? She loved Round Top. Loved working with the horses, and the people—they’d become friends. She glanced at Charity, the mare she’d just saved, then back to the Colonel in time to see Tanner strike his father. It was a solid blow, fist to jaw.
“I don’t care how bad you feel or what the hell is wrong with you, Colonel. You don’t talk to a lady that way. You taught me that a long time ago, and so did Grandpa.” Real anger, not just frustration, seemed to expand in the air between the two men. Though Tanner had hit him, the Colonel staggered back only a couple of steps.
They might be matched in size, but Tanner clearly had more strength. He had to have pulled the punch some. Thank God. At least as angry as he was, he didn’t seem intent on truly harming his father.
How had this spun out of control so fast? Jules had to calm the situation down, cool them both off, and let them sort out the emotional grenade that had just detonated between them.
“If this is the way you intend to behave,” the Colonel started, rubbing his jaw. Something about him seemed off. Specks of spittle flew with each word, and his breathing grew more labored. “You can go with her. I’ve had enough of your so-called intention to take care of the ranch and help me out. How does sexing her up in the barn help me?”
“What the hell is wrong with you? When did you become subhuman?” Tanner’s volley only served to intensify the fire. “When did you become such an unmitigated bastard? I used to hate you, then I tried to understand you, and even when I didn’t particularly like you—I respected the hell out of you. Now I have no idea why.”
Instead of responding, the Colonel released a long, stressed sigh and simply collapsed as though someone had cut his strings.
Launching forward, Jules rushed to the Colonel as Tanner stared down at him, his expression shocked. The Colonel’s heart condition had grown steadily worse over the last few months, and the old man refused to rest despite all their best efforts. He wouldn’t slow down, wouldn’t stop pushing himself—and now Tanner. It was as though he couldn’t not rush into the battle.
Two fingers to the Colonel’s pulse and she couldn’t locate a heartbeat. Ignoring everything else, she began chest compressions.
“Tanner, get the truck,” she ordered. “We don’t have time to wait for the ambulance.”
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. The signs were there—the pallor, the breathing, the way his eyes looked . . . The Colonel had been having a heart attack. She didn’t doubt it. It was why he’d come to the barn—likely in search of Tanner for help—and instead he’d found them making out like teenagers.
God, she hated herself at that moment.
By the time they called an ambulance and it got to them, the Colonel would be dead. Alternating compressions with breathing, she fought to keep the Colonel with them. Time was heart muscle; they had to move. Four repetitions later, she found a weak, but steady pulse.
He was back.
Tanner reversed the truck right up the barn aisle. Together, they got the Colonel into the bed of the truck and she climbed in with him. Covering him with a blanket and securing him with bungee cords, she met Tanner’s dark gaze. “Drive like hell; I’ll keep him steady.”
One nod, then he was back in his truck. Even with the wind of their passage, she could use her stethoscope to monitor the Colonel’s heart. It stopped once on their way and she got it going again.
The wind tore at her hair and carried away her tears. “I’m not letting you die,” she told him. “You call me all the names you want, sir, but you and Tanner have to fix things. You can’t die with the way you left them. He’ll never forgive himself.”
Losing a parent was difficult enough—losing one with so much hate left over? No, she couldn’t let that happen.
She wouldn’t.