Hill Country Homecoming

by Julie B. Cosgrove

  Adam’s footsteps sounded behind her. She lifted her gaze to his face and saw deep creases of worry crossing his weather-tanned forehead. What now, Lord?

  “Miss Sarah? Um…hate to tell you this but Lady Fair’s water just broke.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  He gave his head a slow shake. His eyes widened and glued to hers.

  Sarah spun on her heel, sloshing her coffee. Adam back-stepped to avoid it scorching him. “Why didn’t anyone tell me her teats had waxed or her flanks had sagged?”

  Her cowhand shrugged. “Vet said it would be another week or so before she foaled, so we weren’t watching her that close. She was antsy and wouldn’t eat, but we thought it was because of the storm.”

  “Did you call him and tell him to get over here pronto?”

  “Lines went down in the middle of the storm so we can’t reach the vet. Cell reception is nil right now as well. George is getting the birthing kit.” He shifted his weight. “It’s up to us. Ready for a lesson?”

  She huffed into her bangs. “Sure, why not?” Dear Lord, I need help getting through this. I don’t know what to do. Please, hear me.

  This time, peace didn’t cloak her. Instead, her gut twisted when she got to the stall. Fine. God must be busy elsewhere. It was up to her then.

  The mare had laid down and a shiny sack protruded between her hind quarters. The horse groaned in labor. Two ranch hands shoveled fresh hay and mucked the shavings now coated with her birth water.

  “Is that her foal?”

  George swallowed the last of his coffee and set the kit down. He began to wrap the mare’s tail. “Not yet. That’s the placenta sac that just burst. The foal should be comin’—probably within the next hour or so, though it could be longer.” He addressed the cowboys. “Looks great guys. The softer hay will be more comfortable for her. Her groans are gonna get louder. Try to keep the other horses calm, okay?”

  The two acknowledged his command and dispersed.

  “Sarah, turn off the lights in the stable and bring me the big lantern. Most foalings occur in the middle of the night, so the darkened room will relax her and spur her instincts to kick in.”

  She snatched it and hung it on the pole. “What else can we do?”

  “Sit and watch. She’ll do this on her own. We’re here only if she needs help.”

  The horse moaned louder. She flip-flopped, rolling first to her side and then half onto her stomach. This back and forth rocking lasted for almost thirty minutes.

  “She’s not making progress. Get her on her feet.” George hissed to Adam. “The colt needs to reposition in the canal.”

  Their efforts failed. After another half hour of walking her around the stall, the foal still remained lodged inside the mother. Adam eased Lady Fair to lie down again. The animal began once more to rock, her whinnies loud and long.

  Sarah wrung her hands. “What do we need to do?”

  George shrugged. “The little thing hasn’t emerged. Only one hoof is starting to peek out. It’s stalled.”

  “Meaning?”

  Adam gulped. “Its head is tucked higher up in the birth canal. We don’t know how to handle this. Travis does.”

  Sarah’s voice raised in pitch and volume. Her frustration meter shot to ultra-high. “Well, Travis isn’t here, is he?” Her eyes welled, so she turned away.

  “Yeah, I am.”

  Sarah pivoted to the sound of his boots thunking across the barn floor. Her mouth flew open. “How? Why?”

  He grinned and swept a lock of hair from her eyes. “Manny called me about Blaze. I am so very sorry.” He took a deep breath. “Then we got cut off. I tried back but the connection was lost. Your house phone didn’t work either. I figured I better head over.”

  “You drove through the deluge?”

  “Done it before.” His eyes held hers for a minute then shifted to the mare in agony. “Where’s the vet?”

  George scratched the back of his neck. “Couldn’t reach him.”

  Adam piped in. “Foal is stuck in the canal. She’s in trouble.”

  Travis paled. “Then let’s help her. Sarah, roll up your sleeves up to your shoulders if you can. Wash up with hot water and soap. Be sure to rinse very well. Then, take the petroleum jelly and coat your hands and arms up to your elbows. You’ll have to coax the colt out of her womb.”

  “Shouldn’t you do that?” Her voice shook.

  He gave her a soft smile. “She’s not fully dilated and your forearms are a lot smaller than mine.”

  She did as she was told, trying to conceal the fact her body quivered with anxiety. After she’d prepped, she knelt down next to him.

  Travis gazed into her face. “You ready?”

  Sarah tucked her lip into her teeth and nodded.

  He gently parted the mare’s womb as Sarah slid her hands inside. Travis coached her as she found one leg against the colt’s slimy chest. She gently twisted the fetus and pulled the hoof out.

  The mare called out in pain and snorted.

  “Adam. George. Hold her down.”

  It took all the strength left in her body, but slowly, Sarah coaxed the other front hoof. Both now dangled from the birth canal, ripping the foal sac. The tiny hooves looked strange. “What is that?”

  Travis repositioned his squat. “They are encased in a rubber-like coating to protect the mother’s womb. God thinks of everything. Let’s try one more time together. On three…”

  The two of them tugged on the front legs. Lady Fair whinnied and writhed. Travis sat back on the straw. “Give her a minute. Then we’ll start again.”

  Sarah looked at the goop on her arms. The odor filled her nostrils. She gulped to keep the room from swaying.

  A strong arm wrapped over her back. “You okay?”

  “Of course. Ready?”

  His eyes twinkled. “Yes’m.”

  They yanked in unison and the head emerged, then the shoulders. The mare pushed and the rest of the hundred-pound foal slid out with such force it landed on top of Sarah and Travis, toppling them into the hay.

  George let out a hoot as the colt came to life and wiggled to its knees.

  Sarah laughed as tears flowed down her cheeks. She grabbed Travis in a bear hug. “We did it.”

  He pulled her back and looked into her eyes. “Yes, we did.” He kissed her cheek and drew her to him again.

  She melted into his strength, her body refusing to move. His heartbeat sounded in her ears—steady, strong, constant.

  He caressed her hair and whispered in her ear. “Look at that.”

  She rose off his chest and smiled. Lady Fair licked her new colt as it tried to wobble on unsteady, spindly legs.

  Travis tightened his grip around her. “Congratulations, Miss Mansfield. It’s a boy.”

  “Fair Fellow.”

  “Good name.”

  As they turned to look at each other, their grinning lips brushed. Suddenly, it was just the two of them. Sarah lost all sense of anyone else in the stable. Her ears closed to the whoops and chuckles. “I missed you, Travis. I am so, so sorry.”

  “Hush, now.” As he drew closer and cupped his mouth over hers, she lost all desire to resist. Her emotions swirled as she tasted him. As their kiss deepened, she knew this was where she belonged.

  At the ranch, with Travis, forever.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Travis and Sarah snuggled on the couch after each of them had showered and changed into clean clothes. They sipped hot cocoa and chomped on egg salad sandwiches, courtesy of Cook.

  “What time is it?” She yawned dreamily and set her mug on the coffee table.

  “Does it matter?” His deep voice tickled her senses.

  “I prayed to God that I needed help. He sent you, didn’t He?”

  Travis took a long sip and then laid his cup down as well. “I felt this urgent need to head in your direction, so I guess so. At first I shook it off, but the feeling came back even stronger. All my pride melted as I got in the tru
ck, and I pointed it toward the ranch without another thought. But, the weird thing is”—he caressed her chin with his fingers—“ the harder the rain fell, the more it seemed to part so I could see the road.”

  “God provided. I believe it.”

  He kissed the crown of her head. “I’m glad you finally do. I truly am. It’s not weakness to admit we need Him in our lives. It’s inner strength.”

  “I get that, now.” She threaded her fingers through his thick, brown hair. “I am so very sorry. I’ve been an idiot and—”

  His forefinger pressed against her lips. “Hush. So was I.” He lifted his arm from around her and sat upright. “But we have a dilemma, Sarah. At least I hope I can say ‘we.’” He interlaced his fingers in hers and stared at her bare hand where a two carat diamond once lay.

  “Tucker is in the past, Travis. It’s where he belongs.”

  He swiveled to gaze at her full on. “And you don’t? I mean in Dallas with all your parties and friends—”

  She kissed his mouth to silence him. Then she eased away. “Does that solve your dilemma?”

  He huffed and scooted a few inches from her. He grasped his hands between his knees and dropped his focus to the floor. “No, though I’m glad you’ve come to your senses about all of that. Tucker wasn’t the right guy for you.”

  “Then why did you push me to him?”

  “To pull you away from me. I didn’t think I could ever measure up. So I denied the feelings I felt for you were genuine. I also discounted any I thought you might have for me. Guess I didn’t want to be your rebound boyfriend, Sarah. And your daddy always said it was all about breeding. I don’t have much of that.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Travis, you have more integrity in your little fingernail than most guys I’ve met have in their hearts. You are honest, and good and strong and horse-knowledgeable. And I love you, you lug.”

  Travis’s cheeks heated but he coughed in his fist and continued. “It’s my parents, Sarah. They aren’t well. I’ve been helping out at the feed store and bunking in my old room, trying to also fix up their homestead so I can sell it. I don’t want to put them in an old folk’s home, but—”

  “Then don’t. Bring them here.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She laughed. “Travis, there’s plenty of room. The west wing is never used. It has two bedrooms and a Jack and Jill bath as well as a sitting room. Plus the old nursery down the hallway can be converted into a bedroom for you. It has a bath as well. You and your parents are welcome to it.”

  He ran his hand over his chin. “I can’t do that, Sarah. Wouldn’t be proper.”

  “I’ll rehire the nurse who tended to Daddy to be on staff fulltime. She can be our chaperon as well as be close by to tend to them so you can tend to this ranch.”

  “Is that the reason you want me back?” His voice held an edge.

  She playfully punched him in the arm. “What do you think?”

  He leaned in and gave her a soft kiss. Then he pulled back. “It’ll cost a lot of money to hire a fulltime private nurse.”

  “We’ll get by okay. I’m not worried. God will provide.”

  “I don’t know, Sarah. Both of us living under the same roof? People will talk. And I respect you too much to tarnish your reputation.”

  She bolted to her feet, hands on hips. “Travis. This is the twenty-first century.”

  “Don’t care. Morals don’t change. And I know you have them, even without the threat of your daddy’s shotgun.”

  Sarah sighed. “As do you. Such a sweet gentleman.”

  “Was the way my parents raised me.”

  She pecked his cheek. “A major part of your charm, you know. Tucker always pushed me to, well, to…”

  His jaw twitched. “I wouldn’t ever put you in that position.”

  Her eyes widened.

  He blushed at his faux pas. “I didn’t mean…”

  She sat back down and threw her arms around him. “I know you wouldn’t. Not until our honeymoon, anyway.”

  His cheeks reddened even deeper.

  * * *

  Two months later, on June 29th, Mr. Mansfield passed on to glory. But not before he had a brief moment of clarity to grant his blessing to Travis and Sarah. The couple considered it a small miracle and answer to prayer.

  Travis walked from the dual gravesite near the back of the garden with his arm around his bride-to-be. “Your parents are together again.”

  “And yours are here to stay.” She grasped his hand as it draped her shoulder. The diamond solitaire, which had once been on his mother’s left ring finger, now encircled hers. “It was so sweet of her to give this to me.”

  “They both love you, Sarah. Almost as much as I do.”

  She unwound herself from his embrace and strolled backward, facing him. “I want a Christmas wedding.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “December is unpredictable in Texas.”

  She grinned. “So is ranching. It’ll be fine.”

  “I thought you hated Christmas and all the decorations.”

  “That was before you reminded me of the true meaning of the season, dear Travis. Now, I can’t think of a more appropriate time. The advent of our life together during the advent of His coming into the world to bring us eternal life.”

  He scooped her up and swirled her.

  “Travis, this is a funeral.”

  He set her down. “Sorry.” His face drooped and his cheeks crimsoned.

  Sarah raised his hand and gave it a soft kiss. “I’m glad Daddy is at rest. No more pain, no tubes or machines beeping. He died peacefully with a smile. We’ll be with him and momma again someday.”

  Travis traced her chin with his finger. “Not too soon, God willing. Our love journey is just beginning.”

  She smiled through shimmery tears.

  “One thing, though, Sarah. If we marry near Christmas, does that mean we’ll receive more presents, or less?” His eyes glistened with mirth.

  Sarah tilted her head. “What does it matter? Who needs a bunch of things? Money can’t buy happiness. Your love makes me richer than I’ve ever felt in my life.”

  He laughed. “You’re right, Sarah Jeanette Mansfield, soon to be Wallace. It doesn’t matter. Not in the least.”

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I grew up with one foot in San Antonio and one in the Texas Hill Country. Like Sarah, I was born into high social circles, but I always preferred the summertime barefoot jaunts through the fields and swinging from tree ropes into the natural spring-cooled river to cocktail parties, cotillions and snazzy beachfront properties.

  I learned that Texas Hill Country folk are honest, God-fearing, and willing to always lend a hand. They move at a slower pace but grasp life by the horns. Men still tilt a Stetson and open a door. Women are still “ma’am” and somewhat placed on pedestals, especially if they are great cooks. While that may sound archaic and chauvinistic, I view it as respectful. These cowpokes know Mother Nature is fickle and they respect her. They honor God who created all things even more. They know He is their strength. And they love the ladies in their lives with deep admiration.

  I extend my thanks to the Texas cowboys I have encountered, whether bent from years of rodeo circuits and hard ranching labor or broad-shouldered youth with no fear for the future. Your quiet manliness helped shape me as a woman and I am better for it.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Julie B. Cosgrove is a novelist, but she also writes devotionals and inspirational articles for several publications and websites on a regular basis. She won national awards for her creative writing skills in high school. In college she won the American Bible Society’s Religion Major of the Year award and went on to study in seminary until the birth of her son, who was in and out of the hospital most of his childhood. However, she never lost the itch to write. After a hiatus of thirty years, she once again picked up the pen and became a freelance writer.

  In 2015, Julie was selected as “one of the fifty writers you
should be reading” by the nationally syndicated radio broadcast, The Author Show. In 2016, she was an INSPY award semi-finalist, a Grace Award finalist and awarded Best Religious Fiction writer by the Texas Association of Authors. She has four novels, two novellas and six non-fiction works published as well as a short story which won second place in a state-wide competition. Her other works include Dumpster Dicing, the first of several Bunco Biddies Mysteries published by Prism Book Group. The second, Baby Bunco launches in early 2017. Be sure to check out her Prism Book Group suspense romance novels with a touch of healing hope called Hush in the Storm, Legitimate Lies and Freed to Forgive.

  When she isn’t writing, she is a part-time church secretary, active in her own church, and a spokesman for anti-trafficking missionaries. She also is a professional speaker and leads women’s retreats, Bible studies and writer workshops.

  A native Texan, Julie is a widow who lives in Fort Worth with two spoiled-rotten and lovable house cats whom she dubs her “beastie boys.” She enjoys clean, cozy mysteries in print and on film, especially British ones. She is an avid word puzzle player and loves to spend time floating in the Guadalupe River at her maternal family’s property in the Texas Hill Country.

  Visit her website, www.juliebcosgrove.com and follow her devotional blog, http://wheredidyoufindgodtoday.com.

  Please enjoy this excerpt from The Cowboy’s Miracle by Penelope Marzec, available now from Prism Book Group!

  Seth Holmes stepped out of the Green Pastures Nursing and Rehabilitation Center, leaned on his cane, and stared at the rays of light streaming down from the clouds overhead. He lifted the collar of his jacket to ward off the chill and took a deep breath of fresh New Jersey air. The raw dampness in the atmosphere usually heralded a snowstorm in Colorado. Did it snow in New Jersey the day after Thanksgiving? He glanced toward the west, but there were no mountains. Grief and a bit of homesickness stabbed at his heart. He wasn’t going back. Not now, maybe never.