Jude made a weary noise. “That’s what Lovelorn gossip says.”
“What’s the truth?” I asked quietly. More than wanting to know the whole story, I wanted Jude to feel comfortable opening up to me.
“Dad went to sleep one night and didn’t wake up. Sudden heart failure was the initial assumption. Hence the gossip.” Jude’s voice was far away, laced with old pain. “Then I found paperwork from a doctor in Durango. He’d been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer three days prior. Didn’t tell a soul, including me.”
“You think he self-harmed?” I kept my question gentle.
“Pretty sure. I found the paperwork too late for the medical examiner to order autopsy toxicology. I think Dad wanted to spare me another long illness like my mother’s.” Jude’s voice wavered. “Still wish he’d told me. I would have taken whatever time he had left over the alternative.”
“I get that.” I reached over the console and patted his thigh.
“No one else knows my suspicion.” Jude rolled his shoulders like the weight of the secret was bearing down on him.
“I won’t tell.” I rubbed his thigh. I hated that he’d had to live with this knowledge, but his choosing me to share made me sit up taller in my seat.
“I trust you.” Jude had no idea how much those words meant to me. “And that’s why I feel so guilty for not coming back sooner. I thought we had all the time in the world.”
“You miss him.” No matter the cause of Jude’s father’s death, the loss had clearly left a deep scar.
“Every day.” Jude sped up to pass a slow-moving pickup before continuing. “I actually got my start on emergency calls like this one with him. He’d bring me along for an extra set of hands in high school, especially as my mom got sicker and couldn’t help as much.”
“Good training. Good bonding.” I couldn’t quite keep the envy out of my voice. I’d never had a father to bond with. Jude had lost his far too soon, but at least they’d had a number of years together, a chance for his dad to pass on wisdom and traditions.
“For sure.” Jude turned onto a skinny dirt road. “Keeping calm helped when I got to the military too. Having helped with colic and tricky breech births gave me perspective.”
“I bet.” My upbringing had helped some, but I’d had to learn that same perspective one mission at a time. The dirt road curved, leading toward a newer log cabin-style ranch house with huge picture windows and a barn beyond the house.
“Okay. We’re here.” Jude pulled up next to the barn. “I can deal with the Youngs if you want to help me carry in equipment.”
“Sure thing, boss.” My tone was teasing, but I wanted to remind him that out here I wasn’t a sergeant. He was in charge, and I respected his authority.
Accordingly, I followed his directions on which bags to grab as he greeted the couple rushing out of the barn to meet him. They had that mirror-image vibe that longtime couples often seem to develop, similar blond-and-gray-streaked hair, matching western shirts, and identical fluttering mannerisms.
They chattered all over each other as Jude and I made our way into the barn to Bono’s stall. The chestnut gelding was tall and broad and would be regal if not for the sweat and agitatedmovements. A nasty gash marred his left flank, blood matting the surrounding hair.
Luckily, the horse allowed Jude to approach for an initial examination. I stayed close so I could hand him equipment as he needed it. The light in the barn was dim, so I grabbed a flashlight from one of the bags and shone it onto the injury.
“Thanks.” Jude shot me a quick grateful smile. Anticipating his needs felt good. I readied the clippers and antiseptic he was likely to need to clean the wound.
“How bad is it?” Mrs. Young was pale and sweating almost as much as the horse.
“It’s fixable,” Jude assured her. “It does need stitches, but it should mend well. We’re going to need to inject a sedative so I can do the repair.”
“I’m not sure I can watch the stitching.” Mrs. Young went from pale to decidedly green.
“That’s understandable,” Jude soothed. “I’ve got Carson here to help. Bono will simply take a little nap while I do the stitches.”
“You should go eat,” I suggested to the couple. Jude would undoubtedly work better without their commentary and nervous energy.
“Oh. Good idea.” Mr. Young brightened slightly, wrapping an arm around his shorter wife. “Are you sure you’re okay if we walk back to the house?”
“I’m sure.” Jude sounded as relieved as I’d suspected.
“You were right,” I said once the couple had left the barn and were out of earshot.
“About the hovering?” Jude wiped his forehead with a cloth from his kit. “Yeah. They love their horses, though, which is more than I can say for some. Good idea to send them to eat dinner. They’ll feel better, and it gives us more room to operate.”
“Yep.” I motioned at the supplies I’d laid out. “Tell me what you need.”
