The Family Plan. Cathy McDavid
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and his ex-wife, SherryAnne, had competed in horsemanship events alongside Jolyn up through their high-school graduation. SherryAnne went all the way to become Gila County Junior Rodeo Queen. Jolyn, the better rider in Chase’s opinion, lost out at the last minute and had to settle for being one of SherryAnne’s attendants.
“I really appreciate you seeing us. Dad told me Mom’s been giving you a hard time again.”
“She is, I won’t lie. No court order yet, but she’s threatened to see an attorney.” Chase examined Sinbad’s injury as he talked.
“For the record, Chase, I completely disagree with her.” Jolyn laid a reassuring hand on his arm. “I always have.”
“I know.” He turned to give her a smile. “And it means a lot to me. Your mother is a force to be reckoned with when she chooses. Standing up to her isn’t easy.” Chase understood that more than most. He’d been the brick wall Dottie Sutherland had bashed into for the last nine years.
“Has she said anything around town?” Jolyn asked. She kept Sinbad quiet while Chase filled a bucket with water from the hose. “Mandy doesn’t…hasn’t heard…”
“Nothing as far as I know.” Chase went to his truck and the custom-built compartments in the bed, where he stored veterinary supplies. He removed a pair of clippers, a bottle of disinfectant wash and sterilized cotton. “I will give your mother credit. She doesn’t appear to be running off at the mouth, for which I’m grateful.”
Chase set to work shaving the area around the wound, then he swabbed it clean. Sinbad behaved himself, paying little attention to Chase. Jolyn helped by distracting the horse with nose petting.
“You have every right to be angry at Mom. Maybe you should consider seeing an attorney yourself.”
“I will if push comes to shove. So far, your mother is just blowing smoke.” Chase silently wondered how long that would last.
Almost since the day she learned the chance existed that her son, Steven, might be Mandy’s biological parent—Chase refused to use the term father—she’d been pressuring Chase off and on to have DNA testing done. Thank God none of her family supported her, including Steven, who’d moved to Pineville years ago and purportedly wanted nothing to do with Mandy. But that didn’t stop Dottie. Lately, she’d escalated her pressuring to a new level.
Chase had fought her and would continue to fight her night and day. Mandy was his daughter, had been from the moment the nurse placed the squirming and squalling newborn in his arms. The only way Steven or any of the Sutherlands were going to get their hands on her was over his cold, lifeless body.
“Sutures or no sutures?” he asked Jolyn.
“What do you recommend?”
“Your choice. The wound will heal without them. Might take longer, especially if it breaks open, which is likely, being near the shoulder. Depends a lot on him and how quiet you can keep him for the next several days.”
“Not very. You know Sinbad.”
“Yeah, I do. He won’t stand well when I anesthetize the area. Which, if we decide to suture the wound, means I’d have to sedate him.”
“No, you won’t. He’ll stand.”
“You sure?” Chase squinted one eye at Jolyn.
She nodded. “He’s gotten a lot better.”
“Really?” Chase remained unconvinced.
“Injuries were a pretty regular occurrence in the show. Horses didn’t enter the ring unless they were cleared by a vet, even when they weren’t injured. The management had a strict policy.”
“Okay, then. Sutures it is. Do you want to tie up one of his legs just to be on the safe side?”
“Only if you’re afraid he’ll kick you.”
“Are you?” Chase remembered Sinbad’s exit from the trailer.
“No.”
Jolyn answered with such assurance, Chase laid his concerns about Sinbad’s notorious high spirits to rest. Maybe age and experience had mellowed the horse.
Even so, Chase didn’t once let his guard down while he cleansed and then anesthetized the affected area by injecting serum under the skin with a small needle. Because the cut was clean and recent, he trimmed away only a minimum of dead tissue.
Sinbad stood like a champ during the entire procedure. Chase finished up by applying a dressing.
“If he rubs this off, don’t worry. The antibiotics are more important than the dressing.”
He handed Jolyn a bottle containing a supply of metronidazole and instructed her on how many tablets to administer and how often. She was no stranger to horse care and nodded knowingly as he talked.
“If the sutures should pull loose for any reason,” he continued, “or if the wound appears infected, call me.”
“When do the stitches need to come out?”
“Ten, twelve days.”
“I’ll bring him by.”
Thereby saving Chase a trip to the Sutherlands’ place and a possible confrontation with Dottie. “Thanks.”
“How much do I owe you?”
“I’ll mail you a bill.”
“You’d better.” She wagged a finger at him in warning.
“I will.”
“Good.” Jolyn tugged on Sinbad’s lead rope. “This way, buddy. Time to go back in that nasty trailer.” She smiled apologetically at Chase. “He’s a little sick of traveling. So am I.”
“Why don’t you leave him here overnight?” Chase made the offer without thinking. Common sense told him he should cool his acquaintance with Jolyn until her mother backed off. “You can come collect him in the morning.”
“Thanks.” Jolyn’s face brightened, making Chase glad he’d spoken first and thought later.
They walked down the barn aisle, Jolyn leading Sinbad. Head held high, ears pricked forward, the horse took in his not-unfamiliar surroundings. Once, years ago, he’d spent a lot of time in Chase’s barn.
So had Jolyn. Without being told where to go, she took the horse to the line of stalls. Nickering from the barn’s various occupants greeted them every step of the way. Chase opened the door to an empty stall on the end. Next, he went around the side of the barn to where the hay was stacked and grabbed two generous flakes.
When he returned, he dropped the hay into the empty feeder and turned on the spigot to the water trough. Sinbad buried his nose in the hay, snorting lustily.
Chase lifted his foot and rested it on the bottom rung of the stall’s railing. So did Jolyn. They watched Sinbad eat and drink, enjoying a moment of companionable silence.
“How long you staying?” Chase asked, breaking the lull.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On how business goes.”
“What business is that?”
She smiled, and he heard pride in her voice when she said, “Sutherland Construction Company.”
“No fooling!”
“No fooling. I flew into Phoenix a couple months ago and tested for my contractor’s license. As of May thirty-first, I’m official.”
“Congratulations. I heard you were taking some classes in Dallas. I didn’t know what kind.”
“Trade school. I enrolled after the accident. Had to do something with myself during all those months of physical therapy.” She gave a little shrug as