The Money Man. Carolyn McSparren

restock the vet cabinet in the back of her truck, anyway. One of the vet techs here ought to be able to restock for her. While she’d half watched television in her motel room last night, she’d put together a basic list of the drugs and paraphernalia she’d need.

      She took a deep breath and opened the door. Then stood for a moment and stared. The room was cavernous, the central hall more than wide enough to admit an eighteen-wheeler. On the right, doors could be rolled up into the ceiling so that a big rig of cows could be backed into the slot that opened into a large fenced pen.

      She opened the first door on her left. It was empty except for packing boxes and paint cans. She assumed it would eventually be her office. She’d probably have to leave room for storage shelves that would hold everything except the drugs that had to be kept double-locked and accounted for to the government.

      She walked past the cow pen, and past the small stalls where cows or bulls could be kept individually so that they could be examined safely in a relatively confined space. Looked strong. Good. An angry bull or cow could do extensive damage.

      Past that area on her right were three doors. She peeked through the window of the first and saw a completely padded stall—floor, walls and ceiling. The recovery area—where a large animal could come out of anesthesia without hurting itself. The next two doors opened into similar stalls, but without the padded walls. These, then, were the ones that Mark had told her weren’t quite finished. Three recovery stalls—impressive for a private clinic. Many of the teaching veterinary hospitals didn’t have as many.

      On her right across the broad hall, she discovered the prep room where the animals could be anesthetized and readied for surgery. Through the double doors at the end of the prep room, she could see the surgery. She opened the door, but when she flipped the light switch, nothing happened. Great. She hoped no horses or cows would have to be operated on by candlelight.

      The surgery seemed to contain only basic equipment. The lights, when they were hooked up, would no doubt be more than adequate, but at the moment it was difficult to tell much in the gloom.

      As to the diagnostic equipment she’d been promised—one portable ultrasound was all she could see. Well, that would change.

      She stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. First priority—get the blasted lights hooked up. That was something Mark could darn well put at the top of his To Do list.

      “Help ya?” A raspy voice spoke from behind her.

      She jumped and turned.

      “New doc, are ya?”

      The man who leaned against the far wall grinned at her. He stood no more than five-two or -three and probably weighed a hundred ten pounds. His face was covered with sun-ruined skin, wrinkled like badly tanned leather, and the teeth revealed in that grin were crooked. His blue eyes were bright as a bird’s.

      “I’m Sarah Marsdon.”

      “The new vet?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Told me you were a lady, but didn’t say that you were a pretty one. I’m Jack. Jack Renfro. I’m your vet tech, your surgery assistant, and your jack-of-all-trades, no pun intended.”

      The slight southern accent was overlaid with a thick cockney twang.

      “Jockey?” Sarah grinned back at him.

      “And exercise boy and groom before I got too old and too stove up to ride. What I don’t know about horses ain’t been writ down as yet.”

      “How about cows?”

      “Hate the stupid buggers, but I can handle ’em. And anything else with four feet comes into this place.”

      “Good.” Sarah extended her hand. “What’s with the lights?”

      Jack blew out his breath. “Bloody contractor’s supposed to have everything done here today. But then, he was supposed to finish last month, wasn’t he?”

      “Was he?”

      “You weren’t to know, of course, but we’ve had one muck-up after another. That woman kept trying to turn the place into a bloody palace, then the almighty rain and the mud, and delivery problems, and if that weren’t enough, we have the neighborhood rowdies at night.”

      “Rowdies?”

      “Kids. Too much time and no sense, is what I says. Don’t know much about tractors and such myself, but I do know you can’t run one without a carburetor. Took a week for the contractor to get a new one in and installed. Meantime we had to rent another tractor. Cost a bloody fortune.”

      “They stole a carburetor?”

      Jack humphed. “As good as. Turned out the little devils hid it behind a stack of plywood, but the contractor wasn’t to know, was he? Only found it a month later when he’d already bought the new one. Then there was the great plumbing caper.” He sounded disgusted.

      “Plumbing?”

      “Contractor came in one Monday and found every bit of PVC pipe spread out over the two back paddocks. Spelled out words not fit for your tender ears.”

      Sarah laughed. “You’d be surprised how un-tender my ears are. Besides, I know that’s annoying, but it doesn’t sound as though they’re really destructive.”

      “That bit of mischief took four men and a truck most of the day to pick up and get the mud out. Costs money, things like that. And time we didn’t have.”

      “If we had an emergency, could we handle it?”

      Renfro cocked an eye at her. “That’s up to you, ain’t it?”

      “You mean I’m it?”

      “You got Dr. Eleanor Grayson comes in, but she’s part-time, mostly night or when we’re pushed. We’re supposed to be open twenty-four hours a day, but right now, we only got a couple of part-timers on call after midnight. And Dr. Mac can muck in if you need him. Staff’s good, but they’re mostly used to handling puppies and kittens.”

      Sarah laughed at the obvious sneer in his voice. He grinned back at her through his terrible teeth.

      “Well, I says, don’t ya know, if it ain’t good for racing or eating, then what’s the sense of it, I says.”

      “Don’t let the clients hear you say that.” Sarah laughed.

      “Keeps me thoughts to me’self. You worry about the cutting, Doc, I’ll handle the rest of it.”

      “Deal. Nice to work with you, Jack. By the way, they say I’m going to be working a good many nights and weekends, as well, until we’re fully staffed. What are your hours?”

      “My good lady says they run from ‘kin to cain’t,’ but she’s from Arkansas and talks funny. Don’t you worry. You need me at four in the morning, I’ll be here.”

      Suddenly Sarah didn’t feel quite as overwhelmed as she had, with the problems she faced. With an old pro like Jack Renfro to back her up, how could she fail? She glanced at her watch. “Oh, hell, I’m late for Rick’s meeting.”

      Jack rolled his eyes. “Get more done without these infernal meetings of his. You run along. I’ll hunt up that contractor and put a flea up his nose. You’ll have your lights and that office cleaned up today.” He trotted off with the rolling, bowlegged gait of a man used to having horse flesh between his knees.

      “Jack?” Sarah called after him.

      He turned.

      “I’ve got a list of medications and stuff I need in my truck cabinet. It’s lying on the front seat of my truck, which is, I’m sorry to say, in front of the clinic instead of where it belongs.”

      “Toss me your keys. I’ll move it and stock it for you.”

      “You’re a wonder. Thanks.”

      “MARK, MY CHILD is driving me nuts.” Coy Buchanan slumped into