Page 3 of Saddles and Snowstorms
“I can see that,” I said softly, spotting a shooting star streaking across the darkness. “Perfect timing for little Starlight’s arrival.”
He chuckled. “Sign of good luck, my grandma would’ve said.”
I followed him to my truck, an old Ford that had seen better days but was sturdy enough for country roads. My medical bag felt twice as heavy as when I’d arrived, my muscles protesting every movement.
“You take care now, Dr. Walsh,” the farmer said, extending a calloused hand. “And thank you. Lulabelle’s special to us.”
“I’m glad I could help,” I replied, shaking his hand. “And please, call me Rowan.”
“Rowan it is. I’m Earl, by the way.”
“It’s been nice to meet you, Earl.” I gave him a warm smile as I crawled up into my truck. “And don’t worry, I’ll send your bill out in the mornin’.”
A sly grin spread over his face. “Wouldn’t be a vet if you didn’t.”
We both laughed as I turned over the engine. With a wave, I headed out toward the main road and back to town.
The drive back to Sagebrush took longer than I expected. The gravel roads twisted through the dark prairie like pale ribbons, and I had to slow down twice for deer standing frozen in my headlights. My arm throbbed with every bump in the road, a souvenir from Lulabelle’s determined contractions.
Main Street was deserted when I finally pulled into town, the streetlights casting pools of yellow light on empty sidewalks. Sagebrush wasn’t much to look at—a handful of brick buildings, a diner, a small grocery, and the veterinary clinic I’d just purchased from old Doc Mercer. But there was something comforting about the quiet, the way the buildings huddled together against the vast Texas night.
My apartment sat above the clinic, a small two-bedroom with slanted ceilings and creaky floors. I trudged up the back stairs, fishing my keys from my pocket with fingers that still felt numb from being crushed inside Lulabelle. The lock stuck, as it had every time since I’d moved in, requiring a specific jiggle-and-lift maneuver I was still perfecting.
“Home sweet home,” I murmured as I finally got the door open and flipped on the light. Cardboard boxes formed a maze in my living room, most still sealed with packing tape. The kitchen counter held a coffee maker, a microwave, and not much else. I’d been living on takeout from Dolly’s Diner for the past week, promising myself I’d unpack properlyon the weekend. To be fair, it was some of the best goddamn barbecue I’d ever eaten, so I wasn’t intoomuch of a rush to unpack and cook my own meals again.
I dropped my bag by the door and headed straight for the shower, peeling off my filthy clothes as I went. The hot water was a blessing, washing away the barn smells and easing my aching muscles. I stood there longer than necessary, letting the steam fill the small bathroom as I replayed the night’s events in my mind.
A successful breech birth, my first in Sagebrush. Not a bad way to introduce myself to the community.
Clean and wrapped in a towel, I wandered to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to find it nearly empty—half a gallon of milk, some eggs, and a six-pack of local beer that the realtor had left as a welcome gift. I grabbed a beer and an apple that had seen better days, then flopped onto the couch, groaning as I sank into the soft cushions that still smelled like my old apartment.
I only took a single bite of the apple before I traded it for my phone. It was a bit too mealy to really enjoy. The beer, however, I kept. Swiping open my phone, I immediately checked my handful of dating apps. Ever since moving to the boonies, there wasn’t a single message. Not that I was really looking for anything. The entire reason I’d moved away from Austin was to get away from my ex. After our extremely messy breakup, I needed a fresh start. However, I didn’t think about dating potential when I moved to Sagebrush. The chances of finding another gay man in the middle of nowhere were pretty slim.
Tossing my phone aside, I drained my beer, sat the empty bottle on the table, and leaned back against the couch. I closed my eyes for just a moment, a wave of exhaustion washing over me.
Living in Sagebrush had been a blessing so far. I had my own business, my own place, and no chance of running into my ex again. It was the best I could hope for. But at the same time, I couldn’t help the feeling of loneliness that was slowly seeping into my bones.
The sharp buzz of my phone jolted me awake. I blinked, disoriented, realizing I’d fallen asleep on the couch. My neck had a crick, my towel was on the floor leaving my dick to the wind, and morning light was streaming through my still-unpacked windows.
“Shit,” I muttered, fumbling for my phone. It was six-fifteen. I had forty-five minutes before my first appointment.
The phone buzzed again in my hand. A text from a number I didn’t recognize.
“Starlight’s up and nursing like a champ. Lulabelle doing fine too. Earl Jameson.”
I smiled despite my stiff neck and the realization that I’d slept on the couch all night. At least I’d made one good impression in Sagebrush. I tapped out a quick reply.
“Great news. Will stop by this afternoon to check on them if that works for you.”
Setting the phone down, I groaned as I stood up. My right arm was a patchwork of purple and blue bruises from wrist to bicep—Lulabelle’s parting gift. I flexed my fingers, feeling the stiffness in every single one of my joints.
“Well, good thing I don’t have anyone to impress,” I muttered, heading for the bathroom. I let out a long sigh as I glanced at myself in the mirror, dark circles around my eyes. “Yep. Good thing.”
Despite my exhaustion, it was time to start another day as Sagebrush’s newest resident and vet. Hopefully I wouldn’t have to fist another cow today.
Chapter 2
Brooks
