Carolyn McSparren - Tennessee Rescue

Okay, she’d been raised to be picky. Even in high school her father had second-guessed her crushes.

He’d guessed wrong on Trip. Daddy simply couldn’t understand why she’d broken her engagement. If she had her way, he’d never know.

Actually, losing her job working for Nathan was worse than losing Trip. Maybe she should take up fostering abandoned baby scapegoats . She’d be right at home being the mother of that herd. Accepting blame for something that was her fault was one thing. Being fired because of someone else’s screwup made her angry. She hadn’t even had a chance to plead her case before Nathan fired her.

She settled Rose next to Sycamore and picked up Peony. She could already tell them apart not by their looks—although their stripes were different—but by their personalities. Sycamore was a bit of a bully and certainly greedy. Rose was gentle and liked to be cuddled. Peony was sweet, but Emma decided she didn’t have a brain in her soft little head. The poor baby tried to figure out the nursing thing, but the practical aspects simply eluded her.

Eventually Emma managed to get enough milk down Peony’s throat, rather than on her fur, that she felt comfortable returning her to the nest. She put the remaining milk back in the refrigerator and realized she’d have to make a run to the grocery for another gallon or so come morning. She had enough for only one more feeding.

Seth had left a couple of cans of dog food on the kitchen counter, but she’d better do some internet research on how to feed her charges before she offered them dog food. She’d ask Seth tomorrow, as well. Maybe just a tiny bit mashed up in the milk. But how would she get the solid food into their mouths through that syringe?

Relishing the still-warm bed, she snuggled down again. This time sleep eluded her. The whole country-life thing had turned into a major fiasco. She ought to pack her duffel bag and go home. What did she know about living in the country? Rehabbing a run-down house? Feeding skunks?

A niggling voice in the back of her mind whispered, “But Seth knows how to help me.”

Another niggling voice followed. “Yeah, but I’ll bet he won’t.”

* * *

BARBARA CAREW’S MOBILE vet van was already sitting in the parking lot at the Forked Deer Café when Seth pulled in beside it. She was reading the Marquette County Gazette in the back booth of the café and cradling a giant mug of coffee.

“You ever sleep?” he asked as he slid into the banquette across from her.

“When the animals let me,” she said. She folded the paper, put it down on the patched leatherette bench and took a swig of her coffee. “This helps. Good morning, Seth.”

A brawny arm and hand carrying a mug of coffee the size of Barbara’s reached across his shoulder and set the cup on the table in front of him. “Hey, Seth,” a gravelly voice said. “The usual?”

“Thanks, Velma.”

“You have bags under your eyes,” Barbara told him.

“Those bags probably have bags,” Seth muttered.

“Rough day yesterday?”

“No worse than usual. At least not until last night. Then things got complicated.” He laid out the entire scenario, from Emma’s knock on his front door until he left her with her black-and-white invaders.

“Here ya go, sweet thing.” Velma set the plate with sausage, hash browns, eggs and grits on the table, then added a large glass of orange juice.

“If I ate like that, I’d be even fatter than I am,” Barbara said. “Here I’ve got one country ham biscuit. Life is not fair.”

“You are not fat,” Seth said. “Just not skeletal.”

“Way I work, I should be—skeletal, that is.”

Seth cut into his eggs. “So, what should I do?”

“About what? The woman or the skunks?”

“Take your pick. I doubt the woman will stick around for long, but if she does, what should I do about the rules on skunks?”

Barbara got up, went behind the counter and brought back the coffee carafe. She refilled both their cups, then returned the carafe to the hot plate. “Okay. I’m going to give you a bit of motherly advice.” She scowled at him. “I am a mother, you know, even if mine are both semigrown. This, however, is advice from my mother. When Patrick hit the terrible twos, John and I had just taken over my practice and were trying to keep from throttling him. Seemed he was into something every minute. River otters are said to have two states—asleep or in trouble. I swear that kid has river otter genes instead of human. Anyway, one day when I was absolutely at my wit’s end, and my mother was visiting, she said, ‘Barbara, dear, do not see so much.’”

“What if he’s hanging off a precipice by his fingernails?” Seth asked.

“That, of course, you do see. But if it’s nondangerous stuff that you don’t know how to handle, simply don’t see it. In most instances, the problem resolves itself without you or the kid going to jail for first-degree murder. If this Emma is doing something that’s against the rules—rules you say you don’t believe are appropriate in the first place—is she doing it under your nose? Can you see or hear those skunks from inside your house or your car?”

“No, but I know they’re there.”

“Can you see them?”

“Of course not. But I need to check on her, make sure she’s managing.”

“Can you see the skunks from her living room?”

“They’re in the pantry.”

“Stay out of the pantry.”

“I’m sworn to uphold the regulations.”

“You are sworn to protect wildlife.” Barbara reached across the table and laid her hand on his. “If you get caught, I had nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, thanks, I appreciate that.”

“We need to get those babies up and weaned as quickly and quietly as possible. Return them to the wild far enough away so they can’t show up back on this woman’s doorstep, and in the meantime, you forget they exist.”

“I can’t do that.”

“The alternative is to come down on her like a ton of bricks, take those babies away from her and abandon them to the coyotes and the foxes before they even have their scent glands functioning. Can you do that ?”

“No, but—”

“I’ll stop by her place on my way back to the clinic to introduce myself. I’m the only vet in her neighborhood, and she’s a new neighbor. Does she have any pets?”

He shook his head. “Not as far as I know.”

“Okay, then I’ll do the neighborly thing. I’ll help her with those babies. First of all, rabies shots all around. It’s early, but not dangerously early to give them the shot. You go on to work and put it all out of your mind.” She shoved her plate away. “I’ll go check on Skunk Lady. Velma, honey, fix me a couple of sausage biscuits and a small orange juice to go, please.” She turned to Seth. “Vets bearing gifts. Good ploy. You pay for breakfast.”

As he watched her van drive out of the parking lot, Seth thought, The skunks are one thing, but no way can I put Emma French out of my mind. I’m already stuck with her. Heck, I may be stuck with her for the rest of my life. I can’t get her out of my head. I don’t even know whether that’s good or bad.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE HOVEL—EMMA’S new nickname for her house—had a good hot water heater and plenty of water pressure from her well, so as soon as she’d finished the eight o’clock feeding, she was able to stay under the shower until she turned pruney. She washed her hair, threw on clean clothes and actually put on some makeup. Once the babies were settled, she picked up her purse and started for the front door, only to see someone looming outside the glass.

The babies! That man had set the cops on her! She’d never felt like a fugitive before. Should she try to hide them? Would they search?