Best Friends by Samantha Glen

maybe once a week. He and Diana had made the three-hour round trip to the nearest clinic so many times with a sick cat or dog, they could do it with their eyes closed nowadays.
    Michael knew the constant anxiety and travel had to be taking its toll on their energies. He was also aware that their budget wouldn’t stretch to building even a bare-bones facility, let alone hire a vet. Yet there was nothing anybody could do at the moment.
    â€œWe’ve got to get a veterinarian,” Francis fretted.
    â€œI’ll have a talk with the great conjurer in the sky,” Michael said, poker-faced.
    Francis just glared.

CHAPTER NINE
Dr. Christy
    T he air had a tart bite that foretold early snow as Francis drove into Kanab the following Saturday. He wasn’t in the best of moods. Francis still had the troublesome habit of trying to cram seventeen chores in a fourteen-hour day, and he was really pushing the envelope this week. Faith, Maia Astor, Anne Mejia, Jana, and Raphael were coming in for the holidays, and he had a million things to do before they arrived.
    Busy as he was, Francis always made time to stop by and see Lorelei, the local animal groomer. Besides, she had some eye medicine for Monica, his cat. He just hoped she wasn’t busy this afternoon. Francis parked in front of the now defunct White Pines Motel, whose rooms had been taken over by a variety of small businesses, and knocked on the corner room next to the florist.
    â€œDoor’s open,” a parrot’s raucous squawk informed him. In spite of himself, Francis smiled as he walked in. Lorelei was an animal person, and along with the talkative Yellow Nape, he’d have to say hello to the two large mutts that kept her company all day.
    Lorelei’s room was small and poorly lit, but well equipped with a spotless chrome table, towels, electric clippers, and all the accoutrements to make a house pet smell and look good.
    â€œMake yourself useful. Make yourself useful,” the parrot ordered as two dogs burst out from under the table and threw themselves joyously upon Francis’s chest.
    â€œDown, down. And all of you be good,” Lorelei chided her menagerie. Francis thumped the two dogs on their rumps and they plopped to the floor, panting happily.
    â€œHow you doing today, Francis?” Lorelei wrinkled her nose as she smiled. She gestured to a slight young man leaning his elbows on her grooming table. “Do you two know each other?”
    Francis’s eyes traveled up from a pair of dirt-encrusted boots from which the left sole was coming apart, to torn Levis, a plaid shirt, and a friendly, tanned face under a shock of unruly, strawberry blond hair.
    The young man straightened, stepped forward, and stuck out his hand. “Bill Christy.”
    â€œDoctor Bill Christy,” Lorelei said proudly.
    Francis offered his hand and felt a surprisingly firm grip. “Francis Battista.”
    The doctor nodded. “Kelvert Button’s spoken of you.”
    Francis wondered why the man who so loved his goat hadn’t mentioned Dr. Christy. “New in town?” he asked.
    â€œJust moved to Panguitch a couple of months ago. Came down to see some of my patients.”
    Francis was puzzled. Why would a doctor come sixty-seven miles to make house calls. “Patients?”
    â€œCows, pigs, horses. I’m principally a large animal vet.”
    Francis couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A veterinarian who came to people’s houses. Then he realized that the doctor had said his practice was farm animals. Still he had to ask. “Do you come to Kanab very often?”
    â€œAs often as I’m needed.”
    Francis looked at him. “I don’t suppose—I mean . . .”
    â€œThat I might be interested in having a look at your dogs and cats?” The veterinarian laughed at Francis’s surprise. “You know how small this town is?” he said by way of explanation.
    Francis joined