Boots and Chaps Read Online Free

“Think about it.” Then he gunned the engine and shot off for the north fence.
    Unfortunately, that left Jackson feeling older than his thirty years and in no mood to put up with a stubborn cow with udder problems. Three hours later, he was hot, sweaty and dusty and had Betsy penned in a stall, her calf bawling in the corral outside the barn. Each time the calf wailed, the cow sent an answering moo until Jackson thought his head would split from the noise.
    Doc Richards arrived in his pickup, unloaded his doctoring bag and set to work treating the cow’s udder with disinfectants and antibiotic ointment. After administering a shot of antibiotics, the vet gathered his things and stuck out his hand to Jackson. “By the way, happy birthday.”
    Jackson grimaced. “How’d you find out?”
    “Your brothers made a point of telling anyone who’d listen last night at the Ugly Stick.”
    “Great. They had better not be throwing a party this year. For one, I won’t be there.”
    Doc grinned. “If they are, I didn’t get an invite.”
    “Good.” Jackson thought better of his answer. “Not that I wouldn’t want you there. I just don’t want a party. Too much hoopla over nothin’.”
    “A man only turns thirty once.”
    “And any other birthday is different?”
    The veterinarian shrugged. “Guess not, but I’d give my right arm to be thirty again.”
    “It’s just another day, as far as I’m concerned.”
    “Leigh Ann and I celebrated our second anniversary and had our first child the year I turned thirty.” The veterinarian stared off into the distance. “Yeah, that was a good year.” His gaze shifted to Jackson. “Well, happy birthday, anyway. Each year is what you make of it, I always say.” He clapped Jackson on the back and climbed into his truck.
    Jackson usually enjoyed seeing Doc Richards, but after the man left, he found himself in an even deeper funk than before he’d come. As he moved ol’ Betsy back out in the pasture to be with her calf, the ungrateful beast snagged him with her horn, ripping his favorite denim shirt. The day hadn’t started in the right direction and only seemed to be going downhill from there.
    The twins hadn’t made it back from working on the cattle chute by late afternoon, giving Jackson all the time he needed to take care of the chores around the barn, feed the horses, cows and chickens and check on the garden. By the time he was finished, showered and changed into clean jeans, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the landscape into a dusky shadow. He might get off the ranch before the boys could razz him more about turning thirty.
    “Damned birthdays. Who needs ’em anyway?” he muttered as he climbed into his pickup and slammed the door. He might stay out all night just to avoid Mark and Luke and their well-intentioned annoyance.
    Jackson swung by the barn, loaded the ladder in the bed of the truck and turned to the north. Dust rose against the fading light in the distance, indicating his brothers’ return from the range. The sooner Jackson left, the better. He hopped up into the truck, shifted into drive and spit up gravel from his tires as he tore out of the barnyard.
    After stopping to make a night deposit at the bank in Hole in the Wall, Jackson headed out the other end of town, his headlights the only ones shining on the road as the hour grew late.
    The closer he got to the bar, the more he got to thinkin’. What if Charli’s request was some elaborate setup to get him to come to a surprise party?
    His foot hit the brake and the truck skidded to a stop in the middle of the highway.
    No way. He wasn’t falling for that. Thirty was too round a figure for his brothers to let it slide. This had to be a setup.
    His foot eased off the brake. Then again, if it wasn’t a ploy to get him to the saloon, and he didn’t show up, Charli and Audrey would have to exit work in the middle of the night in the dark.
    Jackson eased his foot onto the accelerator.