What did he know? That right then and right there, she was developing a crush the size of the mountains in the distance? That her usual wit and charm just dried up in the face of this handsome creature? That she couldn’t see, think, or roll straight in front of him?
“Knew what?” she asked, her voice tentative as she braced for the response.
“You’re fearless, cowgirl. I love that.”
He loved that? And had a nickname for her?
For once, she was happy to be in this chair, so she didn’t wobble on her weak knees.
“Let’s go to the barn,” she managed to say, thumbing in that general direction. “You can meet my crew.”
As they made their way toward the barn that housed the Nativity animals, Elise realized she’d stopped thinking about her chair entirely. He didn’t slow down for her or speed up. He didn’t hover or overcompensate.
He just…matched her.
And for someone who’d spent half her life feeling like everyone either pitied her or wanted to fix her, that felt like a miracle.
Inside the secondarybarn tucked to the side of the campus, Elise and Wade were greeted by a soft chorus of snorts and bleats beneath the hum of heat lamps. Light fell through the high windows in narrow, golden shafts, catching bits of dust and straw that floated like snow.
“These are our Nativity volunteers,” Elise said, rolling down the center aisle.
A donkey lifted his head from a feed bucket and brayed, then meandered out the other door to an outdoor pan. Two goats butted playfully behind a swinging door. In the last stall, a new arrival stood apart from the rest—a white-faced ewe with coarse wool and a tentative, searching look.
“This lovely lady came in yesterday,” Elise said. “A farmer over in Cedar Valley offered to lend some of his flock for thepageant, but he wasn’t sure about this one. Said she seemed… off. Not sick, exactly—just not herself.”
Wade stopped beside the rail, studying the animal. “Mind if I step in?”
“Go ahead. She’s gentle.”
He unlatched the stall door and crouched low, letting the ewe sniff his sleeve. The animal hesitated, then inched forward, trusting.
After a minute, he glanced back at Elise. “You notice her eye?”
“The right one is a little swollen,” she said, wheeling in. She’d noticed the skin around the eye was slightly raised and roughened, like pale coral under the lashes. “I thought it was a scratch. Maybe she bumped something in transport. There’s no discharge, no fever.”
“It’s not an infection,” he murmured. He touched lightly at the wool near her temple, careful not to startle her. “See this plaque here? Almost chalky?”
Elise leaned forward, studying the spot. It wasn’t large, but there was something unsettling about it—the way the light caught the uneven texture, the way the ewe blinked more slowly with that eye.
“I’ve seen something like this before,” Wade said. “But never in a sheep. Cattle, yes, but sheep aren’t common cases.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“Could be nothing, like you said, but it could be ocular squamous cell carcinoma.”
She drew back sharply. “Cancer?”
“Hard to say without a biopsy. But it’s the right shape, the right color.” He ran a hand along the ewe’s neck, his voice gentling. “Poor girl. Maybe that’s why the farmer sent her along—hoping someone here might take a look.”
Elise’s throat tightened. “It would make sense if he can’t afford treatment, but we don’t even have an oncology department.”
“Well, I’m here and happy to give my advice, for what it’s worth.”
Something in the way he said it—steady and sure—made her think it might be worth a lot.
“What’s the treatment if it is carcinoma?” she asked.
“First, it needs to be confirmed with a biopsy, since the best option is to put your mind at ease. If it’s positive, I can help you put together a treatment plan.”
