snaps on his shirt, he splashed water on his face and chest while the bucket filled.
When the horse kept kicking the sides of the stall, Tinch yelled, “Stop that, darlin’. Nobody’s listening to your rant.” Then in a normal voice, he added, “I know you were expecting the horse whisperer, but I’m the horse yeller.” He raised his voice again. “Stop trying to kick your way out of my barn.”
To his surprise the horse stopped, proving his theory that even horses recognized insanity in humans.
Tinch reached for a towel, but the shelf was empty.Laundry was never at the top of his to-do list. He shoved his wet black hair back and crammed his hat on, thinking he’d just drip dry. He didn’t have time to go back to the house for a towel.
He looked out the open barn door at what promised to be a warm sunshiny day. As much as he talked to himself and the animals, it was lucky he lived in the country.
The sound of a bell clanging shattered the silence of the morning.
Tinch turned north to the house no more than a shadow hidden behind the dried cornfield.
The clanging came again from the Rogerses’ bell. He’d heard it several times over the years and knew there had to be trouble.
Tinch dropped the bucket and ran for his truck, his mind already full of what-ifs.
Addison could have hurt herself. The house could be on fire. Someone could be robbing the place.
A woman living this far out should own a gun and know how to use it and have a dog, a big one that would bite. Hell, after meeting the doc it might just be easier to tell her to move back to town.
He swung into her driveway and braked, sending mud and rocks flying in every direction. As he jumped out of the cab, he saw her standing on the front porch, dressed in her white lab coat and white slacks. She looked as out of place as a street sign.
“What is it?” he yelled, relieved that she seemed to be in one piece.
“A … a …”
He ran toward her. Whatever had happened must be terrible. She looked like she’d been frightened. Her face was almost as pale as her coat. “What?” he yelled as he reached her.
“A … snake. By my car. I almost stepped on it.”
Tinch slowed, took a breath. Just a snake. “Did he strike? Was it a rattler?” If she’d been bitten by a rattlesnake, they needed to be on their way to the hospital.
“I wasn’t bitten, and I didn’t pick it up to see if it rattled.” Suddenly, she looked angry, as if it were his fault.
Tinch held up one hand. “You stay here on the porch and I’ll check it out.”
“What if it comes this way?”
“You’re safe right there. Snakes hate climbing steps.” He doubted that was true, but it seemed to calm her some. How could a woman who cut people open daily be afraid of a snake? She’d probably scared the rattler far more than it had her.
Tinch walked around her car parked inside the old garage. The place was cluttered with years of junk. Listening, he watched for any sign of a snake.
Nothing.
He picked up a rake and moved it under her little car. A four-foot-long bull snake wiggled out.
Tinch hooked him with the rake and walked out of her garage. He didn’t look her direction, but he swore he could feel her watching him. He made a wide circle so she wouldn’t think he was getting closer to her with the reptile. When he reached his truck, he pulled out a grain sack and lowered the snake inside, then knotted the top and set it down in the bed of his truck.
“Are you going to kill it?” she asked.
“No. It’s a bull snake just looking for his dinner in your garage. I’m guessing he’s not welcome, so I’ll take him down the road and let him go.”
“Far down the road.” She was slowly calming, turning back to ice. “When I rented the place, I didn’t know there were subleasers on the property.”
Tinch reached her, but she stood two feet above him on the porch. “He’s not going to hurt you, Addison. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m sorry to have
When the horse kept kicking the sides of the stall, Tinch yelled, “Stop that, darlin’. Nobody’s listening to your rant.” Then in a normal voice, he added, “I know you were expecting the horse whisperer, but I’m the horse yeller.” He raised his voice again. “Stop trying to kick your way out of my barn.”
To his surprise the horse stopped, proving his theory that even horses recognized insanity in humans.
Tinch reached for a towel, but the shelf was empty.Laundry was never at the top of his to-do list. He shoved his wet black hair back and crammed his hat on, thinking he’d just drip dry. He didn’t have time to go back to the house for a towel.
He looked out the open barn door at what promised to be a warm sunshiny day. As much as he talked to himself and the animals, it was lucky he lived in the country.
The sound of a bell clanging shattered the silence of the morning.
Tinch turned north to the house no more than a shadow hidden behind the dried cornfield.
The clanging came again from the Rogerses’ bell. He’d heard it several times over the years and knew there had to be trouble.
Tinch dropped the bucket and ran for his truck, his mind already full of what-ifs.
Addison could have hurt herself. The house could be on fire. Someone could be robbing the place.
A woman living this far out should own a gun and know how to use it and have a dog, a big one that would bite. Hell, after meeting the doc it might just be easier to tell her to move back to town.
He swung into her driveway and braked, sending mud and rocks flying in every direction. As he jumped out of the cab, he saw her standing on the front porch, dressed in her white lab coat and white slacks. She looked as out of place as a street sign.
“What is it?” he yelled, relieved that she seemed to be in one piece.
“A … a …”
He ran toward her. Whatever had happened must be terrible. She looked like she’d been frightened. Her face was almost as pale as her coat. “What?” he yelled as he reached her.
“A … snake. By my car. I almost stepped on it.”
Tinch slowed, took a breath. Just a snake. “Did he strike? Was it a rattler?” If she’d been bitten by a rattlesnake, they needed to be on their way to the hospital.
“I wasn’t bitten, and I didn’t pick it up to see if it rattled.” Suddenly, she looked angry, as if it were his fault.
Tinch held up one hand. “You stay here on the porch and I’ll check it out.”
“What if it comes this way?”
“You’re safe right there. Snakes hate climbing steps.” He doubted that was true, but it seemed to calm her some. How could a woman who cut people open daily be afraid of a snake? She’d probably scared the rattler far more than it had her.
Tinch walked around her car parked inside the old garage. The place was cluttered with years of junk. Listening, he watched for any sign of a snake.
Nothing.
He picked up a rake and moved it under her little car. A four-foot-long bull snake wiggled out.
Tinch hooked him with the rake and walked out of her garage. He didn’t look her direction, but he swore he could feel her watching him. He made a wide circle so she wouldn’t think he was getting closer to her with the reptile. When he reached his truck, he pulled out a grain sack and lowered the snake inside, then knotted the top and set it down in the bed of his truck.
“Are you going to kill it?” she asked.
“No. It’s a bull snake just looking for his dinner in your garage. I’m guessing he’s not welcome, so I’ll take him down the road and let him go.”
“Far down the road.” She was slowly calming, turning back to ice. “When I rented the place, I didn’t know there were subleasers on the property.”
Tinch reached her, but she stood two feet above him on the porch. “He’s not going to hurt you, Addison. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m sorry to have
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