Free Betting on Hope by Debra Clopton Page A

the parking lot—the paved parking lot she noted—of a small red brick building. Health Clinic was written above the door and there was a closed sign in the window.
    “It’s Monday,” Tru grumbled, put the truck in reverse, and headed out of the parking lot. “I forgot what day it was. Clinic is open Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.” He glanced at her. She might be putting up a good front, but she was in pain. Solomon had bitten her hard and deep, though their arguing had distracted her.
    “That’s okay, I’ll be fine.”
    “No, you need to see a doctor. Doc Hallaway will fix you right up.” Tru turned into a parking lot a half mile down the road and parked between two trucks.
    The sign read Hallaway Veterinary.
    “But—” Maggie’s brows scrunched. “That’s a veterinary clinic.”
    “Yup. That’d be right. Doc’s the next best thing. He’ll fix you right up. Most folks around here think he’s a better doctor than most.”
    “But—”
    “Trust me, you’ll be fine.”
    He was out of the truck and around to her side by the time her feet touched the ground.
    “But, but this is a vet. An animal doctor,” she said, eyes huge.
    “Yes, but he’s a very good vet.”
    The man had brought her to see a veterinarian.
    Feeling as if she’d been thrown into a scene of the movie Doc Hollywood, Maggie followed Tru inside the animal clinic, feet dragging.
    Only because her wound was yelling for attention did she ignore the need to protest—that and she was in shock.
    A vet. Seriously?
    There was no one behind the reception desk and the place was empty except for two men who jumped up from their seats smiling the minute she walked in.
    Obviously twins, each had sandy brown hair, sleepy brown eyes over a long straight nose balanced by a wide mouth and identical grins.
    “Hey, fellas,” Tru said giving each man a handshake. “This is Maggie Hope. Is the doc in?” Tru asked, sounding distracted as he looked toward the back.
    “Maggie Hope?” asked the one in the green shirt. “The reporter?”
    “What do we have here?” the twin in the blue shirt asked as Maggie moved to sit down.
    “A dog bit me.” She didn’t bother correcting the reporter comment.
    “A dog,” they chorused.
    “Did you take the dog to see Bertha at the health clinic?” Blue-shirt-twin asked, grinning.

    “Funny, Doonie,” Tru drawled, looking around. “Where’s Doc?”
    “He’s out there vaccinating a trailer-load of goats.”
    “I’ll be right back.” Tru strode around the counter and headed down a hallway and out the door at the end.
    The twins introduced themselves as Doonie and Doobie Burke.
    “Obviously our parents had a sense of humor,” Doobie in the green shirt said.
    “I got the good name, he got the weird name,” Doonie in the blue shirt added with a grin.
    She chuckled despite her throbbing hand. “I love your names.” Her mind was working on how to use them in her column. She was going to have to figure out how to approach this next column, how to make it work. Interesting.
    “I’m the mayor of Wishing Springs,” the one in the blue shirt said. Doonie, she thought. “But me and Doobie own the real estate agency in town.”
    “That’s right,” the other man grinned. “When you need a property, just give us a call.”
    “I doubt I’ll need to buy any real estate. If I do, though, I’ll come see you.”
    Both men smiled again and came to stare intently at her wound.
    “That is nasty,” one said.
    “Doc’s got enough needles in here to fix a few horses, though, so you’re gonna be just fine,” one offered, chuckling.
    Maggie was not reassured.
    “If it leaves a nasty scar you could make it into a tattoo of a flower, or a Tasmanian devil,” the other, Doobie, said or was it Doonie? Maggie was confused.
    Their parents must have had a great sense of humor to have given them these confusing names. Maybe that was where they got their quick-witted personalities. Whereever it came from, Maggie