She looked up at him and had to swallow the quip that rose—“two legs that don’t work”—because that was her old coping mechanism when attention was on her or her disability. She would always make a joke, mostly because it put other people at ease when they didn’t know what to say.
But nothing needed to be said or done to put Wade Reynolds at ease. His steady demeanor was just another ridiculously attractive thing about him.
“Better now,” she admitted with a soft laugh. “This isn’t something I relish handling on my own and this place is a ghost town due to winter break.”
“You’re definitely not on your own,” he assured her. “And neither is Miss Shambles.” He turned and leaned against the half door of her pen, looking down at the sheep. “Heard you got some bad news, kiddo.”
The way he spoke to the animal—like Shambles had a heart, soul, and spirit—knotted something tender in Elise’s chest.
Elise reached into the side pocket of her chair to pull out her tablet to read the lab report.
“It says, “confirmed squamous cell carcinoma in the right eye,’” she read. “The margins on the sample were…not clean. Kudos on an impressive pre-test diagnosis.”
He flicked his gaze from Shambles to her, all business now. “Can I see it? Did they give you a staging report or just the pathology?”
“Just pathology so far. I can pull it up if you want to see the exact wording.” She tapped the screen. “But the bottom line is cancer.” She swallowed. “As you know, Great Basin doesn’t have an oncology department.”
She hated how that last bit came out sounding like a failing on her part, like she should’ve somehow conjured one up.
Wade didn’t look surprised. “It’s a specialty practice and this institute is still growing,” he said, opening the gate and walking into the pen. He snagged a stool that put him eye to eye with Shambles. “Some states only have one vet school that has oncology, especially out west where there’s so much emphasis on large animals and livestock. Most of the time, oncology is just attached to a study for funding.”
She wheeled in closer to the sheep, splitting her attention between Shambles and the way Wade moved into his examination.
He took off his cowboy hat and got close to Shambles, silent while he did an initial observation of the site.
Elise gave the ewe’s wool a quick stroke. “I talked to Dr. Hayes—my professor—and she suggested calling in a local oncologist, but the farmer…” She exhaled. “He was very clear. He can’t afford a specialist. He said he only offered Shambles for the Live Nativity because he thought it would be fun for his grandkids. He said he didn’t know anything was wrong but hehadnoticed the eye was cloudy.”
Wade’s brows pulled together as he studied the sheep. “Did you explain the prognosis without treatment to him?”
“Yes. I told him the eye would get worse. That eventually it could ulcerate, become painful, maybe spread deeper. He asked me if she could see out of it now, and if she was in pain.I had to say not really. Maybe a little.”
“She feels this,” Wade said. “But it’s not debilitating. Not yet, anyway.”
“Well, his owner says Shambles is old, and he just doesn’t have the money, especially right before Christmas.”
Her voice cracked on the last word, which was mortifying. She cleared her throat and focused on some hay on the floor.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I’m not usually this emotional about livestock cases. I know the realities. I know farmers can’t always…” Her hands opened helplessly. “I just—he volunteered Shambles for a good cause. And I can’t stand the idea of sending her back like this when there might be something we can do.”
There was a small pause, then Wade turned to her. “Please don’t ever apologize for caring. It’s one of the most attractive things about you. One of many.”
Her heart rolled around, flipped in the air, then took a dive to the hay-covered floor. “Thank you,” she managed.
“What else did your professor say?” he asked as he pressed his thumb into the skin around the cancerous eye.
“She said if we wanted to pursue treatment, we’d have to run it through the teaching hospital like any other case. Which is closed for the semester, of course.”
“Is there an emergency surgery or OR?”
She nodded. “Yes, but it’s for true emergencies and I’m not sure this counts.”
“To Shambles it does,” he said.
“Of course, there’s an expense involved and the school can’t be responsible without a clear academic reason, and there’s nocurrent study that fits. The owner can’t pay, Great Basin can’t pay, and, technically, it’s not an emergencyyet.So it’s kind of…stuck.”
“Unless,” he said, “someone with oncology training is willing to donate their time and the school provides space and tools for the procedure because it’s teaching.”
“Teaching?”
