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Possibly not.
Heath glanced back, wanting to check on the unexpected mother in the first lambing barn, but time was money for Mack and everyone else trying to eke out a living in Shepherd’s Crossing. Keeping him waiting would be plain rude. “Hey, Mack.”
“Heath.” Mack stuck out a hand, looking every inch the cowboy he was, despite the impressive law degree. “How you holding up?”
“Fine, Mack. Just fine.”
“Right.” Mack sized him up. “Nothing a half day’s sleep wouldn’t cure. Is Elizabeth around?”
He hadn’t heard anyone call Lizzie Elizabeth in a long time. “She’s in the house.”
“When are the others coming north?”
“Soon, I’m told.” He pulled the screen door wide for Mack, then followed him in. “Melonie is finishing up her job at one of the Fitzgerald magazines and Charlotte’s about to graduate from veterinary school.”
“A vet on hand?” Mack’s brows rose in appreciation. “Handy turn of events. Still, having a house full of women around is going to be different. You up for it?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Nope.”
“Well, then.” Heath crossed to the great room. “Let’s get this done.”
Lizzie wasn’t in the great room even though he’d texted her.
Corrie came out from the kitchen. He motioned Mack over. “Mack Grayson, this is Corrie Satterly. She raised the Fitzgerald sisters after they lost their mother.”
“I’ve heard only good things, Mrs. Satterly.”
“Ms. Satterly,” she told him firmly. “But just Corrie will do nicely.” She turned back toward Heath. “Lizzie’s not here?”
“Not yet.” He checked the clock, then his watch. Both read the same time, making her ten minutes late.
Irritation snaked a line beneath his collar and up his neck. Maybe being late was fashionable in the publishing world. But here on the ranch, no one wasted time, especially this time of year.
He looked at Corrie. “Do you know what’s keeping her?”
She headed toward the door as she answered. “She was ready half an hour ago. I’ll go check.”
She was ready? Then where was she? A momentary unease niggled him. What if she wasn’t all right? What if something had happened? He started to cross the room just as Lizzie walked through the front door. She looked fine.
Real fine, he noted, but he wouldn’t dwell on that.
He was about to lambaste her for keeping them waiting when she pointed behind her. “The ewe, the one that delivered in the hills.” She paused to catch her breath, but the worry on her face clued him in. “I went to check on her and something’s wrong. Very wrong.”
He hurried through the door, and down the steps with Lizzie on his heels. He barked a message to Harve over the pager and raced to the foremost barn.
He should have checked on her before. If anything happened to her, it was on him, and him alone. He ran into the barn, his mind racing through various possibilities. Lizzie followed.
Harve appeared from the other direction.
The diagnosis was clear and dangerous the moment he spotted the downed ewe. “Hypocalcemia,” Heath told Harve as he knelt beside the ailing sheep.
Harve disappeared and returned quickly with a small leather case and a bottle. “You administer, I’ll hold.”
Within seconds Heath began the IV drip into the ewe’s jugular vein while Harve held the life-giving bottle of glucose and calcium above. Once they had the fluid dripping, Heath looked up. “This is going to take a while—it’s got to go in slowly. Can someone tell Mack?”
Corrie answered while Lizzie watched the ewe with grave concern. “I’ll go.”
Within minutes the ewe was showing signs of recovery. She blinked, then opened her eyes with a renewed interest in life. He turned to thank Liz for her intervention as Mack and Corrie came up alongside her.
“Necessary change of venue,” said Mack as he withdrew an envelope of papers from his Western-styled briefcase. “If you’re going to be on the ranch, what better place to get the lowdown than the barn, saving an ewe’s life?”
He handed Lizzie a copy of the will, then opened his to read out loud.
And when he began reading, Heath heard the sound of Sean Fitzgerald’s voice rang through the words.
“I like things my way,” Mack began. “That’s not always a blessing, and when I found out I wasn’t going to make it through this final battle, I did some thinking. Quiet thinking and out-loud thinking, and here’s where we’re at. The legal mumbo-jumbo will be squared away below. Mack Grayson has assured me of that, but here’s my message to all four of you: Life’s short.
