One Night with a Red-Hot Rancher: Tough to Tame / Carrying the Rancher's Heir / One Dance with the Cowboy. Diana Palmer
dog, Ben, came out of surgery with a mended foreleg and was placed in a recovery cage to wait until the anesthetic wore off. The next day, if he presented no complications, he would be sent home with antibiotics, painkillers and detailed instructions on post-surgical care. Cappie was glad, for the boy’s sake. She felt sorriest for the children whose pets were injured. Not that grown-up people took those situations any easier. Pets were like part of the family. It was hard to see one hurt, or to lose one.
Kell was pensive when she got home. In fact, he looked broody. She put down her coat and purse. “What’s the matter with you?” she asked with a grin.
He put his laptop computer aside with deliberation. “I had a call from an assistant district attorney’s office in San Antonio, from the victim support people,” he said quietly. “Frank Bartlett got out of jail today.”
It was the day she’d been dreading. Her heart sank. He’d vowed revenge. He would make her pay, he said, for having him tried and convicted.
“Don’t worry,” he added gently. “We’re among friends here. Frank would have to be crazy to come down here and make trouble. In addition to the jail time, he drew a year’s probation. They’ll check on him. He wouldn’t want to risk having to go back to jail to finish his sentence.”
“You think so?” she wondered. She recalled what a hardheaded man Frank was. He got even with people. She’d heard things from one of her coworkers in San Antonio at the animal clinic, one who was friends with Frank’s sister. She’d said that Frank had run a man off the road who’d reported him for making threats at one of his jobs. The man was badly injured, but he could never prove it had been Frank who’d caused the accident. Cappie was sure, now, that there had probably been other incidents as well. Frank had admitted to her once that he’d spent time in juvenile hall as a youngster. He’d never said what for.
“He won’t be able to get to you at home,” Kell continued, “because I keep firearms and I know how to use them,” he added grimly. “At work, I don’t think he’d dare approach you. Dr. Rydel would likely propel him headfirst out the front door,” he chuckled.
Cappie was reminded that Dr. Rydel had actually done that. Dr. King told her about it. A man had come in with a badly injured dog, one with multiple fractures, claiming that the animal had fallen down some steps. After examining the dog, Dr. Rydel knew better. He’d accused the man of abusing the dog, and the man had thrown a punch at him. Dr. Rydel had picked him up and literally thrown him out onto the front porch, while fascinated pet owners watched. Then he’d called the police and had the man arrested. There had been a conviction, too.
Cappie, remembering that, smiled. “Dr. Rydel gets very upset when people abuse animals,” she told her brother.
“Obviously.” He pursed his lips. “I wonder why he decided to become a veterinarian?”
“I’ll have to ask him that.”
“Yes, you will. I made macaroni and cheese for supper,” he said, “when you called to say you’d be late.”
She made a face before she could stop herself.
Kell just grinned. “It’s frozen,” he said. “I heated it up in the oven.”
She sighed with relief. “Sorry. It’s just that I’ve had my carbon for today.”
He laughed. “I know I can’t cook. One day, though, I’ll learn how. Then watch out.”
“Some men are born to be chefs. You aren’t one of them. I’ll make a salad to go with the macaroni.”
“I did that already. It’s in the fridge.”
She went to kiss his cheek, bending over him in the wheelchair. “You’re the nicest brother in the whole world.”
“I could return the compliment.” He ruffled her hair. “Listen, kid, if the surly vet proposes, you take him up on it. I can take care of myself.”
“You can’t cook,” she wailed.
“I can buy nice frozen things to heat up,” he returned.
She sighed. “As if Dr. Rydel would ever propose,” she laughed. “He likes me, but that doesn’t mean he’ll want to marry me one day.”
“You need to invite him over again and make that shrimp and pasta dish you do so well. I have it from a spy that Dr. Rydel is partial to shrimp.”
“Really? Who knows that?”
“Cy Parks told me.”
She gave him a suspicious look. “Did you try to pump Cy Parks for inside information?”
Kell gave her his best angelic look. “I would never do such a sneaky thing.”
“Sure you would,” she retorted.
“Well, Dr. Rydel knew why Cy was asking him, anyway. He just laughed and asked if there was any other inside information that Cy would like to have for us.”
She flushed. “Oh, my.”
“Cy said the good doctor talked more about you than he did about the heifer he was helping to deliver,” Kell added. “It’s well-known that Dr. Rydel can’t abide women. People get curious when a notorious woman hater suddenly starts seeing a local woman.”
“I wonder why he hates women?” she wondered aloud.
“Ask him. But for now, let’s eat. I’m fairly empty.”
“Goodness, yes, it’s two hours past our usual suppertime,” she agreed, moving into the kitchen. “I’m sorry I was late.”
“How’s the dog?” he asked, joining her at the table.
“He’ll be fine, Dr. Rydel said. The poor boy was just devastated. I felt sorry for his dad. He’d just lost his job. You could see he was torn between getting the dog treated and taking care of his family. There’s a new baby. Dr. Rydel didn’t charge him a penny.”
“Heart of gold,” Kell said gently.
“We were going to take up a collection, when Dr. Rydel reminded us that he drove a Land Rover,” she laughed. “He inherited money from his grandmother, Dr. King said, and he makes a good living as a vet.”
“That means he’ll be able to take care of you when you get married.”
She made a face. “Horses before carts, not carts before horses.”
“You wait and see,” he replied. “That’s a man who’s totally hooked. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
She smiled from ear to ear as she started putting food on the table. She’d already pushed her fears about Frank to the back of her mind. Kell was right. He surely wouldn’t risk his freedom by making trouble for Cappie again.
Dr. Rydel took her to a carnival Friday night. She was shocked not only at the invitation, but at the choice of outings.
“You like carnivals?” she’d exclaimed.
“Sure! I love the rides and cotton candy.” He’d smiled with reminiscence. “My grandmother used to save her egg money to take me to any carnival that came through Jacobsville when I was a kid. She’d even go on the rides with me. I get tickled even now when I hear somebody talk about grandmothers who bake cookies and knit and sit in rocking chairs. My grandmother was a newspaper reporter. She was a real firecracker.”
She was remembering the conversation as they walked down the sawdust-covered aisles between booths where carnies were enticing customers to pitch pennies or throw baseballs to win prizes.
“What are you brooding about?” he teased.
She looked up, laughing. “Sorry. I was remembering what you said about your grandmother. Did you spend a lot of time with her?”
His face closed up.
“Sorry,”