Barking Up the Wrong Tree Page 7

  CHAPTER 10

  Laken

  Put Mom, Dad, Pap, all five of us Mancinkus kids, plus Ryland and Mely at the table together, and it’s so noisy I can’t hear what anyone’s saying.

  I reach my hand under the table since Mom isn’t paying attention, and Herman nearly takes the tips of my fingers off as he snatches the piece of pot roast I offer him.

  With a startled yip, I pull my hand away. Mom shoots me a glare. I grin at her and then reach back under the table to pet Herman’s head. He’s a member of this family, too.

  Mely reaches down to a bag at her side and pulls it onto her lap. She’s laughing at something Pap says to her, and then announces, “We brought gifts from New York.”

  The chatter continues as Mely passes out little knickknacks. Larkin gets a snow globe of The Statue of Liberty, which is very thoughtful since she collects them.

  I don’t collect anything other than fur and slobber from a hard day’s work. While I may not know Mely all that well, it’s clear Lowe had some input into the presents they bought as she hands a small gift bag across the table to me.

  Reaching inside, I pull out a deep purple canvas dog collar. On the front is a metal plate with the name “Herman” etched on it.

  “Oh, man… that’s awesome,” I gush, then cut my eyes over the table to Mely. “Thank you so much. It’s perfect.”

  Herman’s current collar is frayed but still has miles on it, and while I’m not cheap, there’s no use in me buying him something at this point.

  Doesn’t mean I’m not going to gratefully accept this.

  Scooting my chair back, I only half pay attention to the chatter around me. Herman comes right out and pushes between my legs. He sniffs at the collar in my lap while I take his old one off. When I put the new one on, he gives a deep bark of what I think might actually be appreciation, and then starts wagging his tail so hard it thumps on the underside of the table.

  “I’ve got an announcement, too,” Ry says from my right. There’s only Trixie sitting between us.

  The laughter and talk die down, and once everyone’s looking at Ry, he stands from the table. He looks down at Trixie. Immediately, everyone knows what this is. That look in his eyes of such unconditional love and devotion is so transparent… so obvious to his intent… that I glance across the table at my mama to see she’s already crying tears of joy.

  Larkin sighs from my left, and Pap mutters, “About damned time.”

  “Trixie,” Ry says as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black velvet ring box. “We’ve waited long enough. Way too long. My life won’t be complete until you marry me.”

  He opens the box and holds it out for her to see the ring inside.

  I don’t bother looking at it, though. I merely lean forward so I can see Trixie’s face.

  Her eyes are shiny with tears, and she doesn’t bother looking at the ring either. She only has eyes for Ryland, and that’s the way it’s always been.

  Pushing from her chair, she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him hard. When she pulls back, she says, “Yes. Of course. Yes.”

  We all start clapping. Lowe gives a wolf whistle and Colt bangs his hands on the table, because boys are crass and have no manners. Larkin, Mely, Mama, and I all gather around Trixie as Ry slips the ring on her finger, and then we hug and ooh and aah over it. The boys are giving back slaps to Ry, and Daddy says something to the effect of, “Don’t forget how accurate I am with my pistol, boy.”

  Even Herman’s happy as he feeds on our joyful vibe, barking and spinning in circles. That is, until he realizes that everyone is up from the table and the food is unprotected.

  I catch him by his new collar just as his front paws go up on my chair so he can start with my plate of food.

  “Oh, no you don’t, silly boy,” I say as I haul him back. He strains for just a moment, gives a hacking cough as the collar digs into his windpipe, and then finally sits back down on his haunches. I grin at him as my cell phone starts vibrating in my back pocket.

  Pulling it out, I see it’s Carlos calling. I stopped by Farrington Farm on my way into work this morning, just to make sure he had things under control. Not that I didn’t trust Carlos, but Jake hadn’t made the best hiring decision in Jenks. I only wanted to make sure the goats were being cared for.

  And maybe a little because I might miss Jake.

  It’s absolutely crazy to be feeling this way. We hardly know each other, and let’s face it… when we were in bed together, we weren’t big on talk.

  Just action.

  So it’s totally crazy I’m a little bent out of shape that Jake didn’t even send me a short text to let me know he landed in Chicago last night.

  So crazy.

  I was very pleased to find Carlos working early when I stopped by this morning, busy laying out fresh alfalfa for the herd when I got there. He was worried, though, as he said Miss Goatikins refused to eat last night as well as that morning.

  I tried to feed the little doeling myself, but she wasn’t having any of it. Even her mama nudged her and tried to push her into action. The baby goat just kept bleating—or was it crying?—from where she was curled up on the blanket Jake had given her.

  I was concerned enough that I did an examination, because the most obvious explanation was the baby was sick. But she checked out perfectly fine.

  Ultimately, despite how strange it sounded, I really thought Miss Goatikins had a broken heart over Jake leaving. While I didn’t share that exact commiseration, I understood the pull of such a man as I’d been thinking about him a lot since I left his bed yesterday morning.

  My advice to Carlos was to just keep trying. Miss Goatikins wasn’t going to starve if she went a day without formula, and my best educated guess was she’d be hungry enough by the evening to eat.

  I connect the call and say, “Hey, Carlos. What’s up?”

  “Dr. Mancinkus… It’s Miss Goatikins,” he says in his rolling Hispanic accent. “She still no eat.”

  He pronounced “still” like “steel” and his verb and adverbs were out of order, but I got the true message from the tone of his voice. He was worried.

  “Not anything?” I ask for clarification, although I don’t think Carlos is the type who is prone to hysterics.

  “No. Nothing,” he confirms. “What should I do?”

  I hold back a sigh, not really wanting to leave the comfort of my family home. It’s a rarity when we can all get together for an evening meal, and if there’s anything at all that made my decision to return to Whynot to practice veterinary medicine the absolute right decision, it’s the people in this room. Every single one of them I’d bleed for. Even Ryland, who wasted years away from my sister before he wised up, and Mely, who I barely know but who still impetuously married my brother all the same. They were my family now, too.

  “I’m on my way over there, Carlos. Let me see if I can get her to eat.”

  It was said without any real enthusiasm, because I knew what Carlos probably did, too.

  Miss Goatikins was not going to eat for anyone but Jake.

  ♦

  It’s even more pathetic than when I was here this morning. Miss Goatikins is beyond bleating and crying. She’s curled on the blanket, her neck curved so her face tucks in near her belly. Her eyes are open and follow me with no real interest as I take a bottle from Carlos.

  Nothing I do can entice her. I try to pull her on my lap, but she wants none of me. She runs right back to the blanket and curls up. If I had a stethoscope with me, I wonder if I’d hear her heart breaking when I listened.

  This little goat has it bad for Jake.

  Herman doesn’t have much experience with farm animals, but the few times he’s been around our cows at Mainer Farms, he’s acted like a damn fool. Barking and lunging at them in all his big, puppy glory.

  But with Miss Goatikins, he’s unusually quiet, preferring to lay quietly by my side as I sit on the floor and try to cajole the doeling into just taking a tiny sip
from the bottle.

  After more than an hour of trying to tempt her, I give up and snap a quick picture of her with my phone. I then text it to Jake with a very short message. She’s refusing to eat. She’s been like this all day.

  It’s almost seven on a Friday night in Chicago. I have no clue what Jake could possibly be doing, but I don’t expect him to answer right away. A high-powered executive like him is probably still working. If not, he’s probably having expensive pre-dinner drinks at some exorbitantly priced restaurant.

  To my surprise, not mere seconds after the outgoing swoosh of my text is heard, I get a chime with his return message. Are you serious?

  Yes. She hasn’t eaten since you left.

  I expect a return text so I’m absolutely startled when my phone rings. Jake’s name on my screen causes my heart to race for some reason.

  “Hey,” I answer… somewhat stupidly.

  “Is this typical behavior?” he asks without returning a greeting.

  “I’ve never seen this,” I tell him candidly. “But I checked her over good, Jake. There’s nothing wrong that I can find on a simple examination. I mean… I could take her in for an x-ray of her stomach to see if something’s going on there, but I’d have to sedate her.”

  “Damn it,” he says, but it’s not in anger. I hear nothing but true worry in his voice, and that makes my tummy flutter a little.

  Big burly men and little furry animals… so sexy.

  I shake my head. “I can take her home with me. Keep trying to feed her. But if she doesn’t eat soon, she’s going to start getting weak. She’s only four days old and she needs the nutrition, so I’d probably have to put her on an IV. But that’s just a—”

  “I’ll be there tonight,” he cuts in over me.

  I glance down at my watch. It’s unlikely he’s going to be able to get packed, get to the airport, and catch a flight out tonight. But I don’t bother saying that to him, because I get the feeling that if Jake says he’ll do something, he’ll do it.

  ♦

  Tiny little hooves dance up and down on my chest, and I open my eyes to see Miss Goatikins standing on me. She’s staring across the room, her little feet stomping up and down and her tail swishing at a hundred miles an hour.

  I blink my eyes and see Jake walking in the front door of his farmhouse.

  I’d taken the doeling inside as I was exhausted waiting for Jake. With the blanket in my lap, I’d fallen asleep on the couch holding her. I must have laid flat at some point, because now the little goat is doing some potential damage to my sternum.

  Picking her up, I roll slightly and set her down on the floor. Her feel scrabble on the worn hardwood floors as she flies across the living room to Jake.

  I sit up and rub my eyes, but there’s no containing the smile on my face as he bends down to pick her up. He already has a bottle in his hand, so he must have gone out to the barn first.

  He looks exhausted, but his gaze comes to mine and his smile is warm. I think it says he’s glad to see me as well as his goat.

  I pat the couch cushion beside me, and Jake comes over. Sitting down gently, he turns Miss Goatikins in his arms. Her mouth latches onto the bottle nipple, and she starts sucking hungrily.

  “I’d almost convinced myself there was something internally wrong with her, and she was sicker than I was giving her credit for,” I tell Jake quietly. “But damn… she really just missed you.”

  “Weird, huh?” he murmurs as he watches the baby goat drink.

  “It’s definitely unusual,” I admit. After a few moments of silence, I ask, “What are you going to do?”

  Jake shrugs slightly and rolls his head to look at me. “No clue. But seeing as how my condo won’t allow baby goats there, I’m going to have to figure something out.”

  Chuckling, I lean over and nudge his shoulder. “Do you realize in just the past week, you’ve had to fly to Whynot three times because of these goats?”

  “That had crossed my mind,” he says dryly.

  I give him a little pat on his thigh and then push off the couch. Turning to face him, I say, “Maybe fate is trying to tell you something.”

  “That I should be a goat farmer?” he asks with a smirk. “I don’t think so.”

  I laugh and turn for the door. “I’m exhausted. I’ll bill you for my time.”

  “Good night, Laken,” Jake calls after me, and I wear a tired but happy smile the entire way home.

  I’ll admit… Miss Goatikins isn’t the only one excited to see Jake back in town.

  ♦

  Herman

  On stinky goats…

  I was excited for all of a minute when we got to the farm. The smells were spectacular. I recognized chicken poop and hay, but wasn’t overly familiar with a musky animal smell.

  Once my feet hit the dirt when I jumped out of Mom’s truck, I saw unusual animals standing on the other side of the fence. They made funny noises like they were trying to make words, but all they did was stutter.

  I started to bolt toward them, intent on barking and making my presence known, but Mom issued that one word to me, so I came to a sliding halt.

  “No.”

  My head hung, and I trotted back to my mom. She went to the barn and I followed behind her, taking in more new scents. This one was similarly musky but also powdery, too.

  There was a smaller version of those animals laying on a blanket, and it didn’t look all that healthy.

  I walked stealthily up to it while Mom talked to another man for a moment. I sniffed at its head, but it didn’t even move.

  I chuffed and then touched the tip of my tongue to its nose. It was warm… definitely alive… but still, it didn’t move.

  Giving a soft whine in the back of my throat, I turn to look at my mom and implore her with my eyes to do something to help the little beastie. I know for a fact it’s not sick, because I can smell sick on another animal.

  In fact, I can smell sick on a person, too. Pap hasn’t been smelling right these days, so I give him extra love when I’m around him.

  For over an hour, I lay beside Mom while she tries to get the little beastie she calls a goat to eat. I know it’s hungry because I can hear its tummy growling. Not as loud as mine when it’s close to supper time, but still quite gurgly for such a little thing.

  Finally, Mom takes the baby goat inside the farmhouse. I want to come inside, but she says that word again.

  “No.”

  I don’t understand because I’m allowed inside at the house Mom and I live in. But I know this isn’t our house because it smells old and musty, so maybe I’m just not allowed in there.

  No matter.

  I’m a dog, and I do my duty.

  I lay on the porch right in front of the door and I watch the front yard. Nothing will harm my mom and the little furry thing inside with her.

  CHAPTER 11

  Jake

  I see no one in the small waiting room of Whynot Veterinary when I pull open the glass door. Low murmurs come from the back, and since technically I worked here and haven’t exactly been fired, I stroll back with all the confidence in the world.

  I find Laken in the first exam room with a snarling little chihuahua and a nervous-looking, matronly woman who’s wringing her hands as Laken tries to examine the dog.

  Glancing up at me, Laken gives me a tiny wink before concentrating on the dog she’s trying to hold still. It’s squirming and baring its teeth at Laken.

  “See how swollen his cheek is,” the woman frets as Laken takes the dog’s head gently in her hands. This causes his body to start flopping around to get lose.

  Without even waiting for a request, I step into the room and hold the dog by the rear end so he stops squirming.

  “That’s my assistant, Jake,” Laken says to the woman. I bob my head in greeting, but quickly turn my attention to the little bundle of pissed-off energy Laken and I are trying to control.

  Laken carefully pushes at a swollen area on the upper jaw extending bac
k to the joint. It’s obvious to the eye, but I’m guessing the poor dog’s owner couldn’t get close enough to poke and prod herself.

  “It’s cancer, isn’t it?” the woman wails.

  “Not sure,” Laken mutters. Even though the dog has its lips peeled back, eyes bugging all crazy like, she holds the top of his muzzle tightly before sticking out an index finger to run along his gum line on top.

  She frowns, makes a tiny sound of “huh” low in her throat, and then digs a little deeper. When she pulls her finger back, I see it’s nothing more than a chunk of Milk Bone that had gotten stuck back there.

  The dog immediately stops growling, and Laken and I both let him go.

  “Miss Belton,” Laken chastises. “You can’t give Jitters large treats like this. If he can’t chew them properly, they’ll get stuck… or worse, he’ll choke on it.”

  “But they were on sale at Wal-Mart,” the lady explains, and Laken nods in understanding.

  “That’s fine. But you need to break them into smaller pieces.”

  “So there’s no cancer?” Miss Belton asks again, her arms scooping Jitters up. The little dog shakes like a leaf, and I now understand its name.

  “No cancer,” Laken says with a smile as she walks to the sink to wash her hands.

  “Praise Jesus,” Miss Belton says as she looks up to the ceiling—but I think she was looking heavenward—and starts rummaging in her purse with her free hand. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Nothing,” Laken says as she dries her hands. “It wasn’t that difficult to figure out.”

  “But your time is worth something,” Miss Belton insists. “Besides, you’re the only one in this entire county who has the guts to stick their finger in Jitters’ mouth. Let me pay you something.”

  “Biscuits,” Laken says, and my eyebrows shoot up at this odd request. “Half a dozen next time you make some. Have Leroy deliver them to me.”

  “Deal,” Miss Belton says before she scoots out of the exam room yelling “toodles” over her shoulder.