Darlene Gardner - That Runaway Summer

“A baby goat.” Chris smoothed his hand over the animal’s coat in a rhythmic, calming motion. “That’s why I said you wouldn’t believe me. Something’s wrong with him.”

The goat was injured, not sick. Blood matted its coat and it held one of its legs stiffly. She heard the faint roar of a motorcycle engine, a reminder that this section of woods adjoined the two-lane thoroughfare leading to and from downtown Indigo Springs.

“The poor thing. It looks like he might’ve been hit by a car.” The goat could have limped into the woods before it collapsed. But where had it come from? Farms dotted the countryside, but she didn’t know of one nearby. “I think his back leg is broken.”

“We need to take him to a vet!” Chris cried.

Although the goat measured about two and a half feet from head to hooves, it had a thick, muscular body and probably weighed thirty pounds.

“He’s too big to carry,” she said.

The animal made a soft, keening sound that tore at Jill.

“Somebody has to help him!” Chris sounded close to tears, stabbing at Jill’s heart. On the other hand, she wasn’t surprised. Her brother cried while watching lions attack their prey on the National Geographic channel.

Jill placed her hand on her brother’s back, feeling his body trembling. “I didn’t say we wouldn’t help him, honey. Only that we can’t move him.”

“Then what are we going to do?” Chris wailed.

Jill quickly ran over options in her mind. She could phone a veterinarian, except nightfall was quickly approaching and she didn’t know how late vets worked or whether they took after-hour calls.

Or she could fetch one.

“I know of someone who can help.” She handed her brother her cell phone. “Stay here and I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

She took off at a trot, hardly noticing the leaves and small twigs that slapped at her arms and legs. She did, however, recognize the irony in the situation.

She was running toward the one man from whom she should stay far away.

DAN’S FIRST INDICATION that this wouldn’t be an ordinary Tuesday night came when the dogs who’d settled in to watch him fix the kitchen cabinet leaped to their feet and broke into loud barking.

Starsky and Hutch raced for the door, their paws sliding over the hardwood floor.

Dan rose slowly, reluctant to abandon the job he’d finally gotten around to tackling. Almost a year after he’d moved into the small, two-bedroom house, the cabinet was still coming off its hinges.

“Starsky! Hutch! Quiet!” he commanded.

The two mixed-breed dogs kept barking, completely in disregard of the fact that he was a vet with a reputation to uphold.

“You’re going to give me a bad name,” Dan told the dogs as he nudged past them to the door. Their tails wagged in double time while they panted with undisguised anticipation. “It’s also uncool to give the impression that nobody ever visits us.”

Starsky barked, almost as if to say they hardly ever did get visitors.

“Point taken, smart aleck,” Dan muttered, then swung open the door to a surprise.

“I’m sorry to stop by like this,” Jill said in a rush, “but I need you.”

The last three words could have been straight out of his fantasies if the delivery had been different. She was out of breath. A slight sheen of perspiration dampened her brow and her curly hair was disheveled.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“There’s a goat in the woods. I think its leg is broken.”

“A goat?” The dogs were barking enthusiastically. Dan positioned his body so they couldn’t get out of the house and lick her to death.

“The poor thing could really use your help.” Her expression was pleading, as though she feared he might say no. Even if he were capable of turning away from an animal, no way could he refuse Jill.

“Sure.” He regained his equilibrium, his mind racing as he thought about what he needed to do. “Just give me a minute to gather some supplies. You can wait inside.”

The dogs erupted into a cacophony of even louder barks before he could move aside to allow her entrance. She stepped backward.

“They’re harmless, I promise you.” He grimaced, feeling a telltale flush of embarrassment start up his neck. “They’re just overly friendly.”

“It’ll be easier if I wait for you out here,” she said.

He swallowed the urge to tell her the only pets he had trouble getting to behave were his own. There was no time for that. He closed the door, careful to prevent the canines from escaping, then transferred supplies to his backpack from the bag he used for house calls. He added some PVC pipe and a high-powered flashlight and he was ready to go.

They reached the goat in minutes, with Jill setting a breakneck pace. Her haste was more in keeping with someone worried about an injured pet rather than a stray farm animal.

The reason soon became apparent.

The goat wasn’t alone.

A young boy of about nine or ten with wavy brown hair was cradling the animal’s head in his lap. He gazed up at Dan out of big eyes shaped like Jill’s.

Stanley was right, Dan thought. He really had been working too hard if he’d lived in Indigo Springs for nearly a year without realizing this boy existed.

Although with tourists swelling the population, the town wasn’t as small as it appeared. Up until a few weeks ago, Jill herself had barely been on Dan’s radar screen.

“Please help him,” the boy pleaded.

Was he Jill’s son? If so, she’d given birth as a teenager. Where, then, was the boy’s father? Was the father the reason Jill wasn’t in the market for a relationship?

“That’s why I’m here. By the way, it’s a her, not a him.” With the goat lying on its side, Dan could clearly define the sex. “She’s not a farm animal, either. She’s a pygmy goat.”

“You mean she’s not a baby?” Chris asked.

“I’d say she’s about a year old, so she won’t get a whole lot bigger than she already is,” he said. “My name’s Dan, by the way.”

“I’m sorry,” Jill cut in. She was standing a shoulder’s length from him, yet he was acutely aware of her every movement. “Dan, this is Chris, my brother.”

Her brother. Ah, that made more sense. The boy was probably visiting her.

The animal emitted a low noise that sounded almost like a moan. Dan focused on the goat, his need to alleviate the animal’s pain overriding everything else.

“Did either of you see what happened?” He did a visual exam, noting the matted blood on the goat’s coat. The scrape on its body, though, was superficial. More worrisome was the way the goat was holding her leg, which indicated a simple fracture.

“I found her right here,” the boy said. “Jill thinks she got hit by a car.”

“That’s a good guess,” Dan said. “Lots of people keep pygmies as pets. Either she got loose or someone dumped her on the side of the road.”

“No!” Chris cried.

Dan was about to point out dogs and cats were abandoned every day, but the boy needed reassurance more than enlightenment. He could also use a job to help him feel useful.

“I’m pretty sure her leg is broken, but she’ll be okay if we all work together,” Dan said. “Chris, can you follow directions?”

The boy appeared wary.

“You can be my assistant.” He turned the flashlight on and handed it to Chris. “Shine the light on us. This is very important. Be careful not to shine it in the goat’s eyes. Can you do that, Chris?”

“I’ll try.” He sounded unsure of himself, but stood up and did exactly as Dan instructed.

“That’s perfect. I’m going to give her a mild sedative and then put some antiseptic on this scrape.” Dan worked as he talked. When the goat was breathing more easily and he’d cleaned the abrasion, he looked at Jill. “I need your help, too, Jill. Place a little pressure on her neck with your elbow. That’ll keep her still.”