Finding Her Way Home

Chapter Four

Within minutes, Cheyenne had shucked her leather jacket to follow Dr. Bowman around the clinic, observing and learning.

“No time for formal training,” Trace said. “If you see something that needs doing, ask someone or just do it.”

He handed her a five-by-seven index card, listing info for Bennie, a fat beagle with skin allergies. “We make notes on these. Rabies inoculation updates, worming, anything pertinent that will go into the permanent chart later. I’ll tell you as we work.”

She hadn’t expected to start immediately and she certainly hadn’t expected to assist the man himself. But she took the card and read the entries already on it.

“He’s been a patient since he was a pup,” she murmured, half to herself. “You must be a good doctor to inspire such loyalty.”

“Not necessarily.” Trace flashed a sparkly grin. “I’m the only vet for fifty miles. It’s me or nothing.”

Good-looking and self-effacing, too. Why couldn’t he be more of a jerk so she could dislike him for a reason other than his Y chromosome?

“Are you?”

“What?” With one hand resting on the dog’s back and the other rubbing the animal’s long ears, he glanced up. “A good vet?”

She nodded, looking away from a gorgeous pair of light blue eyes. Yesterday, she’d been in such a state she’d barely noticed. Now she did, just as she noticed the slight indention in his left cheek and the faint lines of fatigue around his eyes and mouth. She also noticed that his left hand was ringless. Hadn’t he mentioned a daughter? She’d feel a lot more comfortable if he was married with a dozen kids. Although a wife was no real indicator of what a man was or wasn’t capable of.

“I do what I can.”

“Don’t let his modesty fool you. He’s the best,” offered the beagle’s owner, a thirtysomething woman in a blue nurse’s smock and sensible white shoes.

“I could return the compliment.” To Cheyenne he said, “You probably haven’t met Annie Markham. Annie, this is Cheyenne Rhodes. She’s new in town.”

The women exchanged pleasantries before Trace went on, “Annie is a home health care nurse. The older folks of Redemption have nominated her for sainthood.”

Annie laughed. “Oh, right. Tell that to Ted Sikes. He threatened to shoot me off the porch if I drew another vial of blood.”

Despite the fatigue around her green eyes, Annie Markham was an attractive woman. Honey-blond bangs and hair pulled back in a ponytail framed a face with clear, translucent skin. As far as Cheyenne could tell, she wore no makeup and yet her eyes were rimmed with dark lashes. With a strange twinge, she wondered if Trace was interested in Annie Markham.

“Ted threatens everyone,” Trace said, eyes twinkling. “I heard he told the mailman not to deliver another piece of junk mail or he was toast.”

“That sounds like Ted, the silly old goose.”

Trace looked at Cheyenne and pointed toward the corner. “Hand me the big white bottle on the second shelf.”

Bottles and boxes, glass-fronted cabinets and interesting tools lined the walls and cluttered the countertops. Cheyenne went to the cabinet he indicated.

“This?” she asked, rattling pills as she lifted a bottle toward him.

“That’s the one.” He took the medication and counted out thirty tablets, then scribbled something on a small blue packet before sliding the pills inside.

“Is this Ted guy dangerous?” Cheyenne asked, her cop instinct kicking in.

Trace pried open the beagle’s mouth, popped a pill inside and then gently rubbed the animal’s throat. “Old Ted likes to bluster, but I don’t think he’d hurt anyone, do you, Annie?”

“Ted? No. You should see him when I have the kids with me. Gives them candy, lets them have races on his treadmill and gather eggs from the chicken coup. They scare the chickens half to death, but Ted just cackles like the hens.”

So Annie was married with children. Not that Cheyenne cared one way or the other.

“Speaking of the kids. How are they doing?” Trace asked.

“Looking forward to summer break.”

“Zoey, too.”

“Summer’s great for kids. Not so great for single moms.”

“Or dads,” Trace said.

Okay, so they were both single. And attractive. Big whoop. She wasn’t here to admire the vet. She was here to work.

“They’ll be relieved to know their beloved Bennie will be all right,” Annie was saying.

At the mention of his name, the beagle looked up with sad eyes and moaned. All three adults laughed.

“Bennie needs to lose a few pounds and stay out of the tall grass and weeds. These allergy capsules, one each day, should suppress the worst of the skin rash. You know the drill. Other than that, Bennie is as good as new.” Dr. Bowman handed Annie the small blue package. “Tell the kids to come over this summer and swim with Zoey.”

“They’d love that. Thanks, Doc.”

Trace set Bennie on the floor and snapped a thin cloth leash into the ring on his collar. He handed the end to Annie. “Are you still looking after Miss Lydia?”

“Every day.”

“How’s she doing?”

Annie paused, a sad look crossing her face. “You know Lydia. If you ask her, she’ll smile that sweet smile, tell you she’s dandy and then ask about you. By the time the conversation is over, I feel better but I haven’t helped her much.”

“How bad is she?”

“Her heart gets weaker all the time. And lately, she’s really slowed down. Winter was hard on her. She hasn’t spent one day this spring in her flowers.” Annie started toward the door. “You know how beautiful her flowers always are.”

Trace politely reached around and opened the exam-room door. “I’m sorry to hear that. Tell her she’s in my prayers.”

“I will.”

Cheyenne listened in as Trace and Annie Markham stood in the hallway and chatted a while longer about the Lydia woman with the pretty flowers and great attitude. She felt like an outsider, which she was, but she appreciated the way both Trace and the nurse glanced her way, including her in the conversation, even though she had nothing to add.

After a bit, with Bennie moping along beside her, Annie said her goodbyes and left.

“She seems nice,” Cheyenne said as she and the vet walked down the narrow hallway to the reception area.

“Annie? Yeah. She’s had a rough few years but she’s stayed strong.”

Cheyenne didn’t know whether to ask for details or remain quiet. She chose the latter.