It's a Christmas Thing (The Christmas Tree Ranch #2)(5)

If he had any sense, he would treat the cat, walk away, and forget her.

Tracy dropped to her hands and knees, raised the bed ruffle, and peered under the bed. “I see her,” she said. “But I can’t reach her, and she isn’t coming to me.”

“Try this.” Rush took a small can of salmon-flavored cat food out of his bag, peeled back the lid, and held it out to Tracy. “Put this where she can smell it.”

Tracy took the opened can and placed it a few inches from the bed. “Come and get it, kitty,” she coaxed. “Come on. I know you’re hungry.”

Slowly and timidly, a small calico cat with matted fur crept out from under the bed, headed for the cat food, and began gulping it down in ravenous bites. Tracy knelt beside her, watching. “What do you think?” she asked.

“She wouldn’t be eating like that if she was sick,” Rush said. “I won’t know for sure until I’ve examined her, but I can tell you one thing just by looking at her.”

“What’s that?” Tracy asked, gazing up at him.

“Look at that round belly on her. Unless I miss my guess, your cat’s going to become a mother.”





Chapter 2


“She’s pregnant?” Tracy stared at the handsome vet.

“It certainly looks that way. I won’t know for sure till I’ve examined her. But first, let’s give her a minute to finish eating. Aside from that belly, she’s skin and bones. I’d say she’s been on her own a while, and that she’s had a pretty rough time of it.”

“Poor little mama.” Tracy stroked the cat’s bumpy spine with a fingertip. “When I opened the door, she came right in. She lapped up the milk I gave her like she was starving.”

“That’s something I meant to tell you,” Rush said. “Milk isn’t the best thing for her. Most adult cats are lactose intolerant. She’ll be better off with water and cat food, like these sample cans I’m going to leave with you—that is, if you plan to keep her.”

“Keep her?” Tracy hadn’t thought that far ahead. She’d never planned to take in another pet, let alone a cat. But how could she put the poor thing and her little family-to-be out in the cold?

“There’s a shelter in Cottonwood Springs. You could take her there if you don’t want her.”

Tracy kept stroking the cat. “That sounds so heartless—dumping her off to have her babies in a cage—if they even let her live that long. I’ve never wanted a cat, but—oh!” A low rumble quivered through the bony little body. “Oh, listen! She’s purring!”

A smile tugged at the vet’s mouth. He pulled on the disposable latex gloves he’d taken from his bag. “Something tells me you’ve got yourself a cat,” he said.

“For now, I guess.” Tracy shook her head. “I never planned this. But at least I can give her a warm, safe place to have her babies.”

“Well then, let me check her out and make sure she’s healthy. Then we can talk about what you’ll need for her. Will she be all right with the dog?”

Tracy rubbed the cat under the chin, feeling the purr vibrate beneath her fingertips. “Murphy’s never been a cat-chaser. These days, he barely has the energy to hobble outside and do his business.”

“If you’d like, I can give him a quick checkup while I’m here—no charge.”

“Thanks. That’s very generous of you, Dr. Rushford.”

“Everybody calls me Rush. I hope you will, too.”

“And the J. T. part of your name? What does that stand for?”

“That,” he said, frowning, “is a family secret. Now let’s have a look at the cat.”

*

Rush picked up the cat with his gloved hands. The little calico tried to struggle, but she was too weak to offer much resistance as he checked her body, her gums, and her rectal temperature. Perched on the edge of the bed, Tracy watched him with a worried gaze. Rush could tell she’d already become attached to the bedraggled creature. When the cat started purring, her eyes had been as full of wonder as a little girl’s.

He remembered seeing her on the bench in her black robe, stern, dignified, and completely in charge. This tender, vulnerable woman was the last thing he’d expected to find when he’d driven up to her house this morning. Something told him he was already in trouble. But he’d be a fool to fall for a widow who was still mourning her husband.

Today’s visit would be strictly professional.

“The cat’s pregnant for sure,” he said. “I’d say she’s probably due in the next few days. Otherwise, aside from being undernourished and dehydrated, she seems okay. I’m going to give her some worm medicine—it’s fenbendazole, a kind that won’t hurt her kittens. She’ll need vaccinations, too, but those can wait.”

“What do I need to get for her?” Tracy asked as Rush dropped the medicine into the squirming cat’s mouth.

“She’ll need a box in a quiet place, with something soft inside, like an old blanket or towel. She’ll also need a water bowl and a dish for wet food, like the kind I’ll leave you. And she’ll need a litter box—with any luck, she’ll know how to use it. Shop Mart should have everything you need.”