A Baby For The Sheriff. Mary Leo
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Which was true, so she latched onto that thought and held it close. It would allow her to hand Lily over to the authorities without breaking her heart. The abandoned animals were fine, but an abandoned baby caused her way too much internal grief, a grief she wasn’t prepared to spill anytime soon...especially not in front of Jet Wilson. Sure, he had a softer side, but that outer shell was as hard as steel and she had no intention of going up against it.
“Nor are you qualified to take her.”
Coco’s internal antenna went up. Did he know something about her? Was there gossip going around that she didn’t know about? “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He stepped out of the goat pen, to the dismay of both goats, slipped off his gloves and headed for the next room that contained a refrigerator, a large bottle warmer and some supplies. “Not what you’re thinking,” he shouted back. She heard him open the lid on the bottle warmer. “Idaho has rules about who can be a temporary guardian for an abandoned baby, and you aren’t certified. I checked.”
She relaxed a bit. He’d merely been referring to some law she knew little about.
“And I suppose you are?”
He stepped back into the main room, holding a large bottle of warmed milk in each hand. Large nipples cupped the tops of the bottles.
“By default, yes. But I also had to take a few classes.”
The goats bleated at the end of the pen, their heads hanging over the wire mesh, mouths open in anticipation.
“But I thought you said you knew all about caring for a baby from growing up in foster care?”
“I guess it’s a combination of both.”
He held both bottles down so the kids could nurse. They pulled down the milk as if they’d been starving, which they weren’t. She’d fed them in the morning before she’d begun her day, and now before bed. Twice a day was sufficient for these little guys. The good thing about these two was that their owner had at least disbudded them well, so their horns wouldn’t grow, a problem for domesticated goats.
“I wish I knew more about caring for babies. I only know animals,” Coco told him.
The goats pushed and knocked their bottles, wanting the milk to come out faster, but Coco had given them the appropriate nipple with the appropriate slice in the top for a controlled flow. Anything more and they’d choke.
“It’s the same thing. Neither a baby nor an animal can tell you what’s wrong. You have to use your intuition and your expertise, and hope that you’re right. I mean, look at these little guys. You manage to keep them all healthy, right?”
“Most of the time, but even with them, I can sometimes get it wrong.”
“But you strike me as the type of doctor who keeps trying until you do get it right.”
“Thanks. I like to think that I do. Yes.”
She appreciated his confidence in her. Where he’d gotten it, she didn’t know, but she sure liked it. Aside from her brother, Carson, her sisters, Kenzie, Callie and Kayla, her dad and mom, and a handful of the local ranchers, she didn’t always get that kind of respect. There were times when she’d get outright skepticism. Not that she minded it, or resented it. She understood. Those animals meant thousands of dollars to the ranchers. Sometimes a healthy animal or a sick animal stood between a rancher and bankruptcy. A vet could, at times, make or break a ranch depending on his or her diagnosis. So it had better be the correct one.
“Have you always wanted to be a vet?”
She nodded. “I think for as long as I could remember. I love my job and I’m blessed that when Doctor Graham retired, he left his practice to me. What about you? Have you always wanted to be a sheriff?”
He chuckled. “Absolutely not. I wanted to be a bus driver, or a truck driver, then a fireman, a cowboy or a rodeo star, and for a short time I wanted to be a rock star. I play a mean guitar.”
She smiled, envisioning Jet in tight black leather pants, no shirt and eyeliner. He clearly didn’t fit the image. “Then how on earth did you end up being a sheriff?”
“When I got out of the military, I didn’t know what to do with myself until I met Sheriff Perkins over in Chubbuck, who was looking for a deputy. The pay was good enough to keep me off the street, and I liked the sheriff, so I applied and got the job. He trained me, and a couple years ago when this job came up, he pushed me out of the nest and gave me a good reference. The rest, as they say, is history.”
“So, does that mean you like it?”
“For the most part, it suits me.”
“When doesn’t it suit you?”
The baby goats emptied their bottles, their tails wagging like mad, indicating that their bellies were nice and full before Jet pulled the bottles away. They fussed for a minute, then went about bumping heads and playing.
He turned to her, looking sullen. “When I have to deal with an abandoned baby.”
“That’s exactly how I feel when someone abandons an animal on my doorstep. But a baby is a hundred times worse.”
“So, it’s safe to say, Lily is tough for us both.”
“She’s breaking my heart in more ways than I want to admit.”
“Mine, too,” he said, and in that moment, he took her breath away.
* * *
THE SNOW HAD crept up above his knees, and he could no longer feel his feet or fingers. Every tree, rock and surface around him was covered in thick, heavy snow that continued to fall in great big lacy flakes, making visibility virtually impossible.
How he’d gotten out on a hillside, he didn’t know.
With each breath, a billow of steam surrounded his face. His entire body shook from cold, but Jet couldn’t stop moving forward. He knew he had to keep going, keep walking, one foot in front of the other. He had to keep going. Had to get to Doctor Grant’s house.
He could barely make out a structure in the distance, a log cabin, blanketed in snow, with smoke swirling up out of the chimney and bright yellow lights glowing from the three windows, beckoning him forward.
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