Cowgirl, Unexpectedly

by Vicki Tharp

  I scrambled out the door after Hank and Boomer closed the door behind us.

  We found Ford thrashing in the mud. She would try to get to her feet, then she’d grunt and fall back down again. The gelding stood at the opposite end, head down, his butt to the wind. Hank practically vaulted over the rails. He landed hard on the other side but managed not to go down. As small as I was, I slipped through the space between the rails. Hank dropped on top of Ford’s neck, holding her down to keep her from hurting herself or the foal.

  “Take my place,” he yelled over the howl of the wind. “I need to check on the foal.”

  I slipped in behind him, throwing my weight across her neck. For an animal so thin and weak, she still had a lot of fight in her. I stroked her neck to try to calm her, but her eyes were wide and wild, and she didn’t seem to notice. I glanced over my shoulder. Hank was at her rear end, checking out the foal. I didn’t know exactly what he was checking, but he muttered a string of curses that the wind whipped away. That couldn’t be good.

  He moved back up and crouched in front of me. “Not good, Army. The foal is trying to come, but the position is all wrong. The head and one leg are back, there’s no way she’s having that foal without help.”

  “What do we do?” My whole body shook with the shivers that wracked my horse’s body. She had little reserves and the wind and rain were quickly stripping it from her. She needed shelter, but with the barn gone, we had nothing.

  Hank churned the gears of thought, the rain pelting his face and sluicing off his chin, then said, “Sit tight, I have an idea.”

  Sitting tight wasn’t easy. One thing about Ford is she doesn’t give up, and I had to fight her the whole time to keep her down. Hank backed up one of the trailers to the round pen and worked quickly to lash tarps to both sides to shelter the inside from the rain. He brought a halter and lead rope and when we had control of her head, we helped her to her feet. On the way to the trailer, she almost went back down.

  “Grab her tail to steady her,” Hank shouted.

  I grabbed handfuls of the tail and steadied her until the contraction passed and she could walk again. She stumbled onto the trailer, the tarp beating and fluttering against the sides of the trailer was almost deafening. Rain found holes, but for the most part, we were sheltered. The floor of the trailer had a thick bed of shavings. The stuff along the sides was soggy, but near the center, it was dry.

  Ford cried out again, sending a hot spike of adrenaline through my veins. This time, when she tried to go down, we let her.

  “Watch her feet,” Hank said as he tried to keep her in the middle where it was dry. “We don’t want to accidently get kicked.”

  Ford went down with a grunt and a thud that shook the trailer beneath my feet. Her nostrils flared wide with each labored breath and the sides of her abdomen writhed with the movements of the foal. Hank landed on her neck again. “Now what?” I asked.

  “You have to turn the foal. Both front feet need to come out first, with the nose forward like a swimmer off a high dive.”

  “How exact—”

  “Strip down to your T-shirt. We don’t have any gloves, but infection is the least of our worries right now. Then you have to get behind her, stick your hand up inside, push the foal back until you can find his other leg, and bring it and the head around.”

  I stripped down and crawled behind her. Steam rose from her body. She was still shivering, but not as violently and with the tarps acting as a windbreak I could tell the temperature inside the trailer had climbed a couple degrees. I reminded myself that horses had foals all the time. How hard could this be anyway?

  She grunted and strained, and a little hoof popped into view, but nothing else happened. Then Hank said, “When this contraction is done, push the foal back in.”

  I settled on my stomach behind Ford, the ammonia from the horses that had ridden in the trailer earlier stung my nostrils so I breathed through my mouth. As soon as the contraction abated, I put a hand on the tiny hoof and pushed it back inside. My horse wasn’t that big, but I still ended up shoulder deep before my hand fell into her womb. I closed my eyes and searched around inside her.

  “Follow each hoof up to the body to make sure you have the front feet. Bring them forward, then grab the foal’s muzzle.” Hank said it like it was easy. Like reaching into a bag and pulling out a donut.

  The foal was big, the uterus contracting around it. There was nothing easy about it. I grunted as the contraction squeezed the blood out of my arm, so did Ford. My cheek rested on her flank and I got a nose full of wet horse, and what I assumed was amniotic fluid. Great. Just freaking great.

  It probably took a good twenty minutes and round after round of arm-numbing contractions before I got the foal into position. “Okay, I think we’re there,” I told Hank. “Now what?”

  “Grab the front legs, and pull with the contractions.”

  On the third contraction, both front hooves were visible, then the nose peeked out. Ford contracted again and the head was through. On the next contraction, the shoulders came and then the rest of the foal slipped free and laid in a lump at my knees.

  “Make sure the nose and mouth are clear; then grab handfuls of dry shavings and rub it down. We gotta dry it off so it doesn’t get hypothermic.”

  Ford nickered to her baby, fighting Hank. I finished off as quickly as I could. “Okay. Do we let her up now?”

  “Yeah. Get as far back as you can. I don’t want one of her hooves accidentally hitting you if she has to struggle to get up.”

  “We’re clear,” I said after I’d scooted the foal aside.

  Hank scrambled up and out of the way. Ford rolled onto her chest, thrusting her front legs out in front of her. She gathered her rear legs and rested, then her baby nickered softly and Ford scrambled to her feet. She wavered, her legs trembling beneath her as her strength grew.

  “What is it?” Hank asked. “Boy or girl?”

  I lifted a hind leg as Ford came around to sniff her baby. “Boy,” I said. With two big blue eyes and black spots instead of sorrel like his mother.

  “So what’re you gonna name him?”

  Lightning flashed, raising the hair on my arms and sending a zing through the hand I hand on the rail. Thunder exploded almost before the flash faded. I glanced at Hank.

  We spoke simultaneously. “Boomer.”

  * * * *

  Hank stepped over to me, grabbed handfuls of clean shavings, and cleaned my arm off as best he could. The wind had died down and the rain slackened but it was still coming down. Which was okay because I wasn’t ready to leave my horses yet. Besides, according to Hank, we needed to make sure she passed the placenta without leaving any bits of it behind in the uterus.

  That should be fun.

  Ford snuffled and sniffed at her foal, breathing in a lungful of baby-scented air the way I imagined a human mom would do. She started cleaning him off and licking him dry. Hank opened his raincoat, backed against the side of the trailer, and eased me against him. His chest to my back. I was getting cold again in my T-shirt, but I was pretty sure my great grandfather would come haunt me if I even so much as slid one crusty, gooey finger into his flight jacket.

  Greedily, I soaked up Hank’s body heat as his hands found bare skin at my belly. He rested his chin on my shoulder and we watched Ford and little Boomer. Ford nudged her baby, encouraging it to stand. He tried several times to get to his feet only to tumble into the shavings, his soft hooves paddling in the air. Finally, he managed to stand. His feet splayed out and his legs shook like an old alcoholic who hadn’t had a drop of liquor in days. He took several teetering steps as he tried to find which end of his mother had the all-you-can-drink buffet.

  Finding the correct end, he bumped her udder with his nose and latched on, not even the slightest bit embarrassed by all his loud slurping. Ford nudged Boomer in the side, her big brown ey
es soft, but a little wide with surprise.

  “Aw,” I said. “Boomer’s so adorable.”

  “You’d best be talking about the foal, woman,” Hank said with a mock growl of jealousy.

  I deliberately made him wait for my response. “Um…yeah…that’s what I meant.”

  “Hey, now,” Hank teased as his fingers tickled my ribs. I shrieked and tried to pull away, but he held me tight. Boomer stopped sucking long enough to roll an eye in our direction and Ford blew a muzzle full of horsey snot in our way.

  So much for a horse’s sense of humor.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” I said. “The horse, not the man.”

  “That’s more like it.”

  I turned in his arms then and wrapped mine around his waist. “Thank you. For this. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  He stared into my eyes, and nodded once and his throat bobbed up and down. He cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”

  I could tell there was more he wanted to say. I stood there in his arms and focused on the feel of his thumbs as they traced absentminded circles at the small of my back. Then he lowered his head until his forehead rested on mine. “Mackenzie, I know you don’t need a man—”

  I snatched my hand from under his shirt and slapped it over his mouth. My clean one. I wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but everything from his tone, to the tension in his body, told me I didn’t want to hear any more of it. He tried to pull away, but I wouldn’t let go. “Hold on a second.”

  When he tried to pull away again, I pressed my hand against his mouth that much harder. He rolled his eyes at me but I didn’t release him. “Before you say whatever it is you were about to say, I want to tell you something. Okay?”

  He tried to read me, then gave me a slight nod.

  “Not a word until I’m done talking,” I said. “Agreed?”

  His eyes narrowed in a way that I knew that if eyes could growl, that’s how they would look.

  Tentatively I removed my hand. He kept his trap shut. “What you started to say, that I don’t need a man?” He nodded, still all growly eyed, and I continued. “That is correct.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. His eyebrows raised as if to say ‘go on.’

  “I don’t need a man to take care of me. I don’t need a man to protect me. I don’t need a man to live happily-ever-after for the rest of my life.” He dropped his eyes and stared at the clump of wet wood shavings at his feet. “But you know what Hank?”

  When I didn’t continue, he lifted his guarded gaze to mine. Then I said, “I want a man in my life. I want a man to hold me. I want a man to love me. I want a man to disagree with me. I want a man who will stand up to me when I’m wrong and pick me up when I’m down.”

  He inhaled, slow and steady, his eyes open and curious.

  I stepped in closer, placed my hands on his chest, ran them up over his shoulders, and linked my hands at the back of his neck. “What I want, Hank, is you. Forever.”

  He stood there. If I’d stripped naked and declared myself Aphrodite the Greek goddess of love, I don’t think he could have been more stunned. Then humor sparked in his eye and his lips twitched until they bowed Cheshire cat wide. He leaned in close, his lips near my ear as if he didn’t want our audience to hear. “Did you just propose to me, Army?”

  I glanced up at his face. The grin was still there, but so was the honesty, sincerity, and vulnerability in his question. His eyes searched my face as if he could read my answer before I voiced it. Did I propose to him? I hadn’t known him that long, but already I couldn’t picture my life without him. I knew I loved him. I’d told him as much. Did I want to spend the rest of my life with him?

  Yes.

  Really, how hard could it be?

  There was a guardedness to his eyes as if he were afraid I’d blow him off. His smile faltered as he waited for my answer. “Army?”

  I met him, blink for blink, and stare for stare so he couldn’t mistake my answer. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

  He spun us around, pressed me against the side of the trailer, and crushed his lips to mine. His kiss was hard and demanding, a release of fear and the taking of everything I offered him. He stepped between my legs and ground himself up against me. Warm air fluttered in my ear, soft whiskers on my cheek. Hank broke the kiss and I opened my eyes and stared up one of Ford’s giant nostrils. She snuffled a couple times then blew it all out again, showering us with a sneeze.

  “Oh, my God, get away,” I said to her as I gently pushed her back and dried my face with the hem of my T-shirt, which probably wasn’t the best idea since I’d lain in the shaving in it. After cleaning his own face, Hank plucked a few curls of shavings from my hair, his tone all serious when he said. “I want diamonds.”

  What? I raised a brow at him.

  “Big ones. I can’t be bought cheap, you know. I’m not that kinda guy.”

  I punched him in the gut and got a satisfying oomph out of him. “I can still take you, you know.”

  He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, snuggled me to him, and smacked a kiss on my temple. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  * * * *

  By the time Hank and I had given hay and water to my horses and gotten ourselves cleaned up again and said our goodbyes to the human Boomer and driven up to the big house for dinner, everyone was already sitting around the table, piling food on their plates. Hank and I grabbed two open seats next to each other and helped ourselves.

  “Congratulations!” Jenna said, all smiles.

  Hank and I flicked a glance to each other. Nobody knew about the proposal.

  “On the foal,” Lottie clarified.

  “Yes, of course. Thank you,” I said.

  Lottie passed me the green beans. “Boomer stopped by before he left and told us.”

  “Black paint colt,” I said as proudly as if I’d given birth to him myself.

  With gusto, I dug into my T-bone, savoring the juices as they trickled down my throat. My stomach cheered.

  “Where’s Link?” Hank asked.

  “Hospital,” Dale said. “He called a couple hours ago. Said Doris’s bullet wound was through and through the shoulder and should heal without any lasting damage. That was a nice shot Boomer made, by the way, hitting her in the shooting arm to deflect the shot.”

  I had a mouth full of mashed potatoes so I didn’t correct Dale with the truth. That I knew Boomer had aimed center mass—at the heart—but Doris had turned at the last moment when Sheriff Tate had reached for the barrel of the rifle so Boomer’s aim had been off.

  Nobody needed to know that.

  Perhaps it was better that they didn’t.

  “I still can’t believe he’s really my great uncle,” Jenna said. “Well, half great uncle, I guess. I feel bad, now. Thinking he could have been involved.”

  Dale swallowed hard as if his throat had shrunk to the diameter of a straw. He cleared his throat and said to Jenna, “You were right about Doris, though. About her not liking it here. Then when she found out Link could have made a claim to the ranch but refused, it made her even more resentful and bitter. I guess she got back at him, at us, the only way she knew how.”

  “Twisted, but I guess I get why she did it,” Quinn said, tucking a half-chewed piece of meat into the pocket of his cheek like a carnivorous squirrel. “The Talbot brothers did it for the money. Easy to understand, but why’d the sheriff do it? He was the freaking sheriff. Why would he risk that?”

  “Ah,” Santos said, “The oldest reason in the world, mi amigo.”

  “Whazzat?”

  “Love.” The word echoed around the table as everyone said it at the same time. We all laughed. Hank placed his hand on my thigh and gave it a squeeze.

  “It’ll mess you up every time, brother,” Alby said, like the amused all-knowing older sibling. “Smartest
thing a man can do is steer clear.”

  “Well, speaking of love…” Quinn stood, his Adam’s apple bobbed, and his complexion grew moldy as if his food was boiling in his stomach and threatened an encore. Hank grew still and shot me a worried look. “I guess after the other night, it’s no secret Jenna and I are getting serious.”

  There were a few uncomfortable chuckles, but Hank didn’t laugh, in fact, the tension rolled off him, thick, heavy and a bull’s cock hair shy of downright dangerous.

  “Daddy,” Jenna said, “hear him out, okay?”

  Hank’s hard gaze reluctantly slid from Quinn to his daughter. He sucked air into the tips of his lungs and had time for a mental countdown from ten before he blew it out again. I linked my hand with his and he nodded to his daughter. She beamed a smile at him and he softened beside me.

  Yeah. What a man doesn’t do for love. Especially when it’s for his daughter.

  Quinn continued, his voice getting more strangled the more he explained. “I love your daughter, Mr. Nash, but I wanna be able to offer her more than what I can as a ranch hand. No offense,” he said as he glanced nervously around the room. “So, I’ve decided to enlist…sir,” he added for good measure.

  “What branch?” I asked.

  “Marines. I wanna learn to fly choppers.”

  “Ooh-rah,” I said, with a healthy dose of pride. “The military is serious business. You sure you know what you’re getting yourself in for?”

  “A little, yeah. A lot, not so much,” he admitted. “Boomer filled me in. Bottom line, I want to be someone people can respect. Like him. Like you.”

  If he’d been any closer, I’d have hauled him across the table and into a big hug. I caught Jenna’s eye. I could see her excitement, and her fear. I could also finally see what she saw in Quinn.

  “Excuse me a second,” I said as I scooted my chair back and went to the hooks by the back door where I’d left my bomber jacket. I fished in the inside pocket until I found what I was hunting for, then reclaimed my seat. Hank brows furrowed as he tried to puzzle out what I was doing. “Catch,” I said as I tossed Quinn the object in my hand.