by Carol Arens
“In the rain? Really, I’m capable of surviving a raindrop.”
He strode through the doorway from his bedroom, fully clothed with his hair slicked back and tied in a leather strap.
“Flash floods come up out of nowhere in these parts.”
He grabbed her hand, held it tight in his big strong fingers until they reached the safety of the barn.
If there had been a flood lurking, conditions didn’t show it. There had been only mud, water and more mud. But nothing of the magnitude of a flood.
When he stepped into the barn he let go of her, but not so fast that Grandfather did not notice and raise an eyebrow.
* * *
Lantree noted two things when he rushed into the barn.
Francie lying on the straw, and Hershal’s smile when he saw him clutching Rebecca’s hand.
Curse it! He’d been so caught up in the warm glide of her fingers against his that he’d neglected to let go before rushing inside.
For sure the old man would be up to some matchmaking now. Hershal had long insisted that he would be better off with a wife.
Seeing the cow lying still was a relief. It would be easier to deliver the calf when she was calm and not fighting against his help.
“Well now, Francie,” he said, approaching her with care. “Looks like you’ll need some help this time.”
He sat beside her, calming and reassuring her with a stroke on her nose.
“Can you bring the lanterns closer, Hershal? Our girl seems easy enough that she won’t knock one over, but stay by just in case.”
Thunder rolled over the roof. With the barn built as solidly as the house, and having no windows, the flash of lightning didn’t intrude.
“I’ll need your help, Rebecca.”
Her expression was apprehensive, but her voice was not. “Tell me what to do.”
“Strip down to your chemise.”
“I beg your pardon?”
For someone who had recently ogled him in his bath, she appeared properly scandalized.
He stripped off his shirt, then pointed to a bucket of clean water.
“There’s lye soap beside it. Wash up to your shoulders.”
When she continued to stare dumbstruck at him he said, “It will reduce the risk of infection.”
“I’ll go fetch one of the hands,” Grandfather said. “This is no business for a lady.”
“Maybe not, but there’s no time to go for help.”
“Aunt Eunice did raise me to be a lady, Grandfather.” Rebecca unbuttoned her wet shirt then peeled it off her shoulders and down her arms. “But not a helpless one.”
She hurried to the bucket and thoroughly scrubbed her arms.
Lantree washed up after her.
If he warned her about what she might be called upon to do, he reckoned she would go screaming from the barn.
“Sit here beside Francie’s head and talk gently to her, just don’t touch her with your clean hands.”
Delivering this calf was going to be difficult. He needed to turn it without Francie becoming panicked.
If she thrashed about, the results could be disastrous.
Luckily, Rebecca seemed to know what was required. Keeping her arms extended behind her she leaned down, close to the cow’s ear. She spoke softly, or maybe she was singing.
He couldn’t be sure of anything at the moment, because in leaning forward, the bodice of her chemise sagged. Right there in front of his eyes was the cleavage of a pair of fair-skinned, round and lovely breasts.
It was a lucky thing that Hershal, intent on guarding the lamps, did not notice where Lantree’s attention had landed.
Even luckier, Rebecca, busy crooning to Francie, had not noticed.
The cow’s belly suddenly hardened under his hand, drawing him back to the reason he was in the barn.
“I’m going to reach inside her as soon as this contraction quits, see if I can feel about for what’s wrong.”
Rebecca nodded. The color drained from her face. She laid her cheek on Francie’s broad head.
“There will be a nice fat baby for you to love when this is over,” she murmured.
Slowly he inserted his hand, then his arm up to his elbow, exploring gently.
He felt for a hoof and found it. Then he located another, and then a third. Two tiny hooves were already presenting, and there were three inside.
“Twins!” he announced. “Let’s see if we can clear the way for the little fellows to come out.”
Rebecca raised a brow but continued to whisper in Francie’s ear.
“You’ll need help,” Hershal said, then he left the lanterns unattended and walked toward the bucket of water.
“Rebecca will have to do it, her arms are slender.”
“That’s no job for a—”
“Tell me what to do,” Rebecca broke in then scooted toward him.
“Hold her tail up and away for now. I need to get this little fellow back inside.”
The calf was nearly where it ought to be when he encountered resistance.
“Rebecca, let go of the tail. Run your hand alongside my arm.”
He admired her. How could he not, when without hesitation, she reached inside a living, breathing cow.
“Do you feel a hoof? It’s caught behind the pelvic bone. Belongs to the second calf. I think that’s what’s holding everything up.” His breath came short, winded with the effort of holding the first calf in place while Rebecca located the oddly placed hoof.
“I feel it.”
“Real gentle, now, push it backward. If you don’t feel it returning to the same position, slowly withdraw your arm.”
She nodded. Her head was close to his and he felt her damp hair brush his cheek.
“All right,” she murmured. “It’s out of the way.”
When Rebecca’s arm was free he said, “I’m going to do some positioning, then I’ll need your help pulling this little guy out.”
The turning proceeded better than he’d hoped it would, and when the hooves emerged again it was short work helping the calf into the world.
“Clear his nose. If he doesn’t start to breathe tickle his nostrils with straw. If that doesn’t work you’ll need to breathe into his nose.”
His attention was yanked from the newborn to the one coming all on its own. When this one was delivered he turned to see Rebecca mouth to nose with the firstborn.
What had been grudging admiration for Hershal’s granddaughter had changed to full-blown respect, freely given.
* * *
By the saints, calves were sweet creatures. No wonder Fancy Francie licked them with such devotion.
In the hour after their birth, Barstow and the hands had visited, cooed over the newborns and declared them exceptional.
Indeed, they were perfect and beautiful in every way. One was a dark rich brown and the other reddish with white markings on its face and feet.
They all discussed names but in the end Lantree had suggested that Rebecca ought to do the honors since they owed their successful birth to her.
That was not true, of course. She had only done what Lantree had instructed her to.
Still, she did feel a glow having played a small role in the happy outcome. It tugged at a tender spot in her heart, watching the bond being forged between cow and calves.
She tried not to dwell on the fact that this kind of fulfillment would never be for her.
For now she would sit in the quiet barn and rejoice in this peaceful moment.
Earlier, when Barstow had gone back to the house, Grandfather went with him. Shortly after that, Jeeter yawned. Tom caught it and added a stretch. The pair of them returned to the bunkhouse, grinning wide.
Even though it was
late, she was not ready to retire to her room. She had told everyone that she would wait for a break in the rain, but really, she just wanted to sit in the dim light of the barn, breathing in the clean animal scents while listening to the storm blow across on the roof.
“I think I’ll call the little bull Fancy Clancy, for his mama,” she announced.
Lantree looked up from forking clean straw into Fancy’s stall.
“It’s a good name.” He spread the straw over the dirt floor. “What about the little heifer?”
“Since she’s the color of coffee, her name is Mocha...which I wish I had a cup of.”
“You’ve earned it.” He shot her a smile.
Well now, she’d help with calving every day in order to see his expression look so congenial.
He winked. Yes...yes he did, by George. He quite deliberately winked at her then walked into the tack room.
“What do you think of that, Miss Fancy? Or, I guess I ought to call you Mrs. given you are the mother of twins.”
She stood up, walked toward Clancy then knelt beside him to give him a hug.
She had given this one his first breath. In her mind, they had bonded over it. Would he recognize that connection when he was grown and grazing free in the meadows?
The thought startled her. She hadn’t even stopped to wonder if she would be here that long, she had just assumed that she would.
“This has got to mean that this is where I’m supposed to be, Clancy. I think I might be home...at last.”
She stroked his ears. After a moment of admiring him, she walked over to the tall pile of fresh straw where Lantree intended to sleep tonight in order to keep an eye on Francie.
She sat down then flung herself backward, gazing up at the shadowed rafters with her arms spread wide.
It was late, after midnight. She ought to go back to the house. But the rain had grown heavier and the barn was cozy.
She closed her eyes. The straw felt plush between her shoulders. She wriggled into it, breathed deep and felt her lugs expand, her body go limp. She sighed, long and contented.
Then she smelled it...coffee!
Sitting up all of a sudden she saw Lantree standing ten feet away, a steaming cup in each of his big hands and an odd expression on his face.
“I didn’t mean to rumple your bed,” she said, embarrassed to be caught doing it.
“Stay where you are.” His voice was gruff, but there was that smile again. She quite liked it.
She remained where she was but the lounging went out of her. She sat straight-backed, as prim and proper as the situation would allow.
Lantree settled beside her and handed her one of the mugs.
“Three cheers and an extra one for good measure.” He tipped the lip of his mug against hers and let it linger for a moment.
“Thank you,” she said and could not recall a time when she’d meant it more. The mug set in her fingers, warm liquid comfort.
“You earned it, that and more.” He tapped the tip of his cup to hers. “On behalf of Francie and the calves, I thank you...we all do.”
“I didn’t do much, only what you told me to.”
“Plenty of women would not have.”
“You certainly seemed to know what you were doing.” She took a sip of coffee even though it was steamy-hot.
“Most cowboys know what to do.” He took a long swig from his mug and swallowed it slowly, looking hard at her while he did. “The truth is, I haven’t always worked cattle. A lifetime ago I was a medical doctor.”
What had happened? How could he say that and not expect her to be bursting with curiosity?
“Hershal hasn’t told you anything about me, then?”
Her grandfather had told her plenty of things, all of them to convince her how wonderful Lantree was.
“He’s never said anything about your past.”
“I reckon you want to know.”
Did she want to take her next breath?
“I wouldn’t want to delve into personal matters.”
“Everyone on the ranch knows my story. There’s no reason you shouldn’t.”
He took another long draw on his coffee.
“Everything, I reckon, begins with Boone, my twin brother.”
He was quiet for a moment so she said, “You have a twin? How very nice.”
“It used to be, when we were kids.”
“I never had a sibling. I wish I had.” She did, however, have Melinda, and she counted her blessings every day for it.
Lantree drummed his fingers on his mug.
For someone who wanted to tell his story, he was slow to get to it.
“Believe me, you wouldn’t want this one.”
There was nothing she could say about that so she kept silent, waiting for him to continue.
“My brother made a mistake...a bad one. It ruined his life and shaped mine.”
She bit her tongue not wanting to pry, but at the same time she desperately wanted to know what had made Lantree Walker who he was.
“When we were seventeen, Boone killed a man. I don’t think he meant to do it, but he was drunk and offended. The other man was even more drunk and offended than Boone was. My brother fired his gun without considering the consequences. I believe Boone was truly shocked to see the man clutch his chest and fall.
“I tried to keep the man from dying, but I was just a kid. I didn’t know what to do. I just watched Boone run away scared, while the fellow he shot bled to death in my arms.
“I can’t remember a time I ever felt so useless, guilty, too, since Boone was my twin. I decided that I would never sit by and watch someone die without knowing how to help. So I went to medical school believing that I could make a difference.” He shrugged and took a long swallow of hot coffee.
“What happened to your brother? What became of him?”
“There was a witness. I didn’t see him until after Boone had fled, but he stepped out of the shadows and told the marshal that my brother had fired in cold blood. I said he didn’t, but a stranger’s lie held more weight than a brother’s truth. I reckon if Boone hadn’t run it might have made a difference. But then, might is a damn shaky word. He could just as easily have been hanged outright. Plenty of things have been said about my brother over the years. To me they don’t ring true to the boy I remember.”
“Have you seen him since?”
He shook his head. The lantern’s glow shimmered in his long hair.
“It must have been horrible for you...not knowing. I imagine it still is.”
“In more ways than you can imagine. Especially once the wanted posters started circulating. I was arrested once and spent a week in jail before they figured out I wasn’t Boone.”
“I assume this is why you had to give up your career?”
He shook his head, then finished his coffee in one long gulp.
“It was something else.”
She sensed that he was finished speaking about it. Unfortunately, she was not finished wanting to know more.
“Do you miss your old life...healing and saving lives?”
“A doctor’s life isn’t always saving lives. Sometimes, he’s the only one left standing.”
Outside, the wind raced around the eaves, making the sudden silence inside rife with the unspoken.
“There was a fever that came through my town. It killed a lot of people. I survived...but the doctor in me didn’t.”
“I’m so horribly sorry,” she whispered through the tightening muscles of her throat.
He shrugged and shot her a quick smile. “Most days I’m content to be where I am. I love this wide-open country. If I had the choice of going back to the city or staying here...well, I reckon I’d stay here with your grandfather and the cows.”
“Just so you know, Grandfather can’t stop telling me how wonderful you are.”
For an instant she thought... No, she didn’t after all. Grown men did not flush when given a compliment.
“I didn’t trust you in the beginning, I reckon you know that?” He shifted his gaze from her to the calves.
“I’m not convinced that you do now.” There were moments like this one when he let down his guard in her presence, but other times he looked at her like he was sifting her soul for sins.
“I want to. I’d like nothing more than to believe that you have Hershal’s best interests at heart.”
“I love my grandfather.” This conversation was taking a turn she was not comfortable with. “I can’t imagine why you would believe that’s not so.”
She set her mug of coffee on the ground. All of a sudden it tasted bitter.
“I don’t know you. Every day I watch Hershal growing more fond of you. At the same time, this ranch becomes more valuable. The timing of your arrival gets my curiosity going.”
“You can put your suspicions to rest. I love my grandfather and would cut off my hands before I’d hurt him.”
“So would I.” He rested one elbow on his knee, then his chin on his open palm, which shifted his posture to lean closer to her. “Rebecca, I want to like you.”
She matched his pose, tipping toward him.
“I want to like you, too.”
She also wanted to slap him for thinking she would do her grandfather harm...but, and she could not deny this, she wondered what it would be like to kiss him.
It wouldn’t take much to find out, just a slight forward movement and a pucker of lips.
“You are a beautiful woman, Rebecca.”
Why, oh why, did he have to go and ruin a lovely moment?
She stood up quickly, the better to glare down at him.
Out of long habit, it flashed through her mind that maybe her father would have loved her enough to stay had she been more like Mama’s pretty dolls.