Even the Nights are Better. Margot Dalton

don’t beat all. You bring me this pitiful little thing, and then you argue with me when I want to help him.”

      Vernon laughed with her, then sobered. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just that this is getting way more complicated than I’d figured. Do you have any idea what veterinarian fees are these days?”

      Carolyn stared at him in disbelief. “Do I?” she asked him. “Vern, you know perfectly well I’ve been running this place on my own ever since Frank died. You think those bills just get paid by magic, somehow, without me signing the checks?”

      He paused, stung by her words though she hadn’t meant them unkindly. “I know, Caro,” he said again, his voice low and strained. “And God knows, it’s been a miracle, the way you’ve managed things on your own. I just meant…” Vern hesitated. “Caro, girl…I’m not sure he’s going to be bright and perky again no matter what we do. He looks to be in pretty bad shape.”

      Carolyn glanced down at the matted body in her manger, touching the animal’s thin heaving side with a gentle hand. As it had with Vernon, the small dog rolled its head feebly and tried to lick her fingers. Carolyn’s face softened and twisted.

      “He’s going to get better,” she said, squaring her shoulders and turning to Vernon with sudden decision, her eyes damp and glistening in the misty light. “I don’t intend to let him die, Vern. I’ve seen enough of death these past few years and I’m sick of it, that’s all. I just plain won’t allow him to die.”

      Vernon gazed back at her in silent understanding. Within the past ten years, Carolyn had lost both her mother and her beloved sister to breast cancer, and her sturdy vigorous husband to a heart attack. That was a lot of suffering for one woman to endure, even a woman as strong as Carolyn Randolph Townsend.

      Perhaps it had been a mistake to bring the dog to her.

      But it was too late now. She’d already forgotten about Vernon and was filling a pail with water to wash the dog’s livid cut. Vernon watched her a moment longer, then turned quietly and went out to his car to phone the veterinarian’s office in Crystal Creek.

      CAROLYN DABBED tenderly at the long bloody cut on the dog’s shuddering body, trying to be as gentle as she could, wincing as the little animal growled and whimpered with pain.

      “Poor little furry guy,” she whispered. “Poor little tenderhearted baby. You don’t even know what’s hit you, do you? You can’t figure out why the world should turn so dark and cruel all of a sudden. Poor sweet little thing…”

      The dog’s bony head lolled wearily and its forelegs twitched. Carolyn rubbed it with another cloth, trying to dry the matted fur without jarring any obvious injuries.

      “Carolyn, I called Manny’s office,” she heard Vernon saying behind her. “He’s out on a call, but they’ll try to locate him and pass on the message.”

      “Thanks, Vern,” Carolyn said in an abstracted tone, reaching for clean burlap sacks to cover and cushion the little body.

      “Well, I’d better be pushing off,” he said. “Unless there’s something else I can do for you, Caro, before I go.”

      Carolyn turned around then, smiling at his sturdy form and pleasant anxious face as he hesitated in the doorway of the barn. Vernon Trent was not only one of her oldest friends, but just about the nicest man she’d ever met, she thought suddenly. She was a little surprised at the quick flood of warmth she felt for him as he stood there in the slanting early-morning light.

      She smiled and gave him a brisk dismissive wave of her hand. “Vern, for God’s sake, quit fussing, all right? You just go on into town and sell the hotel or the hospital or something, and I’ll look after this little floor mop of ours.”

      He nodded and turned toward his car, his square features still full of concern. “I’ll call you later, Caro, okay? I’m interested in hearing what Manny has to say about him.”

      “Sure, Vern,” Carolyn said, turning back to her small patient. “Not till evening, though, okay? Cynthia and I have a date this afternoon. They roped us into handling one of the tables at the church pie sale.”

      Vernon grinned, the old teasing sparkle back in his eyes. “Well, now, that sounds like fun, Caro. Just your cup of tea.”

      Her mouth twisted in a wry answering grin. “Go away. Get that ridiculous kiddie car out of my driveway, Vernon Trent,” she said calmly, “before I get my rifle and shoot the damn tires.”

      Vernon laughed and strolled out to climb into his car again.

      Carolyn wandered to the doorway, watching him disappear around a bend in the road in a bright flash of silver. She felt strangely wistful as she gazed into the distance, but after a few moments of silence she squared her shoulders and walked briskly into the barn again.

      “Mama?” a voice called from the other side of the box stalls. “You in here, Mama?”

      “Round the other side, dear,” Carolyn replied. “By the tack rooms.”

      She looked up and smiled as her daughter, Beverly, rounded the bank of stalls. As always, Carolyn was stunned for a moment by the girl’s beauty, even though she knew Beverly better than anybody and was often less than impressed by certain aspects of her daughter’s personality.

      But there was no denying that the girl was lovely.

      She glimmered like a spring blossom in the dusty interior of the big barn, in her soft pink jumpsuit of crinkled cotton with a wide braided-hemp belt and matching sandals. Her thick golden hair, brushed and shining, held back by a pink shell-shaped clip, cascaded down her slim back.

      “What’s this?” Beverly asked curiously, bending forward to peer into the manger. “Oh!” she added, and drew back hastily. “Where’d he come from, Mama?”

      “Vernon Trent brought him in just now,” Carolyn said. “Vern was just driving by, saw this little fella crumpled by the side of the road.”

      “He was hit by a car?”

      “Obviously,” Carolyn said dryly. “He’s somebody’s abandoned house pet, I’d guess, without a lot of back road smarts.”

      Beverly was silent a moment, gazing at the quivering bundle of sacking. Then she gathered herself and turned to her mother. “So he’s what that call was about, I guess.”

      “What call, Beverly?”

      “Manny’s secretary called the house just now. She said she raised Manny on his mobile phone and he’s somewhere out in this area anyway, so he’ll stop by on his way back to town.”

      “Oh, good,” Carolyn said. “I was sure hoping he could come right away, but I didn’t think I’d be quite that lucky.”

      “Is Vern still here?” Beverly asked.

      “No, he left a few minutes ago. Why?”

      “I thought if he hadn’t left yet I could get a ride into town with him. I’m spending the afternoon shopping with Lynn and she can drop me off later, but I still need a way to get in there.”

      “What’s wrong with your car?” Carolyn asked, gazing blankly at her daughter.

      “It’s in the shop, Mama,” Beverly said patiently. “I told you yesterday, I’m having that dented fender fixed and painted.”

      “Oh, that’s right. Sorry, sweetie,” Carolyn added. “If I’d known you wanted a ride, I’d have asked Vern to wait.” She paused, glancing up at her daughter in sudden surprise. “It’s awfully early, isn’t it, Beverly? What are you planning to do in town anyway, before eight o’clock in the morning?”

      Beverly turned away, heading for the door. “Oh, it’s just one of the kids on the ward,” she said over her shoulder. “He’s having his surgery this morning, and I promised him I’d be there when he woke up because his mother has to work. It’s