eager for it.
Maybe the change of weather would bring a change in her mood, as well,
and help her finally shed the city jitters that plagued her. It ought
to be hard to cling to all the old paranoia-soaked expectations of life
in Los Angeles when they were living in a white wonderland, trkling and
pristine, like a sequined scene on a Christmas card.
In the kitchen, as she opened a can of Pepsi and poured it into a
glass, she heard a heavy engine approaching. Thinking it might be Paul
Youngblood paying an unexpected visit, she took the tablet from the top
of the refrigerator and put it on the counter, so she would be less
likely to forget to give it to him before he went home. – By the time
she went down the hall, opened the door, and stepped onto the front
porch, the vehicle pulled to a stop in front of the garage doors.
It wasn’t Paul’s white Bronco, it was a similar, metallic-blue wagon,
as large as the Bronco, larger than their own Explorer, but of yet
another model, with which she wasn’t familiar. She wondered if anyone
in those parts ever drove cars. But of course she had seen plenty of
cars in town and at the supermarket.
Even there, however, pickup trucks and four-wheel-drive truck-style
wagons outnumbered automobiles.
She went down the steps and crossed the yard to the driveway to greet
the visitor, wishing she’d paused to put on a jacket. The bitter air
pierced even her comfortably thick flannel shirt.
The man who climbed out of the wagon was about thirty, with an unruly
mop of brown hair, craggy features, and light-brown eyes kinder than
his rugged looks.
Closing the driver’s door behind him, he smiled and said, “Howdy. You
must be Mrs. Mcgarvey.”
“That’s right,” she said, shaking the hand he offered. “Travis
Potter.
Pleased to meet you. I’m the vet in Eagle’s Roost. One of the vets.
A man could go to the ends of the earth, there’d still be
competition.”
A big golden retriever stood in the back of the wagon. Its bushy tail
wagged nonstop, and it grinned at them through the side window. Seeing
the direction of Heather’s gaze, Potter said, “Beautiful, isn’t he?”
“They’re such gorgeous dogs.
Is he a purebred?”
“Pure as they come.”
Jack and Toby rounded the corner of the house. White clouds of breath
steamed from them, they had evidently run from the hillside west of the
stable, where they’d been playing. Heather introduced them to the
vet.
Jack dropped the Frisbee and shook hands. But Toby was so enchanted by
the sight of the dog that he forgot his manners and went directly to
the wagon to stare delightedly through the window at the occupant of
the cargo space.
Shivering, Heather said, “Dr. Potter–”
“Travis, please.”
“Travis, can you come in for some coffee?”
“Yeah, come on in and visit a spell,” Jack said, as if he had been a
country boy all his life. “Stay to dinner if you can.”
“Sorry, can’t,” Travis said. “But thanks for the invitation. I’ll
take a rain check, if you don’t mind. Right now, I’ve got calls to
make–a couple of sick horses that need tending to, a cow with an
infected hoof. With this storm coming, I want to get home early as I
can.” He checked his watch.
“Almost four o’clock already.” Ten-inch snowfall, we hear,” said
Jack.
“You haven’t heard the latest. First storm’s built strength, and the
second’s no longer a day behind it, more like a couple hours. Maybe
two feet accumulation before it’s all done.”
Heather was glad they had gone shopping that morning and that their
shelves were well stocked. “Anyway,” Travis said, indicating the dog,
“this was the real reason I stopped by.” He joined Toby at the side of
the wagon. Jack put an arm around Heather to help her keep -warm, and
they stepped behind Toby. Travis pressed two fingers against the
window, and the dog licked the other side of the glass
enthusiastically, whined, and wagged his tail more furiously than
ever.
“He’s a sweet-tempered fella. Aren’t you, Falstaff. His name’s