“Oh, that’s all right. Why do cats and dogs need shots? You treated those animals just like they were real people, taking X-rays and stuff.”
“Animals need shots to make them well, or keep them healthy, the same as you do,” Trina said. “I won’t tell you all the names, for you wouldn’t remember them anyway, but animals can have the same kind of diseases humans do—viruses, hepatitis, heart trouble, Lyme disease and lots of other things.”
“Gee!” Dolly said, her expressive gray eyes sparkling.
“I noticed Ray has kept up with the latest in medical equipment,” Autumn said to Olive. “He has everything our professors recommended that we should buy when we started out on our own.”
Pleased, Olive said, “He’s always interested in the latest cures and supplies. The reason he took this long tour is to study diseases and medical procedures in other countries. But he has more work than he can handle.” Looking keenly at Autumn, she said, “He needs another vet, so he won’t have to be on call all the time. Why don’t you and Trina stay on when he gets back? Ray would like to semiretire, and all of you could make a good living here.”
Olive had always fussed like a mother hen over her bachelor brother, and Autumn figured this idea of semiretirement was more her idea than Ray’s. Still, if problems of the past could be erased, it would be nice to settle down in Greensboro, especially now that Nathan was living in the county.
But would she be able to receive Nathan’s forgiveness and win his love? Did she even want his love now? Was that a pipe dream of the past? Would her parents forgive her and welcome her into the family circle again? Until she knew the answer to those questions, Autumn wasn’t making any promises.
“Thanks, Miss Olive,” Trina said, “but I’m engaged to a great guy who has a few more months of veterinarian training. When he’s licensed, we plan to take over his father’s practice in St. Louis. It sounds like a good opportunity for Autumn, though,” Trina said with a meaningful glance at her friend.
“We’ll wait and see how these two months turn out.”
Slumping in her chair to rest a bit, Autumn jumped when frantic pounding sounded at the back door.
“Help! Help!” a youthful voice yelled.
Autumn rushed out on the porch.
A teenage boy stood on the back step. Tears glistened in his eyes and he swiped them away.
“Flossie’s got a broken leg. She’s in the truck.”
Autumn opened the screen door, calling, “Come to the clinic when you can, Trina.” The boy ran down the sidewalk, and Autumn’s long-legged stride kept up with him.
A girl, younger than the boy, sat in the back of a pickup holding a bleating goat in her arms.
Autumn took the struggling goat from the girl, who jumped out of the truck and ran beside Autumn. The boy sprinted ahead to open the door, and Autumn carried the animal inside the clinic. The goat’s left foreleg dangled helplessly.
“What happened?” Autumn asked.
“A mean ole’ dog jumped on her,” the little girl said, her lips quivering.
“Don’t worry,” Autumn said. “Flossie will be as good as new in a few weeks.”
Trina, with Dolly tagging at her heels, came into the surgery and prepared to tranquilize the goat. The three children crowded close to the operating table.
“Hey! We can’t have this,” Trina said. “Dolly, you go back in the house.”
A hefty woman, who’d been driving the pickup, came into the waiting room. Without saying a word, she gestured to her children and they scuttled out of the surgery. With another quick look at the goat, Dolly ran out too, and Trina closed the door.
While Autumn scrubbed her hands and arms, Trina put a mask over Flossie’s nose and slowly sedated her until she was as limp as a rag. Autumn carried her to the X-ray room to determine the extent of the break. Fortunately, the bone hadn’t punctured the skin, so Autumn straightened the leg and encased it in a Thomas splint. The goat was still sedated when she called the family in. The little girl patted the goat’s head.
“Flossie, you’ll be all right,” she crooned.
The woman followed her children and held out her hand to Autumn. “I’m Sandy Simpson, and my kids are Tony and Debbie. Welcome to Greensboro.”
“Tony, you look familiar,” Autumn said.
“I work for Mr. Holland. I saw you at his farm last night.”
“Oh, yes. I didn’t get a good look at you in the darkness.” She turned back to Sandy. “Thanks for the welcome, but actually, I’m a native of this area. I’m Autumn Weaver. This is my associate, Trina Jackson.”
“Weaver, as in Weavers of Indian Creek Farm?” Sandy asked, amazement mirrored on her round face.
“Yes, but I’ve been gone for several years,” Autumn said evenly. No doubt she’d be answering that question often in the next two months.
“Stop by our farm for a visit when you’re out that way,” Sandy said. “We live a few miles north of Woodbeck Farm. We run a few cattle, but our major interest is horses. We have three Thoroughbreds now, but we don’t intend to buy any more until we see how we make out with them.”
Sandy wrote a check for their services.
“In case there might be complications,” Autumn explained, “I’d like to see Flossie again tomorrow morning. The splint will need to stay on a few weeks, but check a couple of times each day above the splint for swelling or dampness. Also, feel the foot to make sure it’s warm, which is an indication of normal circulation.”
“Can Flossie walk now?” the boy questioned.
“Sure,” Trina said.
Still a bit woozy, Flossie staggered when Autumn set her on the floor, but she wobbled out of the building to the delight of her happy family.
A bemused expression on her face, Autumn said, “That’s the reason I wanted to become a vet. I like to bring happiness to people, especially children.”
“But we can’t heal all their pets, and that’s going to hurt,” Trina replied.
Leaving Trina to handle the office work, Autumn made calls to two dairy farms where some cows were in the early stages of grass tetany, but the cases weren’t as severe as Nathan’s cow had been. By late afternoon, as she turned into the driveway of Woodbeck Farm, every nerve in her body was twanging at the thought of seeing Nathan again.
Nathan’s home, a pre-Civil War structure named Woodbeck after the Holland family’s ancestral home in England, had been completely renovated during the lifetime of his grandfather. The brick walls had been painted white and modern accommodations added several years ago. At one time, it had rivaled the Weaver farmhouse for beauty, a fact that Clara refused to acknowledge. Since Matt Holland had been a bachelor, he hadn’t kept the house nor grounds in tiptop shape, but the two-story building with huge chimneys at each end and a comfortable front veranda the width of the house was still an architectural masterpiece.
Matt had spared no expense on his red wooden barns and utility buildings, and Nathan had followed his example. Autumn’s heart swelled when she saw the newly painted buildings and the herd of Angus cattle grazing in a nearby pasture. It seemed like a miracle that Nathan’s youthful dreams had been fulfilled.
Tony Simpson sauntered off the back porch.
“Mr. Holland’s gone,” he said. “He said to tell you the cow’s still in the stall. You can check her and leave your bill with me. He’ll mail you a check.”
Autumn felt as if she’d been drenched in a bucket of ice water. Was Nathan avoiding her? she wondered. A red pickup was parked in front