by Susan Fox
“It’s Sunshine Song.” She recited exactly what had happened. “I still don’t see the head.”
“Its head and neck may be bent backward. Don’t try to turn it or push the legs back in. Get the mare up and walking. We don’t want her pushing, and we want to reduce pressure in the birth canal. Ideally, the foal will slide back into the uterus by itself and get repositioned.”
Phone to her ear, Sally raced to the tack room to get a halter with a lead rope. “What if that doesn’t happen?”
“I’m on my way. I may be able to reposition the foal. If not, I’ll have to bring Song in and do a C-section—or do an emergency one on-site. But let’s not cross that bridge yet. I’m in my truck and I’m hanging up now. If anything happens that worries you, call and I’ll answer.”
“Thanks.” Sally rushed outside, the halter in her hand.
Ben was on her heels. Voice low, he asked, “What’s the scoop? Can I help?”
“Maybe.” Whispering, she filled him in.
Approaching the horse, she crooned, “Hey there, Song. I’m afraid you’re going to have to take an intermission. You can’t push. You’ve got to get up and walk. Max will be here soon.”
To Ben, she said, “You talk to her, too. Stroke her, soothe her.”
He obeyed, his voice low and reassuring, while Sally put the halter on. She pulled lightly but steadily on the rope. “Up now, Song.”
The palomino shifted her weight, gathered herself, and then with a grunt rose awkwardly.
“Ben, you lead her.” Sally put the rope in his hand. “I’ll walk beside her.” She positioned herself at the horse’s shoulder, resting a comforting hand on Song’s sweaty coat and telling her that everything was going to be okay. As she tried to calm the horse with her touch and words, Sally realized that Ben’s quiet support was having that very effect on her.
It was after two when Ben walked with Sally and the vet, Max, to the parking lot. He wondered how often Max got called out at night after putting in a full day’s work. Hell of a job. One that she clearly did very well, and loved. As Max loaded her medical kit into her truck, Sally asked, “You really think Moon Song will be okay? And Sunshine Song?”
“They’re looking good,” Max said reassuringly. “Once the foal adjusted his position, the delivery seemed perfectly normal.”
They’d been lucky. The foal’s legs had slipped back into his mom’s body as she walked. When the vet arrived and did an internal exam, she’d confirmed that his position was correct. They had let the restless palomino lie down again, and the foal had slid out in the space of a couple of minutes. A perfect black colt.
“Check them around dawn,” Max instructed. “If Moon Song hasn’t passed the meconium or isn’t urinating, or if you see any other possible problems, give me a call. Don’t forget to dip the umbilical stump in antiseptic solution every few hours. I’ll drop by this afternoon when I get a chance.”
Max glanced from Sally to Ben, and back again. “You two have had a long night. Might as well get some sleep.” Her tone was neutral. Deliberately so, it seemed to him.
Sally’d been so anxious about her horse, she hadn’t introduced Ben to the vet. He’d done it himself, giving Max his name and saying he was Sally’s new assistant. Now he kept any hint of innuendo from his voice when he said, “Sounds good. Night, Max. Nice to meet you.”
“You too, Ben.”
As Max drove away, Sally plopped down on a mounting block. “Whew.” She blew out air. “That was scary.”
“All’s well that ends well, right? Let’s follow Max’s advice and get some shut-eye. It’ll be dawn before we know it.”
“I think I should stay up.” She rotated an obviously stiff neck and he heard it crunch.
“Sore neck?”
“It tightens up when I’m worried.”
He could help with that, if she let him. The woman had slept in the curve of his arm. Maybe her body had just slumped over, but he wanted to believe that her instincts told her to trust him. Stepping behind her, he removed his left arm from the sling and gently rested both hands on her shoulders. Her shoulders rose, tense, but she didn’t shake him off or move away. Encouraged, he massaged lightly, through her sweatshirt. She remained taut, then her muscles loosened under his hands.
His shoulder ached fiercely, but a few minutes of massage shouldn’t do any real damage.
He moved from her sweatshirt to the bare skin of her neck, working his thumbs into the knots. “You’re all locked up,” he said quietly. His hands warmed as he worked, and so did her skin. She even tilted her head slightly, giving him better access.
It wasn’t only his hands that were heating. Arousal was thick in his blood, tightening his groin. He tried to ignore his own physical sensations.
What mattered was that Sally was starting to trust him. Sharing tonight—the worry, and then the joy of a healthy foal—had helped. Slowly, she was coming to realize that he wasn’t a bad guy like the man who’d hurt her. All Ben wanted to do was help, to make her life easier.
Well, really he wanted a lot more than that. He wanted to change his massaging strokes to caressing ones, to press his lips to her soft, heated skin. But he wouldn’t.
“Max seems pretty smart,” he murmured. Gently, he braced the left side of Sally’s head in the curve of his palm so he could work the right side of her neck.
“She is.” She tipped her head more snugly into his hand, stretching her neck under his fingers.
He swallowed back a groan of need and tried to sound normal. “She says the two Songs will be fine until morning. And for you, she prescribed sleep.”
The inflection in her voice when she answered told him she was smiling. “She’s a horse doctor, not a people one.”
He didn’t respond, didn’t argue, just kept rubbing her neck.
“Okay,” she said, “I guess she’s right. We should both—wait, what are you doing?” She slipped free from his hands, rose, and turned to face him. “Ben! Put your arm back in that sling!”
Rolling his eyes, he said, “Yes, ma’am,” glad that her gaze was focused on his face, not below his waist. “I’ll do that, because I for one can listen to good advice. I’m heading off to bed. See you at dawn.”
She nodded, her face unnaturally pale in the moonlight. “Ben?” Gazing up at him, she seemed to be considering her words. “Thank you for being there tonight. It made everything easier. Nicer.”
His heart warmed. “Hey, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” He wanted to kiss her. Just one soft, light kiss. On her lips, or he’d even settle for her forehead. But they’d come a long way tonight and he didn’t want to risk spoiling things. He raised his good hand in a salute and walked toward his rig, feeling her gaze on his back. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. He wouldn’t turn and find out.
Inside his cramped home, he took a pain pill, had a long drink of water, stripped off his clothes, and eased his aching body into bed. Into his mind came the image of Sally’s dazzling smile when that little black colt tottered to its feet. Grinning himself, he tumbled into sleep.
Dawn light and a medley of bird trills, chirps, and twitters woke Ben what seemed like only minutes later, and he groaned. But then he remembered the events of the night.
Anxious to see how the mare and foal were doing, hopeful that the new mellowness between him and Sally would continue, he clambered out of bed.
Today, he wouldn’t take the time to make a healthy breakfast. Instead, between sips of strong black coffee, he slathered a multigrain bagel with cream cheese and strawberry jam. He slipped into the annoying sling and, with the bagel in his cuffed hand and the mug in his good one, went to visit Sunshine Song and Moon Song.
Sally was already in the birthing paddock, dipping the foal’s umbilical stump in antiseptic solution while Sunshine Song watched protectively. When Sally finished, she stroked the colt’s shiny black neck. Then, seeing Ben, she came over, smiling. “All’s well. Moon’s peeing and he passed the meconium.”
“That’s great.” Had to love the horse world, where topics like a foal’s first dump were cheerful breakfast conversation. Speaking of which. “You had breakfast?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
He set his coffee mug on a fence post and held out the bagel. “Want to share?”
“Thanks, but I’ll go get some cereal now that I know these two are okay.”
“I’m gonna hang out here, have my bagel and coffee, then I’ll get to work.”
“If you can tear yourself away,” she teased.
As pretty a sight as the mare and foal were, the sparkling emerald glints in Sally’s eyes and the smile on her face were even more addictive.
After she’d gone, he ate breakfast, said good morning to Chaunce, and then went into the barn and readied horses for a couple of early riders.
The actions and the scents—horse, straw, hay, manure, leather—were familiar. Growing up on a ranch, he was used to the routine involved in caring for animals. At Ryland Riding, some tasks were the same, some different, but it was easy to slip into the flow of it. Life in the country had a rhythm governed by dawn and dusk, by seasons, by cycles of animals and crops. The work was physically demanding, occasionally mentally challenging, and always satisfying. For him. His sister, older than him by ten years, had been bored to tears and had moved to the city.
When Ben had chosen rodeo, or it had chosen him, he’d figured that one day he’d come full circle, back to the ranch where he’d grown up. Now, though he understood why his parents had sold it, their decision left him feeling like he didn’t have a home base. Nothing more than a spare bedroom in his parents’ house in Calgary, or the bunkhouse at the horse trainer’s where he worked in the off season. Strange how a guy who spent most of his life on the road could miss having a home base.
Chapter Eight
Midmorning, Sally had just turned Campion out in the paddock after the farrier’s visit. Her cell rang as she walked back to the barn. “Ryland Riding,” she answered.
“Hey, you,” a warm male voice said.
“Dave! You’re back.” How wonderful to hear that familiar voice. She’d missed him and Cassidy in the month they’d been on their honeymoon.
“Yes, we got back on Sunday. Sorry I didn’t call earlier, but there was so much to catch up on at the inn.”
“I bet.” Dave had spent years restoring the historic Wild Rose Inn, and had done a fabulous job. “But Madisun handled things okay?” Cassidy, Dave’s brand-new wife, shared the assistant manager position with Madisun Joe and had persuaded Dave to leave the younger woman in charge.
“Madisun did great. It was good for both of us, me learning to delegate and her developing more confidence.”
A cheeky female voice said, in the background, “Told you so.”
Sally smiled. “Say hi to Cassidy.”
Dave did, and his wife called, “Hi to you too, Sally.”
Sally went into the office. “Did you have a wonderful honeymoon? How was Italy?” she asked Dave as she sank down on the sofa in the same spot where she’d sat last night.
“Fantastic. Next time we see you, we’ll tell you all about it.”
“How was Cassidy’s health?” She’d been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis last year.
“Terrific. A couple of pseudo-exacerbations when we had unavoidably long days, but no new attacks and mostly she was pretty symptom-free.”
Cassidy’s voice came again. “Even if I did try his patience more than once.”
Sally smiled. Dave was superorganized. Cassidy was a free spirit and had struggled against the structure imposed by her disease: a treatment plan, lots of rest, a regular exercise regimen, and so on. “You two are good for each other.”
“That’s for sure,” Dave said. “Now what’s this I hear about Ryland Riding? Corrie left, and you have some new guy, Ben, who’s an old friend?”
She frowned. “How did you know that?” Not that it was a secret, but she hated people gossiping about her.
“Sally, it’s a small town.”
“Which I’m not a part of,” she reminded him.
“Doesn’t stop the rumor mill. I heard about Ben from, let’s see, Terry at the Gold Pan diner, Madeleine at the bank, and Tiffany Knight who was in for lunch and said her son Marty was excited to meet a rodeo star.”
And Ben had been around for all of two days. Sally shook her head. This was why Pete had been so adamant about keeping their lives private. “Why were they telling you?” she asked grumpily.
“They know we’re friends. So what’s the story, Sally? Who is this guy?”
“I told you I used to barrel race, right? Ben was riding saddle broncs. He’s still competing.” Not wanting to get into family stuff, she didn’t mention her sister. “He was at the Williams Lake Stampede and Rodeo and came by to say hi. He’s injured and needs time to heal. Rather than drive himself and his horse back to Alberta, he’s helping me out in exchange for having a place to park his trailer, look after his horse, and train. We’re friends, Dave. That’s it.”
Friends. The word popped out, a word she had previously only applied to Dave, Cassidy, and Dave’s daughter, Robin. Yet it felt like the right one to describe Ben. The fact that he stirred up her blood in a disconcerting way . . . well, that was a completely separate and ridiculous thing she’d never admit to.
“I kind of figured,” Dave said. “I know how you felt about Pete.”
No, he didn’t. She had let him believe that Pete had been the love of her life and that she’d never get over his loss. No one knew the truth about her life with Pete, nor about the way he’d died.
“You and Ben should come for dinner,” Dave said.
“Oh! Thanks, but, Dave, you know I don’t like going into town.” Besides, going out for dinner together was the kind of thing couples did, and she and Ben most definitely weren’t a couple.
“I know you’re shy around people. We’ll have dinner at our place. You and Ben, Cassidy, Robin, and me.”
“I have lessons late in the afternoons, and horses to get ready for owners who’re coming out to ride.”
“Not every day. Right?”
Not on Fridays and Sundays. She tried a different approach. “Ben’s only here for a short time. I don’t want to drag him into, uh . . . I mean, not that meeting you and your family would be . . . Look, Dave, I just don’t see it working.”
“Give me that,” Cassidy said in the background and then, into the phone, “Sally?”
“Hi, Cassidy. Welcome back.”
“Thanks. As for dinner, Dave’s protective instinct has kicked in and he wants to check Ben out.”
Of course. Sally should have known it was more than a casual dinner invitation.
Cassidy went on. “You know he won’t back down when he gets like this. You might as well stop arguing. Besides, I’m dying to tell you about Italy. What nights work for you?”
Sally had been outmaneuvered, and she didn’t want to be rude to her friends. Reluctantly, she said, “I’d have to check with Ben, but the best days for me are Fridays and Sundays.”
“Perfect! This is Thursday, so let’s do tomorrow night. What time can you come?”
“Tomorrow? Uh . . .” This was happening too fast for her to think. “Around six-thirty? Is that too late?” Please say it’s too late.
“Great!” the other woman said. “I’ll assume Ben’s free unless you let me know otherwise. We’re looking forward to meeting him.”
Sally slowly lowered the phone. A sound made her look up as Ben stepped into the office. Sweat beaded his dark forehead, and she had the absurd urge to reach up and brush back a few strands of damp black hair. She put the phone in her pocket and clasped her hands. “Did you hear that?”
“The last part. Sorry, but you had the office door open.”
“It’s fine.” She bit her lip. “Friends have invited us for dinner. It seems people are talking about you. Us. That’s . . . I hate the idea of people gossiping about
me.”
“It’s human nature. Especially in a small town. Besides, what’s the big deal? You’ve got an old friend visiting, helping you out.”
“But what if they think . . .” She ducked her head, embarrassed.
“That we’re more than friends?”
Keeping her head down, she nodded.
“Would that be so terrible?” he asked. “You’re a widow. I’m single. Consenting adults; no one getting hurt.”
She tried not to flinch at the last word. When she had been getting hurt, she and Pete had kept their secret so well that no one suspected.
“You’re allowed to date,” Ben said.
“I don’t want to date,” she rejoined, lifting her head. She wished she hadn’t, because his strong-boned face and warm chestnut eyes were too appealing, making her question the truth of her words.
No, that was crazy. She knew better than to fall for a man again—much less a rodeo star who was only in town for a couple of weeks. Besides, she had a business to run and a reputation to protect. Her private life, pitiful as it was, should remain private.
Ben’s mouth had tightened. Probably, like everyone else, he figured she was still grieving Pete’s death, and after three years ought to get over it. Fine. Let him think that.
“Anyhow,” she said, “we’re invited for dinner, but we don’t have to go. Dave can be a little overprotective, so it might be awkward.”
“Macho cowboy here,” Ben joked. “He doesn’t scare me.”
The man had away of making her want to grin. “No, but—”
“Sally, don’t overthink it. I’d like to meet your friends. What’s the big deal?” A considering expression crossed his face. “Did you and this Dave guy ever date?”
“No! Never. It was never like that between us.” She’d never once felt attracted to Dave, and she was sure the same was true for him.
“Did Dave and Pete get along?”
“They never met. I only got to know Dave a couple of years ago.”
“Oh?” He paused. “Did you and Pete have friends in the area?”