My jaw tightens, but I keep my voice steady. “I assure you that I’m still in Billings and that you cannot overdose someone on antibiotics. I’m not sure where he’s getting his information,but it’s wrong. I’ve never had a problem with my diagnoses or treatments.”
“Well, you’ve got a problem now,” he spits. “A big one. You’ve killed my herd, and I’ll be damned if I let you get away with it.”
“Mr. Nance, I’m truly sorry for what’s happened, but I need to understand why. Can I look at the herd and your protocols?”
“No, you’re not stepping any further onto my property than you are now. You’re a hack.”
“Can I do a necropsy on one of the cattle? It might help us figure out what went wrong.”
“A necropsy?” he barks out a bitter laugh. “You’re not touching my cattle again. You’ve done enough damage.”
“Please,” I say. “I want to help. This doesn’t make sense, and I need to figure out what went wrong.”
“What went wrong is you,” he growls. “Now, get off my property. And don’t think I won’t be telling every rancher in the county about your malpractice. You’re done here, Sutton.”
I feel the sting of his words, but I refuse to let him see me break. I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “If you change your mind about the necropsy, please let me know. I’ll leave my number.”
“Don’t bother,” he says, turning his back on me.
I turn and walk back to my truck.
This doesn’t make sense. Why would his cattle die? They were presenting the same symptoms as Dad’s and Wade’s, and the medication didn’t kill them. Dad noticed some of them weren’t getting better as fast as the others, so we changed it up. Did Mr. Nancenotnotice it, and this is the result?
Dad’s cattle got sicker not long after Dr. Reed and his crew were at our ranch. Did they dose them with something else?
As I drive away, I replay the conversation in my head, trying to make sense of it all.
Something doesn’t add up, and I’m determined to find out what it is. I start to call Doc Lucy, but my phone lights up with Ronnie’s number instead.
“Grrrrrrrrrrrrr,” I groan.
He’s the last person I want to talk to right now.
“Hey, Ronnie,” I answer as I pull out of the driveway and steer back toward my dad’s ranch. “What’s up?”
“Sutton,” he begins, his voice coming through the speakers of my truck. “How’s life in Podunkville?”
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. “It’s fine, Ronnie. Busy. You know how it is. Cows don’t exactly take the weekend off.”
“Right, right,” he says, but there’s a pause that tells me he’s gearing up for something. “Listen, I’ve got something I need to talk to you about. Do you have a minute?”
“Sure,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “What’s going on?”
“I’ve been talking with the rest of the board members over at the National Center for Bovine Research and Development,” he starts, and my heart skips a beat. “We’re looking for a new lead veterinarian for the advanced research program. Someone who can head up the studies on vaccine development and disease resistance. And your name came up.”
I take my foot off the gas pedal as I stare back at the console as if I can see Ronnie. “Wait, what?”
“You heard me,” he says, and I can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “We want you, Sutton. You’ve got the field experience, the research chops, and the background to prove it. Let’s face it, you’re wasted in our lab and out there in the middle of nowhere. You shouldn’t be doing any sort of fieldwork.”
“Ronnie, are you serious?” My voice comes out higher-pitched than I’d like, but I can’t help it. “That’s… that’s my dream job.”
“I know it is,” he says, his tone softening. “And you’re perfect for it. I’ve been telling them that for weeks.”
“But…” I struggle to find words. “I mean, how? Why now? Why me?”
“Why not you?” he counters. “You’re brilliant, Sutton. You’ve always been brilliant. And you’re meant for more than chasing cows through muddy pastures and patching up torn ligaments. You’re meant for this. For something bigger.”
I’m silent for a moment, my mind racing. “I’ve only been a veterinarian for four years. They usually want ten years minimum. What’s the catch?”
