From the Hat Down, page 2
“Okay,” Kelly said in acknowledgement.
“Thanks.” Meg focused on Chuck, who watched her approach from his pen. He had managed to stand up, though he listed slightly. He whined softly and weakly wagged his tail.
“Hey, big guy,” she said softly as she opened the gate and entered. She squatted next to him. “Sorry about this. But you’ve got to quit messing with fencing like that.”
He butted her shoulder with his head and she scratched him behind his ears then stood and watched him for a few moments. She checked his eyes and encouraged him to walk a bit, and he took a few shaky steps. He limped a bit on the injured front paw but he could put weight on it.
“Ten minutes, buddy. And then your mom will take you on home.” She closed the gate behind her. Another tech entered from the boarding kennels and Meg addressed him. “Hey, Gary, could you take Chuck out back? See if he’ll do anything and make sure he can. In ten minutes, take him out front to Ashley.”
“Will do.” He grinned lopsidedly and removed the black lightweight leash that he perpetually wore hanging around his neck. He reminded her of a guy she knew in vet school who was also in a rock band. Goofy but sweet demeanor, long hair, kind of chunky. Chuck stood watching through the bars of the pen, looking at Gary hopefully. Satisfied, she returned to the reception area to make sure Kelly had gotten all the necessary supplies for Ashley. She had, and Ginny had prepared an invoice that she’d send home with her. In a week, Ashley’s father would mail a check. He was a longtime patron of the clinic and a lifelong resident of Albany County. With many locals, the practice didn’t ask for payment up front, though most paid that way. Otherwise, they had arrangements with the vet. Meg appreciated that. It reminded her of Saratoga, where she’d spent her childhood and high school years, ninety minutes west.
She supervised as Kelly went through the products with Ashley and bagged them up for her along with the invoice. Gary brought Chuck in from the back and he practically fell over, he was so excited to see Ashley. She scratched behind his ears, took the bag from Kelly, and beamed at Meg.
“Thanks a lot, Doc. Guess we’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”
“Sure. Take care and call if you need to.” She waved as Ashley left with the limping, loopy Chuck then turned to Kelly. “Good work today. See you Wednesday.”
She relaxed, pleased. “Have a nice evening, Doc,” she said as she beat a retreat to the back. Meg took her lab coat off as Ginny locked the front door and put the closed sign up. Randy, the night vet, would come in through the back along with Jeff, another tech. Ginny turned back to Meg, looking at her with an expression that reminded Meg of an elementary school teacher waiting for a child to provide the correct answer to a question. Even in her animal-print scrubs, she could make grown men feel like they were in the third grade.
“Trent’s out of town tonight, if you want to come by,” she said.
Meg smiled. Ginny reminded her in some ways of Alice, the long-time chef at the family ranch. About the same age, and no-nonsense but with a soft spot for hard-luck cases. “That’d be fun. But I’ve got something else to do.”
She shrugged, a spare motion that took just one shoulder. Petite and wiry, every body motion she made tended to come across as exaggerated. “I know. That’s why I’m offering. I’ll be up late if you change your mind.”
“Thanks. But probably not.”
“Coffee and cake,” she coaxed.
“Tempting. How about we just go out for a beer another time? Not sure I’ll be in the best mood later tonight.” She managed a smile and returned to her office, leaving Ginny’s scrutiny, though she appreciated her offer of support.
She hung her lab coat on the metal hook outside her office door before she went in and sat in the old wooden chair that fronted her desk. She untied her shoes, a pair of well-worn blue and gray Vans sneakers, and reached for her lace-up ropers under the chair. She put them on, leaving the Vans in their stead.
When she started here two years ago, the staff wasn’t sure what to make of the new cowgirl vet who sometimes wore surfer sneakers and an occasional Hawaiian shirt at work. Within six months, though, she had come to fit in pretty well, to the point that she was able to be reasonably out with the staff, even in a traditionally conservative state like Wyoming. She had figured out that if she didn’t make a big deal out of being gay, most people she interacted with personally didn’t, either.
She stood and kicked her feet a bit so her jeans fell down over the tops of her boots. Today she wore a short-sleeved light blue western-cut shirt with pearl snaps. Coincidentally, it was a shirt that Kate had always liked on her. She said once that Meg’s stormy gray eyes softened in the blue of this shirt. Meg wished she’d worn a different one as she leaned in to log out of her computer. She retrieved her satchel from the file cabinet next to the door and glanced at her watch. She had a half-hour to get home because Kate, being Kate, would be there at exactly seven o’ clock. She tried but failed to ignore the small hard knot of tension in her abdomen as she left the office and pulled the door shut behind her. She tested the knob to make sure it was locked before she left the building by the back door, making sure the alarm was set. Ginny’s car was gone and Meg made a mental note to invite her for a beer after the weekend. It’d been a while since they’d had a staff night out.
She climbed behind the wheel of her Toyota pick-up and tossed her satchel onto the passenger seat. A few minutes passed as she sat behind the wheel, window down, letting the late May warmth offer what comfort it could. She inhaled then exhaled deeply and started the engine. Might as well get it over with, she thought, as she backed away from the building.
Kate pulled up in front of the house at 6:58 p.m. Meg knew this because she heard the door of Kate’s SUV slam shut. The sound carried through the open front door of her house. She glanced at her watch. Just once, Meg thought. Just once, would it kill you to be a little spontaneous? She took a deep breath and stood up from the couch, a comfortable upholstered affair that had seen way too many nights with her the past few weeks. Kate’s footsteps sounded on the porch.
“Meg?” She asked through the screen door.
“Yeah. It’s open.” She watched as Kate entered, looking about as uncomfortable as she felt. They stood in silence, appraising each other.
“You look good,” Meg finally said. It was an understatement. Kate always looked good. Tall, athletic, long-limbed. Even in jeans and an old cut-off plaid shirt, Kate could be a spokeswoman for any kind of sports equipment. A blond amazon with an edge of granola. A nice mix.
“Thanks.” She self-consciously touched the brim of her baseball cap. “So do you.”
She nodded brusquely in acknowledgement. “You want some iced tea?”
Kate relaxed a little. “No, thanks.”
“Okay.” She put her glass down on the nearby coffee table. “I think I got it all.” She motioned at the boxes by the front door. “But I might not have. So have a look around and make sure.” She moved toward the boxes, avoiding Kate’s eyes. “Is your car open?”
“Meg—” she stopped. “Yes. It’s open. Thanks.”
Meg didn’t respond, and picked up one of the boxes and used her hip to bump the screen door open. Down the step to the porch. Across the porch to the next step down to the short concrete walk that led to the curb where Kate’s SUV was parked. She braced the box on her left hip and pulled the tailgate open with her right hand. She placed the box inside and went back for another, passing Kate en route carrying the second.
Meg put the last box into the vehicle and shut the tailgate, making sure it clicked into place. “Did you check around?” she asked as she slid her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. A strange numbness settled in her torso.
“Yes.” Kate opened the driver’s side door. “Do you have my number?” She turned to look at her, and rested her right hand on the inside armrest of the door.
Meg nodded. Kate knew she had her phone number. She was just making small talk, trying to find a way to say goodbye without injecting it with the finality this meeting signaled. “Ends with nine-seven, right?”
“Yes. And you have my email.”
“Yeah. If I find anything, I’ll let you know and I can probably drive it down for you. Fort Collins is only an hour away. No sense mailing it.”
“Meg—”
“Don’t worry. I won’t just show up.” She ran a hand through her hair and waited, though she wasn’t sure what for.
Kate smiled but Meg saw sadness in her eyes. Before she could say anything else, Kate pulled her into an embrace. She stiffened but Kate held on and Meg relaxed, finding a bit of comfort in the familiarity of Kate’s arms. She hugged her back, recognizing the faint smell of Kate’s shampoo and the hints of apricot that colored her cologne. But she felt only echoes, as if she was trying to hold a memory.
Kate pulled away and ran a hand along Meg’s jaw. She leaned down and placed a lingering, chaste kiss on her cheek. “I love you,” she said softly.
“I love you, too,” she responded, meaning it.
“I know. But not the way I need you to.” She stroked the side of Meg’s face, a melancholy, thoughtful expression on her face.
“I’m sorry.” She covered Kate’s hand with her own.
“I know.” She smiled, but it was a reflection of the distance between them now.
“If you need anything, call.” Meg meant that, too.
Kate nodded and slowly disengaged. She returned to her vehicle and got in. Meg watched her as she shut the door and started the engine. She rolled the window down and slid her sunglasses on. “Take care, Meg.” She offered a quick wave as she pulled away from the curb.
“You, too,” Meg said under her breath as the Explorer turned left. Another knot of sadness tightened in her chest and throat but it was soon overwhelmed with relief. She stood a few more minutes, staring down the street and the small, neat houses on either side toward the cross street before she turned and retraced her steps back to the house.
Chapter 2
Meg spent the next day on Albany County’s myriad back roads. She reserved Tuesdays for a few house calls though ranch emergencies always ignored calendars. Today was steady but manageable. No emergencies, fortunately. She checked in with the Langsteads, who were worried about a quarter horse with a bowed tendon on his left front leg. She then drove over to the Avila spread to administer brucellosis vaccinations to twenty calves. Only certified vets could take care of this, as it required tagging each animal that received it and filing paperwork. More work for her, but it was all part of the job.
After a cup of coffee in the Avila kitchen and a sandwich for the road, Meg swung by Effie Johnston’s to check on an older horse that might be developing heaves, which was sort of like asthma in humans. He exhibited mild symptoms, but Meg spent some time listening to his lungs, and ended up sedating him to extract a mucus sample from his trachea to find out if a bacterial infection might be causing some problems, too. Once she’d finished the procedure, she recommended they keep Hank outside as much as possible, so he could avoid possible allergens in the stall, which she suggested they move to the end of the barn, near the door for better ventilation.
She made some other recommendations about wetting the hay he ate and that served as his bedding then went back to the house where she tossed a football with thirteen-year-old Jordan for a few minutes while talking to Effie before she got back into the specially outfitted Chevy she used on these rounds. She started up and waved as she backed up to the turnaround in front of the house and headed to Highway 287, which would take her south across the rolling prairie, back to windswept Laramie. Though home to Wyoming’s only four-year university, Laramie remained a sleepy western town that strained on occasion to be a city. But no matter how many upscale restaurants or Starbucks showed up, its twenty-eight thousand permanent residents clung stubbornly to an earthy pioneer heritage that turned its nose up at “big-city affectations.” An ethos Meg knew and understood, born to it herself, though there were times she longed for the anonymity of a bigger city. Maybe she’d take a trip down to Denver in the next couple of months and hang out with a couple of friends from college. Could be it would do her some good to get out more.
She reached over and flipped the radio on as the miles unrolled beneath the truck’s wheels. Roy, one of the other vets at the practice, had done rounds the last time, so the radio was tuned to a country station. She left the dial where it was, singing along to Garth Brooks as she settled in for the twenty miles back to the office. She adjusted her position a bit, trying to work out some stiffness from another night on the couch, and she thought about Kate, feeling a little guilty now about her relief at the end.
They’d lived together almost two years. The first was all right, but halfway through the second it was clear to both of them that the relationship wasn’t working. Meg’s hectic schedule at the clinic was a point of contention with Kate, whose own schedule offered more flexibility and more vacation time than Meg’s. Plus, intrinsic personality differences added to the growing gulf between them. Kate had a hard time with Meg’s need for alone time, and she didn’t really fit in with the paradoxically taciturn but tight-knit ranching culture that shaped Meg. So they drifted further apart and Kate started spending more time with her friends and Meg often returned home from work to find a note telling her not to wait up. She brought all this up the past November and Kate agreed.
And it ended.
Just like that.
But untying all the threads took a little longer than a Wyoming winter’s night.
Meg stared out the windshield, brooding all the way into Laramie, feeling guilty about Kate and, inexplicably, about someone else who still haunted her thoughts, even after eight years. A Dixie Chicks song started playing on the radio, as if somehow the DJ knew who Meg was thinking about. She smiled. It wasn’t the one Gina had sung to her ten years ago at the bar in Saratoga, but it didn’t matter. The Chicks would always make her think about Gina. She sighed. Not like she needed music to remind her. She slowed down at the city limits and braked at a stoplight then turned left onto Grand, toward the University. As she pulled into the clinic parking lot, her cell phone rang with a specific tone. She answered, keeping one hand on the wheel.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, hon. Glad I caught you,” Stan’s soft deep voice greeted her.
“What’s up?” She steered into a parking spot right behind the clinic and shifted into park.
“Your mom called. She said she left you a message a few days ago but hasn’t heard anything.”
Meg turned off the engine and leaned her head back, staring at the gray cloth ceiling of the cab. “Damn. I totally forgot—”
“It’s okay. You’re busy and I told her that. But brace yourself. She’s flying out next week for your birthday.”
She froze. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Why the hell would she do that?”
“You know how she is,” he said with a shrug in his voice. “She gets it in her head to do something and you might as well just ride it out.”
She sighed heavily. “So she’s actually coming to the ranch?”
“Yep. She’s flying into Cheyenne a week from Friday. She said she’d rent a car and drive out.” He paused, then cleared his throat.
She waited. There was something else. She could picture him, sitting at the big desk in his pine-paneled office, fidgeting with a pen. He’d run a hand through his thick black hair, shot through now with gray, then tug on a strand at his temple, maybe toy with his mustache a little.
“And?” She pressed.
He didn’t say anything for a moment. “She’s bringing someone.”
Meg’s stomach clenched. “Who?”
He cleared his throat again. “Now, honey, promise you won’t blow a gasket.” He sounded worried.
“Jesus, Dad. Have I been that shitty lately?” Christ, had she?
“It’s just that I know how she is about you and your relationships.”
“Oh, for—she’s bringing a guy?”
“Well. . .” The discomfort in his voice provided the answer.
“She is. She’s bringing some goddamn guy.”
He didn’t respond but she could hear him breathing.
“That is—holy shit,” Meg said, both frustrated and irritated. “She’s bringing a guy like I’m some kind of broodmare. What the hell?” She glared out the windshield, grip tightening on the steering wheel.
He burst out laughing. “Broodmare,” he sputtered. “Christ, that’s—you have to admit, that’s pretty much how she sees it.” He broke off, laughing harder and Meg cracked a smile.
The more she thought about it, the more she smiled. She released her chokehold on the wheel as laughter overtook her as well.
“It’s a hell of a birthday present,” he finally managed, which only made Meg laugh harder. It felt good. Cathartic.
“Poor guy,” she said as she wiped her eyes.
“And I doubt she told him that there’s just one little problem with that scenario.”
“Which one? I can list several.”
“True. But the most obvious is that you don’t ride that side of the fence.”
Meg sat, stunned. He hardly ever said anything like that and it left her elated, the comfort with which he expressed it. “Um, yeah. That is the most obvious.” She brushed at some dirt on her knee. “I’ll call her,” she added, letting him off the hook for further discussion along those lines.
“He probably already bought the ticket.”
“No, she probably already bought the ticket for him,” she pointed out. “So it’s her loss. But it’ll save him some embarrassment. Give him time to take that ring back to the jeweler.”
“Or the pawn shop,” he said innocently. “Your mom doesn’t always pick the best of the bunch where you’re concerned.”
She laughed again. “Dad!”
“It’s true. If he’s breathing, he’s fair game.”
She shook her head, grinning. “Or we could just. . .not say anything.”
