Mason's Rescue Read online

  As long as she didn’t have to do more than routine surgery, everything would work out fine. Coming to Burnt River was still the best decision she could have made. Here, she could gain the practical experience and self-confidence she needed.

  Landing an internship at a large and prestigious animal hospital in Denver after graduation had been a huge accomplishment and testament to her academic excellence. Unfortunately, it hadn’t lasted more than a few months. The stress and work load had taken its toll on her and shattered her confidence, especially after –

  “Doctor Emerson?”

  Lori turned around. “I’m sure Doctor Johnson will stop by later today. He’s out making farm calls. I’ll be sure to discuss Mr. Bubbles’ case with him, but I’m confident he will concur with my diagnosis.”

  It was time to get this dog to treatment, or his condition could worsen quickly. She was not about to have another tragedy on her hands, and certainly not so soon after starting over.

  “Vanessa will be in shortly with your estimate.”

  Lori rushed out of the room and down the hall. Vanessa set Freckles, the little convulsing beagle, back in his cage at that moment.

  “How is he?” Lori called, setting Mr. Bubbles on the treatment table.

  “No more seizures. His vitals are normal.”

  Lori nodded.

  “We need to start an IV on this dog and draw bloods. I’ll write up his treatment plan and you can figure out an estimate to give to the owner. Then I’ll need a chest and abdominal x-ray, two views.”

  Vanessa held Mr. Bubbles while Lori drew blood from the dog’s neck, then shaved his front leg and placed the catheter.

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  Lori glanced up to see Vanessa studying her with the same look of doubt in her eyes as Mrs. Billings. She gritted her teeth and ignored it.

  “The dog has pancreatitis. I’m glad the owner brought him in. It could have been life-threatening if she’d have waited another day.” She shook her head and scoffed. “She’s been feeding him fried chicken. No doubt that’s the cause.”

  “I hope you reassured Mrs. Billings that you’ll take good care of her dog,” Vanessa mumbled.

  Lori looked the tech in the eye. “Of course I did. I told her exactly what the dog’s condition was and how I plan to treat it.” She started a bag of fluids with electrolytes and carried the patient to an empty cage. When she turned around, Vanessa was no longer in the treatment room.

  Lori sighed and ran her hand over her face. She glanced at her newest patient.

  “You’re going to be fine, Mr. Bubbles. I may have to let Doctor Johnson explain to your owner that she shouldn’t feed you any more fried chicken. She probably won’t take my word for it.”

  For the moment, the dog was stable. Lori labeled the blood tubes and filled out the lab order, then returned to her office. Hopefully her next office call would be nothing more than a routine physical.

  Chapter 3

  Mason sat in front of his bedroom window, staring out at rolling hills covered in grass that was starting to turn yellow. The last time he’d been home and gazed at this view, there had still been patches of snow on the ground. His eyes fell to the corner of the room. His old guitar leaned against the wall in the same place he’d kept it for years.

  He wheeled close enough to reach the instrument, then set it on his lap and played a few chords, listening to each sound, and fine-tuning the strings. Like so many other things he hadn’t done in a while, he hadn’t played his guitar in months, not since before the accident.

  Humming a tune to a favorite country song, Mason matched the notes with his guitar strings until the words came to him, and he closed his eyes and began to sing along. Music had always been a source of relaxation for him, and after a rather tense couple of days since his return home, he could sure use it.

  Frustration and even anger had kept him for hours at a time in one of the spare rooms where he and his siblings kept some workout equipment. Not even lifting weights or working on other strengthening exercises had changed his sour mood.

  The upper part of his body was fit as a fiddle, while his lower half was broken, possibly beyond repair. So far, neither willpower nor the physical therapists had been able to coax his legs back to life. Next week, he was starting daily physical therapy sessions again for his legs to keep the muscles from atrophying. Raine and Alley had both helped out when they’d had time, but he’d hired a PT who would come to the ranch and knew what to do.

  The feeling of complete failure and uselessness that had plagued him for months was growing stronger since he’d moved back home. His discussion with Shane and Raine from the other day had given him no peace.

  Seven months ago, he would have been elated at the prospect of building a large animal hospital. He could have designed it to his liking, and finally been able to do more large animal surgery, instead of sending most of the complicated cases to the facility in Missoula.

  Doc Johnson sometimes performed surgery in the field when he had no other choice. He had a limited set-up at the clinic in town for some minor equine surgeries, but he simply didn’t have the facilities for colic surgery or complicated fracture repairs.

  In vet school, Mason had thrived on large animal surgery. It had always been his goal to bring that level of care to Burnt River’s ranchers. Now, that dream had been extinguished. In his current condition, he couldn’t even perform a routine pregnancy check of a cow.

  He harbored no animosity toward the horse, nor toward his brother, for what had happened to him. Shane had been plagued by guilt about the accident, and probably still was, but he hadn’t brought it up in a while. At first, he’d apologized continuously to his brother, blaming himself for being careless. Then, as the weeks and months had passed, he’d stopped coming to see him at the rehab facility. Raine had told him that Shane continued to blame himself, and the guilt had driven him to be moody and closed-off.

  “It could have happened to anyone,” Mason had said to his brother over the phone more times than he could count. “I should have sedated that three-year-old more before starting that dental exam and floating his teeth.”

  The colt had reacted badly to the mild sedative, and reared, surprising both him and Shane, who’d been holding the horse. Shane had let go of the lead rope, and Mason had tripped over the pail on the ground that had contained his dental instruments. The colt had slipped on the wet cement and fallen, knocking Mason to the ground and pinning him partially underneath the animal’s heavy body. That’s the last thing he’d remembered. When he’d woken in the hospital, he hadn’t been able to feel or move his legs.

  He’d missed the way things used to be between him and his twin. Before, they were as close as any brothers could be, often to the point of reading each others’ minds, but during the months following the accident, Shane had become distant.

  Then, Shane had met Allison Cramer, and according to Raine, she’d turned his disposition around. Even his feelings of guilt had seemed to ease. Not completely, but it wasn’t hanging over them the way it had before. Shane was no longer moody, but there was still some underlying tension where Mason was concerned. Buying the Cramer property to build a clinic had definitely been Shane’s way of dealing with his guilt.

  The more he’d thought about it over the last few days, the more the idea to build the large animal facility had appealed to Mason. Not that he’d be using it, but it would be good for Burnt River, and the new associate Doc Johnson had hired could make good use of it.

  A loud knock on his door was followed almost immediately by the door opening. Mason finished the line in the song, then glanced up. Raine stepped into the room, a soft smile on her face.

  “I knocked a few times. I guess you were so into your song, you didn’t hear me.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “You sound as good as always. If you hadn’t gone to vet school, a career as a country singer might have been in your future.” Raine’s smile widened.


  Mason frowned. He set the guitar back in the corner, then wheeled his chair around to face his sister. His career as a vet was over, so maybe she was onto something. Trouble was, he wasn’t really any good at singing, either. It was something he only did in private.

  Raine moved fully into the room. “You look like you could use some time out of the house. How about you go into town with me? We could grab some lunch at Evie’s Diner.”

  Mason shook his head. Going to town meant he would most likely run into people he knew. He wasn’t quite ready for socializing.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Raine held her hand to her hip. “You had no problem mixing and mingling with your buddies at Shane’s wedding. I know exactly what you’re thinking, Mason Taggart.”

  Mason glared at his little sister. “You don’t know anything, Raine. I don’t have any reason to be in town, that’s all. In fact, I was about to go take a shower. I’ve been working out and probably don’t smell too great right now.”

  “What you need is to get out of the house for a while,” she coaxed. “Keep me company. I have a few errands to run.” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Or are you that scared to run into someone you know and might have to answer the same questions you’ve already answered a million times? You’ve told us the same lie so many times a few more won’t hurt. Besides, you can’t ignore the people you know forever.”

  Mason gritted his teeth. Raine had always been nosy, and it made her highly perceptive. She was right, and for that simple reason, he had to prove her wrong.

  “Fine, I’ll go into town with you, but I need thirty minutes to get ready.”

  Raine grinned triumphantly. “Good. I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.”

  Mason glared at her retreating back as she marched from the room. He snatched up a clean pair of pants and t-shirt from his closet, and wheeled to the bathroom. Everything had been made handicap-accessible for him, down to the last detail, including fitting one of the ranch trucks with easy wheelchair accessibility.

  No doubt it had all been Shane’s doing. Rehab had taught him how to take care of himself, and do most everything a walking person could do, but they hadn’t been able to get the thoughts of frustration and inadequacy out of his mind.

  An hour later, Raine pulled into the parking lot at Burnt River Veterinary Hospital.

  “What are we doing here, Raine?” Mason stiffened in the passenger seat. “You said you had errands to run.”

  She killed the engine, turned her head, and smiled broadly. “I do. I told Shane I’d pick up an order of dewormers and vaccines for him. Someone from the clinic called and said they were ready for pickup.”

  “I think you’ve set me up,” he mumbled.

  Raine stepped out of the truck and appeared on the passenger side seconds later with his wheelchair. Mason stared out the window at the familiar sign. There were several other vehicles in the parking lot, but Doc Johnson’s truck wasn’t one of them. Relief swept over him.

  “I’ll just wait in the truck. I don’t need to go with you to pick up a box of medicine.”

  “Nonsense.” Raine pushed the chair closer to the side of the truck. “I’m sure Vanessa and the others will want to say hello.” She didn’t look at him, probably on purpose because she knew he was mad and scowling at her.

  Gritting his teeth, Mason slid off the truck seat and into his chair. It wouldn’t look good if he simply refused to go inside and at least say hi to the women he’d worked with for many years. Vanessa had been with Doc Johnson for nearly thirty years, and she’d taught him everything about being a tech when he’d gone to work for the old vet in high school. She’d been so happy for him when he’d gotten his acceptance letter to Colorado State.

  Raine smiled smugly and walked ahead of him, opening the door to the clinic for him to enter. The receptionist, Sally, glanced up from behind her desk, and instantly smiled. The rest of the waiting room was empty, probably because it was nearly lunchtime and the morning office calls would have concluded by now.

  “Mason . . . I mean, Dr. Taggart. You’re back.”

  Mason waved and forced a smile. “How’s it going, Sally?”

  There was a slight hesitation in her voice and a look of uncertainty on her face. “It’s going,” she said slowly. “Wait until I let Vanessa know you’re here. She’s going to be so excited. We’ve all been waiting for you to come back.”

  Sally was another iconic figure in Doc Johnson’s practice. She’d been with the clinic since it had opened. The old receptionist always spoke her mind, so it was rather puzzling why she seemed so hesitant at the moment. No doubt she had opinions about him and his predicament and didn’t want to say anything in his presence. At least the waiting room was empty, and he didn’t have to talk to a former client.

  Before Mason could answer Sally about her remark that he was coming back, she slipped through the back door that led to the treatment area. While the door was still partially open, a loud squeal pierced the air.

  Raine’s eyebrows rose as she glanced at him.

  Mason shrugged. “Sounds like a pig.”

  “A pig?”

  “Sure. Lots of folks have pet pigs that they bring here. Unless it’s a farm pig, we see pot bellies here in the clinic.”

  Mason cringed at his choice of words, which was clearly responsible for the way Raine stared at him with that smug look on her face. Out of habit, he’d spoken as if he still worked here.

  The door swung open again and Sally emerged. She shook her head while she rolled her eyes. Behind her, the pig still emitted deafening noises.

  “Vanessa is busy at the moment, but she said you should go back there. She’s excited to see you.”

  “It sounds rather busy. Maybe another time.”

  Sally shook her head. “Vanessa lit up like a Christmas tree when I told her you were here. She’ll be really upset if you don’t go and see her. The new vet is having a bit of difficulty with her latest patient, but don’t let that stop you from going back there.”

  Mason’s brows rose. “Her?”

  Doc Johnson’s new associate was a woman? Interesting. While women outnumbered men in vet school, many of the old-timers in the community might be slow to warm up to a woman vet, especially the farmers and ranchers. He shrugged. It was time they entered the twenty-first century.

  Raine gave him a slight push to indicate he should do as Sally asked and go say hello to Vanessa. She moved ahead to hold the door to the back of the clinic open for him.

  Bracing himself against the loud racket, Mason wheeled down the hall past the two exam rooms and into the large treatment area. The squealing became louder with each passing second. Several dogs barked from the kennel in back of the building. No doubt they were annoyed by the pig’s deafening noise.

  Mason glanced around the familiar space. Except for the noise from the pig, nothing had changed since he’d last been here. Vanessa stood over one of the treatment tables, trying to contain the struggling potbellied pig in her arms. She glanced up at that moment, and her look of frustration turned to one of relief when she spotted him.

  “Thank God you’re here,” she called. The pig lurched at that moment, letting out another deafening screech.

  “What’s going on?” Mason wheeled forward to get closer to Vanessa. “Set the pig on the ground, Vanessa, and it’ll stop making so much noise.”

  Vanessa stared at him for a moment, slight indecision in her eyes, then did as Mason said. She continued to hold the animal, and it squealed louder.

  “Let it go completely,” Mason called over the noise.

  Vanessa shook her head and did as he asked. The pig stood still. It’s back end dropped and it dragged its feet as it tried to scramble away. Large open lesions on its back were crusted with dried serum.

  “Let it go,” Mason said when Vanessa tried to bring the pig back. No sense getting the animal upset again, now that it had quieted. There was nowhere it could go in this room.

  “
I’m so glad to see you.” Vanessa rushed to his side and leaned forward, giving him a choking hug. Mason reached up and patted her back until she let go. His eyes fell on the woman who appeared from the doctor’s office. Her eyes were glued to the open pages of a thick volume of Veterinary Medicine, which she carried close to her face.

  “I can’t find anything in here,” she mumbled, then looked up at Vanessa before she noticed him.

  Mason didn’t have to raise his head by much to look at her. She was short and petite. Her white lab coat looked almost like a dress. It came down well past her knees. Her sandy-blonde hair was tied back and up in an attractive bun, several strands framing her face. The dark-rimmed glasses she wore gave her a distinguished look, but if she had been trying to make herself look older with the hairstyle and glasses, she’d failed miserably.

  She still stared at him, and Mason stared back. His upper body tensed, and he cursed under his breath for sitting in this damn wheelchair. The feeling of inadequacy only intensified. He’d been prepared to introduce himself to Doc Johnson’s female associate, but not to someone freshly graduated from vet school, and certainly not someone so attractive, who made his pulse quicken for some inexplicable reason.

  Mason tore his gaze away, letting his eyes settle on the little pig instead, which cowered against one of the stainless steel cages that lined the far wall. It still looked paralyzed with its back dipped, but at least it had stopped making noise.

  He nudged his chin toward the critter. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a case of dippity pig syndrome.”

  Her forehead scrunched as her eyes grew round, then she shook her head. “Excuse me? What syndrome?”

  Mason pointed at the pig. “Dippity pig. This fine gal is showing classic symptoms.”

  The girl’s eyes narrowed, and she looked slightly annoyed. “Are you trying to pull my leg?”

  Mason grinned, a genuine grin for the first time in a long time. “I wouldn’t try to pull yours or anyone else’s leg.”