Page 31 of The Fixer and the Fugitive

“When he said he was taking me to a vet, crazy me, I thought he meant a veteran, like a retired army doctor or something,” Sam said as they wound their way up a long ranch lane.

“Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because an animal doctor doesn’t pop to mind as a first resource when one is about to expire from pain and bleeding. Also because it seems like a Montana thing, to leave the army and come here to try to find peace and resolution.”

Celeste gripped the wheel, trying to ignore the fact that that was exactly what she had done.

“Maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe we should forget it. It seems wrong somehow to let someone who routinely looks at hooves and tails to get her hands on me,” Sam said.

“You do what you have to,” Celeste said, tone serene. If there was one thing she was well versed in, it was improvising life on the fly. In fact she was far more comfortable with that than the carefully contrived life she was currently trying to live.

“I’ll say that the next time you have a hole that is about to be patched by someone who does routine sheep and cow castrations,” he groused.

She laughed and turned it into a cough when he shot her a dark look. “I promise I won’t let her castrate you,” she soothed, reaching over the console to give his thigh a squeeze.

“That’s what they all say,” Sam replied, clasping her hand and giving it a squeeze when she tried to withdraw it.

They were still holding hands when they finally arrived at the house, a smallish farmhouse. Elliot stepped out of his tall truck and a man came onto the porch to greet them, tossing a wave as Celeste and Sam stepped from the car.

“See? He looks normal,” Celeste said, sighing when Sam gave a stubbornly pouty look in reply.

“Mornin’, Elliot,” The man called. His voice had the booming quality of someone who spoke out loud a lot, like a teacher or drill instructor. He was used to making himself heard and understood, that much was certain.

“’Lo, Mitch. I brought your wife a customer,” Elliot returned.

Mitch squinted, trying to see behind Sam and Celeste to whatever dog or cat or other animal they might be hiding.

“A two legger,” Elliot added and Mitch nodded, gaze fastening on Sam’s bloody shoulder with sudden understanding.

“Caldwell, you have a customer,” Mitch said, turning his mouth to the side so it carried into the house. “She’ll be out in a minute. She’s feeding the baby.”

“How is the baby?” Elliot asked.

“Good. I think he’s going to make it,” Mitch said.

Sam and Celeste had no time to absorb that before a woman who looked much too young to be a doctor, and much too young for her husband, appeared from the house, small bundle in her arms.

“Good morning,” she said with a pleasantly cheerful smile.

“Hiya,” Elliot greeted her, sounding suddenly so chipper and warm-hearted Celeste and Sam turned to study him instead of the woman. “We go back a ways. She’s like my little sister,” Elliot explained, scowling at their inspection.

“Can you finish up here?” Caldwell asked Mitch, handing him her bundle, which turned out to be a baby goat that bleated unhappily at the change off from wife to husband.

“Sure, but you know he’s going to pout now,” Mitch said.

“He’ll recover,” Caldwell said, giving the goat’s head a little pat before regaining her beaming smile. “How can I help you?”

“Um,” Celeste began, staring at the girl child/woman. How had she gotten so old that she was now doubting the veracity of the woman’s degree?“See, Sam here…” She was usually adept at lying. She had to be. But this wasn’t an insurgent and she wasn’t on a job. This was her new place of residence, long into the foreseeable future. Why hadn’t she thought up something to say about the situation? “You see…”

“Edward Jonas mistook him for a cattle rustler and shot him,” Elliot said, nodding toward Sam.

Caldwell gasped. “In broad daylight?”

“No, it was the middle of the night,” Elliot said. “He thought he was a rustler. In reality he was looking for his girlfriend.”

Eyes turned speculatively toward Celeste. “You were at Edward Jonas’s house in the middle of the night? Not to be mean, but he’s kind of loony, even by Paradise standards,” Caldwell said.

“Of course I was not at his house,” Celeste protested. “I don’t even know the man.”

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