Snow Melts in Spring (2 page)

TWO

IN THE GLOW OF THE BARN LIGHTS, MATTIE EXAMINED THE HORSE’S sutures, the fatigue from the last eighteen hours crashing over her like a thunderstorm. She checked the IV bag once more before calling it a night. The surgery had lasted five hours, but the horse was a fighter. He was alive. Although thankful he made it through the procedure, Mattie knew Dusty’s recuperation would be long and difficult. Had she made the right decision by trying to save his life?

She gave the chestnut gelding one final glance before leaving the pen. His worst injury was the loss of his right eye, which she’d removed. The severe lacerations on his chest and leg would heal in time, and she prayed the trauma to the suprascapular nerve in the shoulder wouldn’t be permanent. The horse had suffered acute muscle inflammation from the brunt of the car, and his kidneys would need to be monitored throughout the night.

Little sleep for her.

Mattie came in from the barn and shut the door on the chilly night air. “You might as well go home, Travis. The others are probably already watching the playoffs.”

“What about you?” Her college intern from K-State stepped from behind the counter. “Aren’t you a football fan?”

Mattie laughed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat in front of a television. “I have no desire to watch a bunch of grown men chase a leather ball for three hours. Even if one of them is a local hero.”

“You sure you don’t want some help?”

Mattie saw her technician’s concern and shook her head.

Once he left, her mind reverted to the owner of her newest patient. She could forgive Gil McCray for not being here for his horse, but why hadn’t he visited when his father suffered a heart attack less than a month ago? Gritting her teeth, she stepped into the back room to inspect the dogs and cats caged there.

She knelt beside a yellow Labrador and crooned assurance to the young stray. The smell of disinfectant wafted up as she opened the stainless steel door. “How are you, girl?” She stroked the trembling dog’s fur, and her fingers moved to the fresh suture line. No sign of infection. The dog inched closer and pressed her head against Mattie’s hand. Her heart warmed at the trust in the golden-brown eyes.

Exhausted, Mattie checked the rest of her patients, then turned out the light and ascended the stairs to her small apartment above the clinic. Not bothering to turn on any lights, she unclipped her cell phone from her jeans and punched in the number she knew by heart.

“Hey, John. The surgery went well.”

“It’s about time you called. Been sitting here flippin’ through channels, worried about you and that horse.”

Mattie pictured him in his old recliner, yelling at the television. “Dusty’s recovered from anesthesia and resting. He’s heavily sedated.”

“How long will he need to stay there?”

“That depends on how he responds to treatment. I’d guess three to four weeks.” Mattie had no idea how John would physically handle nursing the horse to health. “We can discuss his home treatments when you come in.”

“Why don’t you drive out tomorrow? I have a heifer I need you to look at. Foot problems. I’ll tell Mildred to set an extra plate for breakfast.” His words came out short and choppy.

Mattie hesitated. Normally, she wouldn’t agree to leave a patient at this stage of recovery. It was too soon. Her intuition, however, told her to visit the man who was like a father to her. “My technician arrives around seven. I’ll drop by after that, but I can’t stay long.”

“You work too hard.”

She smiled at the affection in his voice. “Have I told you lately how much I appreciate all you’ve done? You convinced more than a few ranchers to hire me. I wanted to thank you — again.”

“Get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When he said good-bye, Mattie tossed the phone on the couch and followed right behind. She unwound her long, thick braid and dug her fingers into the soft, red curls to massage her scalp. Though her mind reeled with thoughts from her day, she reclined onto a throw pillow, longing for rest before her next shift in two hours.

WITH TEN SECONDS LEFT IN THE GAME, REFEREES CALLED THIRD down on San Francisco’s forty-yard line. The fans went wild in the stands.

Gil knew their only chance was a Hail Mary.

A high-risk pass, but if it succeeded, it would mean victory.

In swift succession, he called the play and lined up behind the center. As soon as Gil felt the snap, he gripped the ball and lunged back. Seconds later, he released it into the air with as much force as he could muster, praying Charlie or one of the other receivers would sneak behind the defense. His opponents knocked him down, the air stolen from his lungs one last time. Despite the pain, he struggled to watch the play unfold.

The leather ball flew sixty yards as though in slow motion and descended near the end zone where his wide receiver was headed. With cat-like agility, Charlie leapt into the air and caught the pass as though he had glue on his fingers.
The game was theirs.

In the next instant, Gil heard the roar of the Green Bay crowd and knew something had gone wrong. Charlie must not have been able to keep his hold on the football. Gil closed his eyes and toppled back onto the field in misery.

It was over.

THREE

JOHN MCCRAY’S HOUSEKEEPER GREETED MATTIE AT THE RANCH house the next morning and led her down the hallway to John’s room. Mattie knocked lightly on the wooden door, which opened at her touch. A beam of sunshine streamed in from a slit in the dark drapes, illuminating the frail gentleman propped on an oversized pillow and lying on what he affectionately called his “deathbed.” She stifled a giggle. John McCray was far from dead.

“My boy’s team lost. Twenty-one to fifteen.” He threw his copy of the
Wichita Beacon
onto the covers. “Too bad about that final pass.”

Mattie already heard from her employees how the winning team had pummeled Gil’s receiver, knocking the ball loose and costing the 49ers the win. “Is this how it is now that you’re home from the hospital? You stay in bed all day?” She strode to the window and pulled back the heavy curtains.

“I don’t need another sassy woman telling me what to do. Mildred’s always trying to make me eat those counterfeit eggs. Says I need to lower my cholesterol.”

“You’d better watch how you talk about your hired help. If you lost Mildred, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.” Mattie moved to his bedside and handed him his flannel robe. “Let’s go out on the veranda. It’s a beautiful morning, even if it is the thick of winter. I heard on the radio that it’s already fifty-six degrees.” She held onto his arm and helped him from the bed. “If that doesn’t entice you, I brought you some of Clara’s apple muffins.”

His mouth opened in surprise. “You didn’t bake them yourself?”

“Nope, I’ve been too busy with that horse of yours. You’ll have to settle for these.” She held a white paper sack in the air. “I have Clara’s word they’re made with real eggs.”

Mattie ignored the man’s grumble and escorted him to the veranda. When he’d settled into a chair, she placed an afghan across his lap and took a seat beside him at the wrought iron table. She loved the atmosphere of the Lightning M Ranch with its large native limestone house and seven thousand acres of prime grassland. The daughter of a cattleman, she’d grown up on a ranch not far from here and couldn’t imagine living anywhere but in the Flint Hills. Of course, she lived in town now, but someday . . .

“I wanted to talk to you about Dusty.” She waited as Mildred brought out a tray for breakfast, her yellow apron fluttering in the morning air. The older woman set two plates before them filled with waffles, bacon, and scrambled eggs, along with orange juice and a thermos of coffee.

“Thank you, Mildred.” Mattie smiled at the devoted employee.

John didn’t offer his thanks, his face as sour as ever. “I suppose this is some of that fake turkey bacon you like to give me. What’s wrong with feeding a man real eggs and meat from a hog? I’d give anything to sink my teeth into a piece of real fried bacon, cooked in its own grease.”

Mildred squeezed Mattie’s shoulder. “It’s a pleasure to cook for someone who appreciates my efforts.” The woman wrinkled her nose at her employer, who shuffled his eggs to the edge of his plate, making it clear he had no intention of eating them.

“Have you heard how the Marshall boy is?” John changed the topic in his usual abrupt manner.

Mattie’s smile faded as Mildred went inside the house, the screen door slamming behind her with an unnecessary
whack
. “I heard they took him to Emporia, but his prognosis didn’t sound good.”

“He was lucky he didn’t get killed. When I was a boy, if you got half-cocked on Jack Daniels, your folks would have skinned you alive. ’Course, back then I rode my horse to school. Things were different in my day.”

“Sometimes I think we’d be better off without some of the conveniences we have now,” Mattie said. “But if that were the case, your horse would be dead, which is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Got my bill figured up already?” The elderly host sloshed juice onto his plate, and she quickly mopped up the orange liquid with her napkin.

“Let’s discuss the care Dusty will need when he comes home.”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” John said gruffly.

Mattie suspected as much. She took a bite of the sweet, tender waffle and gazed out at the hills, a perfect view from where they sat. Even in the dead of winter when the grass was crisp and brown, she never tired of the rolling plains. In the distance, a mangy coyote traipsed across the hilly terrain. She turned to her friend, who was soaking up a large bite of waffle with the last of his maple syrup.

“You need to think about how you’re going to manage Dusty if he makes it through the next few days. He’ll be on a special diet and will need medication as well as daily exercise. You might want to hire extra help.”

John snorted. “I’ll hire you and you can treat him. That makes more sense than paying some greenhorn.” The man sniffed the bacon on his plate and frowned. He tossed it onto the ground, and his blue heeler Hank chomped the strip of meat at once.

Mattie’s gaze shifted from the small cow dog to the open prairie. As a girl she’d ridden with abandon on every acre of her father’s land, embracing the wind as her horse flew over the lush bluestem. “I’ll consider that offer if you allow me to ride your pastures.”

“Shoot, girl, you can do that now.” His steel gray eyes narrowed in on her. “You look tired. Didn’t you get any sleep last night?”

She chuckled and swallowed the last of the pulpy juice. “Rest will come. Right now, I should get to the clinic to check on your horse.”

“Not my horse. Gil’s. If you’re needed, they’ll call on that fancy gadget you carry on your hip. Besides, I have a heifer I want you to look at.”

“I thought that was an excuse to get me to come over.” Mattie smiled, but the usual wave of guilt set in as it always did when she was tempted to do something for her own enjoyment, even if it was under the guise of work.

“I’ll have Jake saddle up my mount. She hasn’t been ridden for a coon’s age.” The man scooted from the table, his face lit with excitement. “A little exercise will do her good. She might be a tad fresh, but from what I remember, you can hold your own on a horse. I warn you, though, she likes to jump fences.” A low chuckle issued from his chest, and Mattie smiled at how good the hearty laughter sounded.

“You mean Tulip?”

“Don’t make fun of my mare. She might not be much to look at, but pretty is as pretty does. The way she handles, she’s worth her weight in gold.”

Laughter bubbled in Mattie’s throat. “Okay, I’ll check on this heifer of yours, but then I need to get to the office.” She reached into her sack and pulled out a muffin. “I’ll take one of these to your foreman Jake, but you can have the rest . . . on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Apologize to Mildred for your mean behavior.”

John’s mouth gaped. “She knows I don’t intend any harm.”

“No.” Mattie tossed him a muffin, and he surprised her by catching it in midair. “I don’t think she does.”

JAKE MET MATTIE AND JOHN AS THEY WALKED TO THE BARN, HIS beat-up Stetson perched low over his eyes to block the sun. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” The grizzled cowboy grinned as he walked toward them.

Mattie handed him a muffin and a cup of coffee. “Compliments of Clara’s Café.”

“Mighty thoughtful of you.”

Jake reminded Mattie of a greeting card cowboy. His legs were bowed, his hair a coarse gray, and his skin had been wrinkled by age and wind. He had a wide, crooked nose that looked like it had been broken a few times, and his bright blue eyes had seen plenty of living.

“How’s Dusty?” Jake asked.

“We’ll know more in a few days.”

The ranch hand turned to his boss, who leaned heavily on his wooden cane. “I’ve checked the fence where the accident happened, and sure ’nough, it was down. I thought I’d go around the section today to see if there are any other gaps.”

“That’d be good. Sorry I can’t help.” John tucked his chin to his chest. “This young lady wants to look at that heifer with the bad foot you’ve been worried about. Saddle Tulip for her, then help her get the heifer tied down in the pasture.” He turned to Mattie and frowned. “Can’t even saddle my own horse no more. What’s a man good for if he can’t do the things he loves?”

Mattie squeezed John’s arm. “You’re already doing more than your doctor expected. Have a little faith.” She rose on her tiptoes to kiss his leathery cheek.

Jake nodded and stuffed a wad of chewing tobacco against his lower gum. “Yep, ya gotta have a little faith, is all. Things will right themselves sooner or later.”

DESCENDING FROM TWO THOUSAND FEET IN A PRIVATE CESSNA, Gilbert McCray stared at the terrain below. From this vantage point, the white flinty rocks embedded in the hills of his father’s ranch stood out even more than he remembered.

“Thanks again for doing this, Roger. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d still be sitting in an airport terminal waiting for my flight.”

“No thanks necessary. I like getting the old girl out every now and then to stretch her wings. Besides, I owed you a favor.”

Gil chuckled. He and Roger were friends from way back when they played for the Denver Broncos, his first pro team after college. “I don’t believe in owing favors unless they’re my own. Thanks the same, but I’ll pay for this ride.”

Roger nodded. “Tough break last night. If your guy could have held onto that pass, the scoreboard would have been yours.”

Gil shrugged. “You win some, you lose some.”

He hated losing. Success had blown in like the wind with the NFL draft in Denver, microphones in his face, an overnight celebrity. He knew it would blow out as fast. “Hudson’s grass landing strip is over there on your left. My father’s neighbor is a crop duster. I rode with him when I was kid.”

“You like living on the edge, don’t you?” Roger reduced the throttle to increase the rate of descent. “Football, low-flying airplanes, wild rodeos.”

Gil’s mouth tilted into a smirk. “What can I say, life’s an adventure.”

The plane angled and as it turned, Gil whispered under his breath. Below him, racing across the prairie, was a red-haired vision on a gray horse, her long hair dancing in the wind like the mane and tail of the creature she rode.

“Who is that, and what is she doing on my father’s property?”