Once and for All. Jeannie Watt

jaw tightened. “Cheating on a test is the same as lying. I don’t trust people who lie.”

      Beau looked as though he wanted to argue the point, but after a few seconds he turned to stare out the window when Sam drove onto the wide gravel road leading to the Barton property. They passed under the arched metal sign announcing the Zephyr Valley Ranch. Sam would always think of the spread as Boggy Flats, its original name, but a guy like Joe Barton wouldn’t live on a place called that. The locals still smirked about the name Zephyr Valley.

      Jodie was waiting for Sam on the steps of the glassed-in back porch, hands shoved in the pockets of her coat, her body held stiffly, though whether from cold or nerves, Sam had no idea. She stepped out onto the freshly shoveled path as the truck slowed, and walked briskly to the barn. By the time he parked she was waiting for him next to the door.

      “Grab the kit,” he said to Beau before getting out of the truck. Jodie watched him approach, then opened the door and preceded him inside. The barn was wonderfully warm and smelled of fresh straw, animals and earth. Most people could barely afford to heat their houses this winter and Joe had a toasty barn. Sam had to appreciate that.

      “The bull’s down here,” Jodie said, all business as she motioned toward the paneled corrals at the back of the huge building. Sure enough, a handsome Gelbvieh bull stood hunched in a pen filled with clean straw, his head down. He didn’t move when they approached.

      “How long’s he been like this?”

      “Since this morning. Lucas found him in the pasture and brought him in.”

      “Lucas Reynolds?” It couldn’t be. Joe had fired Lucas’s ass last fall, but Sam couldn’t really blame him, much as he’d like to. Lucas’s drinking made him unreliable.

      “Yes. He’s been through rehab, so I decided to give him another chance.”

      “Where’s Mike? Still on vacation?”

      Jodie cleared her throat. “Mike, uh, quit.” Sam was not surprised. When the guy had a few at Fuzzy’s Tavern, he tended to unload about how much Joe rode him. “Lucas was back in town, so … I hired him.”

      Sam bet she couldn’t find any other help. “Is he around?”

      “No.” She bit her lip and Sam noticed just how done in she looked. It had been a rugged few days for her.

      “You really can’t keep help, can you?” he said drily as he climbed the panel rails and stepped down into the pen.

      “Lucas has a meeting he has to attend, but he took a ranch cell phone if you need to talk to him.”

      “Alcoholics Anonymous?”

      “As a matter of fact, yes.”

      Sam didn’t have a lot of use for drunks, even those he’d known most of his life. He’d been robbed of a brother by a drunk. But this was the first time Lucas had gone to rehab, the first time he’d admitted he had a problem with alcohol, as far as Sam knew.

      “I don’t think I’ll have to talk to him.” All the information he needed was standing there before him, having difficulty breathing.

      Beau came in then with the kit in one hand, looking at the ground as he walked, scuffling his big feet. Sam collected his instruments, then climbed over the panels and approached the lethargic bull. The animal barely moved when Sam ran his hand over the brisket, checking for fluid accumulation before taking vitals. From the way the bull was standing hunched up, Sam had a strong suspicion of what the problem was. He just hoped the cure would be simple and not involve a rumenotomy.

      “How long have you had this bull?” he asked Jodie, who was watching his every move intently from the other side of the rails. He only half expected her to know, but she answered without hesitation.

      “He was shipped up from Oklahoma just before my parents left. Dad was really happy to get him … which is why he can’t die while I’m in charge.”

      “You didn’t make him sick,” Sam replied with a touch of impatience.

      “No.” But she didn’t sound convinced, which Sam found telling. No wonder Joe couldn’t keep help if his own daughter had trouble dealing with him.

      “What’ll your dad do if the animal does die? Besides sue me.”

      “He’s not going to sue you,” Jodie snapped. “And … I just don’t want him to come back from Europe and have to deal with stuff like … bulls dying. That kind of defeats the purpose of the vacation.”

      “Probably does,” Sam agreed, wondering for a moment what it felt like to take an honest to goodness vacation. It’d probably be a decade or two before he found out.

      JODIE WATCHED as Sam ran his hands over the bull, squeezing the top of the animal’s shoulders, making him hunch up even more. But when the vet pulled out a syringe to draw a blood sample, she suddenly felt the need to check on Bronson. She’d ask Sam about the stitches when he was done. The horse’s stall was only a few yards away, so she’d still be within talking range if Sam had something important to say, like, “Oh, all he needs is a shot and he’ll be good as new.”

      Sam’s son was already at the stall, stroking the horse. He was subdued and Jodie wondered if he and Sam had argued about something on the way out. Sam was tense and the kid was sullen.

      “How’s it going?” she asked as the teen patted the horse’s neck. He had the same gray eyes, the same angular face as Sam. He was going to be a heartbreaker, if he wasn’t already.

      “Good.” Conversation over.

      “Are you going to be a vet, too?”

      “Only if it doesn’t involve any math.” The boy spoke more to himself than to her.

      She glanced over her shoulder at Sam, who was drawing blood from a vein in the bull’s neck, then quickly turned her head away, feeling the familiar churning in her stomach. Blood and a needle. Double whammy.

      “Don’t like blood?” the kid asked.

      “Not a fan,” Jodie agreed, seeing no reason to lie about the obvious. He seemed to find that mildly amusing. “How about you?” she asked.

      “It doesn’t bother me.” He sent her a sidelong glance, looking as though he was going to say something else, but then changed his mind.

      Sam climbed over the rails then, rattling the panels and drawing their attention. Jodie quickly walked over to find him packing away the samples.

      “Is he going to be all right?” she asked when he didn’t offer an immediate prognosis.

      “I don’t know,” Sam said, meeting her eyes candidly. “I’ll have more of an idea after I run the blood.”

      “Are you doing everything? I mean, expense is not an issue.” Maybe she shouldn’t have said that. His eyes flashed as if she’d insulted his intelligence, which she probably had.

      “I’m doing everything.”

      What she saw in his face made her believe him. Okay. She couldn’t buy a cure.

      She watched the bull for a few seconds, willing him to get better. Now.

      “I’ve given him antibiotics, and as soon as I get the lab results, I’ll be back.”

      “How far away is the lab?” she asked. How long was this going to take?

      “The local hospital.”

      “Really.” Jodie blinked at him. “It must be interesting if they ever mix up blood work.” One corner of Sam’s mouth quirked up in a way she might have found interesting if her stomach wasn’t tied in a knot. “Will you come out tomorrow and check on him even if you don’t have results?”

      “Yeah.” He didn’t seem thrilled about the idea, but he’d accepted the case and was obviously