Bear Vet by Zoe Chant

Chapter Three

I get to wear his wife’s clothes, Judy thought glumly. Oh goodie.

There was nothing more crushing than knowing that she was Waylon’s type, at least so far as her body was concerned, except oops! He already had a woman of exactly her size: his wife.

It was absolutely ridiculous how disappointed she was, considering how briefly she’d known him and Raelynn. The only thing more ridiculous than her disappointment were the fantasies she’d spun about buying the ranch, dating Waylon, getting to know Raelynn, and finding out what in the world was up with the fiery colt.

But hey, maybe she could still be friends with Waylon. Raelynn was clearly dying to quiz her about her herd, and Judy couldn’t resist a horse-mad girl. And she definitely wasn’t letting either of them escape without telling her about the fire horse.

She climbed into the passenger side of Waylon’s truck. Raelynn loaded her bicycle into the truck bed, then scrambled into a rear seat. Waylon turned on the engine, and the truck was filled with the sound of an old Dolly Parton song.

She caught the glance he shot in her direction, his hand poised over the off button, and shook her head. “I love Dolly.”

As if given permission, Raelynn began to sing along. What she lacked in tunefulness, she made up in enthusiasm.

This time Waylon didn’t look at Judy, but he had a very expressive face and she could tell he was torn between wondering if Raelynn’s singing was annoying her and not wanting to stop his daughter from doing something harmless that she obviously enjoyed.

There seemed only one way out of the dilemma. If Judy hadn’t known for sure that she had no chance with him, romantically speaking, she’d never have done it. She couldn’t carry a tune in a horse bucket. But when she was by herself, she did enjoy singing along. And “Coat of Many Colors” was one of her favorites.

Judy couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eyes as she did it. Fixing her gaze on the horizon, she joined Raelynn and Dolly.

Waylon’s ears will never be the same, she thought. But she was wrong about that. A moment later, his deep voice joined theirs.

If she hadn’t wanted to keep going, she’d have burst out laughing. He too couldn’t sing a note. But it didn’t stop him from trying. As the pickup truck wound along the mountain roads, they sang “Jolene” and “9 to 5,” “Kentucky Gambler” and “I Still Miss Someone,” “Silver Threads and Golden Needles” and “The Seeker” and “Tennessee Homesick Blues.”

When they pulled up in front of a cabin-style house, they were halfway through “Here I Am.” Waylon parked and put out his hand to turn off the engine, but Raelynn said, “This is my favorite!” They sat in the car and sang it to the end.

He turned off the engine, and they applauded each other. Judy remarked, “Now I know why people do karaoke.”

“We should do that some time,” Raelynn suggested.

“Wouldn’t be as fun,” said Waylon. “Country music was meant to be sung in trucks.”

Nobody could argue with that.

Waylon opened the door for her to come in. The interior of the house was even cozier than the exterior, made of golden-brown unpainted wood with built-in shelves and nooks and cupboards. A beat-up and very comfy-looking sofa held company with a few equally beat-up armchairs that would allow even a Viking-size man to sprawl out in comfort.

Here's the house,Judy thought. Now for the dog. And then the wife.

She was utterly unsurprised when a bark echoed through the house. But the dog that rushed up, barking and wagging his tail, was not at all what she’d imagined. He had the long flapping ears of a bloodhound, the wedge-shaped head of a pit bull, the big body of a Saint Bernard, and fluffy fur in black and white splashes. His legs were too short for his size, so he looked like a cartoon dog as he ran, his little legs churning madly to get him across the floor.

“Hey, Bruiser!” Raelynn threw herself down on the carpet and playfully wrestled him while he licked her all over.

“Bruiser?” Judy said to Waylon as they stepped around the writhing mass of red hair and black-and-white fur.

“He’s a rescue,” Waylon explained. “A dog-fighting ring was trying to breed an ultimate fighting dog. They got a litter they had high hopes for, but they got caught before they could do more with the pups than name them. The rest of the puppies grew up to be scary-looking dogs with hearts of gold. And then there’s Bruiser.”

Lifting her face from the floor, Raelynn said, “Bruiser is perfect.”

“No arguments there,” Waylon replied.

Bruiser disengaged from Raelynn to sniff at Judy. She offered him her hand, and he threw himself on his back on the floor. She scratched his belly, trying not to laugh as his short little legs pedaled in the air.

He wasn’t their only pet, she noticed. A tabby cat emerged to rub against her ankles, and a pair of yellow eyes stared at her from beneath the sofa.

“That’s Felix,” said Waylon as Judy petted the tabby. “And the demon eyes are Oscar. Sorry for the mess. We weren’t expecting company.”

“What mess?” asked Judy.

“Muddy boots on the floor, dishes in the sink, clothes on the sofa…”

She held up a hand to stop him. “I run a horse rescue, remember? You think my own place doesn’t have muddy boots on the floor? At least you don’t have hay on the floor!”

“Well….” Raelynn said with a grin, pointing to a couple wisps by the doorway.

“It’s cozy,” said Judy firmly, and meant it.

“I’ll get the clothes,” said Raelynn. She beckoned Judy in closer, and whispered, “What’s your bra size?”

“40-C,” Judy whispered back automatically. “But I can’t wear someone else’s bra! Mine is fine.”

Raelynn gave a snort of indeterminate meaning, then ran off.

On her way to the bathroom, Judy caught a glimpse of what had to be Raelynn’s bedroom, unless Waylon slept in a bed that would leave his feet dangling over the edge and liked his walls plastered with horse posters.

Raelynn returned with an armful of clothes and a towel, which she stuffed into Judy’s arms. “It’s all clean. If you see any hairs, they’re clean too. They’re from the dryer. Dad gets so covered in fur every day, it’s impossible to get out completely.”

Waylon looked like he wanted to sink through the floor.

“I don’t see any hairs,” said Judy, and shut herself in.

Based on the shampoo that promised to be delicate enough for a teenage girl, a pink-handled razor, and a framed print of horses, this was Raelynn’s bathroom. It was generous of her to give Judy first crack at the shower without protest.

She stripped out of her sweaty, sooty, smoky clothes, and stepped into the shower. Judy kept the water cool at first, then increased the heat. The water felt delicious on her skin. As she luxuriated in it, she became conscious of her own nudity in Waylon’s house, and that he was presumably also naked at the same time. It felt oddly intimate, as if the walls between them were hardly a barrier at all.

He’s married, Judy reminded herself. You’re about to put on his wife’s clothes.

That was enough to make her end the shower. She toweled off and picked up the clothes Raelynn had given her, a pair of blue jeans and a red T-shirt with a pattern of flying birds. A package of new underwear enclosed in plastic and a 40-C bra with tags attached fell out of the stack.

It was a very kind gesture, and she was extremely happy not to have to put her own sweaty bra and panties back on. But it was also a weird little mystery. A very hospitable household might keep extra underwear in case some visitor stayed unexpectedly overnight or fell in a pond or fought a surprise grass fire, she supposed. But who gave a one-time visitor a completely new bra? Was it Waylon’s wife’s? Would she be okay with having someone else wear her brand-new bra first? And how coincidental was it for them to have the exact same bra size?

Maybe they’re doing a clothing drive, Judy thought. Or his wife works at a clothing store.

None of the possible explanations seemed completely satisfactory, but she couldn’t possibly ask Waylon any questions that involved bras and panties. Maybe she could quiz Raelynn if they got a moment alone.

She put on the clothes and opened the door. Waylon was nowhere in sight, but Raelynn was waiting right outside with an armful of her own clothes.

“Thanks for the clothes,” said Judy. “And the use of your shower. Um… Where did the bra come from?”

“Oh, we keep stuff like that in case we have visitors.” With that, Raelynn vanished into the bathroom.

You keep new bras in all sizes in case you have visitors? Judy thought, more baffled than ever. She’d never heard of anyone going that far to be hospitable.

Then again, she was in their house because of a fire horse incident. Maybe enough people had come too close to the black colt and gotten their bras burned off that it made sense. There was clearly a lot more to the Brodys than met the eye.

She found Waylon hard at work in the kitchen, patting out hamburgers with Bruiser sitting hopefully at his feet. He’d changed from a button-down shirt into a T-shirt that showed off his muscular chest and even more muscular arms. His hair and beard were damp from the shower, darkened by water from red-gold to a deep bronze shade, and he smelled of soap and a warm masculine aroma that must have been covered up by smoke before. Judy couldn’t help breathing it in deeply, and regretting that her own freshly-washed hair was already frizzing.

“I’m going to fire up the grill,” Waylon said. “Do you eat meat? I can make you a veggie burger if you don’t.”

“I love hamburgers. It’s been ages since I’ve had one.”

“How come? Trying out being a vegetarian?”

“Not on purpose,” Judy said ruefully. “I don’t like fast food and good meat’s expensive. Especially when you’re supporting sixteen horses—”

“—two donkeys, and a mule,” finished Raelynn, coming in with a towel wrapped around her head. “Oooh, we’re having burgers!”

“Can I help with anything?” Judy asked.

“You can relax and have a drink,” said Waylon. “Beer? Lemonade?”

If it had just been her and him, she’d have gone for the beer. But she felt a little self-conscious drinking in front of his daughter, so she said, “I’d love some lemonade.”

“Good choice,” said Raelynn. “Dad’s lemonade is great.”

He took out a pitcher and poured all three of them big glassfuls. Judy took a big gulp, then a more appreciative sip. It was homemade, sweet and tart and with sprigs of mint floating in it.

“That is good,” said Judy. “Thank you. Are you sure I can’t help, though?”

“You can help carry everything outside when it’s ready for the grill.” And that was clearly as far as he’d go.

With no other choice, she sat in one of the comfy armchairs and watched as Waylon made the burgers, sliced bell peppers and onions for the grill, whipped up some potato salad with a dressing of lemon juice, fresh dill, and mayo, and finally sliced peaches in half. He wielded the knife with the expertise of a master, making quick, precise cuts. Judy was half-hypnotized by the deftness of his hands.

But of course he was good with his hands. Veterinarians didn’t specialize in the same way that human doctors did. Waylon treated horses, but other animals as well. He didn’t merely prescribe medication, he popped pills in animals’ mouths without getting bitten. He performed surgery. He delivered foals and lambs and calves and kittens. His hands had to be strong and deft and gentle, all at once.

She couldn’t help fixating on his ring finger, which still bore no ring. Was he married? Did he have a girlfriend, not a wife? A boyfriend, even? Or was he single after all, and the clothes were from the same source as the tags-on bra?

Judy was still trying to figure out a tactful way to find out when he finished his preparations and handed her and Raelynn the trays to take outside. They went into a backyard that was more practical than ornamental, with a thriving vegetable garden—she recognized the same sort of orange bell peppers he’d sliced up growing on a plant—several fruit trees, lawn chairs, a basketball hoop, bicycles, gardening and general-purpose tools, and a wooden table and benches beside a grill. Everything she saw spoke of self-sufficiency, competence, and a country attitude that she appreciated. Work hard, play hard. Never buy what you can make yourself.

Bruiser flopped down in the grass and took a nap. Waylon fired up the grill and slapped on the burgers, vegetables, and peach halves.

“You’re grilling the peaches?” Judy had thought those had been intended as dessert.

“Just wait,” Raelynn promised. “Everyone’s suspicious at first, but they’re delicious.”

“Rae, fetch the ketchup and honey and stuff,” Waylon called over his shoulder.

She went off, leaving them momentarily alone together.

Judy had never won any awards for tact, so with no better ideas, she asked, “Is your wife coming?”

Waylon stopped flipping burgers. He turned around, and the heat in his blue eyes felt about a hundred degrees hotter than the grill as he said, “I’m divorced.”

Judy swallowed. Was that heat really directed at her? “Oh.”

Divorced, she thought. Well, well, well.

“Since Rae was a little girl,” he added. “Her mom’s a journalist. Denise travels a lot. Right now she’s in Norway.”

Raelynn, returning with a tray of condiments, said, “Sweden, Dad. Norway was last week.”

“I stand corrected.” Waylon bowed his head in mock humility. The late afternoon sunlight turned his hair to pure gold.

Judy felt like she was floating away on a tide of middle-aged hormones. She fished around desperately for some distraction before she blurted out something like, “So how do you feel about dating a broke, middle-aged woman whose worldly possessions consist of sixteen horses, two donkeys, and a mule?”

Raelynn provided the distraction. With her fists under her jaw, her eager young face upturned, she said, “Judy, tell us ALL about your horse rescue. How did you start it? How long have you had it? What are the names of your horses and donkeys and mule, and what are they like?”

“I have nineteen of them,” Judy reminded her.

“I want to know about all of them,” said Raelynn.

“I want to know about you, Judy,” said Waylon. And there was that heat in his eyes again, making her gulp. “Did you always love horses?”

“Always,” said Judy. “I mean, I love animals in general. But horses have always been my favorites. I grew up in the city, so I’m not sure where it came from. Books, I guess. I was obsessed with horse books.”

“What’s your favorite?” Raelynn asked.

“Hang on,” Judy said. “I still don’t know anything about the fire horse, or how you two know about it, or anything. How about we take turns answering questions?”

“That sounds fair.” Waylon spoke seriously, but with an underlying hint of humor.

“For every question we answer, you tell us about one of your horses,” Raelynn suggested.

“That does sound fair,” Judy agreed. “And I’ll throw in my favorite horse book for free. It’s King of the Wind, by Marguerite Henry.”

“Oooh!” Raelynn exclaimed. “I like that one too. Mine is The Black Stallion.”

Of course it is, Judy thought, hiding her amusement.

“Your question, Judy,” said Waylon.

“The fire horse,” she said. “Where did it come from?”

“Good question,” said Waylon. “It’s got kind of a long answer. Why don’t you two eat up while I explain?”

He slid a pair of burgers onto buns, passed out the plates, and indicated the condiments tray. Raelynn slapped on some ketchup, then attacked her burger like a starving wolf. Judy suspected that Waylon had known that would happen, and had timed it so he could explain without interruptions from his daughter.

She took a bite of her burger. Waylon had cooked it to perfection, with crisp edges and a juicy interior. Maybe she was influenced by having lived on instant ramen and boxed mac and cheese for months, cutting her food budget lower and lower to try to funnel money toward Horse Hope Rescue. Or maybe it really was the best burger she’d ever had.

“The guidebooks say the town of La Puerta was named for an old stone archway,” he began. “But there’s another gateway here too. It’s a portal to other worlds. Sometimes animals come through it. Magical animals. Animals like the colt you saw.”

Waylon’s straightforward tone made his words impossible to disbelieve. Besides, she’d seen the fiery colt herself. It was incredible, but not impossible. Judy felt her sense of the world expanding in a wonderful way, like the day she’d first ridden a horse and had suddenly understood the partnership a person and an animal could have. Her riding lesson had only lasted an hour, but before it was even over, she’d known her life would never be the same.

“Your turn,” said Raelynn. “Tell me about one of your horses.”

“This is going to be so anti-climactic,” said Judy.

“Look at that face and say that again,” said Waylon, indicating his daughter’s eager expression.

Judy was bursting with questions, but she’d agreed to the game. And it was always a pleasure to talk about her horses with people who really, truly wanted to hear about them. “My smallest horse is a mini Shetland pony. She’s light chestnut with a white mane and tail, and she has a very Scottish name. It’s spelled C-U-R-S-T-A-I-D-H. Want to guess how it’s pronounced?”

“Keer-sted?” Raelynn guessed.

“Custard?” Waylon suggested.

“Kirstie. She’s not the alpha mare, but she thinks she is. That pony has attitude in inverse quantity to her size. If you’re not careful, she’ll kick you in the knee or take a bite out of your clothes. That’s why she’s a rescue—her owners never trained her right, then they couldn’t handle her. I’m trying to break her of her bad habits, but it’s hard when they’re that ingrained. I had a vet out once who knelt down to examine her hoof and she kicked him in the… er…” Judy broke off, glancing at Raelynn.

“Nards?” Waylon suggested.

“I’m a country vet’s daughter,” Raelynn reminded Judy. “I grew up watching calves get castrated. You can say nards. Or whatever you were going to say.”

“In the nards,” said Judy, grinning. “He told me that among horse vets, they call them Shitland ponies. Is that true, Waylon?”

“At times,” he admitted. “Definitely when they kick us in the nards.”

“My turn,” said Judy. “Are you a vet for the magical animals, too?”

“I am. I work at a practice called Vets For All Pets, and we really do mean all pets. Not to mention some not-from-this-world rescues.”

“That’s why I thought you should see the animal hospital,” Raelynn put in. “We keep the magical animals there until we can send them back through the portal.”

Fascinated, Judy asked, “Could I see them?”

“Absolutely,” said Waylon. “After dinner, if you like.”

The thought of getting to see magical animals, that soon and up-close, stunned her. She could only imagine what she might glimpse. A unicorn? A pegasus? A dragon?

“Your turn,” said Raelynn. “You said Curstaidh isn’t your alpha mare. Who is?”

“Katrina. She’s a big appaloosa, and she rules the herd. She’s very dignified and regal—she’s a queen and she knows it. Wise, too. I saw her guide the herd into a corner of the corral once, then wheel around, rear up, and come down hard. I went to look, and I found a dead rattlesnake. She’d killed it with her hooves to protect the herd.”

“Wow,” breathed Raelynn.

“Nothing like a good alpha mare,” said Waylon.

Judy had qualms about asking her next question. It was obviously a contentious topic, and she didn’t want to start another father-daughter argument. But she was so curious, she couldn’t resist any longer. “So what is that fire colt I saw?”

Waylon’s face darkened. “He’s a young hellhorse. Probably the most dangerous creature to ever come through the portal.”

“Pffft,” Raelynn snorted. “What about the baby basilisk? Or the invisible weasel? Or the killer rabbit?”

Killer rabbit? Judy thought. Invisible weasel?

“None of those had the power to start wildfires,” said Waylon.

“But what is a hellhorse?” Judy asked.

“I don’t know much about them, to be honest,” he admitted. “Other than the obvious, which you saw for yourself: they can burst into flames, and they don’t get burned. Your turn. I want to know about your mule.”

She could see in his eyes that he really did. To him, her mule was as interesting and worthy of attention as the hellhorse. It endeared him to her even more. “Her name’s Molly, and she’s an absolute sweetheart. Willing, affectionate… just a doll. She was a working animal, a pack mule for hiking trips. Then she went lame. She’s fine to walk, but she can’t carry any weight. Oh, and she likes meat. If you eat a hot dog near her, she’ll steal a bite of it. Guess how I found that out.”

Raelynn and Waylon laughed, then Waylon got up and went to the grill again. “Hold on. Dessert time.”

Judy had stuffed herself on hamburgers and grilled vegetables and potato salad, but she figured she still had room for dessert. Waylon handed her and Raelynn plates with a pair of peach halves on them, the dark grill marks showing, then spooned a drizzle of honey over them. “That’s honey I steeped with thyme from our garden.”

“I grew the thyme,” said Raelynn.

“She’s got a green thumb,” Waylon agreed. “Very lucky for me, because I don’t.”

“Dad killed a cactus once. I didn’t even know that was possible.”

With a rueful shrug, he said, “I forgot to not water it.”

Judy laughed.

The grilled peach was buttery soft, with a texture like pudding, and the thyme honey gave it an herbal complexity to go with its sweetness. She only realized they’d been eating in total, dedicated silence when she finished scraping her own plate.

“That was absolutely delicious,” she said. “Where’d you learn to cook like that?”

“Is that your question?” Waylon asked with a mischievous spark in his blue eyes.

She gave a rueful shrug. “I guess it is now.”

“My…” There was a little hesitation as if he was looking for the right word. “My foster mom. She’s a fantastic cook, much better than me. Everything I know, I learned from her. Except the grilling. My foster dad taught me that.”

“I don’t know,” Raelynn said. “Grandma does more complicated stuff, but I don’t think she’s better. I like her cooking when we visit, but not for every day.”

So Waylon had foster parents,Judy thought. And they’re still so close to that Raelynn calls his foster mom ‘Grandma’ with no hesitation at all. There’s a story there.

“Okay, Judy,” Raelynn went on. “Tell me about another one of your horses. Do you have any black ones?”

Judy smiled. “I do have a black gelding named Midnight, but he’s probably not what you’re imagining. He’s my very oldest horse. The vet thought he was about twenty-eight. He likes to eat apples and doze in the sun.”

“He sounds sweet. Black horses are my favorites.” Raelynn didn’t look at her father as she spoke, but Judy got the distinct impression that she was deliberately trolling him as she went on, “Like my hellhorse.”

Don’t take the bait,Judy tried to telepathically convey to Waylon.

Her message didn’t get through. Waylon blew up. “My hellhorse? He’s not yours! He’s nobody’s! As soon as we catch him, he’s going straight back through the portal!”

“He doesn’t want to go back, and that’s why you’ll never catch him,” said Raelynn. “But if you’re gentle and kind with him and mean him no harm, he’ll come to you. I had him eating out of my hand today!”

Waylon stared at her, horror-struck. “You were that close? You could’ve been killed!”

“We were fine until you showed up and scared him!”

He leaned ominously over the table. “I want you to promise me, on your word as a—”

“DAD!” Raelynn screamed, looking absolutely horror-struck. “NO!”

“I know, Rae,” he said, giving her a meaningful look. “As a Brody. On your word as a Brody, promise me that you’ll never go near that beast again.”

“He’s not dangerous to me,” she protested. “And once I tame him, he won’t be dangerous to anyone. You should see how gentle he is with—”

“No arguments! I want that promise, now!”

“NO!” Raelynn shouted so loudly that Bruiser woke up with a start and started barking.

“Then you’re grounded until you do promise!” Waylon shouted.

She burst into tears, then bolted back into the house with Bruiser at her heels. The kitchen door slammed, and a moment later there was a second, fainter slam that Judy assumed was her bedroom door.

Judy and Waylon were left alone together.