Shrugging the rope from his shoulder, he let out a loop, hoping that somehow or another, he’d be able to slip it over the bay’s head as he ran by. He knew it would be the frontier’s version of a Nantucket sleigh ride, but he had to chance it. Jake would have enough to do with that mare without having to worry about keeping two curious boys out of the way.
He twirled the loop to urge the horses into moving counter-clockwise around the pen. Right-handed, he’d be a lot more likely to catch the gelding than he would backhanded. He closed in, forcing the horses to move single-file. As the bay trotted by, Ben slipped the loop around the old boy’s head. The horse stopped dead in his tracks.
Ben breathed a cheerful sigh--this horse was the first animal he’d ever managed to catch, and it had been easy. Just then another horse ran between him and the bay, yanking the rope out of his hands. Palms burning like blazes, he watched the bay rejoin the milling herd, rope trailing. “Shit!” he yelled as he spit in his hands and rubbed them together to stop the burning.
He had no choice but to try to snag that rope, and he knew it would hurt like hell when he did. But no way would he let Jake go through this alone. If only one hoof was out, that mare and her foal were in serious trouble. He made a grab for the rope but missed. Instead, he slid on his knees in the manure. “Damn you, come back here!” he yelled, shaking his fist.
He got to his feet just as the horses milled around again. This time, he managed to catch the rope. He held on and pulled. The bay reared and neighed while Ben hung on, his palms on fire. But he wasn’t about to let go. “Come on,” he called, tugging on the rope.
The horse trotted around the pen pulling Ben behind him. But Ben managed to stay on his feet no matter what damage the rope was doing to his hands. Little by little, he shortened the lead until he had the bay where he wanted him. Now, all he had to do was get the gate open and lead the gelding through without letting all the other horses out. He shoved the gate out just enough for one horse, then, holding the rope over the fence, guided the bay parallel with it, then squeezed through himself.
Deed done and the bay tied to a post, he relaxed some. Next thing he knew, Whip was there with the tack.
“Thought you could use some help. I heard the boy telling Jake about the mare.” He tossed the saddle blanket on the horse’s back and handed the bridle to Ben. “I brung you some food, too.”
“Thanks,” Ben said, slipping the bit between the bay’s teeth.
Whip pulled the cinch tight and secured it. “I’m thinking you might want to get yourself another pair of britches to take along.” He cocked his head toward the manure on Ben's knees. “That ain’t no way to go a’courting.”
“No one courts Jake.” He mounted the horse and took the reins.
Smiling and raising one bushy eyebrow, Whip chuckled and handed Ben a sack of biscuits and cheese. “Not smelling like horse shit, you ain’t.”
* * * * *
“Will Brownie be all right?” Teddy squatted at the suffering Missouri Foxtrotter mare’s head and stroked her blaze.
Jake would’ve given her left nostril to know that herself. This mare was the only blooded horse she had and the Circle J’s future depended on her. “Only the Big Cowhand in the Sky knows that, Teddy. All’s we can do is help her any way we can.”
The poor gal laid there, sides heaving and mouth foaming. Jake really didn’t know what to do.
Homer tugged at her sleeve. “Give me another job, Jake. I want to help, too.”
Teddy sent him a glower. “You ain’t gitting my job. I’m making her feel real comfortable, ain’t I, Jake?”
She forced as much smile as she could muster. “You’re doing a fine job.” Looking at the mare’s bulging hind end, she decided she’d have to reach in there to find out what was going on, and the mare wouldn’t like it much. “Homer, I do have an important job for you. Go to the bunkhouse and fetch a pair of hobbles and a soft rope.”
“Hell, Jake, she don’t need no hobbles. She ain’t even walking.”
“I told you not to cuss ‘til you was twelve, and you ain’t twelve yet. Now git.”
“Yes, sir!” he yelled as he ran off.
Wiping her brow with her sleeve, she let out a long sigh. The chestnut raised her head a bit and Jake thought the poor gal knew just what she was thinking. This was life and death for the mare, and for Jake it meant the difference between having a place of her own or working for others until she dropped dead.
Just as Homer returned with the rope and hobbles, the sound of hoofbeats drew her attention to the rider racing toward the place. Ben. She swore under her breath. He didn’t know a damned thing about foaling, and she sure didn’t need to be coddling a greenhorn while she was trying to keep her mind on her own business. Especially a greenhorn as stubborn as him.
He tossed a bag at Homer, who caught it. “Need some help?”
“I need a cowhand who can rope, is what I need. Go back to the Bar EL.”
Ben dismounted and tied the big bay’s reins to the fence, then started uncinching the saddle. He pulled the saddle off and untied the gelding, leading him to the other corral. Walking up to the mare, he squatted down and pulled her tail to the side. “Nothing showing.”
“No shit. Now go on back, Boston. I don’t need no help.”
“Maybe not, but you do need a friend.”
“Friend, hrmph!” Jake muttered. “I got my strays. Them boys help real good.”
“The operative word there is ‘boys.’ Homer, hand me those hobbles.”
The boy held them out, but Jake snatched them and attached them to the mare’s back legs. “I’m aiming to reach in there to see what’s the problem. You best stay back.”
“I’m staying right here in case she puts up a fuss, which she will.” He looked Jake right in the eye. “You’re not getting rid of me, so go ahead and get this over with.”
She shot him a glare, although deep in her heart, she actually was glad that he’d come to help. It was doubtful that he’d do her any more good than Homer and Teddy, though.
The mare grunted and flopped her head on the ground. Jake knew the horse was losing strength in a hurry, and the only hope to save her and the foal was to get the little one out of there as quickly as she could. Damn, she wished she’d had more learning about this sort of thing. Mostly, she’d dealt with cows. She’d pulled lots of calves, but she had never assisted a mare with birthing.
“Teddy, you and Homer stand back. Brownie ain’t gonna like what I’m gonna do, but I gotta do it.”
“She ain’t gonna die, is she?” Teddy asked, frowning. “She can’t die.”
“No, Jake and Ben won’t let her.” Homer took the younger boy’s hand and led him away. “Let’s go fetch Jake some water.”
Jake nodded. “Good idea.” She rubbed her hands together as she watched the strays head toward the bunkhouse. Not knowing was the worst thing. She suspected the foal was turned around butt-first. If so, and considering how big she figured the foal would be, there wasn’t much chance the little fellow would make it. Hell, he could be dead already.
“Be awake,” she told Ben as she rolled her right sleeve all the way up to her armpit. Positioning herself to the backside of the mare and holding the tail in one hand, she scrunched her fingers together in a point, took a deep breath, and shoved her hand in the birth canal. The mare whinnied and struggled, but Ben kept her back legs from kicking Jake.
“Why are you frowning?” Ben asked.
“Four hooves, I think. Only s’posed to be two--the front two.”
She felt around. Birthing a healthy foal would be the difference between the Circle J being a respected horse breeding operation, or just another ranch that tamed mustangs and sold them to folks who couldn’t afford a blooded horse. Shoving farther, she was just about to give up hope when she realized two of the hooves were upside down.”
“Shit criminy--I think we have twins!”
Ben smiled, and she was glad he was there. “Jake, you’r
e a wonder!”
“Brownie’s the wonder. Now let’s see if we can pull her through this.” She felt around and grabbed the top two little hooves and pulled. Grunting with effort, she had to, some way or the other, get one of those foals out. The hooves slipped out of her grasp.
“Damnation, I lost ‘em.”
“You got ahold of them once, you can do it again.” Ben’s voice was low and soothing. A true friend.
She nodded once and reached further into the birth canal--now in as far as her arm would go--and caught hold of the foal’s hooves again. This time she wouldn’t let go no matter what. The mare’s muscles contracted, nearly squeezing Jake’s arm off, but she refused to let go.
“Take it easy there, Brownie.” The contraction eased off after a minute, and Jake put one foot on the mare’s butt and pulled the tiny hooves as hard as she could.
“Hand me that rope.”
He uncoiled the rope and gave her the noosed end.
“Hold her tail. I gotta go in there with both hands ‘cause I ain’t letting go of them hooves lest they go right back where they come from.”
He raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat. “Didn’t you forget something?”
“No.”
“Your sleeve.” He rolled up her left sleeve, his fingers brushing her skin over and over, causing a flutter deep inside that reminded her why she wanted to stay away from him.
Slipping the noose around the two little hooves while the mare’s contractions squeezed Jake’s arm mercilessly was no easy task, but eventually she got the job done.
Jake put her foot on the mare’s butt for leverage and pulled on the rope for all she was worth. The mare whinnied in pain, but Jake didn’t let up. Pain now was better than death later--she only hoped Brownie understood that. She watched the mare’s belly for another contraction. When it came, she pulled until her arms ached, her hands were rope-burned, and beads of sweat ran down her face.
Finally, she dropped the rope and wiped her brow with her upper sleeve, her bare arms covered with fluid. “Brownie, I’m sorry, old girl, but we’re gonna have to do this the hard way.” She patted the mare on the forehead and trickled some water into the horse’s mouth. Jake could see that Brownie’s strength was sapped and knew there wasn’t much time. At this point, all she could hope for was that she could save either the mare or at least one of the foals, but the chances of all three coming through this alive was slim at best.
“Ben, you pull as hard as you can. I’m gonna shove those other hooves back into her womb so we can born this one. Then we’ll worry about the other.”
He nodded, took the rope and stuck his boot on the mare’s rump. “Let me know when you’re ready.”
She waited for the mare’s contraction to abate, then shoved her hand up the birth canal. Once she felt the two upside down hooves, she nodded at Ben. He pulled, she pushed. The rope cut a burn into the side of her arm, but she ignored it. He pulled some more and she pushed harder. The mare’s sides heaved, then she let out a long, slow breath. Jake was scared it would be her last.
“Pull harder, Boston. Give it all you got!”
His face red and sweaty, he heaved with a mighty groan. She felt the hooves move forward while the upside down hooves were sucked deeper into the mare’s womb. She yanked her arm out of the birth canal and grabbed the rope. “Pull!”
They pulled together, and with that, the foal’s legs and head popped right out. She dropped the rope and tore the sac from the foal’s nose. “Keep pulling, Boston.”
He did, and in short order, one healthy foal was born.
“It’s a girl!” He laughed. “Lordy, wouldn’t you know what trouble women cause.”
But Jake took one look at the mare and knew there was no time for celebration. “I got to find the other one,” she said, slipping the noose off the foal’s front legs. “You rip the sack off this one off and make sure she’s breathing proper.”
Once more, she took the noose in hand and pushed her arm up the mare’s birth canal. The two hooves were pressing forward and she easily slipped the rope over them. She removed her arm and pulled on the rope. Ben’s hands closed over hers and they pulled together. On the second try, the foal’s front legs emerged. Another pull and its head came out. The third mighty tug brought the little critter into the world.
Jake fell to her knees, ripped the velvety sack and placed her cheek by the foal’s nose. No breath. She leaned over and blew her own air into the little one’s nose. Still no breath. Again she blew into its nostrils, and saw its sides heave with air, and a wisp of air blowing out. Then breathing in. And breathing out.
She stood, grinning like an idiot, tears streaming down her face. Hell, she didn’t even give a damn if Boston saw. What could be more wondrous than helping birth two foals--two little fillies--and they both lived. They were the most beautiful little fillies she’d ever seen in all her born days. And she had delivered them.
Strong arms encircled her and she buried her teary face in Ben’s chest. He held her close and rubbed her back. “Jake,” he murmured. “Jake, honey, you’ve got to take care of the mare.”
His eyes held the kindness she’d always known was there but had thought of as weakness. But he hadn’t been weak, he’d been downright stubborn when the chips were down.
“Thanks, I needed you.” She stepped away from him and cleared her throat. “Try to get those foals on their feet. They’ll be wobbly and probably topple a few times, but you’ve got to get them standing.” She turned toward the bunkhouse. “Homer! Teddy!”
The boys came running. Teddy skidded to a stop in front of her. “Is it borned yet?”
“Look, Teddy, two of ‘em.”
Eyes wide and a big grin plastered on his face, Teddy said, “I knew you could do it, Jake. You can do anything.”
She patted the younger boy on the head. “We ain’t done yet, son. Go fetch some rags to dry off these little ladies.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Them’s girls? Why’d they have to be girls?”
Jake waved her hand. “Go on, now.” As Teddy left, she turned to Homer. “You fetch me two buckets of water. This here mare ain’t doing too well and we might lose her. I’m fixin’ to dribble some water down her throat and stand her up. Otherwise, well, it don’t look good.”
Homer nodded bravely. “I won’t tell Teddy. He don’t understand man things yet.”
“Good. Now, off with you.”
“Yes, sir!”
She bent down and patted the mare on the head. “We’re gonna fix you right up, Brownie.”
The chestnut mare blinked her dark lashes, her big brown eye staring at Jake in such trust, her throat tightened. She swore not to let the old gal down. Whatever needed done would get done and that was that.
“Sounds like the luckiest horse in the territory to me,” Ben commented, holding up a foal on either side of him. “Two healthy foals and one magnificent mistress.”
* * * * *
Jake spent the night checking on the Brownie and the fillies. The foals looked bright-eyed and healthy, but the new mother sagged with the effort it took to tend to her twin charges.
The next morning came early and Jake felt about as worn out as the mare, but called on her bluster to gave the Bar EL cowhands their orders.
“I want you riding the perimeter of the whole damned place. Use the greenbroke mustangs, not your regular mounts—they need rode before roundup. And go in pairs so’s if one of you hits the dirt, you’ll have someone to drag your sorry ass home.”
The men grumbled but she paid them no heed. Not for the first time, Jake cursed under her breath that Ben hadn’t shown up for work. She had intended to thank him, but now she’d have to give him hell for shirking. No man, owner or not, shirked his duty under her watch.
“Slim, Crazy Jim, you fellers keep bucking out the rough stock. Fred, you, too.”
“How ‘bout me?” Crip asked.
“You ride out the rest of the greenbroke stock. Time’s drawing s
hort. First, I want you to fix up all the hands with the tamest of the green mounts and send ‘em on their way. Whip, you help.”
“Got to wash up the dishes first.”
She always forgot about crap like that. “Crazy Jim, you got dishes duty. And make short work of it.”
As soon as the men left the grub hall, Jake sent Crazy Jim out to the corrals and took over the dishes herself.
Whip handed her a towel and asked, “Why’d you tell the young feller to help me if you was planning to do it yourself?”
“On account of because I don’t want them men thinking I’m gonna be washing the damned dishes every day. Now let’s get to it.”
Noon came and went, and still no sign of Ben. Her temperature went up with the midday sun. That greenhorn would be sorry he’d ever laid eyes on her once she got done giving him a piece of her mind. To keep her vexation in check, she busied herself riding out the greenbroke stock with Crip. Most of the horses had been convinced not to buck every time a rider mounted them, but they still had no notion of reining, and a few of the beasts could use a lot better brakes. But it kept her moving and her mind off a certain Boston lawyer she’d tear limb from limb once she got a hold of him.
“Ain’t seen Fred,” she said to Crip as she mounted her next horse while he held it.
“That’s cause he ain’t here.”
She lifted an eyebrow, questioning. The only thing that vexed her more than a shirker was two shirkers.
“Said he was riding out with the hands.” Tugging on the brim of his hat, Crip shrugged. “I told him that wasn’t a good idea, but he didn’t pay me no mind.”
“If you see him ‘fore I do,” she said, a whole lot more calm-like than she felt, “send him my way.”
Crip chuckled. “I wouldn’t want to be in that poor sap’s shoes. No, sirree.”
She nodded grimly. “Let’s go, I’m ready to ride.”
He groaned as he slowly got to his feet, then put his hands on the small of his back and stretched. “Well I ain’t.” But he followed her back to the round pen.
She rode six hours straight, training each mount for a vigorous half-hour. Every buck and every balk stirred her irritation a little more. Benjamin Lawrence would be one sorry Boston lawyer if he didn’t show up pretty damned soon. Shifting her saddle to the next mustang, she nodded at Crip to let go and she dug her spurs in for another wild ride.
Much Ado About Mavericks Page 9