by Lara Lacombe
This is just the beginning, she realized with a small shock. She didn’t mind being on the opposite side of an issue as Wyatt. But what if this was only the first in a long line of incompatibilities? What if they couldn’t agree on any of life’s major decisions? How could they build a relationship when they couldn’t even find the middle ground here?
They’d had a one-night stand ten years ago, followed by a quick jump back into a physical relationship, their emotions heightened by the jeopardy she’d faced and the crisis her family was in. That had muddied her otherwise clear thinking. She needed to slow down, to consider things more carefully. Just because they’d happily reconnected and righted the wrong that had kept them apart didn’t mean they were destined for each other, or truly compatible.
They were physically in sync, there was no doubt about that. But Isabel needed more than just great sex. And while she didn’t want a partner who agreed with her every word, she also didn’t want to spend most of her time arguing with him, either.
A sense of disappointment sliced through her as she looked at the faces around the table. Diego had never thought the well was a good idea, but Abuelo had at least pretended to consider it. Now, though, she could tell her grandfather was more in agreement with her brother.
That was fine—she understood she wasn’t going to win every argument. But what hurt the most was the fact that not only was her family ignoring the economic realities the ranch was facing, they expected her to come up with a compromise all on her own. Neither her brother nor her grandfather—nor Wyatt, for that matter—had suggested an alternative that would help the ranch stay afloat. And Wyatt had promised to help come up with ideas.
After a few minutes of silence, it became clear no one had anything to say.
“Fine.” She spoke quietly, determined to keep her emotions under control. “I understand you don’t want to sell the mineral rights. But unless one of us comes up with another plan, and fast, we’re not going to have a choice.”
Unable to sit there any longer, she pushed back from the table and gathered her empty plate and silverware. Then she walked away without saying another word.
* * *
Wyatt knocked softly on Isabel’s bedroom door, uncertain of his welcome. She’d tried to hide her emotions at the dinner table, but it was clear to anyone with eyes that she was upset over her brother’s refusal to budge in light of the new offering.
And he knew his own lack of support had disappointed her, as well.
“Come in.”
He pushed the door open and found her once again sitting on the bed with her laptop open. When she didn’t look up, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
“What are you working on?”
She shook her head. “I don’t even know. I’m trying to come up with some plan to save the ranch, because apparently I’m the only one who is capable of thinking about this.”
“You know that’s not true.” He walked to the bed and sat next to her, wanting to comfort her. But would she welcome his touch?
There was only one way to find out. He placed his hand on her shoulder, stroked lightly down her back.
She didn’t shrug away from him, but she didn’t lean into him, either.
It was a start.
“I know you’re frustrated,” he said. “But this is a complicated situation. You can’t expect to just figure it out in a matter of minutes.”
“I’ve been working on it for weeks,” she muttered.
“Yeah, but you’ve been stressed,” he countered. “Hard to think straight when you’re upset.”
“What happened to your earlier offer?” She turned to face him, challenge glinting in her eyes. “You said you’d try to help me come up with an alternative plan.”
“I meant it,” he said.
She arched one eyebrow. “Feel free to jump in anytime.”
Wyatt ignored her sarcasm, knowing it was born of frustration. “Well, how about you give me some information first? What kind of numbers are we talking about here?”
She gave him a rundown of the financial status of the ranch. The magnitude of the problem became clear as she spoke, settling over his shoulders like a heavy blanket. And he wasn’t even part of the family. How much worse must the pressure feel for her and Diego? They had enough money to keep going in the short term—a very short short term—but if something wasn’t done soon, they would be sinking deeper and deeper into the red with every passing month.
“Wow,” he said when she was done.
She nodded. “So that’s what we’re dealing with. You can see now why I’m so eager to accept the fracking offer.”
“I do,” he said. “But... I still don’t think that’s the answer.”
“Of course not,” she muttered, turning away.
He reached for her, unwilling to let her shut him out. “Hey.” He placed his fingers under her chin and turned her head until she faced him again. “What’s this really about?”
She shook her head but he wasn’t going to let her off the hook so easily.
“Talk to me, Isabel.”
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” she said finally.
Her words sent a chill skittering down his spine. He got the feeling she wasn’t talking about the ranch plans anymore. “What do you mean?”
“You and me.” She gestured between them. “Us. Maybe we’re better off as friends. Or at least starting as friends. This has been so fast.”
Wyatt’s heart began to crack but he refused to let it show. “What makes you say that?”
She shoved off the bed, began to pace the room. “Maybe we’re just not compatible,” she said, gesturing with her hands as she spoke. “This is a perfect example—I think we need to sell the mineral rights, you don’t. We’re both working from the same data set, yet we’ve drawn completely opposite conclusions. Maybe that tells us something about how we’d be together as a couple.”
“And you think that’s a deal-breaker?” He fought to keep his tone neutral. Was she really suggesting they break up over this damn offer?
She shook her head. “What I think is that it’s a sign of things to come. If we can’t see eye-to-eye on something as straightforward as this, what makes you think we’ll be on the same page when it comes to more complicated stuff, like kids or jobs?”
“Wait a minute.” Wyatt held up a hand, needing her to take a breath. Needing one himself, for that matter. “That’s an awfully big leap. I don’t mean to prove your point, but I have to say I disagree.”
She smiled, but there was no joy in it. “I’m not happy about this, either. But I don’t think we can move forward until we learn more about each other, take things more slowly. More...naturally. I don’t want to spend my life in a constant argument with the person who’s supposed to be my partner.”
“Neither do I.” He spread his hands wide. “See? We’re on the same page there.” It was another lame attempt at humor, but he needed to snap her out of this mood, to help her see how unreasonable she was being. Of course they were going to disagree on things—how boring would their life together be if they saw the world in exactly the same way?
That didn’t mean they were doomed to a relationship of constant conflict, though. Why couldn’t she recognize that? Sure, things had progressed fast with them, but not really when you thought of the ten years they should have had together if not for misunderstandings.
Isabel shook her head. “I wish I shared your optimism. I just... I need more time.”
Wyatt’s stomach dropped. “All right,” he said quietly. He wasn’t going to beg her to be with him. But before he walked away and gave her the space she wanted, there was one thing he needed to know.
“Earlier in the shower. You said you loved me. Did you mean it or was it just the sex talking?”
She looked away, her cheeks turning pink under his
gaze. “I wouldn’t lie about something like that,” she said finally.
“Good.” Her answer should have made him feel better, but instead it only fed his frustration. Why was she pumping the brakes on their relationship now, when only hours before they’d been totally connected, body and soul? “I meant what I said, too. I do love you, Isabel Cruz. And I’ll give you some time to figure out what you want. But I won’t wait forever.”
With that, he stood and walked to the door, needing to get out of there before she could see his heart breaking.
Chapter 13
“Isabel.”
She came awake with a start, jerking at the strange touch.
“It’s okay,” said Diego softly. “It’s just me.”
She glanced instinctively to the other side of the bed, but Wyatt wasn’t there. That’s right—he was sleeping in the guest room. Her heart sank at the reminder of their argument and its aftermath, but she pushed aside her disappointment and focused on the here and now.
“Delivery problems?”
Her brother nodded. “Give me two minutes,” she whispered.
Diego left the room on silent feet as she slid out of bed. Moving in the dark, she exchanged her nightshirt for a pair of old scrubs, then gathered her boots and stepped into the hall.
The clock downstairs chimed three times as she shoved her feet into her boots. “Perfect timing,” she muttered. “As usual.”
Thank you, evolution, she thought wryly as she descended the stairs, trying to be quiet about it. Veterinary obstetrical complications went hand in hand with the darkness, thanks to horses and cows having a tendency to wait for the cover of night to go into labor. It was a trait that had served them well when they were still free-ranging animals who needed to avoid drawing the attention of nearby predators. But now that they enjoyed the benefits of domestication, it was hell on their human caretakers.
She grabbed her heavy coat from the hook by the door and jogged down the porch steps. The night air held a chill, but she knew from experience the calving barn itself would be cold.
“What have we got?” she said as she arrived.
Diego turned at the sound of her voice. “Three first timers,” he said, indicating the scene with a nod. “Two showing signs of distress.”
She walked over to her brother, who was standing next to an animal that was clearly agitated. A quick glance at her tail end revealed the problem. “Nose first, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Get her in the chute.” She removed a pair of arm-length plastic gloves from her bag and glanced at a second cow. “What’s her story?”
“I think the calf is coming out backward,” replied Peter, one of the younger ranch hands.
Isabel trotted over to check out the situation herself. Calves were usually born front feet first, followed by the head and the rest of the body. But as she got closer, she recognized this one was indeed flipped around.
“Okay,” she said, noting that both Peter and the cow seemed anxious about the situation. “See how the feet are poking out?”
The young man nodded, swallowing hard.
“That’s actually a good sign,” she said. “I’m just going to do a quick check...” She inserted her arm as she spoke, palpating the calf’s anatomy to make sure it was positioned in such a way that it could come out.
“All right,” she said, finishing up. “This isn’t ideal, but I don’t think the calf is in any distress right now. What I need you to do is to keep an eye on things while I go help out over there. You should start to see more of the legs emerge soon, but if they come out fast and you see the belly I need to know right away.”
“Do I need to pull or anything?”
“No!”
Peter jumped at her exclamation.
“No,” she repeated, softening her voice. “Don’t pull on the legs at all. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
She stripped off the used glove and replaced it with a fresh one as she approached the first cow. “All right, mama,” she said, stepping behind the animal. “Let’s get this done.”
She set to work, pushing, twisting, coaxing and pleading. It was a tough job but, after several minutes, she’d managed to push the calf back into the uterus and move it into a better position for birth. “Try again,” she said, patting the cow on the rump.
Relief flared in Peter’s eyes as she started in his direction again. “How are we doing here?”
“Okay? I think?” His voice shook a little, which made Isabel smile as she replaced her glove once more.
“First time?”
He nodded, wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. “Is it that obvious?”
“It’s going to be fine. I was terrified during my first calving season, as well. You’ll get used to it.”
She walked over to the laboring cow, assessing the situation as she drew closer. The calf was making progress, but not as much as she’d hoped to see.
“Okay, Peter, I’m going to need you to help me.”
“Yeah?” He rubbed his hands on his jeans. “What can I do?”
“Remember how I told you earlier not to pull?” He nodded. “Well, believe it or not, now I need you to help me pull.”
“Seriously?” He chuckled nervously.
“Yep,” she confirmed. “If this calf stays in there much longer, it will suffocate. Let’s help her out.”
She grabbed one leg, showed Peter where to grip the other. “All right. On my count, I need a strong and steady tug. One, two, three!”
Working together, they helped draw the calf out of its mother’s body. She landed on the floor of the barn with a dull thud and, as Isabel had suspected, didn’t move right away.
“Keep going,” she said, urging Peter to help her pull the calf a few feet away. They arranged her in a sitting position to help her breathe. Isabel could feel a pulse, but if this baby didn’t start breathing well soon, it wasn’t going to last. She knelt by the animal’s head and grabbed a stalk of straw, which she then unceremoniously shoved up the calf’s nose.
“What are you doing?” Peter crouched next to her, his eyes as wide as dinner plates.
“Trying to get her to cough.” She used her free hand to wipe the calf’s nose and mouth clear of mucus and fluids. “Come on,” she muttered.
The calf bobbed her head, trying to get away from the straw. After a few seconds, she let out a soft bleat of protest at her rough treatment.
“Good job, little one.” Isabel gave her a scratch behind the ears then glanced at Peter. “Keep an eye on her for me. After a few minutes, you can put mom and baby in one of the stalls.”
“What about the rest?” He gestured to the cow, who was craning her neck in an attempt to see around the edges of the metal chute that held her still. “Isn’t there more that has to come out?”
“She’ll deliver the placenta later,” Isabel said, getting to her feet. “It doesn’t come out right away.” She started to cross the barn to return to the first cow then paused. “Peter?”
He glanced up from his spot by the calf. “Yes?”
“Great job.”
His smile was dazzling. “Thanks.”
She made it back to Diego. “How are we doing?”
“So far so good,” he said. “Front hooves are peeking out a little with each contraction.”
“Excellent.” She took advantage of the temporary lull to check on the third cow, who was doing nicely. Isabel stayed just outside the pen, watching as the animal delivered her first calf. It plopped to the ground and immediately began to squirm. The mother turned and started to lick her baby clean in a textbook example of a calving.
“Nice job,” she said softly, not wanting to disturb the pair.
“Two out, one to go,” she said as she returned to Diego’s side.
He nodded. “’Tis the season,” h
e replied.
They watched the cow for a few moments as her labor progressed. Sure enough, a pair of hooves emerged, followed quickly by thin legs.
Isabel felt some of the tension leave her muscles. “Looking good.”
She continued to watch the cow, wrinkling her nose as an acrid odor began to overpower the mingled aromas of blood, dung and birth scents hanging in the air.
She frowned, sniffed again. “Diego? Do you smell that?”
He took a deep breath. “Smells like—”
“Smoke!” Peter yelled. Isabel turned to find him pointing at the far corner of the barn, his expression panicked.
Wisps of gray smoke hugged the wall as they rose into the air.
“Oh my God,” Isabel said. Her heart leaped into her throat and for an endless second she couldn’t move.
Diego cursed. “Grab a fire extinguisher.” He darted for the entrance, where a pair of fire extinguishers hung from hooks on the wall.
But as Isabel discovered when she skidded to a stop behind her brother, they weren’t there.
“Where are they?” she yelled. The smoke was growing thicker now, the color darker and more ominous.
“I don’t know.” Diego jogged to the doors and pushed, trying to open them to the fresh night air.
But they didn’t budge.
“What do we do?” Peter joined them, looking like he wanted to cry.
He’s so young, Isabel realized in a sudden moment of clarity. When had Diego started hiring children?
“Help me push,” Diego instructed. Peter threw himself against the wide doors and Isabel pushed on the other side of Diego. But their combined efforts still weren’t enough to dislodge the doors.
The air was growing heavy with soot and smoke. The cows were getting scared—their moos sounded increasingly frantic.
“We have to get them out of here,” Isabel said.
“Forget the cows,” Peter said. “What about us?” He glanced at the walls, which sported a row of small windows about six feet off the ground.
Diego grabbed her hand and half led, half dragged her over to the wall. “Can you fit through that?” He picked up a nearby broom and used it to smash the glass. The growing smoke began to stream out of the now open window, obscuring the night sky.