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I laughed out loud. The idea of itty-bitty Cricket acting as bodyguard to Montana’s version of Tom Hardy was too hilarious.
“Shut up,” she said, fighting a giggle. “He’s a giant teddy bear and incredibly sensitive. I remember him telling me how he hated how people stared at him.”
“Ah,” I said, finally realizing what she meant. “The way the ranch stares at Bridge.”
“Exactly. Like she’s a novelty,” she said quietly. “He wants to shield her from all that.” She cleared her throat. “It doesn’t hurt that Bridge is Barbie personified, a virtual Miss Sweden.”
“Oh God, don’t say that!” I cringed.
“Sorry to inform you, Mr. Blackwell, but your sister is like liquid gold around here, pregnant or not. She may slip through their fingers, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t going to try.”
“Oh, jeez,” I said, wincing.
“And Jonah’s a gentle soul. He’s not going to rip and grasp at your sister like these other boys would. He’ll tenderly cup his hands and just wait for her to pour herself inside. He’s a patient guy.”
“Okay, just stop. Stop. The visuals you’re giving me are pissing me off.” She laughed loudly. “What’s so funny?”
“You. You’re funny.”
I pulled my smile to one side and raised a brow.
We approached a room with a glass door, incongruent with the rustic feel of the remaining carriage house.
“What is this?” I asked.
“This is an operating room. Occasionally we’ll have to do emergency C-sections.”
“Whoa. Who does those?”
“Pop Pop,” she said absently, searching through large cabinets.
“Cool.”
“It really is,” she said, briefly gracing me with that clever smile. “I help him with each one. I have since I was little. Well, as long as I wasn’t in school.”
“Get out.” I studied her. “Ever done one by yourself?”
“Never,” she admitted. “I’ve only done three, but Pop Pop was there talking me through it.”
“Still,” I said, more than impressed.
“Got it!” she said, pulling out a large bottle of something.
I edged near her. “What’s that?”
“Ceftiofur crystalline free acid. It’s a sterile suspension. I’m going to try it on a few of the cows in the barn. See if we get a positive reaction. Doc suspected pneumonia from the symptoms we told him over the phone.” She looked at me. “He’s out of town. It’s respiratory for sure, I’m just not sure it’s pneumococcal.”
She grabbed a few more vials and we trekked it out to the barn. She readied syringes and stuck the bovines with ease, rubbing out the muscles where she pricked them, and moving from cow to cow, like she played doctor every day, talking about nonsense all the while. She floored me.
“Done,” she said, disposing of the vials and the syringes.
“What now?” I asked.
“The boys have probably already mucked out the stalls. Let’s mount a few horses and check the fields for any more sickly calves or cows.”
I nodded, invigorated by her determination. I almost forgot about my insane dream. Almost.
Piper invading my dreams brought forth the memories of all my detestable sins—ending with Lola and the photographs and Las Vegas. They ran through my thoughts on a never-ending cycle and completely deflated me. I recognized a goodness in Cricket that appeased those haunting reflections and knew from then on, I would always want to be surrounded by her. Something in her staved them off, and I was determined to find out her secret.
