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opposite side of the aisle.
    "How the hell did this happen?" Steven asked.
    "I don't know," Robert answered.  "None of the telegrams I saw gave any indication it was a woman wanting the job," Robert said, referring to his position at the post and telegraph office.
    "I don't care if he knew or not," Bill said, frothing at the mouth, "animal doctoring's a man's job."
    "I don't rightly care, one way or the other, either.  But he will fix this.  Didn't I say, when the town met to discuss replacing Doc, that I'd do the hiring?  But no, Wade had to step up and volunteer," he sneered, remembering the day well.
    That was the day the town had trusted Wade over their own mayor.  The day Steven had had to graciously accept their majority decision all the while cursing the man who'd never stopped being a thorn in Steven's side.  Wasn't it enough that Wade had had more friends in school?  That he'd been better at ciphering and reading?  That he'd turned Amy's head just when Steven thought he'd finally gotten her attention?
    For years he'd lived in Wade Parker's shadow.  Until he'd become mayor.  Then, finally, he'd had a say; he'd had respect.  Until he'd been made a fool of, yet again, by the town's love for Wade.  How humiliating it had been to hear them say, "Why don't we let Wade and Doc look after it?  After all, Wade's a rancher and who better than a rancher and our own vet to know what we need?"  How hard it had been to swallow the anger, the hurt.  Well, now they'd see, wouldn't they?  They'd see just how bloody smart Wade was.

Five
    He'd forgotten all about paying her.
    Between the urgency of the surgery, the confusion of her being Doc's replacement and the cow dying, it had slipped his mind.  Regardless of his still being angry about being misled, he couldn't, in good conscience, delay bringing her the money he owed her.  He'd called for a vet and though he'd lost one animal, he'd come to realize that he could have lost both.
    Not that it made parting with the money any easier.  He'd not only had to swallow his pride and ask James to make up the total amount since he hadn't had enough on his own, but he'd also had to use the little money he had saved to go toward a quality breeding mare.
    James had offered to pay the whole amount and let Wade keep the money for the mare, but Wade had refused.  As much as he could, he'd pay his own way.
    No matter how much it hurt.
    Yellow tulips marked the end of her lane.  Old Doc Fletcher's place--hers now, he reminded himself--wasn't more than a one-story house and a small barn.  Two small corrals were nestled against the barn.  One was empty, a horse grazed contentedly in the other.  It didn't seem troubled by the blazing sun that sent waves of heat shimmering along the ground.  Just behind the corrals was a small pasture where a cow and calf basked in the sun.
    Hearing them approach, the mare raised her head, pricked her ears, then pranced to the fence.  With big brown eyes she watched as they walked by.  Whiskey, smelling the mare, kept his eye on her as well, though he was well-mannered enough to keep to Wade's direction.
    Wade didn't see Jillian anywhere, but figuring she'd be inside where it was cooler, headed for the house.  He'd no sooner tied Whiskey to her porch when he heard footsteps behind him.
    Her hair was once again folded into a thick braid and, like in his barn, the sleeves of her blouse were rolled to her elbows.  In her hand she carried a pitchfork.  He wondered if she'd been working anyway or if she'd grabbed it when she saw it was him.
    Her skirt scattered dust as she moved.  Green eyes never left his as she came to stand before him.  She poked the tines of the pitchfork into the dirt between them.
    "Mr. Parker."
    He pushed his hat back.  "Miss Matthews."
    Freckles he hadn't noticed the other day danced across her cheeks and bridged her nose.  He had the most ridiculous urge to trace them with his fingers.
    Hell, Wade, you've got enough