Her Cowboy Boss Page 5

  Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he walked back to the stable. The horse switched its tail when Stark drew near. Yes, definite improvement. That didn’t mean Soldier would recover, but a good sign was a good sign. He set his alarms and turned in.

  His last thought before he slipped into sleep was that Meredith didn’t deserve to be frightened. He saw the look of terror on her face, and in his dreams, instead of standing there like a lump, he held out his arms, and she walked into them, smiling tremulously.

  Her hair smelled of coconut. He didn’t know why or how he knew that, but somehow he woke the next morning with that fragrance in his nostrils.

  Cathy had smelled of strawberries. He would never forget. The fragrance of strawberries sometimes still threatened to move him to tears, strawberries and sour apples. Bel had loved a certain tart candy that tasted of sour apples. Sometimes he bought a pack and opened it just to savor the smell, but then he had to throw it away.

  What did Meredith Billings do to bring herself comfort?

  She was trying to move home. And he could help her with that.

  She and her strawberry blond, coconut-scented hair arrived with black coffee and a breakfast tray around six in the morning. He was waiting for her, sitting atop the toolbox.

  “Morning.”

  She gave him that devastating smile along with the breakfast tray. “Good morning.”

  “Swelling’s gone down,” he told her, parking the tray on his knees. “I expect to repair the tracheotomy tomorrow.”

  “That’s good.”

  He removed the dish towel, uncovering a thick omelet topped with salsa and cheese, along with rolled tortillas and sliced melon. The Billings family did not stint in the kitchen. Mouth watering, he picked up his fork and said slowly, “I could use your help.”

  Meredith caught her breath, but he pretended not to notice.

  “Okay,” she said. “Someone has to miss service tomorrow to stay with Dad anyway.”

  He’d forgotten that tomorrow was Sunday. He hated Sundays. They were his slowest days. This particular Sunday he hated most of all. But he wouldn’t think about that. He never thought about that.

  Right.

  Keeping his gaze on his plate, he said, “Best do it early.”

  “That’s fine. After breakfast okay?”

  “Works for me.”

  “That’s settled then. Now, I have a favor to ask.”

  Stark steeled himself, setting aside his fork to slug back strong black coffee, and nodded noncommittally. “You can ask.”

  “You said you’d talk to Dad, give him an update on Soldier.”

  Stark relaxed. “No problem.”

  “We thought you might do that this evening. Ann and Dean are coming over for dinner. We’ll tell Dad everything that’s been going on the last few days, then you can give him the latest update on Soldier’s condition. If that’s all right with you.”

  He knew she was asking him to do more than simply speak to her father about his horse, and he meant to tell her that speaking to Wes was all he would do, that he would not join the family for dinner, but he couldn’t seem to think of words that weren’t too sharp, rude or unintentionally wounding. In the end, he nodded curtly and ate his omelet. It had nothing, nothing whatsoever, to do with the date. Or so he told himself. Smiling, she skipped out of the stable, leaving him frowning at her back.

  Looked like he was having dinner with the Billings family.

  He tried not to think about it, going about his business on Saturday as usual. Plenty needed to be done. Somehow, though, he still found enough time to shower, shave, change and show up at the stable in time to give Soldier a thorough exam before Meredith insisted on dragging him into the house. She’d changed the IV bag before he’d arrived, and, try as he might, he could find no fault with her work.

  “You want me to give your father a comprehensive report, don’t you?” he grumbled as she towed him by the arm down the aisle of the stable.

  “Yes, and I also want to eat before dinner gets cold.”

  He rolled his eyes, dragging his feet, but inside he felt an alarming tendency to smile. Countering it with a scowl, he allowed himself to be escorted to the ranch house. As soon as he passed through the front door into the foyer, he removed his hat and hung it on a peg on the wall. The instant he stepped into the living room, however, a little redheaded tornado hurled himself off the couch and straight at Stark.

  Instinctively, Stark backed up a step, but the boy lassoed his arms around Stark’s legs and squeezed, bellowing, “Hi!”

  Throwing up his hands, Stark raised his eyebrows at the boy. “Uh, hi.”

  Meredith chuckled. “How about me? Don’t I get a hug?”

  The kid immediately threw himself on her, encircling her waist with his arms. “Hi, Aunt Meri.”

  “Hello, Donovan. Want to let Aunt Callie know that Dr. Burns is here?”

  The boy ran off, bellowing, “Aunt Callie, Dr. Burns is here!”

  Meredith grinned at Stark. “If Donovan sees you twice, you’re best friends.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  It had been a long while since he’d felt comfortable dealing one-on-one with a child, almost exactly four years, in fact. Doing so made him nervous, and sometimes it actually hurt. He knew too well how fragile children could be, and every little face brought bittersweet feelings and memories. He thought of his little niece, Jeanie Ruth, who was about Donovan’s age and looked so like his daughter. Bel had been shy with strangers, but unfailingly polite, speaking in a tiny, husky voice. Once she warmed up, Bel’s giggles could fill a room, like soap bubbles, light, sparkling and airy. Jeanie Ruth, on the other hand, was a demanding little tyrant who ruled her world with a petulant iron will. Stark loved her, but he could hardly bear to be around her simply because looking into Jeanie Ruth’s face was like looking into his daughter’s.

  Rex came in behind him and Meredith, entering through the back hall and the foyer. “Y’all come on back to Dad’s room. Callie says dinner will be a few minutes yet.”

  Stark shot Meredith a censorious look, but she put her nose in the air and followed her brother into the foyer and down the hall, past the front and back stairs, skirting the kitchen to the far back hall and the door to Wes’s room. Rex had told Stark that, before their deaths, Wes’s parents had used this room as their own. Wes had moved into it after his cancer surgery so he wouldn’t have to go up and down the stairs to the master bedroom. The door stood open, and Donovan’s parents, Ann and Dean Pryor, were already inside. Rex lifted a hand, indicating that both Meredith and Stark should go in ahead of him. Meredith slipped in and took a seat in one of a pair of chairs facing Wes’s hospital bed. Stark walked in, followed by Rex. They all kept a good distance from Wes.

  “This doesn’t look good,” Wes rasped, glancing at Stark.

  “It could be worse,” Stark announced, smiling, “and there has been improvement.” He quickly detailed the swollen glands and the emergency tracheotomy, adding, “That’s all cleared up now. In fact, Meredith and I will be removing the trach tube tomorrow morning.” Wes looked at Meredith with some surprise, compelling Stark to add, “If Meredith hadn’t been there that morning, we might have lost Soldier.”

  Wes beamed at Meredith. “That’s my girl.”

  She grinned broadly. Stark cleared his throat, feeling a strange space open inside his chest.

  “The thing is, we still have the encephalitis to get past, and his lungs are rattling. I suspect a touch of pneumonia.” Wes lifted a hand to his hairless brow. “There are no guarantees,” Stark went on, “but I’m somewhat encouraged. Soldier has rallied quicker than I expected, all things considered, and if I can get him eating after the trach site is healed, he’s got a good chance.”

  Wes nodded and, almost shamefacedly, said, “He loves
apples and bananas.”

  Stark tried not to grin. “We’ll add them to the mash then, alternating them so they offset each other.”

  Wes sighed, then fixed his children with a basilisk glare, demanding, “Anything else I should know? Barn burned down? Cattle all been rustled? Ranch in bankruptcy?”

  Rex shook his head. “Everything’s fine, Dad. You can’t blame us for trying to spare you.”

  “I’m not in a box waiting for you to throw dirt over me,” Wes groused. “Stop treating me like I’m on my deathbed.”

  Dean coughed behind his fist.

  “Oh, stuff it,” Rex rumbled from behind a smile. “Nobody likes an I-told-you-so.”

  “I do,” Ann said, stroking her husband’s head.

  Meredith rolled her eyes at exactly the same time Stark did.

  Wes laughed. “Get on out of here, all of you,” he ordered good-naturedly. “I’m not used to so much company.” As they all filed out, he called, “Dean, you keep them in line now.”

  Grinning, Dean said, “You can count on me.”

  Rex poked him in the ribs playfully. “And to think you used to be my favorite brother-in-law.”

  Grinning, Dean shoved at Rex’s hands. “I’m your only brother-in-law.”

  “Yeah, but you’re not my favorite any longer,” Rex razzed.

  “You’re just jealous because Dean was right,” Ann said in her husband’s defense, looping her arms around his neck.

  “Even a broken clock is right twice a day,” Rex retorted to general laughter.

  Stark shook his head at their banter, following the others to the kitchen table. He felt very much like the odd man out. He’d once known times like these, family laughing and teasing, but that was almost painful in its foreignness now.

  He moved to the seat at the table pointed out to him, waited until the women were all seated, then dropped down, staring at his lap while Rex prayed in gratitude for the meal. And such a meal it was. Stark hadn’t eaten so well in ages. Even with two children at the table, little Bodie in her highchair and freckle-faced Donovan on and off his knees in his chair, Stark was able to ignore those around him and concentrate on the food.

  Then, in a lull in the conversation, Ann asked, “What about you, Stark, do you have brothers or sisters?”

  He hadn’t paid attention to the conversation that had led up to that point, but he swallowed and answered briefly. “One brother, two sisters, all younger.”

  “Obviously they don’t live close by,” Meredith surmised.

  He shook his head, hoping that would be the end of it, but Rex remarked, “You’re originally from Tulsa, aren’t you?”

  “That’s right.”

  Dean frowned. “I thought it was Ponca City.”

  Stark turned over his spoon, feeling as if all the air was being sucked out of the room. “I did live in Ponca City before I came here.”

  “I’m surprised you never married,” Callie commented, smiling.

  The walls seemed to close in suddenly on him. His heart pounding, Stark tersely said, “I married.” Then he picked up his fork and filled his mouth again.

  Silence filled the space for several heartbeats. Then Callie apologized softly. “I’m sorry. That was ill-mannered of me.”

  Stark shook his head and attempted a smile, wondering why he’d thought this had been a good idea. He’d have been better off alone, trying not to think, fighting not to remember. He finished his plate, refused dessert, excused himself, thanked everyone, and got out of there, saying he needed to check on the horse. When his feet hit the red-dirt road between the home place and the outbuildings, he finally caught a good breath again. But what a lonely, cold solace that was. He knew he would not sleep tonight, and tomorrow would come.

  It always came. Year after lonely, agonizing year.

  * * *

  Armed with a breakfast tray, determination and small talk, Meredith made her way out to the stable the next morning just as the rest of the family, with the exclusion of her father, headed off to church. Rex, Callie and little Bodie would meet Ann, Dean, Donovan and Dean’s grandmother there. For the first time in quite a while, Meredith was not secretly envious of her big brother and sister. Ready, even eager, for work, she’d worn an old pair of green scrubs, faded from many washings, over a long-sleeved white turtleneck and athletic shoes with solid leather toe caps for maximum protection. Her hair was caught at her nape in a thick ponytail and rolled into a bun secured with a heavy spider clip.

  Last night’s dinner had been enlightening in several ways. For one thing, she hadn’t been wrong about Stark’s dislike of children. For another, he’d finally let slip some personal information. That he had siblings wasn’t exactly earthshaking. The news that he had married at some point had been shocking enough that she had slipped off to the office after he left to do a little research on the computer. What she had found explained a lot about the irascible animal doctor and why today, of all days, he did not need to be alone.

  Stark uncovered the plate filled with biscuits, sausage, gravy, scrambled eggs, and hash browns. “Wow,” he said, lifting the mug of steaming black coffee. “Your sister-in-law really puts on a feed on Sunday morning.”

  Actually, Callie did a fairly light breakfast on Sundays. Meredith had added the gravy and hash browns herself, reasoning that both her dad and Stark could use the extra calories just then. She merely smiled, however, and went to pet Soldier, who nosed around her pockets as if looking for a treat.

  “He seems hungry.”

  “Noticed that. We’ll have to be careful not to give him too much food or water for a while. Hungry horses don’t know when to stop.”

  While Stark ate, they discussed how long it would be before they could try Soldier on the soft mash again. Eventually Stark changed the subject, remarking that Wes seemed improved.

  “Yes, I’m cautiously optimistic,” Meredith admitted. “Only time will tell if the cancer is gone, but the early tests were encouraging. Soon, as his immune system grows stronger, he’ll be able to join the family at the dinner table again. Gradually he’ll be able to get out and about.” She left the horse, faced Stark, and said bluntly, “Then my reason for staying on at the ranch will be gone.”

  Sighing, Stark set aside the now-empty breakfast tray and rose. “Let’s get to work.”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  He pulled gloves from his kit and thrust them at her before placing a bottle of medication, alcohol wipes and a syringe on the top of the blue barrel. “You can sedate him while I suit up.”

  As Stark pulled on the protective, sterile paper coveralls, he told her how much medication to inject into which IV port. She administered the medication, then laid out the sterile sheet and necessary equipment to remove the tracheotomy tube and close up the incision, which had to be done on several levels. That meant shaving the area immediately surrounding the tube-insertion site and a great deal of sterilization. Soldier took exception to some of the work, which required Meredith to physically restrain him. Had the animal not been sedated, she’d never have had a chance of keeping him still, but he had enough of the drug in him to keep him relatively docile.

  After what seemed like hours to her, Stark finally stepped back and began peeling off his gloves, saying, “Well, that took less time and effort than I’d expected.”

  She blinked at him, her tired arms like lead weights at her sides. “Really? That was easy for you?”

  He smiled as he tore away the protective garment and added it to the pile of debris on the blue sheet. “Changing your mind about working in veterinary medicine?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “I’m just always surprised when you admit that I’ve been of help. Does this mean you’ll give me a job?”

  He crouched, gathering up the corners of the sheet. She added her gloves
to the pile and, fighting the urge to skitter around like a bug on a hot plate, watched him carefully bundle up the detritus.

  “Was it that bad?” he asked as he worked, studiously not looking up at her. “What happened to you in the City?”

  Her breath caught in her chest. She forced it out again, straightening her suddenly fisted fingers. The scar above her left breast seemed to burn, and her feet itched to run. Shifting her weight, she stood her ground.

  “Yes.”

  Nodding, he rose, the trash bundle grasped in one hand. “I’m sorry.”

  Unexpectedly, warmth swept through her, bringing an odd comfort. In that moment, she only wanted to offer him the same thing, so she blurted, “I’m sorry, too. About your family.”

  He stepped back as if she’d struck him. A terrible, heartbreaking kind of horror flashed across his face, followed instantly by a thunderous expression that had her stepping back. The next instant he turned and stalked off down the aisle of the stable and out the door.

  Meredith clapped a hand over her mouth and bowed her head, swiftly sending up a prayer.

  Oh, Lord, forgive me! What have I done?

  She hadn’t meant to blindside him like that. Stark Burns was a private man, and today was the anniversary of the deaths of his wife and daughter. She’d meant only to help him with his work and keep him company, not drive him away by blurting out facts she wasn’t even supposed to know.

  The newspaper account she’d read said only that a tractor-trailer rig had too quickly taken a sharply curving highway entrance ramp on the outskirts of Tulsa and turned over, causing a multiple-vehicle pileup and tying up traffic for several hours. The result was three deaths, the driver of the truck and a mother and her daughter, Catherine and Belinda Burns, ages thirty-three and nine, respectively, both of Ponca City, Oklahoma. Husband and father, Dr. Stark Burns, had been hospitalized with non-life-threating injuries, along with several others. Before his death, the driver of the tractor-trailer rig had apologized repeatedly, according to emergency personnel at the scene.