The Mating Season

by Janet Dailey

  As she watched the plane take off, she was haunted by the discovery that Trevor's kiss had seemed all technique with no emotion. Or maybe she was the one with no emotion. Had it only been three days ago that she had arrived, so happy, so confident, so secure? The plane wagged its wings in final goodbye as it soared into the blue Kansas sky.

  "Beautiful blonde stands forlornly near the runway while plane carrying her lover wings out of sight. It's a very touching scene, but I think it's been done before," Gabe mocked. "You should be able to come up with something more original than that, Jonni."

  Pivoting at the sound of his voice, Jonni saw him standing on the opposite side of the pickup. An arm rested nonchalantly against the cab as he gazed at her across the open sides of the truck. Her expression was wary and resentful. She held his gaze for a split second, but it was much too penetrating. Half turning, she broke the contact and walked toward the passenger door.

  "Let's go back to the house," she said stiffly.

  "That's exactly the destination I had in mind," Gabe replied in an ultradry voice and ducked his long frame inside the cab.

  Jonni climbed in the passenger seat and slammed the door. The window was rolled down on her side and she hugged the door frame. The empty expanse of seat between them yawned an invitation to be filled.

  She flicked a look at Gabe, who had made no attempt to start the engine. His black eyes were fixed on her, brilliant with ironic humor.

  "Are you afraid of me?" he taunted.

  "Petrified." Her response was sarcastic, to hide the tremor of her nerves. "This truck won't go anywhere unless you start it."

  "I wouldn't have guessed." He turned the key in the ignition and the motor rumbled into life. Jonni turned her gaze out her window. The plane was now just a dark speck in the sky.

  "What's wrong, Jonni?" Gabe's voice was low and dangerously intimate. "Are you beginning to have second thoughts?"

  "Yes … I mean, no." In her haste to answer, she stumbled over her words. A throaty laugh came from Gabe as he shifted into first gear. The sound scraped a raw nerve. "Would you like to tell me what's so damned funny?"

  "You are." He slid a lazy, amused look her way and let it roam insolently over her face. "You didn't have enough guts to tell lover boy about our little interlude and now you're eaten up with guilt."

  A flame shot through her veins. The way he was looking at her made her realize he was making love to her in his mind, and her senses were quivering in response. It was crazy! She jerked her gaze from his face.

  "You don't know that," she insisted. "Maybe I told him."

  "I know you, Jonni. Don't forget that," Gabe warned. "There were too many times in the past when you brought your confessions to me. I recognize that look of trouble all locked up inside."

  "Nothing is troubling me," Jonni lied stubbornly and turned cool blue eyes toward him.

  "Like hell," he jeered, then shrugged. "But have it your way. You always do, anyway." The last sentence was offered in a bitter, grudging tone.

  They bumped over the track to the house. After they had gone several hundred yards in silence, Jonni gave in to a compelling demand to obtain explanations.

  "Gabe, I want to ask you a question," she said.

  "Shoot." His gaze didn't leave the road.

  "Why did you kiss me?"

  He reached up and adjusted the mirror in the top center of the windshield, turning it so Jonni saw her reflection on its surface. "You're a beautiful woman, Jonni. Why wouldn't I want to kiss you?" Gabe answered with a question.

  Releasing a quiet sigh, she turned to stare out the window. It wasn't a satisfactory answer, but maybe she had put the question to the wrong party. Maybe she should ask herself why she kissed him.

  But she didn't. And she was relieved that Gabe didn't either.

  Chapter Seven

  MONDAY AND TUESDAY slipped by with relative ease. With the extensive holdings of the Starr Ranch, there were many demands to occupy Gabe's time from sunup to sundown. As long as she wasn't in his company, Jonni could almost make believe it had all been a bad dream, nothing to be concerned about. But whenever he was around and she caught him looking at her in a silently contemplating way, she was reminded that it had happened — and that it could happen again.

  But those moments were more than amply compensated. There were Trevor's nightly phone calls and the hours she spent visiting with her parents. They gossiped, discussed wedding plans, talked about the future, and became reacquainted. Jonni found herself slipping back into her old way of life on the ranch, and discovered it fit her comfortably.

  Late Wednesday afternoon, Jonni was in the kitchen with her mother. The last-minute preparations for the evening meal were under way. John Starr was there, as well, sampling the fare and generally getting under foot.

  "This tomato sauce needs something, Caroline," he decided, taking another taste from the simmering pot. "Maybe a little onion salt or some garlic."

  "Maybe it needs a few less cooks." She shooed him away from the stove. "If you'd get out of our way, John, we'd get a lot more accomplished. Gabe will be coming in and we won't have the food ready to be put on the table." The front door opened and closed. "There he is now."

  As heavy footsteps approached the kitchen Jonni mentally braced herself for Gabe's appearance. She barely glanced up when he entered the room, but her pulse hammered slightly louder in her ears. It was amazing how small and confined the kitchen seemed to become when he entered. Jonni felt almost claustrophobic. She shook dried parsley flakes onto the mound of mashed potatoes and concentrated on stirring them together.

  "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, Gabe," Caroline promised.

  "No hurry. I still have to wash up."

  "Would you like a beer, Gabe?" her father offered.

  "A glass of cold water sounds better."

  Gabe walked to the sink near the counter where Jonni was working and turned on the cold-water tap. The glasses were kept in the cupboard above her head. He let the water run as he opened the cupboard door and took a glass from the shelf. An electric awareness seemed to charge the air around her.

  "How are you?" His drawling question sounded like a caress, as if he was making love to her with his voice.

  Her gaze was forced to him. Damn, why did he have to look at her like that? That lazy black intimacy of his eyes created havoc with her senses.

  "Fine." Jonni tried to sound natural and not all tied in knots.

  "If you keep stirring those potatoes, they're going to turn into a starch glue," Gabe warned in a tone heavily underlined with mockery. Then he turned to fill his glass with the running water.

  Her hand stopped stirring the spoon around in the bowl. She moved away from the counter before she ruined the potatoes in her attempt to avoid Gabe.

  "The potatoes are ready, mother." She made her voice sound bright. "Shall I put them on the table?"

  Before she had received an answer, there was a knock at the back door. Jonni was closest and she walked over to answer it, carrying the bowl of potatoes with her. One of the ranch hands, Duffy McNair, stood on the back stoop. In his forties, he'd worked at the ranch for the past fifteen years.

  "Hello, Jonni." He courteously removed his sweat-stained Stetson. "I saw Gabe coming up the walk. Can I talk to —

  He didn't have the request finished before Gabe was standing behind her. "What is it, Duffy?"

  "It's Lida, that chestnut mare with the four white feet. Ted found her about an hour ago. She's in foal and been havin' a pretty hard time of it," he explained.

  "In foal?" Gabe repeated. "But she isn't due for almost another full month yet."

  "I know." The cowboy shifted his position, fingering his hat. "Ted mentioned last night that she looked as if she was ready, but I knew she wasn't due yet, so I never checked on her today." His head dipped down, revealing a balding patch on top of his head. He shuffled again uncomfortably. "It's all my fault. The mare's in a bad way down there. The foal's comin' the wrong way
. Ted and me have tried to turn it — he's at the barn with her now. The truth is, Gabe, we might lose 'em both."

  "Have you called the vet?" Gabe didn't bother to find out where the blame might lay.

  "Yeah, I called him on the tackroom phone." Duffy grimaced and lifted his shoulders in a hopeless shrug. "It's springtime, he's gotta couple of emergency calls ahead of ours. He doesn't know when he can get out here. I think you'd better come take a look at the mare."

  "You say the foal is coming the wrong way?" Gabe repeated.

  "That's what it looks like." Duffy shrugged again as if he was no longer certain of anything.

  Jonni nearly jumped when Gabe laid a hand on her shoulder. "You've helped me a couple of times when we've had a breech birth with cows. Do you want to come?"

  "Yes." Her agreement was an automatic thing. A ranch depended on its animals. When something was wrong with one of them, all individuals were obligated to help. That was a lesson she had learned while growing up.

  "What about you, John?" Gabe asked. "We might need your experience."

  "I may have the experience, but I don't have your instinct with animals, Gabe. I'll trust your judgment in any situation," her father conceded. "If you find you need me, I'll come."

  Gabe took the bowl of potatoes from Jonni's hands and passed it to Caroline. Duffy was already starting down the steps.

  "I'll keep dinner warm," Caroline Starr promised.

  "You and dad go ahead and eat," Jonni said as she walked out the door ahead of Gabe.

  "And don't worry about keeping the food warm for us," he added. "Jonni and I don't mind eating cold food."

  As the trio walked swiftly down the worn path to the barn Gabe's hand rested on the small of her back to usher her along. Jonni realized just what she'd let herself in for — possibly long hours of close association with a man it would be wisest to stay away from. She tried to forget about the male hand resting on the sensitive area of her back and to think only about the mare waiting for them at the barn.

  "Damn, I'm sorry about this, Gabe." Duffy McNair apologized again, his hat firmly on his head again, concealing the bald spot.

  "That mare has a history of easy foalings. You couldn't suspect that this time there would be complications or an early birth," Gabe insisted.

  "At least she's in the barn," Jonni offered in consolation. "We could be walking out to the pasture."

  "I knew you'd find a bright side to this." Gabe smiled down on her and her heart did a leaping somersault.

  "Yeah, if the mare don't die," Duffy muttered under his breath, instantly sobering both of them.

  Inside the barn, two drop cords ran parallel to an end stall where electric lanterns illuminated the wood-partitioned enclosure. Ted Higgins, the slim, bowlegged man Jonni had met briefly on the weekend, was inside with the mare. He was stripped to the waist, breathing heavily from exertion, perspiration gathering in the hollows of his collarbones. When he saw Jonni accompanying Gabe and Duffy, he self-consciously reached for the shirt draped over the manger and hurriedly put it on.

  "How is she?" Gabe paid little heed to the man as he knelt beside the mare lying quietly in the straw. Jonni stood beside him, ignoring Ted while he buttoned his shirt.

  "She ain't good," Ted admitted. "Her breathing's too shallow, no steady pulse. I've been trying to turn that damn — darn foal, but the legs keep gettin' in the way and …" His voice trailed of lamely in defeat.

  The chestnut mare was lathered from her labor, her shiny coat damp with sweat. She made a whickering moan and Gabe stroked her wet neck.

  "Easy, girl," he crooned softly. Jonni saw the grimness in his eyes when Gabe glanced at Duffy standing just inside the stall door. "Get me some soap and fresh water preferably warm." The mare made another low sound, plaintive and weak, which tore at Jonni's heart. "Take it easy, girl," Gabe soothed. "We'll see what we can do about getting things straightened out. You just rest and save your strength for later on when we'll need it." He ran an exploring hand over the mare's extended belly then straightened.

  "What do you think?" Jonni asked anxiously.

  "I don't know yet." He shook his head in a troubled way.

  Duffy returned with a bucket of water, "Lukewarm. It's the best I could do," he said.

  Tossing his hat to Ted, Gabe began unbuttoning his shirt. There was a queer tightness in her throat as Jonni watched him shrug out of it and saw the overhead lights play across the rippling muscles in his back. His hard flesh was tanned a deep copper and rough, curling dark hairs covered his arms and part of his chest. Realizing how avidly she was staring. Jonni turned back to the mare and knelt beside her head to whisper calming sounds. She listened to the sound of splashing water as Gabe washed.

  When he'd finished, he walked back to the mare to kneel in the straw. "Okay, little lady," he said to the mare. "I'm going to see if I can't help you a little here."

  Jonni ran her hand slowly along the mare's neck and continued to talk to the horse in a low, soothing voice. The mare was now taking rasping short breaths, dangerously exhausted. Jonni cast anxious glances at the competent, thorough man working swiftly to do what he could for the mare.

  "I'll be damned!" A sudden grin alleviated the stern concentration in his expression.

  "What is it?" Jonni held her breath. Had he found what was wrong?

  "No wonder you were having trouble, Ted," Gabe said, still wearing that smile that held more than hope. "You should have started counting legs. There are two foals here, both trying to get born at the same time. Now — he grunted slightly as he strained " — if we can just convince them they have to come out one at a time, we'll be all right."

  "Are they both alive?" A smile was starting to spread across Jonni's face, as well. The birth of twin foals was an event.

  "Alive and kicking." Beads of perspiration were forming on his forehead, tufts of black hair clinging to the moisture. "Both of them."

  The heavy silence that had dominated the stall suddenly lifted. Glances were exchanged all the way around, bright, hopeful looks that lightened the atmosphere. Even Duffy's face, which had been gloomy with guilt, was now wreathed with a smile.

  "Get me some rope, Duffy," Gabe ordered. "If I can get hold of the two legs of one foal, we'll try to repel the one and make the way clear for the other." Duffy was gone and back in quick time. They all watched as Gabe struggled and strained to achieve his goal. Perspiration glistened over his skin, muscles flexing in undulating swells of power. Here was the combination Jonni had told Trevor about, strength, skill and intelligence — brawn and brains.

  "I've got it," he murmured, and relaxed for a minute to catch his breath. His gaze pierced Jonni. "Do you understand what I'm planning to do?"

  "Yes, I think so," she nodded.

  "Come and give me a hand, then," Gabe ordered. She moved to kneel beside him and help. "You take the rope and turn the backward foal around while I pull the other foal out," he instructed.

  In unison, they worked in conjunction with the mare's weakening contractions. The strenuous task within close quarters involved physical contact. It was unavoidable. Yet Jonni was only conscious of the strength that flowed from his hard, warm body into hers.

  When the tiny hooves and wet face of the first foal made their appearance, a low cheer was raised by Duffy and Ted. Large, luminous brown eyes blinked at Jonni, whose muscles were trembling from her effort. From somewhere in the depths of her reserve she found the strength for a weak laugh of joy. A few seconds later the foal was lying in the straw and Duffy was tenderly wiping it dry.

  "One down. One more to go," Gabe declared tiredly, and smiled at Jonni. "I'll take over."

  She scooted out of his way, weary but revived by a happiness she'd never know before. Leaning against the side of the stall, she watched the coming of the second foal. Without the obstacle of its twin, the birth was easy.

  "A pair of fillies," Duffy announced, "as pretty as their mother."

  "How's the mare?" Gabe asked, slowly pus
hing his tall frame upright.

  "You just give her a few minutes and she'll be investigatin' those little girls of hers," Ted stated with a proud-papa look.

  Jonni tore her gaze away from the delicate perfection of the foals to watch as Gabe walked to the bucket of water to rinse himself off. He'd saved the mare and her foals, but she knew no one would congratulate him for it — it was part of his job. But it contained its own built-in reward system, those two tiny creatures in the stall, the beauty of birth.

  There was no towel to dry on, so Gabe reached for his shirt. He saw her looking at him and smiled. Tugging his shirt on over his wet skin, he made no attempt to button it. When he walked toward her Jonni rose guiltily to her feet. She hadn't exerted nearly as much effort as he had, nor worked for the length of time that he had. She was sitting and he was standing, a circumstance Jonni immediately changed.

  When Jonni stood up, the mare rolled upright to gather her legs under her. After one shaky attempt to rise, the chestnut mare succeeded in getting to her feet. Turning her head, she pricked her ears toward the foals and whickered softly.

  A bit intimidated by their strange new world, the foals blinked at the sound. One curled back its lip and emitted a squeaky answer. The mare turned in the straw and lowered her head to investigate the pair.

  "Sugar and spice and everything nice, that's what they're made of, Lida," Gabe told the mare. Whether he was aware of it or not, Jonni knew he had just named the foals.

  "They're beautiful." Jonni made the obvious and unnecessary comment.

  His arm moved behind her to cross diagonally from shoulder to waist, his hand cupping her hipbone. It was a silent communication of a shared experience and the wonder of it. Jonni automatically curved an arm behind his broader waist to complete the quiet linking together. It seemed a very natural thing.

  "Look," Gabe instructed.

  An awed and waiting silence stole through the four members of the audience. Straw rustled beneath miniature hooves as the foal with the spot of white on its forehead made its first attempt to stand on its toothpick legs. The mare nudged her encouragement after an initial collapse. The foal tried again. Its head made it top-heavy and its legs were too long, but it would grow into both in time.