Healing Hands
Marley Quinn
Healing Hands
by Marley Quinn
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
The Crooked H Ranch
Lasting Shadows
Whispers of the Past
Deep Wounds
Trials and Tribulations
Beneath the Surface
Breakthroughs Amidst the Storm
Reflections in the Midnight Hour
The Call of Duty
Whispers of the Heart
A Plan in the Night
Justice
Healing Hands, Healing Hearts
The Crooked H Ranch
The sun had barely begun its ascent, casting long shadows across the quiet streets of Laramie, Wyoming, when Jilly Summers received the call that would alter the course of her meticulously guarded life.
Jilly listened intently as the ranch owner’s voice crackled through the phone, each word steeped in urgency and desperation. The ranch’s prized stallion Thunder Smoke had been gravely injured in a vicious wolf attack, and his survival hung by a thread.
Despite the painful memories that flooded her mind at the mere mention of cowboys and working ranches, Jilly knew that she could not ignore the plea for help. With a heavy heart, she gathered her supplies and prepared herself for the long drive out to the sprawling expanse of the Crooked H Ranch.
"Can I help you?" said the old man at the gate, his skin so rugged and weathered that Jilly could barely see the glimmer of his eye.
With a polite nod, Jilly introduced herself and explained that she was there for Thunder Smoke. The old man immediately nodded and then swung open the gate. As Jilly’s truck rumbled across the opening, the vast and untamed beauty of Crooked H Ranch unfolded before her, a stark reminder of the world she had vowed to leave behind.
"Oh, thank heavens you're here!" said Charlie Pickford, the owner of the ranch as he came running out of the barn. "I kept telling Thunder Smoke to hold on because the best doc in Wyoming was on her way."
Jilly forced herself to offer him a polite smile of reassurance, her professional demeanor masking the anxiety she felt about the task ahead. She followed Mr. Pickford into the barn, where the scent of hay and horses mingled with the metallic tang of blood. There, lying on a bed of straw, was Thunder Smoke, his powerful frame marred by deep, jagged wounds, his dark eyes filled with pain.
“Woah, easy there, boy,” said Jilly, using her well-honed soothing voice that was sometimes all she could offer to animals that were suffering. “I’m just going to take a look and see what that wolf did to you.”
Thunder Smoke's nostrils flared as Jilly approached, her hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. With practiced precision, she began her examination, her touch gentle yet firm, unraveling the extent of the damage wrought by the vicious attack. Beside her, Pickford watched in silence.
After a few minutes, Jilly stood up and then closed her bag. “Let’s talk outside,” she said, and Pickford nervously followed her out of the barn. “I’m not going to sugarcoat it, sir, but this looks bad. Really bad. My professional advice is for you to let me put that beautiful creature out of his misery.”
Pickford's weathered face contorted with a mixture of shock and anguish. He clenched his fists, his voice trembling slightly as he pleaded, "But Doc, Thunder Smoke's got fight in him yet. There's gotta be somethin' more we can do."
Jilly looked into his eyes, seeing not just the stubbornness of a rancher, but the genuine love for his horse.
“There is a slight chance he can be saved,” said Jilly, cutting off Pickford before he could interrupt. “But I’m going to warn you upfront, sir. That horse is going to need several weeks of treatment, and it’s going to require someone with a steady hand and lots of patience.”
Pickford's shoulders visibly relaxed, a glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes. "I'll do whatever it takes, Doc," he said firmly, determination lining his voice.
Jilly nodded, appreciating his resolve. "Then let's get started," she replied, her tone softening as she outlined the intensive care Thunder Smoke would require.
“Consider it done,” said Pickford.
“I can drive out from Laramie every couple of days to supervise things,” said Jilly. “But you’re going to need someone here at the ranch to do the rest. I know calving season is coming up soon, so you’re going to have to be short a man.”
Pickford scratched his grizzled chin. "I reckon Odd Stick might be up for it," he suggested, nodding towards a figure in the distance.
Jilly glanced over, seeing a lone cowboy repairing a fence, his silhouette etched against the vast Wyoming sky. "Who's Odd Stick?" she asked, curious about the man who might become Thunder Smoke's caretaker.
“Well, don’t misunderstand me, Doc,” said Pickford. “Old Stick there is a helluva cowboy. But he ain’t exactly so good at being around people. I think he’s just the man for the job of taking care of my beautiful horse, much as I could use his help when them calves start dropping.”
Jilly nodded, observing Odd Stick from afar, noting his solitary demeanor and the ease with which he moved among the horses.
"If he's good with Thunder Smoke," she mused aloud, "then he just might have a shot at walking again."
Charlie nodded in agreement, a flicker of hope returning to his weathered face as they both turned their attention back to the barn, where Thunder Smoke lay awaiting their combined efforts.
“All right, old boy,” said Jilly with a smile as she knelt down next to the horse. “Charlie Pickford here says you still got some fight in you. Well, you’re gonna need it. But if you hang in there, you just may get to go galloping across those beautiful plains once again. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Thunder Smoke’s ears twitched at the sound of Jilly’s voice, a faint flicker of recognition in his eyes as if he understood her words.
Charlie knelt down, his weathered hand resting gently on the horse’s flank. “Thunder Smoke here’s got the heart of a champion,” Charlie murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
“You know, it’s been a while since I’ve seen a wolf attack a horse like that,” said Jilly. “Do you know what provoked it?”
Charlie's gaze hardened, his brow furrowing as he said, “Been more wolves movin' into these parts lately,”, his voice tinged with frustration. "Drought's pushin' 'em down from the mountains, and they're gettin' desperate for food."
“Yeah, it’s getting to be hard times in a lot of places,” said Jilly with a little sigh. “Okay. Let’s go have a chat with that cowboy of yours.”
Lasting Shadows
Charlie Pickford led Jilly across the sun-drenched yard towards the figure repairing a fence. As they approached, Jilly saw that a jagged scar ran down the man’s cheek, a stark contrast to his calm demeanor as he worked.
"Doc Summers, meet Old Stick," Pickford said, his voice carrying a hint of intrepidation. Jilly offered a polite nod, noting the intense gaze hidden beneath Old Stick's weathered hat.
“Nice to meet you, uh... Mr. Stick,” said Jilly, but the cowboy’s face did not so much as crease into a whisper of a smile. “Your boss here has volunteered you to play nursemaid for Thunder Smoke. But I’m going to be frank. It’s not a job for someone who can’t be patient and gentle.”
Old Stick's eyes narrowed slightly, assessing Jilly with a silent intensity that made her feel scrutinized. The cowboy remained silent, his weathered hands pausing briefly before resuming their work on the fence.
Charlie, sensing the tension, cleared his throat. "Old Stick ain't much for talkin'," he explained apologetically, "But he's the best hand I got. Ain't nobody better with horses 'round here."
“Listen here, Old Stick” said Jilly, perhaps more testily than she had intended. “I don’t have time for these macho cowboy games. If you don’t think you can handle the job, tell me right now. Because I won’t tolerate an animal suffering.”
Old Stick straightened, meeting Jilly's gaze with a calm resolve that belied his rough exterior. He removed his hat, revealing a mop of sun-bleached hair, and spoke in a voice tempered by the wind and dust of the plains. "Ma'am. Don’t you fret. Thunder Smoke is in good hands."
“Very well,” said Jilly, trying but failing to to remain calm. Something about that intense gaze of Old Stick’s had unlocked some old memories, memories that she would much rather forget. “Come with me down to the barn, and I’ll show you what needs doing.”
Pickford nodded, and then Old Stick followed Jilly towards the barn, his expression unreadable. She led the way with purposeful strides, the weight of responsibility settling heavy on her shoulders. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of hay and the soft sounds of horses shifting in their stalls. Jilly gestured towards Thunder Smoke, who lay still but alert, his eyes following their movements.
“First things’s first,” Jilly began, her voice steady despite the tumult of emotions that she felt within. “He’s going to need his bandages changed six times a day. Each time, the wound will need sluicing with a mixture I’ll give you. As his leg heals, he’s also going to need short walks around the corral.”
Old Stick listened attentively, his posture straight and focused as Jilly outlined the rest of the care regimen for Thunder Smoke. He nodded slowly, committing each instruction to memory with a quiet determination. Despite his stoic demeanor, Jilly noticed a subtle shift in his demeanor—a flicker of concern for the horse under his charge.
"I'll handle it," he replied gruffly, his voice carrying a hint of reassurance that surprised Jilly. She studied him for a moment, sensing a deeper connection to the horse than she had assumed at first.
“I’ll be driving in from Laramie every couple of days to check on his progress,” said Jilly. “But it’s going to be up to you to do the rest. Also, I’ll need you to go into town and fill out this prescription.”
“Um, I’ll take care of that,” said Pickford, inexplicably grabbing the paper out of her hand the moment she had finished writing out the name of the drug. “Old Stick here ain’t much for going into town.”
“Very well,” said Jilly, smoothing back her hair. “Then if that’s that, I guess I’ll be on my way. Any questions before I go?”
Old Stick shook his head silently, his eyes fixed on Thunder Smoke as if already focused on the task ahead.
Charlie Pickford, holding the prescription tightly, spoke up. "No questions, Doc. We'll get it done," he assured her, a hint of gratitude in his voice. Jilly nodded, a mixture of relief and apprehension settling over her as she prepared to leave the ranch in their capable hands.
With a final glance at Thunder Smoke, she turned towards the barn door, her mind already racing ahead to the next steps in the horse's recovery.
As Jilly's truck rolled down the dusty road away from Crooked H Ranch, her thoughts turned inward, a mix of professional concern and personal reflection swirling in her mind.
The rugged yet beautiful landscape blurred past her window, the rhythmic hum of the engine a steady backdrop to her thoughts. She couldn't help but recall the heartbreaks of her past, and the relationship with a cowboy all those years ago that had left scars deeper than any physical wound. It was why she had sworn off them and that whole lifestyle, vowing to focus solely on her career and the animals she cared for so passionately.
Yet, as Thunder Smoke's image lingered in her mind—the proud stallion fighting for his life—she found a flicker of hope kindling within her.
Old Stick's silent determination had impressed her, a testament to his skill and dedication despite his ridiculous macho behavior. If anyone could see Thunder Smoke through this ordeal, perhaps it was him.
Jilly allowed herself a small, cautious optimism, a rare emotion she had not felt in a long time. She knew the road ahead for Thunder Smoke would be arduous, but with steady hands at the helm, there was a chance—a slim one, but a chance nonetheless—that the magnificent horse could heal and gallop freely once more across the Wyoming plains.
Whispers of the Past
Jilly sat in her small veterinary office in Laramie, her hands moving deftly as she treated a variety of cats and dogs.
The familiar rhythm of her work provided a welcome distraction from the tumultuous thoughts of Thunder Smoke and the ranch. A calico kitten mewed softly as Jilly administered its medicine, her practiced touch soothing the nervous animal. For a moment, she found solace in the routine, the day-to-day care of her urban patients a stark contrast to the raw, unpredictable life on a ranch.
As she moved from one appointment to the next, flashes of her past began to intrude upon her thoughts, unbidden but persistent. She remembered the summer when she was eighteen, working as a vet assistant in a small Texas town.
There, she had met Luke, a cowboy with a roguish smile and a charm that had swept her off her feet. They had spent long evenings riding under the stars, sharing dreams and secrets. But those dreams had shattered when Luke's restless spirit drove him to follow the whispering winds of the prairie, leaving Jilly with a broken heart and a hardened resolve to never again fall for the allure of a cowboy's promise of true love.
Shaking off the memories, Jilly focused on her next patient, a golden retriever with a limp. She examined the dog's leg, her mind reluctantly drifting back to Thunder Smoke and the long road to recovery that he faced.
Despite herself, she wondered how Old Stick was managing, hoping that his quiet determination would be enough to see the stallion through. As she reassured the retriever's anxious owner, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope amidst her lingering doubts. Perhaps, against the odds, both Thunder Smoke and her own battered heart could find a way to heal.
After her morning appointments, Jilly decided to take a break at the local café, a cozy place named the Uptown Bean, known for its strong coffee and friendly atmosphere.
As she sipped her drink and gazed out the window at the people walking by, she spotted a familiar face entering the café. It was Steve, an old friend from her days in veterinary school who now worked as a private investigator. They exchanged warm greetings, and before long, she invited him to join her so they could catch up on old times.
On impulse, Jilly mentioned her recent call out to the Crooked H Ranch. "While I was there, I met this cowboy named Old Stick," she said, trying to sound casual. "He's taking care of a horse I’m treating. But there's something about him that raised some red flags for me. Do you think it’s possible for you to look into his background for me?"
Steve raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Sure, no problem. Give me a bit, and I'll see what I can find."
Later that afternoon, Steve called her with the results. "Jilly, you were right to be cautious," he began, his tone serious. "Old Stick, whose real name is Charlie Casey, has a criminal record. He was convicted of domestic abuse charges a few years back and is currently on parole. His parole conditions require him to stay on the Crooked H Ranch at all times."
Jilly felt a chill run down her spine. The revelation about Old Stick's criminal conviction was alarming, and it added a layer of complexity to her already fraught situation. She thanked Steve for the information, her mind racing with the implications of this new knowledge. As she walked back to her office, Jilly couldn't shake the feeling of unease. She knew she had to be extra vigilant about Thunder Smoke's care and tread carefully around the cowboy she had foolishly let take care of such a noble horse.
Just as Jilly was about to delve deeper into her thoughts about Old Stick and Thunder Smoke, the urgent ring of her office phone jolted her back to reality. "Dr. Summers, it's bad, real bad," her receptionist's voice came through, tense and hurried. "A deer was hit by a car, and it's in critical condition."
Jilly sprang into action, her professional instincts kicking in. Moments later, she was in the operating room, assessing the extent of the deer's injuries. The animal lay on the table, its breathing labored and eyes glazed with pain. "Let's move quickly," Jilly instructed her team, her voice calm but firm. "It’s lost a lot of blood, and we don't have much time."
Hours passed in a blur of focused activity. Jilly worked tirelessly, using all her skills and experience to stabilize the badly wounded animal. She administered fluids, set broken bones, and carefully sutured deep lacerations. Her hands moved with practiced precision, her mind singularly focused on saving the deer's life. The tension in the room was palpable, but Jilly's steady presence reassured everyone.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the deer was stable. Jilly stepped back, wiping sweat from her brow, a mix of exhaustion and relief washing over her. It was only then that she learned the full story.
Her receptionist approached, looking troubled. "Dr. Summers, I just got off the phone with the police," she said. "The deer was hit by a drunk driver—a ranch hand driving home from a bar."
Jilly's heart sank at the news, her thoughts immediately flashing back to the rugged, unpredictable life on the ranch and the men who chose to follow that life. But she couldn't dwell on it now; her immediate concern was the deer's recovery.
But the incident served as a stark reminder of the challenges and dangers intertwined with ranch life, reinforcing her resolve to stay vigilant and cautious in her dealings with cowboys.
As Jilly was preparing to close her office and head home, her phone rang again, the shrill sound cutting through the quiet of the evening. She answered, her voice weary but professional. "Dr. Summers speaking."
"Doc, it's Charlie Pickford from Crooked H Ranch," came the voice on the other end, filled with anxiety. "Thunder Smoke's taken a turn for the worse. He's not eating, and he seems to be in a lot of pain. We just don't know what to do!"
Jilly's heart sank, the day's exhaustion giving way to a renewed sense of urgency. "I'm terribly sorry to hear that, Mr. Pickford," she replied, her mind already racing through possible complications. "But I can't get there tonight. I'll be out first thing in the morning."
Hanging up the phone, Jilly felt a wave of apprehension. As she locked up her office and headed home, her thoughts were consumed by the stallion's plight and the daunting challenges that awaited her at the ranch tomorrow.
But despite the fears nagging at her heart, she was determined to give Thunder Smoke every chance to pull through and heal from his devastating injury.