“It’s not going to die. I’m going to fix it.” Why did I sound so defensive? Why did I feel as though if Chance tried to take the pup from me, I’d fight him tooth and nail?
“You can’t fix everything. I thought you learned that lesson a while ago.” Chance froze long enough to look back at me, his meaning written on every plane of his face.
I cradled the pup closer. What was my major malfunction? I was about to go all mother bear over some wild wolf pup that was more dead than alive. “I can fix this.”
Chance sighed, stacking a few last rocks to seal up the den. “What if you can’t?”
I stepped away from the den, heading for the horses. The sooner we got back, the sooner I could help the little thing. “I can.”
Chance rose and dusted his gloves off on his jeans. “One of these days, you need to learn the meaning of a hopeless case.”
“Fine,” I called back. “I’ll learn that lesson someday. Just not today.”
IT WAS STILL alive. I hadn’t lost it. The pup had been surprisingly still and calm on the ride back to the house. The horses had been less so, clearly on edge and jumpy with the scent of wolf shadowing their every step, but we’d all made it back alive and in one piece.
I was barely four hours into this day, and from when I’d woken up to now already seemed like two different days, like two different decades. From brewing coffee and enduring Chance lecturing me on Conn to carrying a corpse of a wolf pup in my coat with one thing and one thing only on my mind—I had to save this life.
Emphasis on the this.
After climbing onto our horses, Chance and I hadn’t said a single word to each other. The speed of the horses flying made carrying on a conversation next to impossible, but even if we could have, I wasn’t exactly eager to talk with Chance after what he’d suggested. How could he just let something die? How could he not try with everything he had to save a life?
The moment I swung off Dark Horse, Chance was there to take the reins before I rushed up the porch steps. “What do you need?”
“What? Now you want to help the pup instead of leaving it out there to finish dying?” I kept going up the stairs, not even glancing back.
“I want to help you,” was his answer as I threw open the front door.
I felt the pup shiver against me—now wasn’t the time to indulge my put-out side. “Grab the first aid kit from the barn, and I’ll round up the rest.”
“It’s a livestock first aid kit.”
I glanced back at Chance. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, a horse’s reins in each hand, looking a little lost. It wasn’t an expression I was used to seeing on him.
“Close enough,” I said. “Besides, I don’t know about you, but if my life was on the line and a livestock first aid kit was the only thing I could find, that wouldn’t stop me from rifling through it.”
Chance nodded, leading the horses toward the barn. “One first aid kit coming up.”
“I’ll be in the library. Meet me back there.”
“Of course you will be. Where better to take a dying wolf pup than a library?” There was a hint of amusement in Chance’s voice, telling me that whatever issues he’d had with me trying to save the wolf pup, he was getting over them.
Good. I needed his help much more than I needed his devil’s advocate.
Once I was inside the house, I rushed through the foyer and headed for the library. I smelled bacon and eggs coming from the dining room where I guessed, or hoped, a couple of brothers were having breakfast with their father, but I found that to be a false hope when I ventured farther inside the library.
I sighed when I found Chase leaning into the side of the pool table, hyper-focused on the black eight ball. He glared at it as if that ball and it alone were responsible for taking his wife away from him.
I cared about Chase—I loved him as a sister would a brother—but I didn’t have time to be gentle and handpick each word. “It’s just a ball, Chase. A thing made out of resin, shaped into a sphere, doused in black paint, and stamped with a number eight. It’s nothing else.” I didn’t slow my pace as I hurried to the pool table.
“It’s not just a ball, Scout.” Chase shook his head, his hair disheveled and, I guessed, fresh from a night of endless tossing and turning. “It’s the difference between winning and losing. The difference between life and death.”
I stopped at the edge of the pool table. “You really believe that?”
Chase didn’t seem to blink as he stared at the ball. “Yeah, I think so.”
I felt a flash of white-hot anger—anger that Chase had been reduced to what he had, anger at the reason why, anger that the strongest men in my life had been broken by bad luck and superstition. I’d expected John to be in bad shape when I’d arrived. I hadn’t expected Chase to be almost just as bad or Conn to have somehow gotten worse or to learn why Chance would never become the family man I’d always seen him as. It wasn’t how I’d wanted to see these men’s lives turn out. I’d wanted them to thrive, not deteriorate.
I snatched the eight ball from the green felt table, arched my arm back, and sent that sucker sailing. Straight through the window.
Chase flinched before giving me a look like I’d gone mad, but at least he wasn’t staring at some black ball, hypnotized by the baseless power he’d ascribed to it.
Chase motioned at the broken windowpane. “What the hell, Scout?”
“What happened to you and your wife is horrible. The worst kind of horrible.” I locked eyes with him. “But little black balls don’t kill people. Neither do curses.” I whipped my head from side to side. “Trees kill people. Lightning kills people.”
Chase’s face pulled into a grimace, but he didn’t look away. He didn’t retreat into that place deep inside him I didn’t know how to get to.
“Pills kill people.” I swallowed, pushing aside the image of my mom on the bathroom floor. The movement and whimper of a little something helped get the rest of the image out. “Dehydration and starvation kills people. It’s about to kill this little guy—at least, unless you help me.” I opened my coat to give Chase a peek.
His eyes went even wider than Chance’s had gone when he’d seen what I was hiding in my coat. “Is that what I think it is?” Chase stepped closer.
“Given I don’t have any clue where your mind’s been or what you’ve been thinking, I’m not sure what you think it is.”
Chase exhaled through his nose. “A wolf. Is that a wolf?”
“It’s a baby wolf.”
“Yeah, all I heard was wolf.” Chase moved a couple steps closer, lowering his head to get a better look at it.
The pup didn’t squirm deeper into the folds of my jacket. Instead, it lifted its head and tilted it a bit, appraising Chase as if it could almost sense the huge being looming over him was clinging to life as much as the pup was.
“Do you want to help me or keep reviewing this whole wolf-shock thing? Because Chance tried that too, hoping I’d leave it where we found it, but look who’s carrying a wolf pup in her jacket?”
Chase almost smiled at the pup. It couldn’t quite qualify as a smile, but it was the closest I’d seen on Chase since arriving. “What do you need?”
My smile, however, couldn’t be mistaken. “I need a few flat sheets, some towels, and a couple of hot water bottles if you can find them.” I reviewed a checklist in my head, hoping what I found in the first aid kit would check off the rest. “I think that’s it.”
“Sheets, towels, hot water bottles.” Chase counted off on his fingers. “Got it.”
After he hurried from the room, I heard Chase’s thunderous footsteps driving up the stairs to the second floor. It was a sound that had been a regular part of living there and one I’d missed since arriving last night. Chase had been moving so noiselessly through the house, I’d almost started to wonder if he was the ghost he appeared to be. Those booming steps proved otherwise.
I took a few laps around the library, trying not to check the clock.
Chase and Chance burst into the room at the same time.
“Think this will be enough?” Chase asked, sheets and towels piled so high in his arms, he could barely see over the top.
“I think so, yeah.” Chase had taken “a few” to mean “a few dozen.”
Chance lifted the large first aid kit. “Here it is. Where do you want it?”
“On the pool table.” I nodded at it. “Chase, will you lay out a few sheets first, then stack a couple of towels on that?”
He answered by jogging to the table.
“The pool table?” Chance was less accommodating than his brother. “Your plan is to nurse a wolf pup back to health on a pool table?”
“Unless you have a surgical table hiding inside that huge hat of yours, then yes, the pool table will work. Unless you’d rather I use the dining room table?”
Chance headed to the table and settled the kit on top of the sheets Chase had just laid out. He winked at me. “But now where will Chase go when he wants to brood? You’re taking over his brooding turf, so you’ll need to find him a new spot.”
Chase tossed one of the folded towels at Chance’s face.
“His new spot can be right here with me, helping me save this pup.” I arched an eyebrow at Chance as I approached the table. “Busy hands, empty mind, isn’t that what I’ve heard?”
“You still remember.” Chance retrieved the towel Chase had tossed at him, unfolded it, and stacked it on top of the others Chase was carefully layering.
“Considering I don’t think I had one single solitary moment that first summer I arrived when my hands weren’t busy with some task you needed help with . . . yeah, I still remember.” I lifted one of my hands, palm facing him. “I still have the callouses to prove it.” I hadn’t realized it at the time, but Chance’s incessant “I need help with this, I need help with that” had been his attempt to keep my mind off my mom by keeping it busy focusing on something else. Like digging fence post holes. Or mucking out stalls. Or washing the ranch trucks and tractors.
“Did it work?” Chance asked with a confident expression, already knowing the answer.
I rolled my eyes and grabbed another off Chase’s tower of towels and flung it at Chance’s face. “Here, let me help you wipe that smirk off of your face.”
“I’m about to start flinging towels if you guys don’t stop talking about me like I’m not here.” Chase finished layering the towels, a soft scowl on his face.
When Chance’s gaze shifted to Chase, his eyes widened in surprise. “Whoa? You’re here, Chase? Sorry, I’ve gotten so used to you being absorbed with kicking an eight ball’s ass, I didn’t realize you resurfaced into reality.”
I clamped my lips together to keep from smiling.
“I think its ass has been sufficiently kicked now.” Chase nodded at the broken windowpane.
Instead of a frown, Chance’s mouth pulled up. “Good for you.”
“That wasn’t me—that was Scout. But I wish I had.” Chase nudged me before pulling a couple of hot water bottles from his back pockets. I took them and buried them under a couple layers of towels.
“Good for Scout then,” Chance said, nodding at the window in new admiration.
“Okay, guys, I’ve got to get some fluids in this little one. I’m going to need your help.” I went to open the first aid kit, but it was difficult to do one-handed. Chance stepped up and opened it for me. “Our help is at your disposal.”
Pulling back my coat all the way, I lowered the wolf pup onto the towels Chase had stacked. It whimpered as it left the warmth of my body, so I hurried to bunch the towels tightly around the pup once I’d laid him down, tucking the hot water bottles along its sides.
“Holy shit. If dad could see this now.” Chase let out a low whistle. “A wolf in his library. He wouldn’t know whether to reach for his rifle or the phone to schedule a head examination.”
After making sure the pup was tucked in cozy, I sifted through the contents of the first aid kit. “If I catch anyone reaching for their rifle around this pup, I will make sure it’s the last thing they do.” Ripping a few sanitizer pads apart, I tossed one to Chase, another to Chance, and ripped one open to wipe my own hands and wrists.
Chance helped me wrestle off my huge jacket, then he wiped down his hands and shouldered up beside me. “What’s next?”
I sorted through a few more things in the kit and pulled out what I needed. “The light. Will you turn it on?” I nudged my shoulder at the stained-glass light hovering above the pool table. “Chase? Will you run and grab me an electric shaver, please?”
His brows knit together. “Seems like a bad time to shave your legs.”
I ripped open the package containing a clear plastic tube, trying not to smile. The Chase I remembered was coming back, one slow step by agonizing step at a time. “You haven’t seen my legs.”
Chase cringed and headed out of the room. “Don’t want to know. Want to see even less.”
As I put together everything I needed for the I.V., Chance took off his coat and rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Ask me that one more time, and that’s a sure way to end up with a black eye.” I concentrated on the task at hand, keeping one eye on the pup, who seemed to have fallen into a contented sleep. Compared to what it had to have endured the past few days, a plush pile of towels and a couple of hot water bottles was probably paradise.
When I felt Chance’s doubtful expression deepen with every second, I sighed. “I just finished my final year of vet school. Four hard years of learning about animals and how to fix them. So yeah, I know what I’m doing. It’s I.V. fluids, Chance, not open-heart surgery.”
Chance took off his hat and tossed it onto the couch. “I can see you’re ready for the I.V. I know you’re ready for whatever problem might arise in whatever animal crosses your path. You’re smart. Brilliant. I know you could probably do this I.V. with your eyes closed. That’s not what I meant.” He gripped the edge of the table, going from studying the wolf to studying me. “What I meant was are you ready for the possibility of what might happen after the I.V.? Are you prepared for what might happen after?”
I went still, unsure whether to feel irritated or grateful that he was so concerned with if I could handle this. “I can handle whatever might happen. I accept that this pup is just as likely to die as to live. I’ve learned that death is sometimes more of a mercy than suffering through life.” My eyes drifted to the pup. It was so still and quiet it could have been dead. Its breathing was so shallow that I knew it was close. “I’m not the same girl who arrived here having only seen the worst side of death. I’m the person who’s now seen the relief it can bring.”
I felt Chance’s eyes studying me like he was trying to figure me out. Like I was someone he hadn’t known for over a decade. “I’m not sure whether to be refreshed by your outlook on death or kind of creeped out.”
“Both responses are probably appropriate.” I pulled the last few things from the kit and laid them on the table. “I’m one of those nut-jobs who thinks euthanasia should be legal for humans in addition to animals.”
Chance shifted. “You and my dad. Once he found out his Parkinson’s was getting worse, he made it his mission to find some doctor in this state who would ‘ease his passing.’ He found out no one, no matter how much money he could throw at them, was ready to become the next Kevorkian when doctor-assisted suicide was still illegal in Wyoming.”
I nodded slowly. “I can see John trying for something like that. He’s a strong man, a prideful man. Someone who wants to go out with a bang, not a long, steady fizzle.”
“We don’t get to choose how we die, but we get to choose how we live.” Chance exhaled through his nose. “I think Dad’s realizing he didn’t do the living part right, nor is he getting the death part right either.”
I stopped messing with the tubes and bags and needles long enough to fold my hand over Chance’s. His dad’s death would be the
hardest on him, but I knew John’s life had been hard on him too. Hard on all of them.
“Just so long as he goes quickly, that’s dying right in my book,” a familiar voice slurred behind us.
“It’s nine o’clock in the morning, Conn. How are you this drunk already?” I didn’t glance back at him. I ignored him in every way except my words.
“How are you not this drunk already? We’re all under the same roof again, brought together by a man’s slow journey into hell, and we’re tiptoeing around like nothing’s happening.”
His voice got closer before a loud crashing sound made Chance and me flinch. He must have rammed into something, knocking another something to the ground, but I kept my back to him.
“I’m not tiptoeing around anything,” I said, my jaw tightening.
“I found one,” Chase’s voice boomed through the room. “Will this work?” After crossing the room, he held out the battery-operated shaver.
“It’s perfect.” I took the razor and fired it on.
The whir made the wolf pup’s ears prick up, but that was as much concern as it showed. Holding its paw gently, I lowered the razor to its leg and shaved a small strip where I hoped I could find a vein. It was a weak one, but I found a vein that should work.
“Good morning to you as well, Chase. How’s the mourning process going? Still have nightmares of your wife being squashed by a Ponderosa Pine?” At the end of that, Conn burped. Even I could smell the tequila fumes.
“Shut the fuck up, Conn,” Chase ordered, his voice quivering.
To occupy him, I handed him back the razor and motioned him closer. “Would you hold this for me?” I held out the fluid bag.
After throwing a lethal glare at Conn, who looked to be racked out on the floor by the sofa table, Chase took the bag from me.
With the needle in my hand, I leaned in, focusing on the pup’s vein and praying it was strong enough to accept the needle. They were less than ideal conditions for starting an I.V. on a severely dehydrated wolf pup, but we’d made it work so far. The last part was up to me.