Page 14 of Run, Run Rudolph (Fairy Godmothers and Other Fiascos #2)

Clearing my throat, I tried to keep talking to the deer while I worked, but found myself suddenly tongue-tied and self-conscious in front of the woman I’d always felt most at home around.

“Their noses are interesting,” she said, her tone oddly casual and strangely testing.

“Fur-covered,” I stated, not looking up from my work.

She used to ask me for all sorts of facts.

Was she over her snit with me, and allowing her curiosity to get the better of her at long last?

Because I was a walking encyclopedia of animal facts, and I loved how enthusiastic and interested she’d been about my knowledge.

It wasn’t about ego, but something else.

A bonding of sorts, I guess. Kindred spirits and all that.

“Not wet like other deer,” I added.

“Why is that?”

A tightness that had been in my chest since her voicemail unspooled and loosened with her follow-up question.

“It helps them with temperature regulation. Did you know that in really cold weather, the blood vessels in their noses can dilate, making them appear reddish or pink?”

“I…didn’t.” Her tone was delighted, just like when she’d been a kid hanging out on the farm as part of Kade’s friend group. It didn’t matter what fact I offered her from veterinarian school, she ate it up. “Does his seem red to you?”

I glanced at the animal’s nose, curious about the odd squeaky lift in her voice. “No. Was he able to walk?”

“But it’s quite cold in here.”

“Apparently, not cold enough. How did you get him in here? Could he walk?”

“Yeah, but his back end didn’t seem right.”

“Did you get a horse trailer?”

“No.”

“Then how did you bring him here?” I couldn’t exactly imagine this big guy riding shotgun in her convertible. The mental image, however, brought a smile to my face. If anyone could pull off something so impossible, it was Tamara. “Lead him on a leash?”

I’d been there a few months ago when she’d borrowed my brother’s truck and trailer to transport Dolly, a retired barrel-racing mare, in from an acreage where she’d been boarded after her landlord, Carl, had moved into a nursing home.

When Tamara had started renting this place, she’d offered to bring Dolly back home for Carl, and to take care of her.

Honestly, it was a perfect match for all three of them, and I was glad my mom had suggested this place to Tamara.

Maybe she’d borrowed my brother’s trailer again? But then, where was Kade? If he’d let her take his unfamiliar rig out in this storm to move an injured animal, and not helped her, he was going to have some major explaining to do.

“He,” Tamara coughed, cheeks flaming red, “followed me home?”

I could feel my eyebrows settling low at her poorly crafted lie.

She let out a giant sigh. “Fine. He rode in the back seat of my car.”

I said nothing, knowing there was no way this animal had ridden shotgun.

Flustered, Tamara added, “It’s a convertible. He and his antlers fit fine.”

I sat back on my heels, studying Tamara. She was serious. My earlier mental image of the reindeer riding beside her hadn’t been that far off the mark.

I shook my head, dazzled by this woman and the way she continuously caught me off guard.

If her story was true, then she was indeed a modern-day Snow White—but without the stepmother trauma—when it came to animals adoring and trusting her.

If she wasn’t careful, she’d have a full farm within a matter of months.

Which would be a stroke of luck for the animals that found their way to her.

Sadly, I didn’t think she could afford it.

I went back to my check-up before craning my neck to look at her again. “You’re serious?”

She nodded, brown eyes wide with apology.

“Cold ride,” I said matter-of-factly.

“Very cold,” she said. Her eyes twinkled for the first time tonight. “Also, he sheds a lot.”

No part of this scenario was amusing, but we grinned at each other like idiots over the image of her giving a caribou a ride in her convertible in a blizzard.

The wary tension that had been thickening between us broke as we laughed.

But it was just a quick, involuntary burble of mirth, similar to an air bubble in a stream as it split open at the surface.

Honestly, this was such a stupid thing for her to do. Completely reckless and dangerous. So why was I laughing?

Because charming a wild animal was so completely Tamara.

I focused on the reindeer again, still unable to sort out how she’d lured it into her car, and then kept it there while she drove down the road. Knowing sweet Tamara, she’d probably convinced it to put on its seatbelt.

Were there legal implications in regards to transporting an injured wild animal? As a veterinarian, was I liable or obliged to take some sort of action in this scenario? Fish and Wildlife would certainly want to know about this out-of-range caribou and its injury. And its unshed antlers.

“In your car,” I muttered.

“What else was I supposed to do?” Tamara asked softly. “I wasn’t going to leave him to get hit again.”

“No, yeah. Of course not.”

“And for your information, I missed more than I hit.”

“Caribou? There was a herd of them?” Oh, man. I definitely had to report this to Fish and Wildlife.

I pulled out my stethoscope. “What have you named him?”

“I haven’t.”

I shot Tamara a look. I’d known her for a few decades now, and she had a habit of naming every animal she met. This caribou certainly wouldn’t be an exception, especially with it being so close to Christmas. I was sure of it.

“Rudolph,” she said shyly.

I let out a huff of laughter. Of course.

I took a listen to the caribou’s chest and lungs, then moved cautiously toward his head, continuing the check-up.

Tamara refused to make room for me. I shot her a rather dark and slightly exasperated look, that hum of tension cranking up between us again.

“What? He’s scared and nervous! And I’m not projecting or anthropomorphizing or whatever.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“I can see you judging me, Haden Powell.”

“I need to check his pupils.” I waved my small penlight and edged closer while still in my crouch, my knee pressing against Tamara’s. She should have moved, giving me room, but she didn’t.

She was acting weird again.

I pressed harder. “Tamara?”

She wouldn’t budge.

“I thought you wanted me to hurry up?”

She sighed. “Fine.” She glanced up toward the stall’s half wall before shifting out of the way.

I moved in, carefully inspecting the deer’s pupils, stroking him gently across the forehead like Tamara had, then down his jaw when he allowed it.

I could tell Tamara thought I was giving the wild animal snuggles, but I was actually checking for lumps and abrasions, as well as to see if the animal’s jaw was still properly hinged.

Because what vet gave a wild animal chin scratches like this?

I was acting as though this was the coolest part of my entire week.

Because it actually was. A reindeer just before Christmas Eve? Who would have thought it possible in our neck of the foothills?

Now, though, I truly was scratching the animal’s chin. I might not want to dress up my animals, but I did love them. And this guy was a fan of his chin scratches. He was stretching his neck, trusting me, allowing access to a vulnerable area. This wasn’t a wild animal by any stretch.

A light feeling of happiness welled up inside, and I chuckled. “I sure hope this isn’t one of Santa’s reindeer.”

The air seemed to grow still, and the caribou’s deep dark eyes turned to me. Tamara visibly swallowed as she choked out a weak ha, ha.

I turned back to the caribou, and I froze. I didn’t move for a second or two, my hand frozen mid-scratch.

My mind refused to compute the change I saw in my patient.

Still hunkered down in my crouch, I pivoted on the balls of my feet so I could look directly at Tamara for clues as to what was going on because, suddenly, this animal had a red blinking nose.