Once he was settled, she tried again to ease herself away, but the dog started to rise again. “No, North.” Frustration and worry were starting to mingle in her chest. She had to go help Mrs. Scott before the woman burned herself, but she couldn’t chance North rising and injuring himself further.
She darted a look at Reuben, still sitting at the table. As usual, he was watching her. What was the man waiting for? He could have stepped in to help any time. Dare she ask him to?
She forced a smile. “Would you mind sitting with North while I help your mum?”
He raised a brow, one corner of his mouth twitching. “I think he’s playing on your sympathies.” But he rose and came over.
While he knelt beside the dog to distract it, Cathleen was able to scoot away. “I’ll get some water heated for those dishes.” She stepped beside Mrs. Scott and helped ease the plates from her hands into the dry sink.
The two of them settled into their normal after-dinner routine, with Cathleen gently guiding the older woman in small tasks where she wouldn’t injure herself.
“Is this your coat?”
Reuben’s quiet comment caught her up short. She’d almost forgotten he was still in the room. She turned to study him as he held up what looked to be a sleeve from under North. “Yes. I need to get him some better bedding, but that’s what I carried him back in.”
It was dim in the corner of the room where Reuben sat, so she couldn’t see the nuances in his expression, but those looked like scowl lines across his forehead. Without another word, he rose to his full, massive height and headed into his mother’s bed chamber. Peculiar.
A rustling noise drifted from that room, but she did her best to ignore it as she scrubbed the soup pot. This was his mother’s home—or his really, since he was the man of the family now. If he wanted to dig around back there, it wasn’t any of her business.
But she’d never been good at containing her curiosity.
He finally returned a few minutes later, and she tried not to be obvious as she craned her neck to see what he would do next. Something large and fluffy draped across his arms, as he came to stand by the table. “Here’s something that might help.”
She dried her hands on a cloth, then turned to study the object. “What it is?” Some kind of fur. A blanket, perhaps?
He held it up, and the mass began to take shape. And what a shape. Tan buckskin formed a coat. Darker fur lined the inside and peeked out at each opening. Some kind of beading formed designs on both side panels, and she stepped closer to get a better look.
The beadwork took the shape of animals. A bear, standing tall on its hind feet in front of a cave. A mountain lion prowling on a leafless limb. The amount of detail in the art was remarkable.
Reaching out to touch the handwork, her skin brushed across the leather. So soft, she had to catch her breath. “Reuben.” Her gaze wandered up to his and found those blue eyes watching her—their intensity stronger than usual. “This is… I’ve never seen anything like it. Whose…?” She wasn’t making sense of her words.
He cleared his throat. “I made it last winter for Mum. I don’t think she’s used it, though. Said she wanted to wait till her old coat wore out. You need something heavier than what you’ve been wearing.” He glanced over his shoulder at the dog. “I’m not sure it’ll come clean anyway.”
Cathleen swallowed down the lump forming in her throat. “I can’t wear this, Reuben. It’s exquisite.” He must have spent weeks on the detailed work.
“That’s why I remembered it. Reminds me of you.”
The way those blue eyes drilled into her… If she’d had trouble breathing before, it was nothing compared to the pressure on her chest now. She might have a better chance if she could only look away from their intensity.
“Please. I want you to wear it.”
She fingered the thick fur lining. Even softer than the buckskin on the outside. “But it’s your mum’s.”
“She would want you to wear it too.”
Again, she had to swallow. He sounded certain. “All right.”
He held it toward her, shifting his hands so they gripped each shoulder of the coat.
As she slipped her left hand into its sleeve, then her right, it seemed almost like she’d fallen into a dream world. The sheer luxury of the fur inside muddled her senses.
“The lining is red fox.”
She turned back to face him, extending her arms as she assessed the look and feel of the coat. It reached partway down her thigh, and fit perfectly through her shoulders. Not too restricting, despite its thickness.
“Perfect.”
She didn’t try to hold back her smile as she looked up at him. “It is, isn’t it?”
But something in his eyes didn’t seem like he was talking about the coat. Surely, he didn’t mean her. But she’d not seen this look of male appreciation in his gaze before. And it sent a heat surging through her that certainly wasn’t helped by the coat.
Slipping out of it, she carefully smoothed the sleeves. “It’s lovely, Reuben. I’ll take special care of it. Thank you.” She couldn’t quite meet his gaze this time.
Which meant she didn’t have a chance to read his expression as he turned and walked out of the cabin.
Chapter Eleven
IT MUST HAVE been an hour later when Cathleen heard Reuben’s tread on the porch. Darkness had fallen outside the little window, and with the kitchen set to rights, she and Mrs. Scott had taken up their usual places by the fire.
Mrs. Scott’s fingers worked at a blanket she was crocheting. Cathleen tried to keep her focus in the passage she’d been reading from First Corinthians, but her wayward attention drifted to the doorway as soon as Reuben’s footstep sounded on the porch.
He entered and shucked his winter things. He didn’t glance her way. “Animals are bedded down for the night.”
She licked her lips to bring moisture to them. “How’s…Tashunka?” Hopefully, she remembered the name correctly.
“Looks the same. I’ll get my things and sleep out there tonight.”
She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. Maybe that was necessary for the horse. She’d never been privy to the foaling process. But she couldn’t help asking, “How’s your cough?”
“Fine.” The glare he sent was likely meant to put her in her place, but it only riled her nurturing instincts.
Laying her Bible on the side table, she pushed to her feet. “I’ll get some extra quilts.”
“I’m fine.”
The bark in his words stopped her forward motion, and she eyed him.
“I’ll be fine.” A much softer tone this time, almost apologetic. “I’ll sleep in my coat, and I have a good bearskin to cover me. You don’t need to worry.”
Her lower lip found its way between her teeth. Did he think her overbearing? “All right.”
He moved to the corner where his gear formed an organized stack and started rifling through it. She had to give the man credit for neatness. Every morning when she came in from the outhouse, his bedding was folded and tucked in that corner. Certainly not something her brothers would have done. Dad either, despite the way he kept his shop organized.
She slid a glance toward Mrs. Scott. The woman was busy with her needlework, humming a tune Cathleen hadn’t heard before. She didn’t look like she’d be starting her usual evening doze any time soon. That meant if Cathleen was going to get a walk in, this would be her only chance. And after all the events of the day, she desperately needed time alone with God to sort through her thoughts.
“Reuben, would you mind staying with your mum while I step outside for a minute?”
“Go ahead.”
Slipping into her new coat, she pulled it close around her neck to luxuriate in the silky softness. “Thanks again for letting me use this.”
His gaze jerked to her, then lowered again to the pack in his hands. “You’re welcome.” The tone of his words was hard to decipher. Not angry or short-tempered, but brusque.
Like he was trying to cover emotion?
She slipped outside on that thought, grabbing the extra lantern to take with her. She’d had an inkling all along there was a man with feelings under that stoic façade. Maybe it was high time to uncover him. But how to do that?
Inhaling a deep breath, she pulled the sides of her coat together and fastened the hooks as she stepped from the porch. Even the buttons were carved into intricate animal shapes. They looked like some kind of polished horn or bone. And the loops were woven from tiny leather strips. The amount of craftsmanship in this garment was fascinating, even more so as she thought about the man who’d put such detail into it. Where had he learned such skills?
A nicker from the barn grabbed her attention. She should check on Tashunka before heading to her normal prayer spot at the corner of the corral fence.
As she stepped through the barn door, the aroma of animals, musty hay, and mud seeped into her nostrils. The smell had such an earthy, intoxicating tone to it. Relaxing, yet invigorating at the same time.
Another nicker and shuffling sounded from the Tashunka’s stall. Cathleen glanced into the milk cow’s pen as she passed, but the animal snoozed in a back corner. When she raised the lantern to peer through the wooden slats of the expectant mare’s enclosure, Tashunka seemed to be stomping something into the dirt floor, walking in a tiny circle. With a groan, the mare eased down to lay on her side, stretching all the way out so her head pressed into the ground and her legs went straight.
The poor horse looked miserable. Cathleen slipped into the stall and eased closer to crouch beside Tash’s head. “Hey, girl. You all right?”
When she stroked a hand down the mare’s glistening neck, dampness soaked her skin. This horse was sweating profusely. Did that mean it was her time?
The mare lurched up, pulling her feet underneath her so her position was more like sitting. A groan emanated as she arched her neck. Then a whoosh sounded, like water pouring from a bucket.
That was a sound Cathleen had heard before. This mare’s time had definitely come.
Easing away from the horse, she slipped out of the stall. Reuben needed to know. Needed to be here to help. She’d assisted the midwife with a few human births, but that hadn’t come close to preparing her to aid a horse in her time of need.
As soon as the barn door closed behind her, Cathleen clutched her skirts in one hand and the lantern in the other, then sprinted through the snow toward the cabin. By the time she pushed open the door, her breath was coming in jagged spurts.
Reuben stood by the hearth, one hand on the mantle as he gazed into the fire. He jerked around at her dramatic entrance, and his hand flew to the knife in the sheath at his waist. “What’s wrong?” His voice was low—likely so he didn’t disturb his mother’s snores in the chair beside him—but the note of panic was clear.
“Tashunka.” Cathleen gulped in enough air to speak. “It’s time.”
In long strides he joined her at the door, reaching for his coat from the hook and his gloves from the shelf by the door. “Let’s go.”
Cathleen touched his arm, eyeing Mrs. Scott. “But your mum.” She should keep her mouth shut and go inside to sit with the woman, just like any good nurse. But she craved seeing the birth of this new life. Of all times to be a martyr, this was not one she could willingly submit to.
Reuben followed her gaze to his mum, and his voice dropped. “She’s sleeping soundly.”
“But…she was sleeping earlier too. Before the accident.” Enough. No matter how much she wanted to see the foal born, she wouldn’t risk Mrs. Scott’s life in such a foolish way like she’d done earlier.
Cathleen slipped around Reuben to enter the cabin. She hung the lantern on the hook, then shucked her gloves and laid them on the shelf. “I’ll stay here.”
“No.”
His strong hand on her arm brought her up short, and she turned to study him. Those blue eyes were dark in the night shadows, but the firm profile of his chin bespoke determination. “Mum’ll be fine. I’ll move something in front of the door so she can’t leave the cabin. You should see Tash’s foal. In fact, I might need your help.”
Might need your help. If only this strong, self-sufficient man ever really needed her help. But he was asking for it now, and she’d be bound and gagged before she’d let him down.
With a final glance at Mrs. Scott lounging in her upholstered chair with snores pouring from her open mouth, Cathleen let out a breath. “Let’s go.” She picked up the lantern again and stepped out the door.
Reuben reached for a trunk along the wall, lifted it, and followed her outside. After she’d closed the door tight and pulled the latch string into place, he positioned the trunk. “That should work for now. Tomorrow I’ll fix a bar here so we can secure it from the outside.”
Secure it from the outside? It seemed unkind to lock the woman in the cabin, but as a safety measure, maybe it was necessary for rare occasions. And if it allowed her a trip to the privy while Mrs. Scott slept, well… A sliver of weight rolled off Cathleen’s shoulders. A few stolen moments of freedom would be nice. When she could be sure Mrs. Scott would be safe.
Reuben shortened his long strides to match hers as they crossed the snowy terrain to the barn. She could tell he itched to move faster, so she did her best to hurry.
He held the barn door open as she slipped in first and crept toward Tashunka’s stall. She gripped one of the rails and peered through.
The mare was lying on the ground still, but facing a different direction than when Cathleen left her. This view gave them a somewhat awkward view of her abdomen, with all four feet facing toward them as the mare lay flat and grunted. She seemed to be pushing, and a glimmer of white appeared by her tail.
“There it is.”
She almost jumped at Reuben’s deep voice, so close beside her. He stood with one hand on the stall door, peering through an opening as she did. Less than a foot of space separated them, and a smile touched his mouth as he met her gaze. Then he turned back to watch the mare.
She should do the same, no matter how hard it was to focus with Reuben beside her. So close. His height loomed at the edge of her vision, sending a comforting warmth through her. Something about him made her feel safe. Protected. When he was near, all would be well.
A grunt from the stall finally pulled her attention toward its interior. The mare was obviously straining, the rippling muscles easily seen where sweat plastered her thick coat.
Cathleen kept her focus on that white bubble at the horse’s tail, larger now than before. As she watched, the white glimmer expanded, inch by painful inch. One end darkened, and a tiny black hoof broke through the slippery bubble. She sucked in a breath. So little.
She waited for the hoof to move. But nothing happened. At least a minute must have passed since her first view of the foot, but no more activity. Her eye tracked back to the mare, up to her shoulder. Tashunka bobbed her head against the stall floor, then raised it, tucking it tight to her chest. Veins rose across her shoulders and abdomen. Everything in the horse fought to expel this new life.
Cathleen grabbed Reuben’s arm as her gaze trailed back to the still immobile baby hoof at the mare’s tail. “Something’s wrong.” The panic she heard in her voice was only slightly less than what pulsed through her veins. “We have to do something.”
“She’s all right.” The deep voice beside her rumbled calm into her ear, but the feeling warred against the fear in her chest.
She cut a glance at him. “The baby’s not moving. She can’t get it out. What if it’s twisted inside?” One human birth she’d attended had been that way. Aunt Arlene had served as midwife and fought for what felt like an hour to get the baby unwrapped from the birth cord. It was only by the grace of God that both mother and child survived the ordeal.
Warmth closed over her hand where she’d squeezed Reuben’s arm. A welcome warmth, since she’d forgotten her gloves. But where were his? He met her gaze for a fraction of a second, before focusing
again on the mare. “She’s just trying to push its shoulders through. That’s the hardest part. Once that’s done, the little one’ll start moving.”
Cathleen followed his gaze and cringed as the mare gave an awful groan and pressed flat against the ground. With a whoosh, the foal spewed out, the white bubble pulling away to reveal a tiny chocolate head. The muzzle was long and more delicate than she’d thought possible, only as thick around as her own forearm. A splash of white lay between the pink skin around each eye—eyes that still hadn’t opened.
She gripped Reuben tighter. “Is he breathing?” She couldn’t tell. Maybe the nostrils flared the slightest bit, but that could be her imagination.
He squeezed her hand, and only then did she realize she clutched his. Not his arm, but his hand. She didn’t dare look at him but couldn’t bring herself to release it. His large grip enveloped hers. Protecting. Calming.
With her gaze glued to the tiny foal on the floor, she almost missed the mare’s movement until Tashunka planted her front hooves and struggled to her feet.
Cathleen gasped. The foal was still half inside its mother. She was going to snap its back letting it hang upside down from her.
She reached for the door to intervene. Reuben may not realize there was a problem, but he’d brought her here to help. She had to protect that new life, if she could only get there in time.
Chapter Twelve
AS CATHLEEN TRIED to surge forward, the grip tightening around her hand held her back.
“He’s fine.” Reuben’s voice held enough strength to still her.
And sure enough, the mare’s rising had pulled the foal from her completely. It lay perfectly still on the stall floor. Tashunka circled and nuzzled the little head, then ran her tongue over its muzzle in short strokes.
The foal came alive. Sitting up, it shook its head, and those pink eyelids opened to reveal dark eyes. Both ears flopped as it rocked with the pressure of its mother’s persistent licking.
The Lady and the Mountain Call (Mountain Dreams Series Book 5) Page 9