Wyoming Brave (Wyoming Men #6)

“Oh, dear,” Delsey said. “Grandy, what in the world?”

“Clean him up, would you, Delsey?” Ren asked, putting the man in a chair. “Probably needs stitches. I’ll get Tubbs up here to drive him into town to the doctor.” He glanced at Merrie coldly. “If you faint, don’t do it in here. I’ve got enough problems.”

“How did it happen?” Delsey asked, while Merrie stood just staring at the bleeding man.

“He was trying to rope a horse. Horse reared up and threw him into a sheet of tin.”

“Was it Hurricane?” Merrie asked worriedly.

“Yes, it was Hurricane,” he shot at her angrily.

She moved closer to him. “Couldn’t I help?”

He hesitated. He didn’t want her near the horse. He was furious at her because he’d been weak the night before. He didn’t want her around, didn’t want her near him. She was Randall’s girl...

“You might let her try before anybody else gets hurt, Mr. Ren,” Delsey intervened.

“Hell!” He tilted his hat low over his eyes. “All right. Come on.”

Delsey washed the deep cut on Grandy’s arm. “Cut a vein, I think,” she told Ren.

“Tubbs is on his way. Wrap a towel around it,” Ren told her.

“Sorry, Ren,” Grandy said sheepishly.

Ren just glared at him. He opened the door, let Merrie out and followed her.

She’d grabbed her light jacket. It was freezing cold outside and flurries of snow touched her face. A dusting of it was on the ground from the day before. She hadn’t had time to really enjoy it. She lifted her face to it and smiled, her eyes closed.

Ren glanced at her, and an unfamiliar tenderness tugged at his cold heart. She was like a child, he thought. She took pleasure in the simplest things.

“Your jacket’s too thin for a Wyoming autumn,” he said, fighting down the feelings she provoked in him.

“It rarely gets much below freezing in South Texas,” she replied, almost running to keep up with his long strides. “This is the heaviest coat I own.”

“Tell Delsey to take you to town and get a warmer one. I have an account at Jolpe’s. It’s a chain department store.” He didn’t add that it was one of the real high-end shops. It catered to movie stars who came to Jackson Hole, which wasn’t too far away.

“I’ll do that. Thanks.” She was going to spend her own money, but he could think what he liked.

“Randall would take you himself, if he was here,” he added deliberately. He had to keep reminding himself that she belonged to his stepbrother.

“Of course he would.”

They walked into the stables, down the stone walkway to the stall where Hurricane was kept. The female vet, middle-aged, with blond hair and blue eyes, glanced at them as they approached.

She grimaced. “I can’t get the stupid tranquilizer gun to work. I should have asked Kells with Game and Fish to show me again how to use it...”

While she was talking, Merrie went right up to the gate of the stall and held her hand out. It contained one of two treats she’d taken from a nearby bag.

She opened her hand, the treat on her palm, and offered it to the nervous gelding.

“Hi, sweetheart. Remember me?” she asked softly, smiling.

Apparently he did, because he came right up to the gate and tossed his mane, whinnying softly.

“That’s a sweet boy,” she said, watching him nibble the treat. She smoothed her bare hand over his head, between his eyes. “What a sweet boy!”

The vet, mesmerized, just stared at her. “He just knocked one of the cowboys into that pile of tin in the aisle,” she pointed out, indicating a small refuse pile from some repairs.

“She has a way with horses, apparently,” Ren said curtly. “Can you keep him diverted while Dr. Branch gets in the pen with him?”

“Of course I can,” Merrie said. She smoothed her hand over the horse’s ears, calming him.

The vet took advantage of the lull to go into the stall and examine the cuts. “I can use a local on these,” she said. “If you can just keep him busy...”

“I can do that,” Merrie assured her.

She talked to Hurricane, smoothing her hand over his face, his ears, his cheek, all the while talking to him. When he felt the needle he started to shift, but Merrie drew him back and laid her forehead against his, talking to him again. He calmed. The vet began to put in the stitches, working efficiently. It didn’t take long.

Dr. Branch came out of the stall with a long sigh. “That’s some bedside manner you’ve got there, Miss...?”

“Grayling,” Merrie said. “My name is Meredith, but everybody calls me Merrie,” she added, with a smile.

“Merrie, then. Thanks for the help.”

“I didn’t mind. I love horses.”

“That one certainly seems to like you,” Dr. Branch said. She shook her head. “I couldn’t get the stupid tranquilizer gun to work. I guess I need more training with it,” she said with a laugh.

“Will he be all right now?” Merrie asked, because she was worried. Some of the cuts had been very deep.

Diana Palmer's books