The cow looked up, her eyes huge, her mouth opening in a pant that became a low moo. Andie squatted next to her, running her hands over the animal’s heaving sides. Cows never picked good weather or good conditions to calve. And if they were going to have problems, which they often did, it always happened at the worst possible time.
Andie had pulled a calf two hours before her senior graduation. That’s how life worked on the farm. She’d pulled a calf, and then she graduated from high school.
But this was different. A cow in distress, but Andie’s baby, needing a chance, needing to be safe.
One hoof was out. Andie couldn’t begin to guess how long the cow had been down or how long she’d been trying to push this baby out.
It was her first calf and she was obviously going to be like her mother, having difficult deliveries. But Andie couldn’t help her. Any other time, but not today. It wasn’t a difficult decision to make. It really felt like the only decision.
Etta had ordered her to call Ryder if anything happened, or if she needed anything. He had his cell phone on and was just minutes away. This qualified as an emergency, as needing something. She let out a sigh, because she hated having to call him away from what he was doing. To take care of what she needed to have done.
But this wasn’t about her. It was about the baby.
She stood up.
The dog, a stray that had showed up in town a year or so ago hurried to her side, wagging his entire back end. He hadn’t run the cow, she was sure of that. He’d just been sending out his own alert. He sat down next to her, proud that he’d done his job.
Andie pulled out her cell phone and dialed. Ryder answered after a few rings. “Andie?”
“Ryder, I have a cow in labor. I think the calf is going to have to be pulled.”
“Are you outside?”
“Yes, I’m outside.” She wiped rain from her face but it kept coming down, soaking her hair and clothes. “I had to see what was going on.”
A long pause and then he spoke. “Andie, get back inside.”
She could hear sounds in the background. Laughter, conversations and dishes rattling. It riled her that he was ordering her back into the house. When had he ever done that?
“I can’t leave the cow.”
“You have to leave her.” His voice got loud, firm. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Fine.” She slid the phone back into her. “Help is on the way, girl.”
The cow mooed and raised her head. “You’re right, I’m not going to leave you alone.”
No one wanted to be alone in a situation like this.
Andie backed up to a tree that was just a few feet away. It gave her a little protection from the rain, a little shelter. But the whole time she stood there, waiting, she felt mad and guilty. She didn’t want to feel, either.
Ryder grabbed the ticket for his lunch at the Mad Cow and reached into his pocket for his wallet. He was trying to look casual, as if this was something he did every day, getting calls from Andie and leaving in the middle of lunch.
But lately, nothing was what he’d been used to doing every day. He looked at the guys he’d had lunch with—Clint Cameron, Adam Mackenzie, Reese Cooper and a couple of others. They were all taking their lunch break at the Mad Cow. A few of them were getting ready to go to the livestock auction. Reese was getting ready for the rodeo finals in Vegas. They were all still living the lives they were comfortable with.
Without warning, Ryder’s life had become something so upside down he didn’t recognize it. Church yesterday with Wyatt and the girls and afterward he’d taken lunch to Andie. A couple of weeks ago he’d found out he was going to be a dad. And each and every day he was climbing up the biggest mountain of his life, trying to find his way back to God and his way forward in this situation with Andie.
For a while it had been like wearing someone else’s boots. But he was adjusting. And everyone at the table was looking at him like they thought maybe he was going to lose it if they didn’t hitch him to an anchor.
Clint reached for the ticket Ryder was still holding.
“You go on, that sounded like something that needs to be taken care of. I’ll buy your lunch.”
“Andie has a cow down.” He picked up his burger to take it with him.
“Do you think you’ll need some help?” Adam MacKenzie grabbed the ticket from Clint and pulled out his wallet. “I’ll get lunch.”
Clint laughed. “Will he need help with what, Andie or the cow?”
Ryder threw money on the table for the tip. “You guys are hilarious. I don’t think I’ll need help with either.”
Reese, chair tilted back on two legs, was grinning. And Ryder kind of wanted to hit him, because Reese had dated Andie back in their college days. He’d dated her and cheated on her. It had mattered then, it mattered more now.
“I never thought you’d be the guy falling like this.” Reese finally commented. Clint jerked his chair back and Reese scurried to get his feet back under him as the chair went to the floor with a crash that had people staring and Vera running from the back.
The owner of the Mad Cow glared at them and then she headed toward Ryder with foam containers. “Are you heading out?”
“Yeah, Andie called.” He shot Reese a look. “She has a cow down. I need to run but Adam’s buying lunch.”
“I wasn’t worried about you skipping out on a bill, Ryder. I was worried about Andie. I saw you here and I know Etta’s in Tulsa, so I made Andie up some of my special cashewed chicken. Take this to her. And let me have that.” She grabbed a napkin out of the holder on the table and reached for the burger he was about to take a bite of. Before he could object she opened the Styrofoam and put the burger inside. “There, now you’re all set to go. And you’d better hurry or she’ll be hooking up a pulley to her truck and pulling that calf on her own.”
“I know.” He kissed Vera on the cheek. “You’re the best.
He pulled into Andie’s a few minutes later. She was sitting on the porch, out of the rain. She didn’t stand up when he pulled up to the house. Worry knotted in his stomach. He should have ignored her when she said she didn’t need him here. He could have found someone to do his work at home and he could have sat with her while Etta was gone.
He jumped out of the truck, grabbing the container of food before he shut the door. Andie crossed her arms over her front and glared as he hurried toward her. She was mad. He guessed that was a plus.
“What took you so long?”
“Had to get our food.” He felt the need to defend himself. “And it didn’t take that long. Here’s your lunch. Vera made you some of her cashewed chicken.”
She took the container from him. “The cow is over there, near the corner post and that clump of brush.”
“She’ll be fine, Andie. Why don’t you go inside?”
“I couldn’t sit in there. I’ll sit on the porch. This isn’t walking around. This isn’t doing something.” Her hands clenched into the sleeves of her sweater.
“I know.” He took a few steps back to keep from holding her when he knew being held was the last thing she wanted. He knew her, knew she was close to tears that she was fighting hard against. There were times to hold a woman and let her cry. He knew this wasn’t one of those times.
“I’m so tired of this.” She brushed her hands over her face and didn’t look at him. “I’m so tired of not being able to take care of things. And having to call someone to take care of things I can usually take care of. And then there’s the guilt because I got up to see what was wrong.”
“It’s okay to be sick of this, you know.”
“But the baby…” she began.
“Is going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.”
“You don’t know that,” she insisted.
Now was when a man held a woman and let her cry. He sat down next to her on the wicker bench that always creaked with his weight and she leaned into his side. He heard the cow mooing and tried to ignore it.
“Andie, we’re almost to the three month mark. What have we got, another week or two?”
“Yeah.”
“So, we’re going to make it.” He held her and felt her tense and pull away.
“You have to go deliver that calf. I can’t lose that calf.”
“I’m going.”
He hurried out to his truck and found rope, a coat and some old towels. He kept the metal toolbox on the back of his truck stocked with just about everything he might need in an emergency. As he dug around inside the box he found a rain poncho that he’d never taken out of the package. Now that was prepared.
The dog greeted him as he walked across the yard. The scruffy looking terrier cross was mud-caked but happy. He’d never seen a dog like this one, one that always looked as if it was grinning. He guessed if everyone in town was feeding him, he’d be pretty happy, too.
The cow was still laboring. He climbed the fence and eased toward her. The wild look in her eyes warned that she wasn’t going to be pleasant about dealing with him. Good thing she was nearly worn out. That was a bad thing, too. It meant she wasn’t going to be a lot of help pushing this calf out.
“How is she?” Andie had moved to another seat on the porch and she leaned out. He knew it was killing her, this inactivity, and not taking care of her farm.
“She’s having a baby, Andie. Now give me a minute.” He looped the rope around the tiny hooves that were trying to poke out.
It wasn’t the worst case he’d ever seen. It wasn’t going to be the easiest. He probably should have taken Adam up on his offer to help.
“Do you want me to call for help?” Andie asked.
He shook his head and she’d have to deal with that answer for now. The cow tried to get to her feet but couldn’t. Oh man, that wasn’t what he needed. He turned back to Andie and she was still leaning out, still watching.
“Call Clint.”
He got the calf delivered before Clint got there, but the cow was still down. “Momma cow, we need you to get up and take care of this baby.”
It happened sometimes, a cow got down, got sick and that was just the end of it. He couldn’t look at Andie, sitting on the porch. He knew she’d be out there fighting to save that heifer if she knew what he suspected.
Clint’s truck pulled into the driveway and Adam was right behind him. Ryder had never had a sentimental day in his life, but right at that moment, it was a pretty good feeling to be from his hometown. It was good to be where people knew him and where he didn’t have to go far to find a helping hand.
The two were armed with calf starter in a bottle for the calf, several bottles of medication and a needle to give the cow the necessary shots. They climbed the fence as Ryder dried off the calf. It was the most pitiful looking little black baldy calf he’d ever seen. Black with a white face, its sides were caved in from dehydration and it kept coughing from the gunk in his lungs.
“That’s a shame.” Clint had lowered himself next to the cow and he injected her with antibiotics. “She’s a good little heifer.”
“Yeah, and if we don’t do something, Andie’s going to be down here trying to get her on her feet.” Ryder took the bottle that Adam carried and pushed it into the little calf’s mouth. It moved away a few times and then finally started to suck. It didn’t take long for the little guy to put down the two liters of milk.
“Let’s see if we can get her on her feet.” Adam grabbed the rope that Ryder had used to pull the calf. It was soaked and muddy. “What do you think?”
Ryder shrugged, so did Clint. Clint took the rope and put it around the cow’s neck. Ryder was dealing with a calf that now thought he must be mommy. It was sucking at his jeans and at the hem of this T-shirt. It would have been cute if buckets of rain hadn’t been falling on them and the momma cow hadn’t been on her side in a puddle of water.
They were heaving on the cow when Andie came traipsing across the yard again.
“What are you doing up?” Ryder was in the process of sliding a rope under the cow’s middle.
She stopped at the fence and watched. “I had to check on her because I know you aren’t going to tell me everything.”
“Andie, you have to get back on the porch. If Etta comes home and you’re standing down here in the rain…” He stopped. “You know, it doesn’t matter what Etta is going to say. You’re an adult and you know better.”
“Tell me how she is.”
“She’s going to die if we don’t get her up.”
“Ryder.” Clint’s voice was a little softer and Ryder thought that had to be Willow’s influence. When had Clint Cameron ever been the guy with the soft touch. “Andie, we’ll get her up and if we can get her in the trailer on my truck, I’ll take her home and work with her. We’ll get her back on her feet. You might have to bottle feed that calf, though.”
“Thanks, Clint.” Andie shot Ryder a smug smile. “Now I’ll go sit back down. Just consider this my shower for the day.”
Ryder watched her go. Rain was pouring down, and a crack of thunder gave him the motivation he needed to kick it up a notch. He had no desire to be standing under this tree when lightning hit.
Clint pulled on the rope, heaving and out of breath and Adam helped Ryder push the back end of the cow as she fought to get up.
She was finally on her feet.
“Let’s take her out this corner gate right to the trailer.” Clint leaned to catch his breath.
“We can take her to my place.” Ryder didn’t have his trailer, but they could put her in Andie’s.
“Ryder, you have enough going on right now with Wyatt at your house and Andie needing you here. Let us do this one for you.”
“I can manage.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t.” Clint pounded him on the back. “But I’d say you’ve got your plate pretty full right now. And the next few months aren’t going to get any easier.”
“That’s great to know.”
Clint laughed, but he was still working, still moving the cow and working with her. “Yeah, well, that’s how life is. When you think you’ve got it all figured out and think you know your next move, God surprises you with something huge. But seriously, it’s about time you and Andie realized what the rest of us have known forever.”
“Known?” He’d never had such a hard time forming sentences.
“Yeah, known.” Clint shot him a look like he really should be getting it. “You and Andie haven’t been far from each other’s side in years. And when you thought Reese hurt her, you broke his nose.”
“He deserved that.”
“Yeah, he probably did.” Clint led the cow a few wobbly steps toward the gate that Adam had opened. “But most guys wouldn’t bust their buddy’s nose for just any girl.”
“She’s…” He wasn’t going to get baited into this conversation. Clint and Adam shot one another knowing looks and Ryder decided to ignore them. The odds of him taking the two of them were pretty slim, so it made sense to load the cow and forget this conversation.
He walked away from Clint’s trailer telling himself that this was just part of his new life. Every guy in town was dating, getting married or recently married. And they didn’t want to suffer alone.
Andie reheated Ryder’s cheeseburger up while he changed out of his T-shirt into a button up shirt he found behind the seat of his truck. When she heard him coming down the hall she poured a cup of coffee and sat it next to the plate.
Domestic. She’d never been one of those females, the kind that loved to cook and clean. She could make a decent burger or pancakes, she could brew pretty terrific coffee, but she had never seen herself as June Cleaver or Martha Stewart.
Ryder walked into the kitchen, stopping at the door. He eyed her, eyes on the meal and the coffee, and then back to her. She ignored him and poured herself a glass of milk, because she’d had her cup of coffee already.
“You should be sitting down. I could have done this. I could have made coffee.” He didn’t sit down.
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“I wanted to do something for you. You’ve been doing everything for me for the past couple of weeks.”
“That’s because you’ve needed me to be that person, Andie. There’s been plenty of times you’ve taken care of me.”
“Yeah, but this is just not right, all of this sitting and letting people wait on me.”
“You’re not doing it because you’re lazy. You’re taking care of our baby. And I’m taking care of you.” He pointed to the hall and she knew what that meant. “Back to the parlor, sweetie.”
She grabbed her milk and walked past him down the hall. He followed a few minutes later with his coffee and plate of food. When he walked through the door she was back on the couch, her feet up, the pillow over her face.
He had the nerve to laugh.
She tossed the pillow at the end of the sofa. “You think this is funny?”
“I think you’re suddenly a drama queen and you’re not very good at it.”
“How’s my cow?”
“Clint thinks he can save her. You know how it is, Andie. She’s in bad shape. The calf drank, though. We got some colostrum for him and added it to the milk replacer in the bottle.”
“Thank you.” She hugged a pillow to her stomach. “I’m sorry I had to call you.”
“I’m not.” He finished his burger and set the plate down. “Now, tell me what I can get you? Chocolate? Books? Something to drink?”
“Nothing.” She pointed to the obvious. “I have books. I have magazines. I have the TV remote. The only thing I don’t have is my life. I shouldn’t resent that, should I?”
“I think it’s probably natural.”
“I don’t want this baby to feel resented. What if she can feel it now, that I’m sick of sitting. I don’t blame her, though. This is my fault. This whole pregnancy is my fault. You didn’t ask for this to happen to you. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be on your way to Vegas to the finals.”
“Andie, I’m not blaming you. And this pregnancy isn’t your fault. We, I think that’s how this works. I made a decision to stay here. This is where I need to be. The finals aren’t that important.”
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