by Deb Kastner
It was probably the crowd suffocating him, Ellie thought. One more painful reminder of how much he’d changed. She remembered a time in his high school years when Buck had once loved being the center of attention.
Speaking of attention, Ellie realized she hadn’t seen Tyler enter her dwelling with Buck. She felt an instinctive kinship and a sense of responsibility to the boy, who, under different circumstances, might have been her own son.
He wasn’t, but that didn’t stop Ellie from a small burst of maternal feeling. Of course, Tyler didn’t want to spend an afternoon surrounded by people he didn’t know offering him condolences on his grandmother’s passing.
Buck’s mother, whom Ellie had called Mama Esther for as long as she could remember, had been especially close to Tyler. Ellie knew from Mama Esther’s recounting how difficult a time Tyler had had adjusting to his mother’s abandonment when he was only two years old.
And now, at age twelve, poor Tyler had lost his beloved grandmother.
Ellie excused herself from her hostess duties and slipped into the homey, aromatic kitchen and out the back door. Pausing for a moment to push her hair out of her face, she made her way to the front of the house, where Buck’s truck was parked amid the rest of the town’s vehicles.
Cupping her hand over her forehead against the sun’s incessant glare, she peeked inside the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tyler.
The truck was empty.
Ellie was surprised. She’d been certain she’d find the young man locked in the truck with his MP3 player blasting in his ears, as he’d been earlier. It was what she would have done were she the one in Tyler’s place.
But, she realized with sudden insight, it wasn’t what Buck would have done given the same circumstances. And suddenly she knew exactly where to look for Tyler.
Turning on her heel, she strode away from the truck, but not the way she’d come. Not back to the house. Instead, she turned down the trail to her stable.
Somehow, in the deepest part of her heart, she was certain she’d find Tyler there.
Buck looked around for Ellie, but she had disappeared. He admitted to being a little surprised, actually, when he’d entered Ellie’s ranch house and had seen all the people milling around, eating and chatting.
Every word Ellie had said was true.
The whole town was there, and his old friends and neighbors had quickly surrounded him to voice their condolences over the loss of his mother. Buck had known his mother was well loved in Ferrell, but he believed himself to be as equally—and understandably—despised and couldn’t have imagined the magnitude of compassion and acceptance he was experiencing with people he’d long since put out of his heart and his life.
He’d clearly underestimated them. All of them. It occurred to him that this might have been the case all along.
Whatever changes had happened in Ferrell, it was obviously still a small town at heart. People here really cared. He hadn’t given them enough credit for that. He’d thought they’d turn fancy and snobbish once the highway was built and tourist money started lining their pockets.
That he was wrong surprised and discomfited him.
And the food!
Everyone had brought their best dishes to share for the occasion. Buck was used to bunkhouse fare, and the layout of food here at Ellie’s was better than at any of the church potlucks he remembered attending as a child here in Ferrell. His stomach was soon as heavy as his heart was light.
It seemed only minutes had passed when Larry Bowman clapped Buck on the back of his shoulder. “The crowd is starting to disperse,” he said in a kind, gentle tone. Larry had been the town lawyer for as long as Buck could remember. “We can get down to business anytime you’re ready.”
“Sure,” Buck choked out, struggling for a breath. Why did he feel like he was being ambushed? Try as he might, he couldn’t shake it. “Just give me a few minutes, will you? I need to check on my son.”
Larry nodded in agreement and quickly moved back toward the nearest group of neighbors, giving Buck the space he so desperately needed.
Find his son?
What Buck needed to do was find Ellie. He realized he hadn’t seen her in an hour.
Ellie was a social being. Buck had expected her to be flitting around like a butterfly as hostess of this party, or at least that was how she’d been twenty years ago. He realized, with a pang of some emotion he refused to identify, that he really knew nothing of the woman she’d become.
Despite that fact, though, he had a less-than-altruistic reason for finding Ellie—the reading of the will. His tough veneer was a sham, and he knew it. And if he wasn’t careful, everyone else would know it, as well.
Where was she?
Buck asked around, but no one had seen her in a while. And then Buck remembered something Ellie had said earlier, when they were at the gravesite together. She’d said she would handle Tyler, once they’d agreed to come to the reception at her ranch.
Was that where she was?
With Tyler?
Ellie was in for trouble if she had any notion of pulling Tyler out of his shell. The boy was so angry and bitter, he rarely talked to Buck anymore, much less some strange woman from a town his father rarely spoke of, and only then with an animosity he knew he could not hide. He wouldn’t be too keen on anything Ellie offered, especially meeting new friends. Tyler had always been a bit of a loner.
Like Buck.
Even so, Buck’s gut was telling him he was on the right track with that line of reasoning, that he would find Tyler wherever Ellie was lurking.
Ellie had always been a stubborn woman, and Buck doubted that had changed in twenty years. She would be a formidable opponent, even for Tyler, though Buck wasn’t the least bit certain who would win any quarrel between them.
Buck hoped there was no quarrel.
Spinning on his heels, he clamped his black Stetson down on his head and moved slowly and awkwardly toward the front door, having to explain several times that, no, he was not leaving so soon, but rather that he was trying to find his son so he could introduce Tyler around.
If Buck could get the boy out of the truck. And if Ellie’s feelings weren’t too hurt by his son’s sharp tongue and broody disposition.
The scenario in Buck’s mind was looking worse by the minute. Tyler biting into Ellie in suppressed grief over the death of his beloved grandmother. Ellie forcing Tyler to meet kids his own age, when all that would do was make the boy even more uncomfortable than he already was. Buck couldn’t get to his truck fast enough—only to find it empty when he arrived.
Chapter Two
Ellie’s theory had been right on the mark. Once she’d remembered whose son Tyler was, she’d known just where to look for him—in the stable, with the horses.
Where Buck would have hidden given the same set of circumstances.
The boy obviously shared the same love for horses as his father, because as soon as Ellie entered the stable, she knew Tyler was present. She could hear Tyler making the same soft crooning sounds his father had always used—quite effectively, she clearly remembered—with his own horses.
“Tyler?” she called cheerfully, but her only answer was a sudden deafening silence in the stable. “Tyler Redmond? It’s Ellie McBride. We met earlier.”
Still no sound, but Ellie was no less certain Tyler was somewhere in the stable, and that he was no doubt straining his ears for any sound she might make. She moved noisily from stall to stall, speaking to each of her beloved horses as she went and thus giving Tyler plenty of warning—wherever he was. It was only when she peeked over the last door, the one to the birthing stall, that she found Tyler.
One of her quarter horse broodmares, Sophie, was due to deliver soon, so the sorrel-colored mare had been recently confined to the roomy birthing stall, filled with fresh straw to welcome the newborn foal whenever he or she came. Ellie thought it would be soon.
To Ellie’s alarm, Sophie was lying on her side, her breath coming in heavin
g snorts. Tyler was there with the sorrel, on his knees, hunkered over the mare, rubbing her down with his own bandana and murmuring encouragement to her. Ellie noted vaguely that Tyler’s denim shirt was now untucked, and the boy had obviously given no thought to dirtying his crisp new blue jeans as he knelt before the laboring mare.
“Tyler?” Ellie said again. “What is it? What’s wrong with Sophie?”
She realized belatedly she had no idea why she was asking a twelve-year-old boy such a question, but she opened the stall door and slipped inside, sliding to her knees next to the horse’s head and running her hand down Sophie’s sweat-stained withers, then rapidly across her stomach, mentally assessing how far into labor Sophie might be.
Her adrenaline surged as she realized help for the birth was not readily available. Doc Stevens, the local vet, wasn’t inside the ranch house with the rest of the community. Just after Esther’s funeral, the vet had been unexpectedly called away for an emergency at a nearby farm.
Ellie toyed with the idea of having Tyler run and ask someone at the house to fetch Doc Stevens immediately. Still, she waited patiently for the boy’s answer to her query, allowing Tyler the opportunity to voice his own opinion, as he’d been with the mare longer.
Tyler looked up at her with the same serious, low-browed gaze Buck often wore, shadowed by a camel-colored felt cowboy hat pushed low over his eyes. The boy reminded Ellie of his father in so many ways, it made her heart turn over and emotions clog in her throat.
“She’s in labor,” Tyler said, his voice at once soft and gruff, with the high-pitched twinge of a young man entering puberty. “It’s been an hour, maybe?”
Ellie smiled inwardly. She might have pointed out that she had already assessed that much just by looking at the situation, but she didn’t. Instead, she nodded briskly and allowed the boy to continue. “And?”
“Well, I found her this way,” Tyler explained, shrugging his shoulders. “I know mares lie down to give birth, but it seems to me she’s struggling awfully hard. I think the foal might be in the wrong position.”
That was exactly what Ellie was thinking. She smiled encouragement to the boy and then frowned as she thought through the implications of this situation. “Our town vet couldn’t make it to the reception,” she explained hastily. “Some kind of emergency at a neighboring ranch. I may need you to find your dad and have him drive you out to find Doc Stevens, the vet.”
The boy scowled for a moment, then nodded briskly. Obviously the idea of dashing into a house of strangers to find his dad was not high on Tyler’s list of things to do, much less jaunt all over town, looking for a veterinarian he didn’t even know.
The boy surprised her. Despite his obvious discomfort, Tyler tipped his cowboy hat with his fingers and answered her politely, if not willingly. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied.
At that moment the mare made a horrible groaning sound, almost a scream. Ellie and Tyler at once turned their attention back to Sophie. Ellie had been breeding horses long enough to realize that Sophie shouldn’t be experiencing the kind of pain she was obviously in. As Tyler had gravely noted, something was definitely wrong.
A gush of liquid from the mare sealed it for Ellie. There wasn’t time to go for help. “I’ve changed my mind, Tyler. I need you with me. Do you think you can give me a hand? Sophie is obviously delivering this foal now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tyler answered, his brilliant blue eyes shining delightedly at this new opportunity. Once again Tyler reminded Ellie of his father. Ellie was surprised at the quiet respect the young man showed her. He’d appeared so bitter and broody earlier. But like his father, Ellie guessed, Tyler had a special bond with horses—apparently enough of a connection to allow the boy to set his other concerns aside.
“There is a box of supplies in the corner. I need you to grab the tape and wrap Sophie’s tail for me.”
Without a word, Tyler went to work, efficiently wrapping the mare’s tail while Ellie held it up for him.
“You’ve done this before,” Ellie stated.
“Yes, ma’am. A few times.”
“Good. I can use your experience.”
Tyler looked up at her, surprise—and maybe a little pride—evident in his expression. One corner of his mouth tipped up ever so slightly. Ellie thought that might be the closest thing to a smile she’d seen from the boy.
“Now what?” he asked softly. “Dad and I usually let our mares do the work themselves.”
Ellie nodded. “And that’s what we’ll do, as well. This isn’t Sophie’s first foal, so she knows what she’s doing. We’ll just stand back and watch God’s miracle of birth. Hopefully that’s all it will take and Sophie will manage this just fine on her own, but just in case, we’d better stick around and be ready to lend a hand if it becomes necessary.”
Tyler moved to the side of the stall and leaned a somewhat brawny shoulder against the wall. He maintained some of the gangly awkwardness of puberty, but he was a handsome boy, Ellie thought—just as his father had been. Clearly farm life kept Tyler in good physical shape. He looked a good deal stronger than most boys his age. Ellie remembered that Buck had been much the same way at age twelve.
She remembered far more about Buck Redmond than she ought to, she thought, frowning inwardly. She had let that part of her life go—at least she thought she had, until he’d shown up again, twenty years later.
Hopefully, Ellie thought, she was twenty years wiser.
As for her heart, well, she couldn’t vouch for that.
“Look!” Tyler exclaimed, moving to hunch beside the mare. “I can see the foal’s legs!”
Ellie leaned over Tyler to view the foal’s progress. She, too, saw the legs, which normally appeared first. But she immediately recognized the problem.
“It’s a breech birth,” she explained to Tyler as she bent in to take a closer look. “See, the hooves are pointed upward, toward the top of the mare. With a normal birth the hooves point down.”
Tyler frowned. “I’ve never seen a breech birth,” he admitted. “What does that mean? Should I run and fetch the vet now?” His voice was a mixture of alarm and concern.
Ellie was pleased that the young boy was suddenly so willing to do a task he had not been so eager to perform earlier, but she shook her head. “No need. Breech births don’t generally require a vet’s presence. Let’s just wait and see what happens.”
The boy nodded, his gaze full of compassion as he shifted slightly so he could run his hand down the mare’s withers. “Easy there, girl,” he murmured in the same rich tone his father used with horses.
Ellie smiled softly. Tyler was like his father in so many ways, not just physically. She wished, with a moment’s flash of melancholy, she could see Tyler grow up. But that was not meant to be, and there was no use brooding about it.
The unlikely pair, Ellie and Tyler, waited patiently while the horse strained to birth her foal. After several silent minutes, Ellie knelt down by the mare, on the opposite side of Tyler.
“I think she’s going to need a little help,” she said softly so as not to disturb Sophie.
“Yeah?” Tyler still sounded concerned for the animal, but there was now excitement in his voice, as well.
“Yes,” Ellie agreed, smiling at Tyler. “And I’m glad I have a strong young man like you here to help me. We need to put a little pressure on the foal’s legs.”
Tyler’s eyes were bright for a moment, and then he frowned. “How do you mean?”
Ellie threw him a towel, which he absently tossed across his shoulder.
“Use the towel to get a good grip on the foal’s legs,” she instructed him. “Then gently pull them upward, toward the mare’s back.”
Tyler didn’t speak as he followed Ellie’s instructions. Sweat broke out on his brow as he gritted his teeth and strained to dislodge the backward-facing foal.
“You’re doing a perfect job, son,” Ellie encouraged as the foal’s legs, still covered by a thick membrane, became more visible. “
The hips are the hardest part of a breech birth. As you apply pressure, you’re helping Sophie get the foal in the right position to deliver as easily as possible.”
Tyler pinched his lips together in the shadow of a smile. “Yes, ma’am. I can feel the movement. I think she—”
The young man didn’t finish his sentence as the back half of the foal slid from his mother, followed quickly by the head. Tyler whooped in excitement. “Good going, Sophie.”
Ellie broke the sac around the foal’s head and then stood up and took a couple steps backward. “It’s time to let Sophie take over,” she told Tyler.
Tyler grinned, really grinned, this time. “I’ve seen this part before. Never get tired of it, though.” His voice was full of excitement and pride.
“Can you tell if it’s a boy or a girl?” Ellie asked, her own excitement and pride washing through her as she watched the gentle miracle of a mare tending her newborn foal.
Tyler, who had also risen to his feet, leaned over the foal, then took off his tan felt cowboy hat and clapped it against his thigh. “It’s a boy, ma’am. You have a fine colt here.”
“Thank God for a healthy birth,” Ellie whispered and then paused, considering her words carefully. “You know, I’m so glad you were here with me today. I couldn’t have made it without you, Tyler. Sophie and I appreciate what you did.”
Tyler’s face flushed with color, and he returned his hat to his head, low over his eyes, just as his father wore his hat most of the time.
“Yes, ma’am,” was all he said, but despite Tyler’s attempt to shade his features with his hat, Ellie saw a glimpse of his gleaming blue eyes, bright with pride and joy.
“Tyler James Redmond, just what do you think you’re doing out here?”
Buck’s voice obviously startled the boy, making Tyler jump from where he’d been crouching in the stable, staring down at something Buck couldn’t see from his vantage point.