Healing The Cowboy's Heart

Chapter Three

“So, you’ve managed to rile up the horse community, insult the local veterinary surgeon and tackle an impossible task in less than forty-eight hours.” Melonie Fitzgerald Middleton raised a coffee mug in mock salute to Char when the three sisters gathered in the Pine Ridge Ranch kitchen early that morning. “Well done. Even I didn’t ruffle that many Idaho feathers my first forty-eight hours in town. It might be a Fitzgerald record.”

Charlotte poured a mug of coffee and frowned. “I blame Lizzie. She read Ty Carrington’s text about the horses and called me instantly. Totally her fault. I could have stayed in the stable apartment and been clueless. And blameless.”

“Feel free to thank me, dearest, because you did the right thing.” Lizzie looped an arm around Char’s shoulders and hugged her. “While Braden Hirsch has been the go-to man for decades, he’s not up on the newest things in horse care, and we need someone well-schooled in current findings. Uncle Sean put a lot of money and love into our equine barns, and I want solid medicine on my side. Which means I’m hoping you’ll stay, little sister.”

Lizzie had taken over management of their late uncle’s fledgling horse-breeding business, an amazing enterprise modeled after the choicest Irish horse farms. While the girls’ father had squandered his wealth and position in Kentucky, Uncle Sean had come north to make his own way in the world. And he’d done well. Char had moved into the apartment above the horse stables when she arrived. Lizzie had lived there before she married Heath Caufield, her old love and the farm manager. Then Mel had occupied the two-room living space until she fell head over heels in love with Jace Middleton and his two baby nieces. Now it was Char’s place to call home while she tested the Western Idaho waters.

“Heath and I are thrilled to have you on board, Char. This could be the perfect opportunity for you. God’s opened a big door, ready for you to shine.”

“Or some horrible person neglected a crowd of lovely animals and I was in the right place at the right time,” Char mused. She sent Lizzie a wry look. “Science refuses to bear out your lofty celestial ideas, sis. But I respect your right to have them.”

“Didn’t DNA testing recently indicate that all men are related to one man? One single man from way back when?” asked Melonie. “That’s gotta count for something, Char, when science proves the book of Genesis to be correct.”

“Darlings, I love you.” Melonie and Lizzie had both taken their coffees to the angled breakfast bar separating the wide kitchen from the equally wide dining room. “But it’s too early to be throwing down this kind of talk—although you’re both praying women—so I’d appreciate it if you prayed for these horses. It’s a sad and sorry bunch they are, and I’d like to meet the person who let them get into this kind of shape.”

“It’s heartbreaking, for sure. And you said one of them is in foal?”

“An old mare with local history and a sad face. But she perked right up when she heard Isaiah Woods talking.” Char sipped her coffee as she double-checked her leather bag. “Like one of those old-time reunion stories that make great movies.”

“I love those movies.” Melonie put a hand to her heart.

“Me, too,” added Lizzie. “But I think talk time is over,” she said as Corrie brought Ava and Annie their way. “Zeke never sleeps long once Mel brings the girls over for Corrie to watch.”

“I’m ducking out quickly, then,” said Char. “I’ll play with them when I get home tonight, but if I hang around, I’ll never want to leave, and duty calls.”

“Go in peace.” Lizzie paused and gave Char a big hug. “I love you. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me, too.” Melonie reached up for a hug as Char went by. “See you tonight. And I’ll be praying, Char. For you and the horses.”

“I’ll take all the help I can get.” Char began her rounds up near McCall to check out the horse Young Eagle took home. Then she came back south, ran by the Carrington Ranch and then on to the horse-rescue farm just south of Council. When she finished she had just enough time to get back to Dancing Meadows. She pulled into the drive, parked and opened up the sliding side door of the mobile clinic. She didn’t look around for Isaiah. She was here to see the horse. Nothing more. But when she spotted him coming her way, her heart jumped, so she tamped it right back down before he reached the barn.

“Right on time.”

She carried a small tray of supplies into the barn and set it next to Ginger’s stall. “I like being punctual, but I may have driven somewhat too quickly on that last stretch. I should have realized that curvy, winding mountain roads slow one’s pace.”

“And there’s no such thing as a New York minute in Idaho.”

“Well, I’m a blend of Old South and New York, busy so I’ve become my own conundrum,” she admitted. “We’ll see if I can reconcile the polar opposites here in the Great Northwest. Oh, sweet thing.” She moved into the horse’s stall with a sigh. “You look unhappy.”

The horse blew out a breath. Her eyes watered, and then she stomped her back left foot twice before reaching around with her head toward her belly.

“Bellyache.” Isaiah folded his arms like he’d done the day before. “Did we overfeed her, or is there something else going on?”

“With a horse in her condition, there could be a lot of things going on,” she told him honestly. “We’ll start with simple fixes first. Her digestive tract is oversensitive because of what she’s been through, so let’s change things up. No hay right now. We can walk her for five minutes every couple of hours. That way she grazes on fresh grass, but not too much. We’ll keep the water in her trough on the tepid side to prevent cold-water cramping. The fresh grass will help reactivate the stomach so the intestines can do their job.”

“I should have thought of that, but J.J. was out here early to take care of her.”

“And no parent wants to discourage industry like that.”

A horn tooted softly in the distance. “That will be Liam. I had them drop him here and I texted my mother that I’m going to keep him the next few days.”

“Oh, good,” she said, approving. “He can walk her with me. And maybe show me around? If you don’t mind.”

“He’d love it. He loves the horses and the ranch. He is truly his father’s son, but my mother gets nervous about boys and horses.”

“Not girls? Isn’t that a little backward in the Wild West?”

“She finds girls to be more levelheaded.”

Char aimed a skeptical look his way. “Clearly she’s never frequented the suburban stables back east. There is an overpopulation of not-so-levelheaded girls at some of the loftier places.”

“Not exactly National Velvet?”

“No, but that was one of my favorite horse books as a child.” The thought made her smile as she took samples from the horse’s nostril once she’d drawn blood. “I grew up thriving on horse stories. The classics and the not-so-classics. When I wasn’t reading about horses, I was living with them. Given that, in some ways I had the world’s most idyllic childhood for a horse-lover.”

“So, you were raised with horses?” he asked while she slipped the samples into a mailing sleeve. “That explains the natural affinity I see.”

“My grandfather started a Kentucky horse farm when he became successful. He and my father bred racehorses,” she told him. “Great-grandpa, too, but I never knew him. He died shortly after emigrating from Ireland. They loved horses. Maybe too much, in some ways, but yes, there’s something in the blood. A predisposition that made becoming a big-animal vet a no-brainer. Equine doors tended to open quickly in the South and East when your last name is Fitzgerald.”

* * *

Fitzgerald.

No.

Could this situation possibly get any worse than it already was? It just did.

She dropped the name as he was leaving, giving him plenty of time to think it over while he went up the gravel trail to the house to intercept Liam.

Was it a coincidence?

Most likely not.

Was she related to Sean Fitzgerald, one of the men who took advantage of the hard times nearly thirty years back and bought up Idaho ranchland when it was dirt cheap? Land that included his mother’s family farm when her parents were strapped for cash three decades back.

Now the Fitzgerald holdings were valued in the millions, and all because Sean Fitzgerald staked a claim at the right time. But between his ranch, the Hardaway Ranch and Carrington Ranch, outsiders had come in and purchased multiple parcels of land as they became available. Some Native American land. And Middleton land, too, from another old homesteader’s family.

Her van had only offered initials. CMF. But it couldn’t be a coincidence that she bore the last name Fitzgerald.

“I can’t believe I get to be with you today, Uncle Isaiah!” Liam had already ditched his school clothes, donned ranch clothing and sprang out the door like a meteor on a clear night. “How’s the horse doing? Can I see her? Is the doctor lady here?”

She was here, but she couldn’t stay. His parents weren’t the only ones bearing grudges about those land deals. Thirty years later it was still a “what if” in many roundtable discussions.

And yet she had to stay.

With Braden’s stance on Ginger, the new veterinarian had to oversee the mare’s care. There was absolutely no other option.

“What’s wrong?” Liam gripped Isaiah’s hand. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He wasn’t, but he’d pretend for the moment. When they drew close to the barn, Liam sprinted ahead. “Hey! Doctor lady!” he shouted.

Charlotte turned and put a hand up, palm out. “Rule number one. We use inside voices around horses. Their hearing is sensitive and we don’t want to upset or rile them.”

“Is that why they have such big triangle ears?” he asked in a much softer voice.

“To hear predators coming. Yes. Horses instinctively listen, all the time. Our job is to keep our voices soft and nonthreatening. And you don’t have to call me doctor lady. Just call me Char. All right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The boy aimed a sincere look her way. “I can be loud someplace else. Okay?”

“Perfect.” She smiled down at him. “For right now I need you to be my gofer.”

Liam made a sour face. “Uncle Isaiah doesn’t like gophers. Not one little bit. They make tunnels that trip horses.”

“Ah.” She raised her gaze and aimed it straight at Isaiah. And then she smiled and he stood right there, wishing she didn’t. Wishing the smile didn’t draw him in. Make him want to smile back and maybe keep smiling. “Well, I can see how that would be problematic with so many beautiful horses. But you’re going to be a different kind of gopher, more like an assistant to me. When I need something, you run and get it. When I have questions, you answer them.”

“Like about Uncle Isaiah? And the ranch?”

“Exactly like that. And you will be the official guardian of my bag.” She kept brushing the mare in gentle, sweeping motions, as if she had nothing better to do than brush a horse. “That bag has all my emergency supplies in it, so if we have an emergency, you need to know exactly where the bag is.”

“Like carry it everywhere?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Nope. No sense in that, is there? Not if we know where it is.”

He grinned. “You’re smart!”

“I agree.” She smiled down at him, looked up, then paused, gazing over Isaiah’s shoulder.

Her eyes went still. The hand moving the brush faltered slightly, and her pretty smile faded just enough for Isaiah to turn around.

His mother stood ten paces back. Her expression said she was ready to do battle. He braced his legs and folded his arms, because if Stella Woods had a gripe with anyone, it was with him. Not the beautiful veterinary surgeon who was trying to establish a much-needed new business.

And not the softhearted little boy whose smile had disappeared the moment he spotted his grandmother coming their way.

Stella glared as she strode forward.

He met her halfway. “You come in peace for a poor neglected animal, I hope.”

“What are you doing, Isaiah Michael?” she hissed, and he hoped Liam couldn’t hear the venom in her voice. “You know better than to give shelter to a mean horse.” She uttered a bad phrase in her native tongue, a phrase he’d never heard come out of her mouth before. “She has already taken a life from us, one that was precious and good. Now we should let her give up her spirit and be done with it. Isaiah, I’m begging you.” She clasped his arms with her hands and gripped hard. “Do not save a murdering horse. It cannot be done.”

It would be so much easier to play along.

He’d stayed quiet all these years, knowing the truth and realizing there was little a child could do to change things.

But he was a child no longer, and God had put this opportunity in his path. Only a soulless man would shrug off this chance. “We would condemn a beautiful creature because of an accident, Mother?”

Her brow drew down. “A thrown child is no accident.”

And here it was, the moment he’d been destined to face for twenty-one long years. “But a horse spooked by careless humans may react. And then the blame lies not with the animal, but with the person who knew better.”

Her mouth dropped open.

She stared at him. Her eyes went wide before they narrowed in stark anger. “You cast blame with your words, Isaiah.”

“Then I apologize because there is no blame intended, Mother.” He hoped his tone offered assurance. “Accidents happen. We understand that. But it was wrong to lay blame on an innocent horse. It’s been twenty-one years. The horse is sick and old. We should care for her the way you did for my grandfather in his time.” She’d taken good care of Gray Cloud and set a beautiful example of how one should treat the aged. But his words didn’t seem to hit their mark.

She stared at him.

Then the horse and Charlotte and the boy.

And then she scraped her feet against the stony drive, spinning fine gray dust into the air. “If you do this thing, I shake the dust of your existence from my feet. You can no longer be a child of mine. It is either the horse or your mother, Isaiah. There is no room for both in your heart.”

And there it was.

The ultimatum. An ultimatum she’d made to others when angry. He’d heard it several times over the years and now it was his turn. And because she was a grudge holder, it was a promise he knew she’d keep. “But there is room.” He stepped forward, hoping for a compromise with the woman who had borne him. The mother who had raised him. She loved him and loved these children. An enforced separation wasn’t good for him, but it would be especially hard on Andrew’s two kids. “My heart has room for both. It’s time to let the truth set us free. Especially for her.” He indicated the horse with a slight nod.

“You are young and foolish and wrong.” Exasperation hiked her voice. “You think you see, but you do not, and your actions bring grief and harm to so many. Do as you will.” She threw her hands into the air. “From this day forward you mean nothing to me.”

“Grandma?”

She’d raised her voice on purpose. Liam heard. And Charlotte must have heard, too.

Stella ignored the longing in the boy’s voice and stomped away.

“Grandma!” Liam began to dart her way.

Isaiah caught him up and held him close. “Let her go, Liam. She’s angry right now. We’ll give her time, okay?”

“But why is she mad? Is she mad at me? Again?” He buried his face against Isaiah’s shoulder. His body shook but no tears came.

And when Isaiah raised his gaze to Charlotte, she looked from him to his mother and back as if the whole thing caused her way too much pain.

And then she quietly went back to brushing the poor, neglected horse.

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