Chapter Four

Blake swore at the truck’s lack of heated seats and bouncy, uncomfortable suspension as he headed for the ranch near Rocky Mountain National Park. He had been expecting a junky old SUV when he walked out on the porch, not a sleek import that couldn’t be more than a few years old. The damn bird was more comfortable than he was by a long shot.

How in the hell did a barista manage to afford a ride like that?

He wasn’t hurting…that wasn’t the issue. And he had heard the rumor mill around town speculating about Angie’s barista. The tourist town had a few fulltime residents, and they all knew each other and talked constantly. Blake had lived there since his mother had divorced his father when he was 12 and had moved them up there. He’d attended school in Ft. Collins, both undergrad and veterinary school. His mother had passed away a few years ago, and he had stayed. He stopped into Angie’s café in the early mornings but had never seen the guy. He would have remembered hair like that. And the freckles. And the cheekbones.

He sighed and tried to ignore the nagging, depressing thoughts he could feel lapping at the back of his mind. Back when he was still seeing a therapist regularly, he had described his particular brand of depression as having a sticky, inky black tentacle wrapped around his leg, pulling him back into a hole. If he let it get a grip on him, it would pull him in, and he would have to spend weeks or months clawing back out. Antidepressants helped keep the tentacle from getting a really good grip, but they couldn’t make it go away entirely.

The accident that had permanently damaged his left hip and leg had occurred back in Denver when he was 28. He had gone into the city with friends on Halloween, and he was more than a little intent on hooking up with someone. They had been walking between two bars, dressed in costumes, having a great time, when a motorcyclist going too fast on the slick, rainy roads had lost control, clipped a corner, and went flying. The motorcyclist was thrown clear and survived without a scratch. Blake was hit with the careening vehicle and spent two months in the hospital.

He had come precariously close to dying several times, and it had taken two years to get his life back on track.

He hadn’t dated since before the accident. He had gone into Boulder or Ft. Collins for a quick hookup a few times, but he hadn’t actually dated in any real sense in a decade. He had believed he was over that period in his life.

He also avoided setting foot in Denver if he could at all avoid it.

Instead, he was picturing a shock of red hair and freckles laid out in front of him, and his face was getting hot again.

He was thankful when he arrived at the ranch because it meant getting out into the cold wind and having a good reason for a red face.

The daughter of the owner, a woman named Jessica, greeted him as he got out.

“Sorry about this, Blake. We weren’t sure what else to do. We gave him mineral oil last night, and it didn’t seem to help.”

“It’s all right.” He went to the back of the truck to get his equipment, then followed her into the barn.

The day promptly vanished as Blake spent several hours with the colicky horse putting in a nasogastric tube, and then drove into town to help with a dog who had been struck by a car. While he did have a small office and exam room in his house, he mainly saw patients out of a larger space in town that had, at one point, been a diner. Another vet, a man named Marco, also shared the office and usually saw most of their small animal clients. He was younger and less-experienced, and he wasn’t good with large animals at all. Their receptionist and vet tech, an older woman, named Beth, kept everything running as smoothly as could be expected.

He finished with the dog, uncertain that the little poodle would make it but confident that they had done all they possibly could for it.

When he finally checked his phone, there were 4 missed calls and around 20 texts from a number he didn’t recognize. He realized immediately that the number was Jensen, and it was all related to the cockatoo. He read through the texts, which listed what diagnostics had been run and said that they were going to keep Ginger overnight for monitoring.

Blake hit the dial button on the phone and waited for Jensen to pick up.

“Hello?” Jensen’s voice made Blake’s stomach flip, which was odd, but he tried to ignore it.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t answer. Had two emergencies back to back. Did you name the bird ‘Ginger’ or did it say that was its name?”

“It’s fine, that’s what I figured. And yeah, she said ‘Ginger, pretty bird’ a few times in the car. I think that must be her name. They said they don’t know if it’s a he or a she without a genetic test since cockatoos aren’t…”

“Sexually dimorphic, yeah. X-rays show sometimes, but the genetic test is the most conclusive. Why do they want to keep her overnight?” Blake settled back in a chair and drank some of the cold coffee sitting on his desk for hours. He needed to eat something, his head was feeling fuzzy, and he could tell a headache was coming on.

“You should probably call and talk to them yourself, but the vet said they need to give her antibiotics and fluids because her breathing doesn’t sound good and her fecal sample had some abnormalities.”

“All right, that’s fine. I was curious more than anything. I’ll call them later.” He paused. “Thank you for driving her down there. I would have done it myself if I’d had the option, but…”

“Hey, no problem. It needed to get done, and I’m not busy sticking my hand up a horse’s butt,” Jensen’s tone was light.

Blake snorted. “Yeah, colic is never much fun. For the horse or for me. Are you on your way back?”

“Yeah, I should be there in half an hour or so.”

Blake was on the verge of asking the other man if he wanted to have dinner when he was interrupted by knocking on his office door and his vet tech scolding him that he had another appointment in five minutes. He sighed. “I need to get going, but I’ll talk to you soon. Thank you again.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Blake hung up and heaved himself out of his chair, cursing his cowardice. He might be misreading the signs that Jensen was gay, but he didn’t think he was, and, much as he hated to admit it, he was lonely, and it would be nice to try and date again.

He headed into the hallway to be greeted by Beth’s raised eyebrows. “Have you eaten today?”

“Not since breakfast…” he replied sheepishly.

Beth rolled her eyes. “If I order you a pizza will you eat it? You’re losing weight again, and even Marco noticed.”

Blake sighed. “Yes, I’ll eat it as long as you put some pepperoni on it.”

“Pepperoni with vegetables, coming up.” She looked at him assessing. “Jeanie came by earlier and said to tell you that they took photos of a bird and a box and that she’s hoping to get a list of anyone I can think of in this area that might know where the bird came from? And then she said you offered to keep the bird?” Her expression was skeptical.

Beth was originally from Nicaragua, though she’d lived in the United States since she was ten or eleven years old. Her ability to speak Spanish, coupled with her sharp wit and incredible organization skills made her invaluable to their practice. She lived in a town with her granddaughter. Her son had died in a car accident a few years ago, and her daughter-in-law had been in the midst of her Ph.D. at the time, often traveling to remote locations to sample various bug species. The plan was for Lily to move back in with her mother as soon as the Ph.D. was done, but in the meantime, the arrangement seemed to work for everyone.

“It’s a cockatoo, and it’s been abused.” He went to the hall sink to wash his hands before seeing his next patient. If he recalled correctly, it was going to be a large cat with a weight problem named Felix.

“I thought you didn’t want pets of your own.”

“I…didn’t. But I’ve always had a soft spot for cockatoos. Have since I was in vet school. And this one seems sweet and it needs a friend.” He dried his hands on a paper towel, not looking at her.

“And of course, you need friends sometimes, too.” She sighed. “All right. I hope you’re not getting yourself in trouble with this.”

“I’m not. I promise. Can you order me two large cages? Sized for a cockatoo? One for here and one for my house. And food and bowls and whatever else you can think of. Toys and play stands and stuff like that.”

“Of course. You’re planning to bring it to work?”

“Well, I would feel guilty leaving it home all day by itself. Herself. We think her name is Ginger.”

Beth snorted. “Coming up. I’ll call it in and see if I can get them to give me a discount by telling them the sob story.”

“You’re devious.”

She shrugged and turned to go back to the front office, and Blake went into the exam room.

***

A few hours and two cats with upper respiratory infections later, he finally got off work and headed back to his house. It was dark out already, and he had to be careful and watch for deer and elk and the occasional moose in the roads.

As soon as he set foot in the door, he yanked his boots off, dumped his jacket and his backpack full of paperwork, and headed the opposite direction from the little waiting area and office, into the living room, where he poured himself a scotch from the sideboard. He pulled his phone out to check it and noticed some calls from the veterinary school.

Blake hit the ‘return call’ button and put the phone on speaker so he could collapse into his couch without having to hold it up to his ear. It took a few rings before someone picked up.

“I was wondering when you’d get your shit together and call me back!” a very familiar voice exclaimed from the other end. It was a man’s voice with a thick Boston accent, and he would have known it anywhere.

“Mich? The hell?”

“Yeah, small fucking world, huh? I’ve got your cockatoo right here looking at me with the most judgmental fucking expression.” Mich had gone to veterinary school with Blake and had then promptly moved back to Boston to be with his girlfriend. Apparently, he had not stayed there.

“Probably because it knows you shouldn’t cuss at your clients. And it isn’t technically my cockatoo until Jeanie figures out what the hell happened to it. It’s…kind of evidence until then.”

“But you’re paying its vet bills, and really we both know if someone boxed it up and left it in the snow, it’s gonna be your cockatoo. Man, I didn’t even think you liked birds.”

“Moluccans kind of grew on me during residency. Speaking of which…why the hell are you in Ft. Collins looking at cockatoos?” Blake rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhaustion clawing at him now that he was home and warm and had a scotch. The pizza that Beth had forced him to eat was long enough ago that he was debating getting something out of the freezer.

“Guess you didn’t hear then…Natasha and I broke up.”

Blake sat up and grabbed the phone, switching it off speaker and holding it to his ear. “You what?! I thought you were planning the wedding!”

“I was…we were…but I caught her cheating on me, and I ended things, obviously. Didn’t want to stay and run into her all the time, so I called Professor Mitchell, and here I am, having a staring contest with your cockatoo.”

“Damn, man, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “Yeah, I was pretty depressed for a while. Thought about calling you when I moved into town, but I felt like shit for not being around when you were laid up. I was a shitty friend.”

Blake’s throat got tight, and he stood up to pace. “No, don’t blame yourself for that. Seriously. You didn’t know.”

“I did know, though. I heard through the grapevine. And I should have…I don’t know. Done something.” The other man sounded equally emotional, and he could hear Ginger making clucking noises in the background. “At any rate, I’ll see you when you come to get her. She had us worried a few times this morning, but I think she’s out of the woods. We had her on IV antibiotics, and then her sodium levels crashed, and it was touch and go for a while there. Also, she has a prolapsed cloaca, though it isn’t too bad yet. It might need to be fixed surgically at some point, though, so be aware and don’t pet her anywhere except her head.”

Blake rubbed his chin. “I still wish we knew why someone dumped her.”

“If she was a breeder bird and she prolapsed, maybe that’s why? She can’t safely lay eggs like that, and a lot of the breeding operations aren’t really great at keeping up with vet care.”

“You think she was used for breeding? She’s awfully good-natured to not have been someone’s pet at some stage.”

“Maybe she was given up, or her owner died, and the breeder bought her? Especially if she’s been plucking a long time, that would have been a likely scenario.”

“Yeah…that’s possible.” Blake paused and nodded, throat still tight. “Well, thanks, Mich. I appreciate everything you’ve done for her. I’ll keep you posted on whatever we find out.” 

“Any time. Hopefully, I’m not on shift when you come down to get her, and we can grab a beer or something.”

“Yeah, that would be great.”