Snow Melts in Spring by Deborah Vogts

not to let the spiteful words anger him, and he tried not to think about football. How would he handle retirement? No morning meetings with the guys, no afternoon practice, no game plans to study. From now on, everything would be different.
    He smeared cherry jam on one of the biscuits and smiled at Mildred’s cooking, sure it could take his mind off his problems. She was the one woman who might come close to his mama in the kitchen. “Did you make this jam yourself, Mildred?” He bit into the warm bread and savored the tart flavor.
    “That’s some of the preserves Mattie gave us this fall. She’s a good cook, that girl.”
    Gil’s brow puckered as he took another bite from the biscuit. He thought of the red-haired doctor and then of his horse. Baffled by how good the jam tasted, he shoved the last morsel into his mouth. “I planned to drop in and see how Dusty’s doing this morning. Mind if I take Dr. Evans a few of your tasty biscuits?”
    Mildred smiled at the compliment and nodded. “She probably didn’t bother to eat before work this morning. All skin-and-bones, she is.”
    From what Gil had seen of the Diamond Fall’s veterinarian, he was inclined to agree. He wrapped two biscuits in a paper napkin, then rubbed the stubble on his chin. Maybe he should freshen up a bit first.
    “I don’t know what to think about your busy schedule,” his father said. “Never any time to sit and talk.”
    “We’ll have plenty of time for that later.” Gil hoped he and his dad could be civil long enough to have that visit, but not now. “Jake, can I borrow your truck again?”
    The old cowboy got up from the table and placed his hat on his head. “I’ve got heifers to check, so I won’t need it.”
    “I appreciate the favor.”
    “You could borrow my truck,” his dad said. “Or your mama’s car is parked in the garage.”
    “My luck, I’d put a dent in one of them, and you’d cuss me up one side and down the other.” Gil chuckled, only half-teasing. “Jake doesn’t have to worry, ’cause he’d never know a new dent from an old one.”
    Jake grinned broadly. “Whoo-wee, I do believe our boy’s home.”

NINE
    MATTIE STEPPED OUT INTO THE MORNING SUNSHINE AND HER COFFEE steamed in the cool air. In another month, it would be calving and foaling season. Business was bound to pick up. When she entered the barn, she found the chestnut gelding sitting up. A good sign. Nearly forty-eight hours had passed since Dusty’s surgery, and his body was responding well to treatment. She knelt beside him and slid her palm against his neck.
    “Hey, Dusty. How are you doing this morning?” She eased her hand down his chest and right leg, pleased the swelling had lessened. “Let’s see if you’re ready to stand.” With a slight tap to his backside, she gave him a gentle push, urging him to his feet. The horse didn’t budge.
    “Haven’t I seen this before?”
    Mattie recognized the man’s voice instantly and rose from her knees. “Are you going to stand there and gawk or are you going to help?” she asked, unable to keep the smile from her face.
    “I’m here to serve.” Gil laid a sack beside her coffee on the wooden bench, then stood beside Dusty and nudged the horse’s side as he’d done the night before. “I don’t know what you’re going to do when I’m not here, Doc.”
    “I can always steal one of the posters they display of you in town. That ought to do the trick.” She wanted to cheer when the horse wobbled up on all fours.
    Gil chuckled. “What do you have against football players, anyway?”
    “I don’t have anything against big, bulky men who strut around in skintight pants.” She grinned teasingly. “Rodeo’s a whole lot easier to understand.”
    “Did you rodeo?”
    “Barrels and poles. Tied some goats,” Mattie said. “I understand you had a future in rodeo. Why’d you quit?”
    Gil looked away. “Football offered me a better deal.”
    “Do you miss it?”
    “I’ve