Jeannie Watt - Once and for All

“Dr Hyatt. This is Jodie De Vanti.”

She needn’t have identified herself. He could tell it was her by the frost in her voice, the way the phone receiver was growing cold in his hand.

“I have a horse with a gaping wound on its shoulder and chest,” she said, “and it needs to be stitched. Now.”

“Then you’d better call Dr Stewart.”

“Dr Stewart is als o out.” And he could tell she suspected a conspiracy…. with good reason. No vet wanted to go to the Barton spread after what had happened to him.

“You might try one of the Elko vets.”

Sam was ready to put the phone down when Jodie blurted, “Don’t you take some kind of Hippocratic oath? Don’t you owe something to this animal?”

“Sorry, I can’t afford another lawsuit.”

Dear Reader,

I grew up in a rural area and my family had their fair share of veterinary emergencies. Quite possibly the most memorable was when my horse, Murphy, shattered his leg while crossing a log near the top of a mountain. That story had a happy ending thanks to two heroes—my dad, who held up the horse for almost two hours, and the vet who drove fifty plus miles to cast Murphy’s leg in less than ideal conditions. I was riding Murphy less than a year later.

I’ve always admired rural vets, who tend to be underpaid and overworked, but still head out every day to do their jobs, sometimes risking life and limb when their patients are less than cooperative. The hero of Once and for All, Sam Hyatt, is just such a vet. He cares about people and he cares about animals, which is why he grudgingly agrees to treat an injured horse at the Zephyr Valley Ranch, despite the fact that the owner of the ranch once sued him for malpractice.

Jodie De Vanti is managing the ranch during her father’s absence and calls Sam because he’s the only available vet. She believes he’s incompetent, but soon discovers her error. Sam’s not only good at what he does, he’s pretty darned attractive. Unfortunately Jodie has a secret that makes it impossible for her and Sam to ever be together.

I hope you enjoy reading Once and for All . Please visit my website at www.jeanniewatt.com or contact me at jeanniewrites@gmail.com. I’d love to hear from you.

Best wishes,

Jeannie Watt

JEANNIE WATTlives with her husband in the heart of Nevada ranch country. Since she owns no cows—only horses and ponies—she gets to experience calving season vicariously. When she’s not writing, Jeannie enjoys reading, sewing and making mosaic mirrors.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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I want to thank my mom, who deals with calving every spring, for all the stories and information.

Honest, Mom—if I lived closer, I’d take my turn checking the heavy cows at midnight and 2:00 a.m.

I’d also like to thank my friend Marcia Swift for once suggesting Beau and Ty as the perfect names for twins.

“SAM! It’s the Barton ranch. Emergency.”

Sam Hyatt looked up from his desk, where he was organizing the scattered papers into priority piles. He’d spent almost three minutes trying to catch up on at least five days worth of paperwork. “Tell them I’m not available.” He couldn’t believe Joe Barton had the balls to call.

Katie Murray nodded with satisfaction and walked back into her part of the vet clinic before saying in her professional tone, “I’m sorry. Dr. Hyatt isn’t available.”

Sam could hear the voice on the other end of the line from where he sat, and it wasn’t the owner of the Zephyr Valley Ranch. The voice belonged to a woman.

“I’m sorry. He’s not available.” More squawking, then Katie said haughtily, “So why don’t you sue us? Oh, yeah. I forgot. It didn’t work out very well for you the last time, did it?”

Sam stood and crossed the office in a few long strides.

“Katie.” His tech glanced back at him, her strawberry-blond ponytail swinging over her shoulder. She had good old Irish fight in her eyes. “I’ll handle this.” He took the phone. “Sam Hyatt.”

“Dr. Hyatt. This is Jodie De Vanti.” She needn’t have identified herself. He could tell it was her by the frost in her voice, the way the phone receiver was growing cold in his hand. “I have a horse with a gaping wound on its shoulder and chest and it needs to be stitched. Now.”

“Then you’d better call Dr. Stewart.”

“Dr. Stewart is also out.” He could tell she suspected a conspiracy … and with good reason. No vet wanted to go to the Barton spread after what had happened to Sam.

“Sorry. You might try one of the vets in Elko.”

Sam was ready to put the phone down when Jodie blurted, “Don’t you take some kind of Hippocratic oath? Don’t you owe something to this animal?”

“I can’t afford another lawsuit.”

She was so silent that he wondered for a moment if the connection had been broken. Then she cleared her throat. “I guarantee, regardless of the outcome, no lawsuit.”

“What if I have to put the horse down?” That was how he’d gotten into trouble the last time.

“You shouldn’t have to.” Sam said nothing. “But if you do, then there will be no repercussions.”

Katie was staring at him, her lips pressed so tightly together that they were turning white. She slowly shook her head.

“My father isn’t here,” Jodie continued, her voice cool, but not icy like before. “Mike is gone, too. It’s just me and Margarite. I need some help.”

Sam turned his gaze to the ceiling. Not only did he feel for the horse, but three minutes at his desk had driven home the point that he could use the money. The Bartons always paid cash up front. They could afford to, unlike many of his other clients.

“How bad?”

“Bad, or I wouldn’t be calling you.”

No doubt. They’d tried to ruin him once. Ironic that because they’d failed, he was available to help now. “Give me forty minutes.”

“Sam,” Katie said as he hung up the phone. “No.”

He didn’t answer. Last time he’d checked, he was the boss of the outfit. He went back into the mudroom, shrugged into his canvas coat, stuck his feet into his insulated boots.

“Don’t forget your Elmer Fudd hat,” Katie said resignedly, holding out the plaid wool hat with the earflaps and fuzzy red ball on top. A gag Christmas gift to him from his nephews. Stupid-looking but warm when the north wind was blowing, as it was now.

“Thanks.”

“Sam?” Katie said as he headed out the back door. He stopped, his hand on the knob. “Watch yourself.”

He smiled. “You bet.”

WAS HE EVER going to get there?

Jodie De Vanti stood at the horse’s head, smoothing a hand over his nose, trying not to look at the pool of blood forming in the snow after running down the gelding’s shoulder and leg. If Sam Hyatt didn’t arrive soon, the horse was going to bleed to death. She just knew it.