“Laura and Dr. Freddie hired themselves a couple of veterinarians last month,” Carlos said. “But they don’t start for another two weeks.”
“And then they will have to be taught everything,” finished Calvin.
“Well, no. Both Dr. Franklin and Dr. Arruta did a practicum on the Double B a couple years back — before they qualified. They know our ways. It’s just that they are both working out their notice and can’t just drop everything to come ten days early.”
“I guess that’s something. You guys hire yourselves an archivist too?”
Carlos shook his head. “Laura is mighty choosy and she finds fault with every person we interview.”
Calvin chuckled. “She doesn’t really want to hire one.”
“Nope.”
Amber pulled a few strands of hair from the curry comb. “Should I turn out Gerty next, Carlos?”
“You should,” the foreman told her. “And then you come back here and give Calvin a hand with Sissy. He can explain the process to you.” He turned to Calvin. “She’s never seen a birth.”
The last thing Amber wanted was to share tight quarters under Calvin Bascom’s disapproving eye. But Carlos was the foreman. “Yes, sir. I’ll see to Gerty and then I’ll come back to Sissy.”
She made sure her best smile was pasted in place and got cracking on Gerty, who was in truth Fescue’s Great and Good Delux Delight. Like all the other mares, she was hugely pregnant. Amber nudged her aside and began the chore of clearing out the soiled bedding.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Calvin~
He went to the tack room for a folding stool and a mug of coffee. Somehow coffee in the city never tasted as good as this sludge he had grown up on. Maybe the aroma of horses had something to do with its superior flavor.
Or maybe it put him in mind of the days when he and Luther would run in and out of the stables getting underfoot and learning all there was to know about Quarter Horses. Those had been some good times. Christ, even after all these years, he missed his twin like a lost arm.
He glanced at the monitors. Prescott was in the training ring with a big three-year-old chestnut. He was putting the gelding through his paces. Prescott sat in the saddle as if he had grown there, one with the huge colt. There had been a time when Cal had loved training the young stock himself, but he was too damn heavy these days. There was a price for being a big muscular son of a bear. If he was going to ride, his mount had to be fully grown with lots of well-developed bone and muscle.
A glance at the monitor informed him that Sissy was shifting from foot to foot. He had better get back to mama before she dropped her foal alone. Amber was working in a stall with a pregnant roan mare. As she tossed straw into her wheelbarrow, her magnificent bosom strained at the snaps of her shirt. Of course it did. Well, he’d better get his ass back to Sissy.
He detoured down Aisle Three to catch another glimpse of Miss Dupré. Amber was lifting forkfuls of wet straw into a wheelbarrow with strong, easy movements of her back and arms. Her western plaid shirt and blue jeans were not much different than his own. But on her the effect was electrifying. Dad was right. Every supple inch of this woman was built for bear. Even the sway of her long dark braid was a temptation to his bear.
Absently he noted her ratty work boots were worn to the leather at heel and toe and her baggy work gloves made of cloth. She ought to have better footwear and warm leather gloves that fit. What the hell was Pat thinking? Or Laura? Amber was their responsibility.
Her smooth rhythm faltered. Her straight spine stiffened. He could almost feel the effort of will that kept her from turning to look at him. He abandoned his view of Amber’s curvy ass and narrow waist and headed for Sissy’s stall. He was looking forward to the birth. Which would be delightfully seasoned with a couple of hours in Miss Dupré’s company.
Funny how it all came back to you. The smell of the mare. The tense way she stood as her contractions started. Sissy wasn’t in pain or in danger, but he left his stool to stand by her head and whisper sweet nothings into her twitching ear. Gratefully she rested her great head on his shoulder and blew down her nostrils into his.
Amber found them standing like that when she showed up. She had a mug of coffee in one capable hand. Her disreputable gloves were hanging out of one front pocket.
“She’s not quite straining, but she’s gearing up,” he said.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Right now, just watch. No reason to think she’s going to be fast. But you never know.”
“Should I get the equipment?” The stable always had a clean wheelbarrow full of the sterilized gear that might be needed during labor.
“Read her chart,” Calvin said. He had studied it earlier. This was Sissy’s third birth and while the first had caused her a little trouble, the second had not. His own thought was that her contractions might back off and the birth hold off until nightfall.
Amber picked up the clipboard hanging outside the stall and took her time reading it from the beginning. There were three or four pages documenting each and every feeding and exercise session at the Bascom Stud, and a couple of others underneath with the reports of her previous labors. Amber read it through slowly and then read it again. Her lips tightened.
“I’ll get the labor stuff,” she announced. She vanished.
What the hell had Amber seen to light a fire under her? He had another look at the clipboard. Sissy had been eating, well, like a horse. Right up until this morning. Her feed net still contained most of the hay Amber had filled it with, but she had had a little. Her bucket was a quarter down, so she was drinking. And her chart read like a textbook case of equine labor. Especially last year’s.
Amber returned pushing a wheelbarrow with a large plastic container with a tight-fitting lid. “Just in case,” she said.
“The foal is not likely to come soon,” he corrected. “She had a very standard labor last year.”
“That’s what those notes say,” she agreed. “But that stable is just cutting and pasting the same notes into every mare’s records. Someone is too lazy to keep individual records and just slots the same notes into their template.”
“What do you mean?” he demanded.
“All the mares who have given birth at the Bluefield Quarter Horse Stud have the exact same notes. They all took precisely the same time to give birth and did so at the same times. To the minute. They do get the sex of the foals right — I guess — and the dates are different. But the rest of it is identical. Which just can’t be accurate.”
“You have got to be kidding.” He heard the roar in his voice and gentled it. “That’s a heck of an accusation, Amber. Tell me why you think so.”
“Carlos and Lance have had me reading these charts from start to finish for weeks. From the beginning. The same ones, over and over. Studying them really. At first I thought I was just blurring them together, but then I started noticing the Bluefield Quarter Horse Stud — it came up again and again.”
“That’s perfectly reasonable. It’s one of the top two or three studs. It’s natural that lots of the mares here this year have been previously bred at Bluefield’s.”
“Sure. But none of the other top studs uses precisely the same language and timing for all their mares. We sure don’t. Even the spelling mistakes are identical. And it seemed uncanny that they never have to call a vet.”
Calvin whistled. “Jesus. That means we can’t rely on the notes for Sissy’s last labor.”
“That was my thought. We have no way of knowing if Sissy had a hard time last year, or an easy one. Do we, girl?” She gently stroked the mare’s arching neck.
“Jesus.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Amber~
At least Calvin had stopped looking so damned superior when she had pointed out that Bluefield’s was plagiarizing their own records. It was such a stupid thing to do. The mystery was that considering how all the mares travelled around from stud to stud, no one else had ever not
iced.
Of course if all the mares now at the Bascom Stud had been bred at Bluefield’s last year, the deception would have been caught lickety-split. But when the repetitions were buried at random depths in several separate records, they would not get read by the same person. Not unless a novice like her was set to studying them. But it was hard to believe that those inaccurate records had never been spotted anywhere.
A horse’s labor is a fairly quick event, but it is still not instantaneous. Carlos poked his head in to make sure Sissy was doing okay.
“Not long now,” Calvin said easily. He stroked the mare’s sweating neck and shook his head at Amber. She understood that this was not the moment for revelations about Bluefield’s.
Carlos held up a small brown hand for silence and listened to Sissy’s breathing. “Hear that?” he asked Amber.
“Yes, sir. Sounds heavier than usual but not – if you’ll pardon the pun – labored.”
“That’s right. Cal, you call me if that changes. Don’t forget that there’s Vitamin K in the barrow. And Dr. Freddie is at the cow clinic.” The cow clinic was their nickname for the dispensary and veterinary office attached to the ranch.
Cal didn’t take his eyes off Sissy, but he nodded. Carlos left.
Sometime later Calvin said. “Take her bridle, Amber, I want to check her hind end.”
“I can see hooves,” she reported. This was really exciting.
Calvin moved to the rear and stayed there. Sissy’s foal was born just after lunch. Not that Amber got lunch. She was too busy watching while Calvin used those big hands of his to gently tug the foal out of the birth canal by its spindly legs.
After that things happened fast. The wobbly colt looked surprised to be standing on his four feet. Sissy spent a long time butting him gently towards her udder and licking his wet coat until he was revealed as several shades paler than he had been born. Tears sprang to Amber’s eyes as mother and baby bonded.
“Now the afterbirth,” Calvin said calmly. But it wasn’t. It was another foal. Calvin took this surprise in stride. His voice was just as level as before as he gave his instructions. “I want both Carlos and Freddie on the double.”
She whipped out her phone and sent out the special text. Calvin continued to monitor Sissy. He was patient and gentle with the mare as she struggled with this second birth. Fortunately, this foal was also presenting correctly.
“Get ready to give me that hypodermic with the K,” he ordered. “She may need it.”
Calvin might not have been the patronizing jerk who set her teeth on edge. He crooned unselfconsciously to the horse and comforted her. Sissy strained and a little filly slipped into his big hands just as Carlos rounded the corner.
Amber was sent out to stand in the aisle while Carlos listened to Sissy’s heart and Calvin dealt with the afterbirth. Dr. Freddie showed up soon after to check out all three horses. Despite the unusual labor and undetected twins, Sissy and her foals were fine.
“That’s a bullet dodged.” Freddie came out of her stall beaming. “So what do you think of horse births now, Amber?”
“I hope they’re not all this exciting.” Twins were wonderful, but dangerous and a little too much of a thrill.
“Mostly they’re not,” Dr. Freddie reassured her. “But we certainly got lucky this time. Neither foal is sickly, but naturally they’re not as heavy as I’d like. All three need to be kept warm. And if Sissy is nursing two, she needs her water bucket checked twice as often. We may have to supplement her milk too. Carlos will know.”
“I’ll make sure to check her water, sir.”
“I’ll keep an eye on them,” Carlos said briskly. “I’ll assign someone to stay with them tonight.” The two men left conferring in low voices.
“This is why we need an extra vet.” Calvin summoned Amber back to help clean up. She had to agree that Dr. Freddie was spread awfully thin.
Sissy didn’t mind when Calvin shifted her and her infants closer to the wall, so the bloodstained straw could be removed. But she nipped at Amber as she swabbed down the floor.
“Hey,” Calvin said softly. “None of that, my girl.” He grasped the mare’s bridle so that Amber could throw down fresh straw unmolested.
Then while Calvin handled the foals, Sissy merely watched him benignly. But as soon he gave Amber the colt to rub down, Sissy glared at her. Considering that Amber had been caring for the mare for weeks, this seemed like the basest ingratitude.
“I’m just getting your baby warm,” she assured Sissy.
The horse nibbled at Amber’s braid by way of warning. Calvin’s big hand removed her hair from the horse’s mouth. “She’s slobbered a bit,” he said. He was grinning. He looked younger and happier.
Suddenly she too was filled with euphoria. No wonder everyone had kept telling her that playing equine midwife was not to be missed. It was a total rush. She forgot about being hungry and tired. The colt leaned trustingly into the rough towel that was blotting the last of the amniotic fluid from his coat.
“Should I comb out his tail and mane?” she asked. They were both just soft stubby bristles.
Calvin laughed. “Nope. Let Sissy have the little fellow back as soon as he’s dry. She’ll want to lick him all over to get the smell of antiseptic off. And he needs to nurse some more. His sister needs toweling off too.”
He was right. As soon as she let the foal go, Sissy used her head to support him to her teat. He suckled and then his knees buckled and he collapsed exhausted under his mom. Sissy carefully knelt beside him and snuggled him into her big warm body. The foal was instantly asleep, even as his mother’s big tongue continued to groom him.
As soon as the filly was dry, Sissy squirmed around until she could get to her feet and allow the other foal to nurse too. The tiny female was even less steady on her feet than her brother, but she found the teat easily enough and had her first meal.
Calvin sighed with evident relief. “She’s accepted them both,” he said thankfully.
Amber had not known that was an issue. “She seems to be a good mom.”
“Yeah. But we’ll watch to make sure she has enough milk for two. Let’s get the walls swabbed down, and leave them in peace. We still have to tell Carlos what Bluefield’s is up to. Assuming you can show me a duplicate chart.”
Amber was ready. “Nessy and Lady were at Bluefield three and six years ago.”
“Okay, we’ll put this stuff back, get cleaned up and you show me.” The clipboards were chained to the stall walls to prevent mix-ups in record keeping. It took no time at all to find the Bluefield records for Nessy and Lady.
“Someone’s head is going to roll,” Calvin said grimly. “Well spotted, Amber. I don’t know if you realize how dangerous such a sloppy practice could be.”
“Carlos wouldn’t have wanted me to be familiar with the charts if he didn’t think it was important.” She wondered if he was patronizing her again. “And I guess seeing an unexpected twin birth is the sort of thing that makes you realize that record keeping is crucial.”
“Hmm.” Calvin was re-reading the records on the clipboards. “Any others?”
“Two or three,” she confessed. “But offhand I can’t remember. Of course, I might have missed some.”
“Maybe. Most of these mares will have been to Bluefield’s – including Laura’s.” His voice was grim. “Tell you what. You go have some lunch, I’ll call Steve and see what’s happening with Laura, and we’ll make photocopies of the files that are corrupted.”
“Okay. But first I have to sterilize the wheelbarrow and restock it in case it’s needed.” Which it would be in stables brimming with pregnant mares. She hoisted the handles of the one containing the midwifery kit.
“Yup. That’s the rule.” Calvin grinned. “I’ll give you a hand.”
He was as good as his word, mixing up the bleach solution himself and swabbing down the wheelbarrow and the equipment they had used. “Put the rags in the machine to soak – we’ll run it with bleach and
three rinses when there’s a full load.”
Together they went through the checklist in the supply cupboard and made sure everything was in the barrow ready for the next birth. Calvin gave her a hand with the big roll of plastic wrap that was used to keep the barrow sterile.
“You go eat. Meet me here in ninety minutes. We’ll go over those records together after lunch. With Carlos, if I can track him down.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Calvin~
Carlos was eating in the kitchen of the big house while his wife, Rosa, wandered around directing her staff. She opened her arms when she saw Calvin and he scooped her up for a big hug and kisses on both cheeks.
“That’s my woman you’re mauling, boy,” Carlos drawled from the long oak table.
Calvin kissed Rosa a third time and set her on her feet. “You’re just jealous, because she loves me best. But, tell you what, I’ll arm wrestle you for the best cook in Colorado.”
“And what about my opinion?” demanded Rosa, her black eyes twinkling.
The kitchen staff gasped, but the three of them chuckled at their long-standing joke. Rosa had been the ranch cook for years and Carlos had taught Cal and Luther to ride. Laura and Bethany too. They were both dear to him.
“You hear anything from the hospital?” asked Rosa. “Dr. Freddie just left.”
Calvin shook his head. “I called Steve, but the call went to voicemail.”
“They don’t like you to use your cell phone at the hospital,” said Carlos. He smoothed his mustache. Cal knew he was worrying too.
Rosa put a plate on the table. “Sit,” she urged. “You might as well eat in here, seeing as there’s no one else home.” She waved a hand at a young girl who was probably a niece or the daughter of a friend. Before long Calvin found his plate heaped with what he liked best.
“I don’t usually eat this much at lunch time,” he protested.
Rosa snorted. “You need to keep up your strength.”
“And I’ll bet you don’t spend your mornings playing doctor in a stable in Denver. Eat up, son. There’ll only be more hard work this afternoon.” Carlos filled up his plate again. As much of Rosa’s good cooking as he ate, at past seventy he was still the wiry powerhouse of Cal’s youth.
Bear Fate: A Billionaire Oil Bearons Romance (Bear Fursuits Book 8) Page 9