The sun was up when she walked to the area where a pickup truck, minivan and a SUV were garaged. Now that Sheldon had officially retired from running the farm, Peyton usually drove the red pickup with the farm’s logo emblazoned on the doors. The doors to the pickup, like all of the vehicles on the farm, were never locked and keys or fobs were always left in the ignition. She kept her medical bag in a locked compartment in the truck along with a pair of knee-high rubber boots.
The farm was beginning to stir. She drove past a group of men walking in the direction of the stables. One by one the horses would be taken from their stalls, washed and groomed, while the stable hands mucked and washed down the stalls. They would be fed and watered and then turned out to pasture to graze. The Thoroughbreds training for races would be exercised before the jockeys put them through their paces. Jockeys and trainers would spend time conferring with one another as the respective trainers entered the data into laptops.
Peyton parked alongside one of the three stables, retrieved her bag and exchanged her shoes for the boots. She walked in, coming face-to-face with Ryan Blackstone, the farm’s resident veterinarian.
“What are you doing up so early?” she asked Ryan. “I told you I’d make rounds this morning.” He wore his ubiquitous jeans, plaid cotton shirt, battered baseball cap that had seen better days and scuffed boots. A two-day growth of whiskers shadowed his lean jaw.
The Blackstones were like the Baldwin brothers. The similarity in the actors’ eye color indelibly connected them as family. Whereas the Baldwins shared the gene for ice-blue eyes, it was varying shades of gray with the Blackstones. At forty, tall and slender Dr. Ryan Blackstone was bummed because he claimed more gray hair than his father, who would celebrate his sixtieth birthday the following year.
Ryan raised his eyebrows at his young cousin. She’d enrolled in the Western College of Veterinary Medicine in Saskatchewan, Canada, earning a doctor of veterinary medicine degree. Like him she’d specialized in large animal and equine medicine. He’d found her motivated and single-minded in learning everything she could about medical care for horses. He smiled. This morning she looked ten years younger than twenty-seven with her bare face and her hair pulled into a ponytail.
He reached for her medical bag. “Don’t you have a wedding to go to this afternoon?”
Smiling, Peyton nodded. “I wanted to check on Katie Dee.”
“I checked her already.”
“What’s up, Drs. Blackstone?” quipped one of the workers as he pushed a wheelbarrow filled with hay and manure out of the stable.
Peyton rolled her eyes at him when he winked at her. A few of the single workers had started flirting with her once they’d discovered she wasn’t married. What they didn’t know was that she had been married, but that was something she made certain not to advertise. It was just too embarrassing.
“There is one too many Dr. Blackstones on this farm,” she said under her breath.
Ryan gave her a level stare. “And there’ll probably be a third when Sean goes to veterinary school.”
“He’s only eleven, Ryan. Are you certain he wants to follow in your footsteps?”
“I’m only repeating what he told Kelly.”
Peyton fell in step with Ryan as he walked over to the pickup. “Even though I love working with you, I’ve been applying for positions at other farms. Unfortunately, I haven’t had much luck. I had a dinner meeting with Nicholas the other night, but I didn’t get the chance to ask him whether he’d let me volunteer some of my time because his sister and her fiancé had come in from North Carolina.”
Opening the passenger-side door, Ryan set her bag on the seat. “Why volunteer, Peyton? You’re a doctor, not an intern. Which means you should be paid for your services.”
She stared at the grooms brushing a mare and her foal, and then her gaze swung back to Ryan’s scowling expression. “It’s not about money.”
“If it’s not money then what on earth could it be?”
“It’s my name.”
“Peyton?”
“No. Blackstone.”
Ryan’s frown deepened. “What’s wrong with being a Blackstone?”
“Everything if I’m Dr. Blackstone, D.V.M.” She sucked in a lungful of air. “Whenever someone mentions Dr. Blackstone it’s never about me, Ryan. When I discovered the boil on Katie Dee’s back the first thing one of the men said to me is that I should call Dr. Blackstone. They were talking about you. I may not have your experience, but dammit, I do happen to be a licensed veterinarian. Hardly anyone on this farm relates to me as a vet. You, Sheldon and Jeremy are the exceptions.”
“It’s going to take some time before they realize you are.”
“How much time?”
“Probably a year. The more they see you caring for the horses, the more they’ll come to rely on you.” He dropped an arm over her shoulders. “Last night I had an in-depth discussion with Jeremy about setting up an equine hospital on the last quadrant. I could use you at the hospital because of your surgical training. No pressure,” he said quickly when she lifted her eyebrows.
“No pressure but a whole boatload of guilt,” Peyton teased.
Ryan winked at her. “No guilt, either.” He sobered. “I want the best for you, Peyton. And if that means you working at another farm then I want you to follow your dream. The only thing I’m going to ask is if we do put up the hospital I’d like you to assist me in the O.R.”
Peyton rested her head on his shoulder. “I promise. Now, are you coming to the wedding and reception?”
He dropped his arm. “I wouldn’t miss it. Will you save me a dance?”
“I don’t know, cousin. I’ll probably be so busy dancing with all of the single men that I may not have time for an old married man like you.”
“I’m not that old and I haven’t been married that long.”
Peyton wiggled her fingers as she climbed into the truck. “Thanks for taking over for me this morning. I’ll see you later.” She and Ryan alternated days checking on the horses. Not only did she want to gain greater experience caring for the farm animals, but she also wanted Ryan to spend more time with his wife and three young children. She smiled. He’d more or less given her his blessing about securing employment elsewhere. Peyton believed she would never be able to come into her own professionally if she continued to work at her family’s farm.
Peyton maneuvered onto the local road leading to Cole-Thom Farms, downshifting and coming to a stop when she pulled in behind a caravan of trunks and vans inching toward the gatehouse security checkpoint. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel in frustration as security personnel carefully checked the papers of the drivers in each van. Nicholas had pulled off a minor miracle when he contracted with an event planner to coordinate a reception for an estimated two hundred guests in less than forty-eight hours.
He had invited several neighboring farms to the soirée; the owners and their employees were already in a party mood because of the upcoming biannual open-house festivities, and the owner of Cole-Thom Farms sister’s wedding was an unexpected prelude to what was touted as an inexhaustible supply of food, drink and music.
Celia and Gavin had picked up their marriage license; she and Celia had selected their gowns from a bridal boutique. Except for adjustments to the bodice, the gowns hadn’t needed any major alterations. They’d also purchased wedding accessories and ordered their bouquets and the groom and best man’s boutonnieres. Customarily some brides spent a year planning their wedding, while Celia’s had taken a mere three days. The weather had also cooperated for the outdoor venue. There was hardly a cloud in the sky; temperatures were predicted to peak in the mid to high