A Cowboy State of Mind

by Jennie Marts

  Lucky had followed her out, and Bryn reached down to scoop up the friendliest cat and cuddle it to her chest. “I’m heading to the barn to check on the horses, then I’m going for a walk, if anyone is interested in tagging along,” she told the rest of the animal pile.

  Apparently the idea was appealing to all except the cats, who didn’t really find many things appealing, and if they did, they wouldn’t dare stoop to mention it. But the pig, the goat, and the dog followed her down the stairs and across the yard. Laughing, she felt like the Pied Piper as she led the parade of pets into the barn.

  Shamus and the gray horse stood at the entrance of the barn as if they were keeping a watchful eye on Beauty. The mama horse seemed to be doing okay, not that Bryn would know what to do if she wasn’t. She’d assumed Zane would be here. And he always knew what to do, especially when it came to horses.

  Pushing thoughts of Zane away, she gave some oats to the horses and passed out sugar cubes and puppy treats to the other animals. She held out a sugar cube in one hand and a dog treat in the other to Tiny. “I can’t decide where you fit in the scope of farm animals, so you pick. Which do you want?”

  The pig snuffled at the treats in her hand, then gobbled down both.

  “That’s kind of what I thought,” Bryn said as she gave her a scratch behind the ears. Determined to finish her walk, she headed out of the barn. She’d get on the computer and google “how to know if your horse is about to give birth” when she got home.

  Not sure she would enjoy the long walk, Bryn put Tiny back in her pen. But Lucky and Otis decided they’d like to trail along. They crossed through the pasture, and Shamus kept them company for a bit, running along next to them and trying to get the dog and the goat to play. It was amazing to see the changes in the little horse. With proper care and plenty of grass and sweet feed, the horse had filled out and pranced around the corral as if showing off his new well-fed physique.

  All the horses seemed to be doing well, and Bryn was proud of the changes she’d made to her farm to accommodate the rescued animals. She thought about the blowup she’d had with Buck. Apparently she was making a few changes to herself too.

  But should Zane be one of those changes? She wanted someone she could count on, who would be there for her. Had he shown her he could be that man?

  Not today he hadn’t. Today, he hadn’t even returned her messages.

  It was almost dark by the time she made it back to the barn. She’d gone farther than she’d planned, her feet mechanically walking as her mind was lost in thought. Opening the barn door, she figured she’d check on Beauty one more time before she headed in and tried to drown her sorrows in some television and a glass of wine. Make that several glasses of wine.

  Beauty was pacing her stall, and she let out a whinny as Bryn approached the gate. The horse seemed restless, and a fine sheen of sweat covered her coat.

  Uh-oh. This wasn’t good. Or maybe it was good. Dang it. Why hadn’t she come back sooner and spent the evening on Google, instead of wandering through the pastures staring at wildflowers and trying to convince herself she didn’t want Zane and he could take a flying leap into the Arkansas River?

  But it was too soon. Zane had said it could still be another few weeks before the foal arrived. Maybe she should call him…just to see if he thought the horse was okay.

  No. Stay strong. The horse was just pacing and sweating. No biggie. Bryn had just been doing that herself out in the pasture.

  Beauty swished her tail and swung her head back to try to bite her haunches. She tried to lie down, then got back up again and seemed to be sweating more than before. Okay, Bryn hadn’t done any of that on her walk.

  Bryn eased closer and noticed the mare’s udder leaking milk. Yeah, she definitely hadn’t done that either. But she remembered Zane telling her about it.

  He’d said a little leakage was to be expected, but this wasn’t a little. This was streaming down her leg. This definitely didn’t seem good.

  He’d told her to be on the lookout for behavior that was out of the ordinary for the horse. That the horse’s owner, the one used to seeing it all the time, was usually the best judge of when the horse was in distress. Well, Bryn had been around Beauty enough to know this wasn’t her normal behavior. And she didn’t just seem anxious.

  Bryn watched her for a few more minutes. The horse paced harder, her shoulders now soaked with sweat. She went to her knees, then stood back up and let out a mournful moan.

  No, this wasn’t good. This horse was in trouble.

  Chapter 19

  Bryn pulled out her phone and tried Zane’s number. It went immediately to voicemail. So either his phone was off, or he was purposely not taking her calls.

  She left him a message. “Hey, Zane, it’s Bryn.” Why did she tell him her name? It was on the caller ID. “I just wanted to tell you I think Beauty is going into labor. I remember you telling me she might leak milk when she’s getting close, and milk is streaming down her leg. Plus she seems like she’s in distress. She’s pacing and trying to lie down, and she just made the saddest moaning sound that hurt my chest to hear. I know you’re mad or upset or whatever with me, but don’t take it out on Beauty. She really needs you right now.” I really need you right now. “Call me back as soon as you can. Or better yet, just come out here. But hurry.”

  Oh yeah, that message didn’t sound needy at all. Oh wait, yes, it did. Because she was needy. She needed help with this horse. She had no idea what to do.

  Beauty sank onto the floor, lying down, then rolling to her back. She whinnied, then pushed herself back up again like she couldn’t find a comfortable position. She lifted her back legs, one then the other, then the other again. The horse shook her head and kept making weird mouth movements like she was yawning.

  Bryn tapped out a text message to Zane: “Help! I need you to call me! I think something’s wrong with Beauty. She is really distressed. Call me!”

  “It’s going to be okay, Beauty,” she assured the horse. And herself. Because really, how the heck was she supposed to know if it was going to be okay?

  She called Zane again. “Pick up. Pick up. Pick up!” she yelled into the phone.

  The trough that Bryn had filled earlier was still full of oats. The sweet feed mix was normally Beauty’s favorite, and she usually gobbled it down the minute either she or Zane poured it into the trough.

  She tried Zane’s phone again. Straight to voicemail.

  Beauty pawed the ground and curled her upper lip back.

  “I know. I know. I’m pissed at him too. Why won’t the bastard answer his phone?”

  Beauty responded by lifting her tail and letting loose a stream of bodily fluids. She nipped at her belly again, then resumed her pacing.

  Screw it. If Zane wanted to act like an idiot, she’d call someone she knew she could count on. She tapped the phone and almost cried with relief when Brody picked up on the first ring. “Oh thank God you’re there.”

  “What’s wrong? You okay?”

  “Yes, I’m okay. But Beauty isn’t. I think she’s going into labor. She seems in real distress, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “Okay, take a breath. Do you want me to come out there?”

  Bryn slumped against the barn wall. “Would you?”

  “Yeah, of course. I’m grabbing my boots. Talk to me while I’m putting them on. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “She’s really sweating, and she keeps pacing back and forth in her stall, like she’s anxious and restless. She keeps trying to bite and kick at her belly. And she’s making these awful moaning noises.”

  “That sounds normal. She’s doing that stuff because she can feel her body getting ready to give birth. What else?”

  “Um, she doesn’t seem to be eating, and she keeps trying to lie down, then gets back up again.”

  “Good. Horses are pretty amazing
animals. They know what to do. But they also like their privacy. As long as she has a quiet, clean place to foal, she’ll be okay.”

  “Should I try to put some fresh hay in there? She keeps…um…going number one and number two at the same time.”

  Brody chuckled. “In the medical field, we call that urinating and defecating, but I get your meaning. Totally normal. You can try to spread some fresh hay in there, but I wouldn’t stay long in her stall. Keep an eye on her, but don’t hover.”

  “Got it. So watch her but act like I’m not watching her,” Bryn said, imagining herself holding up a newspaper and discreetly peering over as if she were some kind of horse-breeding private detective. “She’s also got some milk streaming down her leg,” she told him.

  “That could also be normal, but it could be something to watch too. Depends on how much it is. What does Zane think? He’s been working horses for years, and I’m sure he’s seen countless foalings. Is he worried?”

  “He doesn’t appear to be because he’s not out here. And he’s not answering or returning my calls. It’s just me. And the dogs. And the pig. And none of them are helping.” She tried to keep her tone light and play off a joke to keep the bitterness from seeping into her voice. But she was mad, damn it. Zane should be here. Beauty was his horse too. They’d said they would do this together.

  “Oh,” he said, a thousand sentiments present in that one word. “Well, don’t worry. I’m on call tonight, so Mandy is with her grandparents anyway. I’m locking up now, so I’ll be there in ten.”

  Her shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank you, Brody. I can always count on you.”

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  She hung up the phone and slumped against the wall in the barn. Brody was coming. Because Brody was a guy she could count on. She knew he wouldn’t let her down. Unlike a certain jerk who wouldn’t answer or call her back.

  * * *

  Zane cringed as he walked into the house, his chest aching at the absence of the stupid dog running up to greet him. He’d had a shit day, and the dog could always seem to sense that. She wasn’t overt about it but seemed to show up when he needed her, leaning against his leg or offering the back of his hand a quick lick. The house felt eerily quiet without the pattering of the dog’s feet and the rumble of his dad’s voice.

  Birch was out of the woods at least. The heart attack had been minor, and he was already cussing out the doctor and flirting with the nurses. They were keeping him another day, just to monitor his vitals.

  Zane let out a heavy sigh and practically fell into the recliner. All he wanted to do was slink off into a dark cave and lick his wounds.

  He glanced into the corner where he’d hurled his phone against the wall. The phone still lay there, the screen black. It had died in his pocket sometime at the vet clinic the night before. Although he hadn’t realized it until he’d pulled it out to call 911 and saw it had no juice. He’d flung it at the wall in frustration and for once was thankful his dad still had a landline.

  He considered rescuing the phone and finding a charger to plug it in. He was sure it had some texts and probably a few missed calls on it, not that many people called him. In fact, no one really did except Logan and Bryn. And hers were the messages he was avoiding. Hers and the vet clinic’s.

  As much as he wanted to know how the collie—how Hope was doing, he knew it was better if he just cut ties completely. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, or in this case, like ripping a bandage from a raw, aching wound—it might be fast and thorough, but it hurt like hell.

  He’d called from the hospital that morning to pay the vet bill, and the receptionist had told him the dog had come out of surgery and was doing okay. That was all he’d needed to hear. And that fact solidified his decision to sever ties with the mutt—and with Bryn. They would both be better off without him.

  And so would his dad. Had the stress of having Zane around caused another heart attack? But what if you hadn’t been here? a small voice tried to interject. Zane ignored the voice, disregarding the idea that his presence may have helped anyone or anything.

  The only things he did seem to help were horses. He was good at that—his one talent. Horses didn’t ask for much, which was perfect since he didn’t have much to offer. Maybe that’s why they were a good match.

  As soon as he decided to rescue his phone, he would put in a call to Maggie, his former boss, and let her know he was coming back to work for her. It would be good to get back to the Montana horse ranch where all he had to focus on was getting horses fed and broke and bought and sold, and his days were measured in time spent in the corral rather than by what time Bryn was going to call or thinking about how soon he could see her next. Forget all that crap—he didn’t need it, didn’t want it.

  All he wanted was a simple life, no drama, no emotional connections—get up in the morning, do the job, work so hard he fell exhausted into bed, then get up and do it again the next day. If no one expected anything of him, he never let anyone down. It was better than having all these people in his life. Yeah, keep telling yourself that, buddy.

  A nauseating fist of guilt clawed at his gut. He was letting people, and animals, down right now. And he hated that feeling. He could call out to the ranch. Just to check on the horses.

  Or he could charge his phone. He was pretty sure Bryn would text him an update if something was happening with Beauty. But she could also be texting him with questions about them, about their relationship—questions he didn’t want to answer. A clean break meant he cut off communication. And the only way he was going to get through this break was not to talk to her at all.

  That same tiny voice mumbled something about the only thing worse than his phone being filled with missed calls and messages would be to charge it and find that he had zero of either. He had told her they were through, that he was done with the dog and done with her. But he wasn’t sure he was ready for the cold, hard truth that she was done with him. And no calls or messages would mean he hadn’t mattered and that she realized he was right—she was better off without him.

  Better not to know.

  The house felt hot and humid, and the scent of mushrooms and old beef hung in the air from the dried up pan of Hamburger Helper stroganoff still sitting on the stove. He pulled off his boots and chucked them in the direction of his phone. They hit the wall with a thud that he’d thought would make him feel better, but didn’t touch the misery sitting in him like the lumps of grease coagulating in the pan of forgotten hamburger mix.

  He opened some windows, turned on the fan, and changed into shorts and a T-shirt. Leaning into the open door of the refrigerator, he tried to find something, anything, that sounded good to eat. He contemplated making a pan of scrambled eggs, but the effort didn’t seem worth it. Giving up, he swung the door shut, grabbed a bag of corn chips off the counter, and slumped back in the recliner.

  The chips were stale and a little like eating old cardboard—not that he tasted them anyway. He was just going through the motions of sticking something in his mouth. The clicking sound of the old box fan in the window grated on his nerves, and he wadded up the plastic bag from the chips and chucked it toward his boots. That corner of the room was accumulating quite a collection of angrily tossed items.

  He pushed up from the chair, his body restless, his fists clenched in anger as he considered what in the house he could punch. But instead of destroying the house, he decided to punish his body instead. He shoved his feet into his sneakers, slammed out of the house, and tore off down the road.

  The sky had gone dark, but his feet knew the way as they struck the pavement. His arms pumped at his sides as he sprinted, pushing his body harder and harder, until his muscles burned and his lungs ached.

  Charging down the road, he kept pushing, driving his body harder. He just wasn’t sure if he was running toward something or away from it.

  * * *

  Bry
n checked her watch. It had only been seven minutes since she’d hung up with Brody. She tried to be patient. He’d said ten minutes, so he should be here soon.

  The horse let out a low moan and went down to her knees, then pushed back up again. Poor thing.

  “You’re doing great, Mama,” she cooed to the horse like she’d heard Zane do. Damn it. Zane should be here. The horse always responded so well to him. Bryn knew Beauty would be calmer with Zane near her.

  Stop thinking about Zane. Instead of thinking about the man, she tried to recall all the conversations they’d had about this moment and sought to remember everything he’d told her about the birth of the foal and what to expect. She knew just enough to be dangerous.

  Beauty let out another moan, this one louder and more distressful than the last. A white sac ballooned out from under the horse’s tail and two tiny hooves were visible through the milky material.

  Oh my gosh, it is starting. Hurry, Brody!

  The horse moved into the far corner of the stall and laid down with her hindquarters pushed against the wall.

  Oh no. That’s not good. Bryn knew there had to be enough room for the foal to come out, and there was no space between the horse’s tail and the wall. If Beauty tried to push out the foal, either she or the baby could get injured. “You need to get up and move, girl,” she pleaded.

  The horse looked at her with an expression that was a cross between you’re crazy if you think I’m moving and please help, this hurts.

  Bryn had to do something. Hovering and frantically wringing her hands wasn’t going to move the horse. That moment—the moment she chose to open the gate and step into the stall with an anguished half-ton horse who was making it clear she didn’t want Bryn anywhere near her—was the moment she knew her life was truly changed.