The Grouch’s jaw dropped. “Did you say an emu?”
My cheeks heated. It did sound a little out there when Cady listed them all like that. “There was a guy over in Brookdale who thought it’d be fun to have one as a pet but didn’t realize all that went into caring for one.”
The Grouch shook his head. “Let’s get her inside before the snow gets worse.”
We had at least a foot already.
Cady tugged on my hand. “Think I’ll get a snow day tomorrow?”
“You just might.”
She squealed and spun in a circle. “I love snow!”
I laughed, grinning at Cady. She was a constant reminder of everything I had to be grateful for.
The man cleared his throat. “Over there?”
I jerked my gaze to him. He’d already unhooked the stretcher from the snowmobile and had hold of a tow rope.
“Yup. I can help you pull her—”
“I’ve got it,” he clipped.
“Alrighty, then,” I mumbled, leading the way toward the barn. My skin itched, feeling just a bit too tight for my body. I wasn’t used to having people in our space. Only the few friends I truly trusted or when it was strictly necessary. This qualified as necessary—an emergency, even—but it still made me twitchy.
Cady bounded around us, chattering away about all the animals, sharing their names and funny stories about them, and how they’d come to live with us. The man didn’t respond once, except with the occasional grunt, but Cady didn’t seem to mind. She just kept right on talking.
I hurried ahead to open the barn door. The animals lifted their heads at the sound. Syd, our deaf pony, just followed the others’ lead and turned toward the door. He let out a whinny, and Cady hurried over to stroke his nose.
The man tugged the deer into the barn aisle. “Which stall?”
“Far back right has the tallest door.”
He didn’t respond, just dragged the board and doe back there. It didn’t take him long to unhook her and lay her on the hay.
Cady pressed into my side. “She’s hurt.”
I wrapped an arm around her. “That’s why she’s here. So we can help her get better.”
She looked up at me. “Did someone hurt her?”
My ribs constricted. I walked a delicate line with Cady, never wanting to lie to her but also knowing she wasn’t ready for the whole truth. Still, she knew enough to understand that sometimes people did bad things.
The man’s gaze lifted to Cady, sensing something deeper in her words.
“Not on purpose,” I hurried to assure her. “She got stuck in something from a garden.”
Cady nodded, a little of the worry leaving her expression. “We gotta give her a name.”
I tweaked Cady’s nose. “Good thing I know the perfect person for the job.”
She giggled. “I’ll start thinking.”
“Shouldn’t name her,” the man said.
My eyes narrowed on him. “Everyone deserves a name.”
“She’s not a pet. If we do our jobs right, she’ll be going back into the wild.”
“She can have a name in the wild,” Cady broke in, not put off by his brusque tone in the slightest. “I name all the animals that are around. There’s Rita, the turtle. Juliette and James, the deer. Carson, the chipmunk.” She tapped her lips. “Sometimes, I forget what I name them because there’s lots and lots. But I just give them new names, and I don’t think they care.”
The man stared at her as if he didn’t have the first clue what to do with her. Then he pushed to his feet and pulled out his phone, tapping the screen. He held it to his ear and waited.
“Yeah. I got an injured deer out on Huckleberry Lane. Got caught in a tomato cage.”
Silence for a beat.
“Got it free but looks like an infection.”
More quiet except for the animals all around us, making sounds of curiosity or bids for an early dinner.
“Yeah, got some in my kit. Will do.”
The man glanced at me. “Can Dr. Miller come out here tomorrow to take a look at her?”
I stiffened. I’d heard there was a newish vet in town, but it hadn’t been time for Chauncey’s checkup since the doctor had arrived a few months back. I was sure he was perfectly nice; it just meant more strangers on my property. I licked my suddenly dry lips.
The man’s gaze narrowed on me, assessing that slight bit of hesitation.
“Sure. Give him my number.” I rattled off the digits, ignoring the sweat gathering at the base of my spine.
The man read them out to the vet and then hung up. “Miller said he’ll call you first thing tomorrow.”
“Okay.” The single word caught in my throat, and the man didn’t miss it.
“You got anyone else helping you with all these animals?”
I stiffened, feeling the Taser I always carried in my pocket. “We can handle it.”
He just shook his head. “Miller wants the doe started on antibiotics. I’m going to give her an injection now while she’s out. He’ll give you pills tomorrow. Probably some treats to get her to take them.”
The tension radiating through me eased a fraction as he stalked out of the barn.
“He’s really tall,” Cady whispered.
“He is,” I agreed. You couldn’t see much of the man through his snow gear, just the fact that he was tall and clearly built. And those hypnotizing dark blue eyes.
“He’s gonna help her,” she assured me with complete certainty.
My heart ached as I took in the deer. The poor thing would be terrified when she woke up.
Footsteps had me looking back to the aisle. The man strode in our direction, bag in hand. He set it on a tack box and opened it.
Cady left my side immediately. “Whatcha doin’?”
The man glanced down at her. He started to frown but then seemed to catch himself. “I’m going to give the deer some medicine.”
Cady watched as he pulled out some supplies. “A shot?” She shivered. “I don’t like shots.”
There was the faintest twitch to his lips. “I don’t either.”
Her eyes went wide. “Really?”
He shook his head. “Never have. Freaks me out.”
Cady bobbed her head up and down. “They hurt, too.” She looked at the doe. “Is it going to hurt my new friend?”
A pang lit along my sternum. She had the best heart.
“She won’t feel a thing. She’s sleeping right now, which is what she needs.”
“I wish I was sleeping when I got shots,” Cady grumbled.
The man grinned. That curve of his lips and the flash of straight, white teeth had me sucking in a surprised breath. When he wasn’t scowling, his beauty was devastating.
“I wouldn’t mind napping through my shots either,” he agreed.
“Can I help?” Cady asked.
The man opened his mouth as if to say no but then glanced at the deer. “Sure.”
I watched as he led Cady into the stall. He explained each step as he did it. The deer didn’t flinch as he inserted the needle and pushed the medicine into her muscle. Then he slid on gloves and cleaned her wounds, placing ointment on the gashes.
There was a tenderness to how he treated the animal that was in direct opposition to his demeanor. The gentleness told me his cold, grouchy exterior was nothing but a defense mechanism. It was to protect the tenderness that lived within him.