“Really?”
“Really. You’ve seen the bank of screens in the tack room.”
“I thought that was for monitoring the mares in labor,” she said.
“That too. But there’s no part of the facility that doesn’t have surveillance. We had someone take a chisel to our barn roof last spring. A couple of bales of hay got soaked clean through.”
Amber nodded soberly. “Wet hay can smolder. Was there a fire?”
“Nope. We noticed the damp hay and got it outside in time.”
“Was that part of the trouble that Laura’s cousin made?”
“I guess you’ve heard about that?” Lance was unsurprised.
“Just gossip,” she admitted. “At least six people have told me that the Belingtons are banned from the ranch, and that one of them is actually in jail for trying to kill the boss.”
“All true. Nolan Belington was trying to get control of Miss Laura’s property. He hired himself a pack of scoundrels to steal her stock and wreck her business.”
“Gosh.” Amber’s eyes were round.
“But Steve and Laura caught the rustlers,” he said quickly. “And we got the guy who made those holes in the barn roof. He turned out to be a disgruntled stable hand. Cody Saunders was fired for laziness and a bad attitude. Now he’s in jail too. Anyway, Steve decided that Miss Laura’s security needed beefing up and he did a thorough job of it. Be damned hard for Dog or anyone else to sneak up on any part of the stud.”
“That’s a comfort,” she said. But she didn’t look comforted.
“I’ve met losers like Blondie and Dog and they are all the same under the attitude: it’s always someone else’s fault that they are in trouble,” he said. “But we’ll be careful and keep an eye out for them.”
“My Uncle Pierre always says that learning to take responsibility for your actions is what turns a child into an adult.”
“Your Uncle Pierre sounds like a wise man,” he said. And just like his own granddaddy.
“Uncle Pierre is the head of our family,” she replied. She pulled out her phone and showed him a photograph of a tall, broad, mustached man whose straight back belied his white hair and wrinkles. “There’s not much he doesn’t know about human nature.”
He almost took his wallet out and shared his snapshot of Tommy Jeff. But Lily returned with their shakes and the moment passed.
*Bear Pause
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Lance~
This wasn’t a date. He had to keep reminding himself that tonight he was just teaching Amber her job. But after supper he still got out his razor and shaved. What the hell. A fellow ought to be prepared for his luck to change. He took a shower and put on a clean shirt.
He got to the stable early and dismissed Dusty. He cast a disapproving eye on the way the other hand had made up the tack room cot. He swiftly remade it so it would pass inspection. There was no excuse for sloppiness.
Then he sat down in front of the monitors to observe the horses and wait for Amber to come. It wasn’t a date, but his heart sure was beating like it was one.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Amber~
She had meant to lie down and have a nap before she went back to the stable block. But by the time she had cleaned up after supper and spent a half hour on the phone with Heather, she no longer felt like she could fall asleep. She had settled for reading quietly until just before eleven.
At a quarter to, she washed her face and combed her hair. She was tempted to change into something more glamorous than her flannel work shirt and oldest jeans. Maybe put on some lipstick. But she had to guard against that. No matter how Lance had looked at her, no matter how he smelled, this was not a date. She had been invited to help oversee the birth of a foal, not to canoodle.
This was part of her job – probably the most important part. Healthy foals were a necessity on a stud. Of course, the foals the mares were giving birth to this spring were not of Laura’s breeding. The mares were carrying the foals that had been conceived when they had been bred last year. They would have been sent to a different stud, where they would have given birth to the previous year’s foals before being serviced.
For all that Laura seemed genuinely attached to her horses, the Bascom Quarter Horse Stud was a business. Laura bred and trained her horses for sale. Laura did breed her own stock, but Sissy was not one of her own mares. If Alberta’s Silver Scilla lost her foal, Laura’s reputation would suffer and so would her pocketbook.
Sissy had been sent to the Bascom Quarter Horse Stud to be bred to Laura’s stallion Buddha. The breeding would take place as soon as she came into estrus, which would be within six to twelve days of giving birth. That was why the mares did not give birth at home unless they were being artificially inseminated.
By the time Amber got out to the stable block, most of the lights had been dimmed to permit the horses to sleep. Mares generally gave birth in the dark. But human beings naturally needed lights in order to help. Dim lights had been set low on the walls so that they barely illuminated the lanes between the horse boxes.
Amber went into the tack room to hang up her parka. Lance was seated in the swivel chair at the desk, looking at the video screens. The cameras panned slowly over each doorway and each horse box. The horses were sleeping – some standing up and some lying down. Now that she knew about the security aspect, she could see that the cameras moved relentlessly over every area no matter how deep in shadow.
Lance looked up and smiled his crooked smile at her. He was wearing his eyepatch and his hair was a little mussed as if he had been lying down. But the narrow tack room cot was made up military fashion with tight hospital corners, and the coverlet lay taut over the pillow. Maybe he had forgotten to smooth his hair after he took off his watch cap.
She slipped off her parka and hung it in her locker. “What do we do now?”
“Sissy is fast asleep. I don’t know if it’s going to be tonight after all. There’s no point going over to her stall and disturbing her until she gets restless.” Lance waved an arm towards a stool. “Sit beside me and we’ll keep watch together.”
Amber pulled up the stool beside Lance’s chair. “I hadn’t realized how many cameras there were in the stable block.”
Lance nodded. “There are cameras on every horse box and on all the entrances – inside and out. And a couple scanning the training rings as well. Steve did a good job.”
Amber had been listening to the whispers and the gossip in the lunchroom for two months, so she knew that Laura’s husband was a hotshot executive in a big security company. Steve Holden had turned out to be one of Clive Bascom’s descendants – just like her own Grandma Shirley. For sure Laura’s great-grandpa had been a randy, careless son of a bear. Hard to believe he was originally from French Town.
Steve Holden liked to spend his weekends playing with the horses. Not that training them was a casual activity, but everyone had emphasized from the beginning that the horses were supposed to enjoy what they were being taught. And that worked best if the people teaching them enjoyed themselves too.
So far Amber had only been allowed to watch as the yearlings were taught to walk on a line with a bridle. In fact, except for mucking out and grooming, mostly what she did was observe. Well, it made sense. She had a lot to learn. She settled herself quietly beside Lance to do just that.
Lance indicated the smaller of two screens. “I’m going to put this camera right on Sissy. If she wakes up we, will go check on her. Sometimes they surprise you. And there are four other mares who could go into labor unexpectedly.”
Amber knew that there was always someone in the stable block keeping watch during the birthing season. The mares were simply too valuable to waste time getting dressed and coming over from the living quarters after trouble was spotted. The tack room was pleasant enough – and you could in theory watch from the bed. But Amber was grateful that Lance did not seem to want to lie down. He fiddled with his mouse and the array of tiles on the la
rger screen popped up four larger images that displayed sleeping mares.
“So what do we do if one of them does go into labor?” she asked.
“We go stand in the stall with her and watch. Usually a foal just slips out. We generally give the mother a hand cleaning up her baby and we like to disinfect them both – it prevents complications down the road. But at the first sign of trouble, tonight we’ll be calling Freddie.”
Amber already knew that Laura’s dad Dr. Freddie Bascom was a veterinarian. But obviously he could not keep watch every single night. There was a roster, and everyone took turns. So far Amber had not been scheduled for night watches. But that was because no one thought she was experienced enough. Which she hoped was about to change. She couldn’t help but be excited at the prospect of watching a foal being born.
“What do you mean disinfect them?” she asked. Surely foals were born sterile?
“You never know what germs are floating around an apparently clean stable. And even after the mom licks them clean, they need a wash. To be on the safe side, we wipe the mares off after they give birth. And once the mares have eaten the afterbirth and licked their foals, we dip the babies’ umbilicus in the disinfectant too. And then we clean out all the old straw, swab down the stall floor and replace the straw.” Lance chuckled. “It’s not a glamorous operation, Amber, but you’re going to love it.”
“I thought horses just dropped their foals without any real discomfort or hazard? After all, they evolved to give birth outside, and alone, in the dark.”
“And pretty much they do,” Lance assured her. “But every now and again the foal presents wrong. Or the mare has twins. Or she spends too much time in labor. That’s when we need an equine midwife. Carlos and Laura and I are pretty good at it, but Dr. Freddie is the expert. Don’t worry, I’ve been working here for seven years, and we’ve never lost a mare or a foal yet.”
“How did you happen to start working in the stable?” Amber asked.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Amber~
Lance’s drawl got more pronounced, but his voice was easy as he told her, “When I was discharged from the Marines, I heard some scuttlebutt about a place in Colorado where you could almost guarantee being given a job if you were a veteran.
“I was at loose ends, and there didn’t seem to be a place at home for me. So I moseyed over to check out those rumors and found out that they were all true. I was hired to work on the ranch, but Miss Laura needed a stable hand. She asked me if I liked horses. I sure do, so here I am.”
She could tell that there was a lot more to his story than his lighthearted explanation suggested. But all she said was, “Where are you from originally?”
“Tennessee. Falkirk, Tennessee.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Well I’d never heard of French Town.” There was a laugh in his voice and she smiled back. “Falkirk was its own place once, but these days it’s pretty much a bedroom community for Nashville. Lot of subdivisions now. But when I was a boy there were still horse farms as far as the eye could see. In those days, you could earn some pocket money helping out whenever they were shorthanded.”
“Does your family still live there?”
“Are you kidding? My family has been there so long, they’ve grown roots into those hills.”
Amber nodded and shared his grin. “That’s not such a bad thing. My sister flatly refused to move away from Yakima Ridge and our kinsfolk.”
“Whatever made you decide to pick up and leave your twin behind?”
Amber shrugged. “I was ready for a change. I love French Town, and I love the Pacific Northwest, but I got tired of being the poor relation.” What had made her say that? She had had no intention of revealing so much.
Lance’s voice was surprised. “Hard to imagine Mrs. Patrick Bascom’s twin sister being anyone’s poor relation.”
“I’m not married to Patrick Bascom.” And while no one in French Town was exactly rich, she and Heather had grown up having to be grateful for way too much stingy charity.
“Fair enough. What did you do before you came here?”
“I clerked in the hardware store.”
“This must be a big change.”
“It is, and it isn’t. There’s not much difference between sweeping out the stable block and sweeping out the hardware store on Saturday evening. But I have to say, I like the horses better than I liked our customers.” A lot more.
Lance chuckled. “You seem to have a way with them.”
His praise made her feel warm inside. Before she could respond, a movement on the screen caught his eye. He adjusted the smaller screen. Sissy was still fast asleep. But one of the other pregnant mares was standing. Bitsy moved restlessly and her tail swished from side to side. She nibbled her belly and stamped her feet.
“She’s probably just fine, but we should go and check on her to be sure. Sometimes they just move around – I guess the foals kick and it gets uncomfortable for the mom.” Lance pushed back his chair and stood up. “But sometimes that biting means they’re having contractions. Other times it’s only flies.”
Lance pulled out a small but powerful flashlight and scrutinized the straw in Bitsy’s stall.
“What are you looking for?” she asked him.
“Any kind of discharge.”
Amber sniffed the air. It smelled pleasantly of horse and dung with a small overlay of piss. In other words, normal for a stable. But she could hardly tell Lance that now that she knew what to watch for, her nose would have picked up on any new discharge. Bitsy raised her head sleepily and accepted having her muzzle and ears scratched. Lance crooned at the mare and checked her hindquarters.
“I don’t see any sign of wet. I think she was just getting comfortable. Go back to sleep, girl.” He snapped off the light. The mare blew down his neck, folded her legs and settled back down in the deep straw.
As they returned to the tack room, he pointed with the flashlight to what Amber had assumed were sparrows’ nests. “Those are our cameras,” he said. “While we’re on our feet, we might as well check on Sissy.” He led the way to her stall.
They stood side by side looking over the barrier at the sleeping mare. Lance did not turn on his flashlight. “All those cameras can be viewed from the big House as well as the tack room,” he informed her, “And from the Diegos’ place too.”
This was the third time he had indicated that there were cameras watching them. Was he telling her that she was safe from his attentions, or explaining why he wasn’t acting on his low-level arousal? Because his scent was the scent of a man who liked what he saw.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Main House
Calvin~
“I’ll just take a gander at the mares before I turn in, son.” Dad yawned and stretched before getting out of his armchair.
Cal nodded at Dad. It might be hours past Freddie’s bedtime, but taking a last look at the stables before bed was an ingrained habit. Thanks to this new generation of CCTV, Dad no longer had to make the long, cold trek out to the stud. Cal set his brandy glass down and followed his father over to the bank of screens above the long wooden desk.
Freddie flipped through tiles, scanning sleeping mares breathing contentedly in the infrared light of the CCTV cameras. He stopped at a stall where a man and a woman stood intently observing a mare asleep on her side. The horse’s flank moved rhythmically and easily.
Cal’s belly tightened. “What in blazes is Amber Dupré doing in the stable block at this time of night?”
Dad’s lips twitched, although his voice was bland when he answered. “I’d guess Lance is teaching her to assist with the mares. It’s past time Amber learned how to help with births.”
Calvin snorted. Prescott was standing so close to Amber he was almost touching her. His body was angled towards hers in unconscious masculine possessiveness. “That girl shouldn’t be out loose. She’s so green it’s painful. Just watch, she’ll fall for the first plausible liar she meets
.”
“Amber? She’s a sensible young woman,” Dad said. “She puts me in mind of your mother.” He sighed gustily. “If I were a younger man, I would give young Lance a run for his money.”
“She’s young enough to be your daughter,” snapped Calvin.
“Your mom was younger than Amber when I first met her,” Dad reminisced. “And every bit as spunky. Just as smart too. Nothing wrong with Amber’s brains. She will make some lucky man a good wife.”
“You think Prescott wants to marry her?”
“He’d better. I will not have him trifling with Heather’s sister.”
On screen, Lance Prescott stepped backward and let Amber precede him. They went down Lane Five towards the line of scoured wheelbarrows. Calvin leaned over to track them. He pushed buttons to switch to a different camera. Lance opened a tall built-in cupboard door to display neatly arranged bottles and gleaming equipment.
“She’s a cozy armful,” Dad mused. “Built for bear. And babies. Pretty as a field of flowers too.”
Calvin watched closely as Prescott showed Amber the adjacent cupboard where the disinfectant and sterile rags were kept. Did that bastard have to crowd her like that? Amber was smiling and nodding at something that Prescott had said to her. She did not jerk away when his sleeve grazed hers. The silly child was damned well encouraging that fricking opportunist.
“Lance Prescott is no bear,” he forced the words through his clenched teeth.
“Nope. But Amber doesn’t seem to mind. Lance is a hard worker, and a good man. That little girl could do a whole lot worse.”
Calvin clamped his jaw on a flood of invective. Since when had he become obsessed with ample curves and a pink and white complexion? The girl was cute enough, but cute wasn’t enough. Not for him. His job was just to look out for Pat’s sister-in-law. Make sure that sumbitch didn’t take advantage of her naiveté. Lance and Amber strolled toward the tack room where, if memory served, there was a cot.
Bear Fate: A Billionaire Oil Bearons Romance (Bear Fursuits Book 8) Page 7