if she tangled with another big dog. These cuts are clean, precise. Looks to me like she got tangled up in barbed wire."
Wyatt closed his eyes, and she saw guilt pull his shoulders down. His jaw clenched and she knew he was gritting his teeth.
"You're right," he said as he shook his head in self-disgust. “I didn't even think of it. Right after sunset I saw an armadillo running around down near the pond. Winnie loves chasing rabbits, dillos, anything she can race and sniff half to death. I let her go charging down the hill, and there's a barbed wire fence down there. I just didn't think that she might not see it in the dark." He tenderly ran his fingers through the fur on the dog's brow and whispered, "I'm sorry, girl."
Nicole lifted her shoulder and tried to push her hair out of her face. Wyatt noticed what she was doing, leaned toward her and blew at her bangs. She smiled her thanks, and he shrugged.
Wyatt kept Winnie calm throughout the night. He gently stroked the ruffled fur behind the dog's ears, whispering to Winnie as if she were a human being. Nicole took care to explain everything she was doing to Wyatt, and he, in turn, explained it to the dog. Nicole knew the success of the treatment was more due to Wyatt's calm, gentle presence than to her own skill.
He was an unusual man. She'd known him as a child, and as a teenager. Now, she was seeing him in the midst of a crisis, for the first time, as an adult. His tenderness amazed her.
Finally, at nearly four a.m., Nicole finished the stitching and gently covered Winnie’s wounds, hoping the dog wouldn’t chew the bandages off too quickly. She gave Winnie a shot of antibiotic, and told Wyatt how to clean the cuts for the next several days.
"Try to keep her quiet, no running around, even if she acts like she feels better. Keep her inside whenever possible."
Wyatt left the room for a moment to retrieve a thick, fluffy comforter. Nicole noticed it was in beautiful condition and wondered if he'd pulled it right off his own bed. She wouldn't be surprised if he had. He folded it into a large square and placed it in a corner of the kitchen. As gently as he could, he lifted Winnie and carried her over to the makeshift bed.
"I can't thank you enough for coming out here, Nicole. You saved her life." Nicole tried to protest, but he cut her off. "No, I mean it. She might have bled to death if I'd stuck her in the truck and driven up to Ocala."
"I'm glad that didn't happen," Nicole replied. "You really have a gift with animals, Wyatt. What ever happened to your own dream of being a vet?"
He shrugged. "I thought about it. Even talked to my grandfather about it. But after college, I realized all I really wanted was to work here, on the Four C. Not just taking care of the horses, but also running the business side of things. Turns out I enjoy that, too."
She wasn't surprised. Some people might have thought Wyatt was a useless, flirtatious, spoiled punk when he was younger. But she'd spent enough time with him to recognize the keen intelligence behind his green eyes. He'd been one of the most curious people she'd ever known, always asking questions, wanting to learn. But he'd hidden that side of himself from most people.
"Listen, you're a mess. Why don't you take a quick shower before you leave. I'm sure you don't want to drive back to your father's house like that."
Nicole glanced down at her clothes, realizing they were beyond salvage. She was bloody and filthy, and truly did want nothing more than a long, hot shower. And she certainly didn’t want to stain the seats of her father’s SUV. "If you're sure you wouldn't mind..."
He shook his head. "Of course not. You can use the upstairs guest bathroom. I'll find you something to wear home."
Nicole didn't argue. A shower sounded like pure heaven. Flashing him a tired smile, she walked out of the kitchen and went upstairs.
She didn't bother even trying to save her clothes. Finding a trash can lined with a plastic bag,
Wyatt closed his eyes, and she saw guilt pull his shoulders down. His jaw clenched and she knew he was gritting his teeth.
"You're right," he said as he shook his head in self-disgust. “I didn't even think of it. Right after sunset I saw an armadillo running around down near the pond. Winnie loves chasing rabbits, dillos, anything she can race and sniff half to death. I let her go charging down the hill, and there's a barbed wire fence down there. I just didn't think that she might not see it in the dark." He tenderly ran his fingers through the fur on the dog's brow and whispered, "I'm sorry, girl."
Nicole lifted her shoulder and tried to push her hair out of her face. Wyatt noticed what she was doing, leaned toward her and blew at her bangs. She smiled her thanks, and he shrugged.
Wyatt kept Winnie calm throughout the night. He gently stroked the ruffled fur behind the dog's ears, whispering to Winnie as if she were a human being. Nicole took care to explain everything she was doing to Wyatt, and he, in turn, explained it to the dog. Nicole knew the success of the treatment was more due to Wyatt's calm, gentle presence than to her own skill.
He was an unusual man. She'd known him as a child, and as a teenager. Now, she was seeing him in the midst of a crisis, for the first time, as an adult. His tenderness amazed her.
Finally, at nearly four a.m., Nicole finished the stitching and gently covered Winnie’s wounds, hoping the dog wouldn’t chew the bandages off too quickly. She gave Winnie a shot of antibiotic, and told Wyatt how to clean the cuts for the next several days.
"Try to keep her quiet, no running around, even if she acts like she feels better. Keep her inside whenever possible."
Wyatt left the room for a moment to retrieve a thick, fluffy comforter. Nicole noticed it was in beautiful condition and wondered if he'd pulled it right off his own bed. She wouldn't be surprised if he had. He folded it into a large square and placed it in a corner of the kitchen. As gently as he could, he lifted Winnie and carried her over to the makeshift bed.
"I can't thank you enough for coming out here, Nicole. You saved her life." Nicole tried to protest, but he cut her off. "No, I mean it. She might have bled to death if I'd stuck her in the truck and driven up to Ocala."
"I'm glad that didn't happen," Nicole replied. "You really have a gift with animals, Wyatt. What ever happened to your own dream of being a vet?"
He shrugged. "I thought about it. Even talked to my grandfather about it. But after college, I realized all I really wanted was to work here, on the Four C. Not just taking care of the horses, but also running the business side of things. Turns out I enjoy that, too."
She wasn't surprised. Some people might have thought Wyatt was a useless, flirtatious, spoiled punk when he was younger. But she'd spent enough time with him to recognize the keen intelligence behind his green eyes. He'd been one of the most curious people she'd ever known, always asking questions, wanting to learn. But he'd hidden that side of himself from most people.
"Listen, you're a mess. Why don't you take a quick shower before you leave. I'm sure you don't want to drive back to your father's house like that."
Nicole glanced down at her clothes, realizing they were beyond salvage. She was bloody and filthy, and truly did want nothing more than a long, hot shower. And she certainly didn’t want to stain the seats of her father’s SUV. "If you're sure you wouldn't mind..."
He shook his head. "Of course not. You can use the upstairs guest bathroom. I'll find you something to wear home."
Nicole didn't argue. A shower sounded like pure heaven. Flashing him a tired smile, she walked out of the kitchen and went upstairs.
She didn't bother even trying to save her clothes. Finding a trash can lined with a plastic bag,
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