Page 23 of Run, Run Rudolph
“A reindeer,” she confirmed.
“Yes.”
She nodded, looking relieved.
“The rangifer tarandus are a species at risk,” I said. “Sorry. Latin. They’re threatened. Their natural range is west and north of here.” I shook my head and backed from the stall, fishing my phone from my jacket pocket. “I need to make a call.”
“What?” Her tone became panicked, and she grabbed my sleeve. “But what if he’s bleeding out right now? You have to help him, Haden.”
I looked down at her slender hands, now wrapped around my wrist and freezing from the cold. She repeated my words back to me. “He’s a species at risk!”
Her big brown eyes were filled with concern for the animal, and my heart softened. She’d once convinced me to nurse a mouse back to health with those sweet eyes of hers. A mouse! They were pests on a farm, and she’d had me feeding one in a shoebox, the whole time worried sick that Kade would discover it and kill the small thing. I accused her of being the softie, but clearly that was a two-way street.
Against my better judgement, I pocketed my phone, noting another text had come in from one of my clients, asking me questions I’d already answered. Flirting via her chihuahua. Who needed to go on the dating apps when you were a single, small-town veterinarian? Well, maybe I did, if I wanted to find the woman of my dreams, because so far, she hadn’t walked into my clinic. Knowing my luck, the woman of my dreams would be allergic to animals.
So far, only a few of my more persistent clients had managed to trap me into a date. A date. As in one. Get tricked once, you’re a man. Get tricked twice and you’re a fool who wasn’t sending out the correct, uninterested signals.
With my phone away, I took a moment to study Tamara. Usually her thoughts were a billboard and easy to read, but tonight something was off. She was locked up like a secret.
The more I stood there contemplating this novel disaster, I came up with more questions. Such as, how did she get this several-hundred-pound wild animal into her barn on her own? And why did I keep catching wafts of booze? Was it coming off Tamara? Had she been drinking and driving? That didn’t seem like her.
I cautiously entered the stall and crouched beside the animal, the alcohol scent growing stronger. The reindeer was smaller than I’d expected. Male. It still had its antlers, which was concerning, seeing how late in the season it was for shedding. Was it unwell? Diseased?
I gave it a visual once over while I debated my options. The animal didn’t seem spooked by us, or by being enclosed in the barn. He was breathing a bit too fast, a sure sign of stress, but there was no apparent blood in the straw, so that was good.
I’d checked Tamara’s car on the way into the barn and spotted the hanging bumper with the hole. Nothing too extensive in terms of damage. So, by the looks of things, she’d been lucky, and so had the deer. Around here, the wildlife and the vehicle were often both goners after a collision.
“I think it’s his back end,” Tamara said, crouching beside me. I could smell her gentle cocoa butter scent, something that always reminded me of Christmas. Probably because, years ago, my mom had given her a jar of the stuff, and she’d slathered it on, then seated herself beside me at Christmas dinner. It had been all I could smell, permanently linking her and her cocoa butter scent to my favourite holiday.
“You should give him space,” I warned as she crouched in close. “He’s a wild animal. His antlers could do a lot of damage.”
“It’s fine.”
I refrained from sighing. She was too trusting, and while I admired her love for all creatures, I’d never dress up my cat in a Halloween costume. That was too far. Or get too close to a caribou unless necessary.
“Really, you should back up.”
She held my gaze, then reached out and stroked the reindeer’s forehead. I froze, ready to get between her and the beast. But nothing happened.
“This is okay, isn’t it?” she cooed softly to the caribou. It blinked its big dark eyes at her.
Huh.
Go figure. Tamara had the thing tamed already.
“He’s got a scrape,” Tamara pointed out. I nodded, having noted the injured back leg. The long gash likely didn’t need stitches, but it would need a bandage at some point. “I think he kicked my bumper when he landed in front of me on the road.”
“Always the wildlife’s fault,” I muttered. If people slowed down and watched the road and ditches a bit better, I’d enjoy a greater number of free evenings.
“Well, according to insurance companies, it is their fault,” she said rather indignantly.
“You already called them?”
“No, I just…know.”
I held in a smirk, aware that she was sensitive about the things she’d bumped with her car over the years. Honestly, other than being a bit alarming, it was kind of cute.
“He must have gotten out of a petting zoo,” I said, eyeing the sprawled beast. That would explain why it wasn’t freaked out by humans, and was okay being snuggled by Tamara.
