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“Wow.”
He chuckled. “Animals like me. Happy about Snow. Night.”
“Good night,” she called after him.
She dealt with the remaining slices of pizza, more than enough for supper the next night. Snow was going to live! She was almost floating as she went to find her purse and coat.
Chapter 10
Meadow had just locked the door when headlights blinded her, coming toward the house.
A big, black pickup truck pulled up beside her and Dal Blake got out. He looked worn as he joined her on the porch.
“I’m on my way to see Snow,” she began a little coldly. He’d paid the vet bill, but she couldn’t forget the way he’d treated her.
“I’ll drive you. I want to see her, too,” he said in a subdued tone. He moved closer, towering over her in his shepherd’s coat and wide-brimmed Stetson, both dotted with falling snow.
He took her gently by the shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Damned sorry.”
She bit her lower lip. It had been such an ordeal. She fought tears. It was deadly to show weakness to the enemy.
While she was thinking it, he pulled her into his arms and folded her close, his lips in the hair at her temple.
She hadn’t had comfort in years. Nobody held her when she cried, nobody except the father who had died so recently. The comfort was too much for her. It broke her proud spirit. She started sobbing.
Dal wrapped her up tight, whispering at her ear. “It’s all right. Everything is going to be all right. Snow’s going to live, okay?”
“It was my fault,” she choked. “I didn’t stop her. I was afraid to say anything, afraid he’d hear me. She went out the window after him. He hit her . . .”
His mouth cut off the angry words. He kissed her gently, softly. “We’ll get him,” he said. “If it takes years, we’ll make him pay for what he did. I promise!”
“She’s my baby,” she moaned.
He drew in a long breath. “She’s my baby, too,” he said tenderly. “Nuisance and all.” He smoothed down her long hair, tangled by the wind where it flowed out under her cap. His hands gathered it up, savoring its clean softness. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “If I’d just let you talk . . .”
She pulled back and looked up at him in the porch light’s glare, her face drawn with worry, her eyes soaked in tears.
He wiped the tears away with his thumbs, his big hands warm and comforting where they cupped her oval face. “Stop bawling,” he said quietly. “She’s going to be fine.”
“Dr. Clay said she might have seizures!”
“If she does, we’ll handle it,” he interrupted. “They have medicines to deal with them. She’ll live. That’s all that matters.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “Okay.” She swallowed. “Dr. Clay said you paid the bill.”
“Yes. I thought it was the least I could do, under the circumstances. The desk was valuable,” he added, “but you can’t equate an antique with a pet’s life. I’d have done exactly what you did, if it had been Jarvis, or Bess,” he added.
She searched his eyes for longer than she meant to, flushed, and dropped them. He’d had too much to say already about her fawning over him. She pulled away from him.
“You’re remembering all of it, I guess,” he said sadly. “All the vicious things I’ve said to you, down the years.” He laughed, but it had a hollow sound. “I don’t suppose you’ve realized why.”
She cocked her head, looking up at him like a curious little bird.
“Never mind.” He smoothed his thumb over her soft mouth. “Let’s go see Snow.”
He helped her into the truck and drove her to the vet’s office, helping her down from the high truck with his big hands circling her waist.
He kissed her gently and smiled. “You’ve been eating pizza. I tasted mushrooms and cheese.”
