Still shivering despite the heated barn, I stumbled over to the wall where the water valves were. We had five of them, each controlling five hoses to water troughs, and with a prayer that the lines hadn't frozen, I turned each of them. The sound of rushing water filled the barn, and I breathed out a sigh of relief. Safe—for now. I still had to manually haul water out to the chicken coop every morning using my house's well water, and we would be in a pickle if we needed to keep an animal in the sick barn, but the stall barn had water. That was a win.
"Thank God," Jay sighed, echoing my thoughts.
I leaned my head against the metal plate that held the spigots against the wall. "Yeah."
Jay put a hand between my shoulder blades. "Hey, Boss—you okay?"
I straightened, my spine snapping into a steel rod of discomfort. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." My voice sounded awful. At first, I'd thought the constant sniffles and building pressure really had been some kind of hay allergy, but then a thick blanket of snow had fallen last week, and my symptoms had gotten worse. There was no denying that I’d gotten a virus, and naturally, it was during an enormous crisis for my ranch.
I turned to face Jay, pulling away from his hand on my back. Jay had a disconcerting way of staring too intently sometimes, and he tended to put his hands on me when it wasn't necessary. I wasn't sure if it was a social manners thing or just a quirk, but I did my best to discourage it by shaking off his touches. He didn't take the hint this time. His grip shifted to under my elbow, and he ducked down to get a look at my face. "You look sick, Bella. You should rest."
Ihatedthe nickname Bella. I hated it more than Spencer's insufferable "Bee" nonsense. I unlatched my arm from his hand. "Thanks." Pulling my face out of my thick scarf, I sniffed and gestured to the stalls. "Will you make sure all the troughs got water? I'll shut it off when you give me the thumbs up."
"Sure." He tapped his leg nervously, glancing around the barn. He'd pulled his scarf down, too, and his young, eager features scrunched with worry. "You mad at me?"
"No," I rushed to assure him. Another coughing fit had me doubling over, and Jay put his arm around my shoulders. He was surprisingly strong for a kid, and I found myself lowered to an upturned, bright orange feeding tub over by the tack wall.
"Hang on. I'll check on the water and turn off the valves, and then I'll help you to the house," he rushed to assure me.
I tried to wave him off, but Jay was as unobservant as he was awkward, apparently. He ran through the barn, making sure the hoses were filling each trough with enough water for the next day or two, and then he jogged back and turned off thewater valves. My phone rang just as my coughing fit ended, so I tried to swallow, ignoring the feel of jagged glass sliding down my esophagus, and I answered. "Mending Hearts Ranch and Veterinary Clinic, this is Dr. Rook."
"Hey Dr. Rook, this is Bobbi," a woman's voice said.
"Hey, Bobbi." I straightened again, fighting my swimming vision. Fuck, I really wasn't doing great.
"I've got a limping steer. I know you're busy with shoeing lately but…" she trailed off, and I heard the desperation in her voice. Bobbi and her husband owned a small cattle ranch two hours east in Wyoming. They were short on vets sometimes, so if she was calling me, it probably had gotten out of hand.
"I can help," I scratched out. "How long has he been limping?"
"Oh, I don't know. Three days maybe? Thought it would work its way loose, whatever it was, but I think you'd better come take a look if you've got time."
Bobbi paid her bills on time, she was nice as hell, and her ranch was clean and organized. I loved visiting her. "I'll stop by tomorrow afternoon."
"Appreciate you," she said with relief. "I'll tell T to look out for you."
"See you then."
I hung up just as Jay returned to me, and he propped his hands on his narrow hips in consternation. "You're going to end up face down in the snow."
He wasn't wrong. I might. "I'll take some medicine," I promised. I stood with creaking limbs and arched my back, wincing. "You think you can take another ride up the trail to peek at the spring tomorrow?"
"I mean, I can, but I told you—either you've got a busted line up there or someone is taking your water."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "We looked atallthe lines. Several times. Explain it to me again. Like I'm five."
"You've got water rights," Jay said, holding his hands off to one side, indicating a section of something. "And your neighbors, Waylond and the Scotts, they got their water rights too." He moved his hands off to the other side.
"I know that, but how can they steal my water when it's on my land?" I gestured to his hands futilely. "The river goes right through my parcel."
"I didn't say they were doing it legally," Jay insisted, holding his hands palms up.
"You seriously think the Scotts—who are like ninety, by the way—are riding snowmobiles over to my river and, what… damming it off?"
"Fuck, I dunno," Jay said, shrugging. "Could be Waylond."
I didn't like the Scotts' son, Waylond. He was a stubborn asshole of a person—if spurs were a person, they'd be Waylond Scott. A cow mooed in the stall behind Jay, and the miniature ponies neighed in response. Well, at least they were happy.
I did not have the energy to go all over my hundred-acre ranch to inspect every water source that fed our water lines to see if some cranky rancher in his fifties was stealing my water. Especially not in the snow. I'd done it a few times over the summer and in the fall, and I hadn't seen a damn thing. But then again, I didn't know what I was looking for. I was a vet for God's sake, not an actual rancher. "Can you just… go… look?" I asked weakly.
