To Tame a Wild Mustang

by J. Rose Allister

  “Second one’s probably dead,” he said.

  The woman snorted. “Give nature a chance, cowboy. She might just surprise you.”

  He lifted a brow. “You ever seen a live birth of twin foals?”

  “Once, actually. I may not have a fancy doctorate seal on my wall, but I’m not exactly a shave tail, Mr. Tyler.”

  “Call me William.” She gave him a funny look, but he just shrugged. “Figured since we’re up to our elbows together in foalin’, we may as well skip formalities.”

  There was a curious pause. “I’m Kate.”

  When his stare raked over her perfectly sculpted face just a bit too long, he saw her lick her lips and swallow. The sight of her tongue running over moist pink lips twisted his gut in a way he hadn’t felt for quite a long time.

  Misty gave a soft snort, then twitched her tail and straightened her legs. Kate turned away from his gaze toward the mare. “Think she’s ready to go again. Pull this foal out of the way a bit, would you?”

  William took a towel and gathered the foal gently to push it aside, taking note of the fact that it was a colt. Kate was already feeling around for the other foal’s legs. The second birth couldn’t be delayed any longer than necessary.

  “Here she goes,” she said.

  The feet came faster this time, and Will could see that indeed, it was the rear legs, hooves turned up. Concern for mother and babe’s well-being stole the breath from his lungs.

  Ten minutes later, Misty pushed out a second foal, head last. The doc worked fast and quiet this time, staring with stark concentration while she ripped open the sac and dried the animal’s reddish brown coat with towels. It lay without moving, and William was certain this one was dead. Misty still had not shown the slightest interest in the fact that she’d just birthed two offspring.

  “How’s it goin’ in there?” Jack asked.

  William waited for Kate to reply, but she stayed quiet for a few moments. Then she let out a whoop that brought a grin to his face. “It’s a filly,” she said.

  “And a colt,” William added.

  “Both alive and breathing,” Kate said, and the two grinned at one another.

  “Yee-doggies!” Jack said. “Don’t that just beat a pair of aces?”

  “They are a pair of aces,” Kate said, and they all laughed. “Now we’ll just have to see how they take to the teat.”

  That comment seemed to prod the mare into realizing she was now a proud mother. She raised her head to look back over her flank and check on her young. With some effort she got up and turned herself around, then began nuzzling and licking her foals.

  William helped Kate to her feet, and the pair stood with Jack outside the stall. Both their jeans were stained and wet, with straw stuck on like they’d been tarred and feathered. Once the afterbirths were dealt with and were decreed intact, William showed her out to a nearby well where they both washed up. Back inside the barn, the three of them shared a toast over mugs of now-lukewarm coffee. Nevertheless, William couldn’t turn off the parade of worries running through his mind about the horses.

  “The foals are a might small,” he said.

  “That’s the way of it with twins,” Kate said. “I’m afraid they’re not out of danger yet. You’ll have to keep an eagle eye on them for the next few months. But if they get on their feet to nurse soon, they’ll have a better fighting chance.”

  The three of them drank coffee and made small talk while watching the new family get acquainted. After a bit, Misty got to her feet and began nudging the foals’ hindquarters. A grin the size of Texas split William’s face when the black colt got to its shaky legs less than an hour after birth.

  “Would yeh look at that,” Jack said.

  After a false start, the foal wobbled on weak, yet determined legs to its mother’s flank and poked a head beneath her.

  “That’s one,” William said with a smile.

  Kate nodded with a smile of her own. “Let’s see if little sis decides to play copycat.”

  The filly didn’t, not at first. She took her time testing her legs, then lying back down. But after several tries she was up and rooting around near her brother, though she couldn’t get to the mare’s teat until the other foal gave up his hold.

  Kate let out a delighted laugh and grabbed William’s hand for a moment. Her warmth soaked right through him, sending a charge of heat up his arm. Then she seemed to remember herself and let go. “Congratulations,” she said. “Looks like they’re off to a fine start.”

  “It does at that,” he said. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Well, I’ll be,” Jack said, with an air of shock in his voice. “I’ve never seen a double foalin’ where all three lived to get on their feet.” He turned to Kate. “Yer a miracle worker. We’ll be sure the whole town knows about the miracle hoss doc, won’t we, Will?”

  “Far more luck and nature’s will than my own doing,” she said. “But I was happy to be here for it.” She paused a moment. “I’d be obliged for the kind word, though. It hasn’t exactly been an easy sell, convincing folks around here that a woman is qualified for the job.”

  “Not what I heard from Tom Greenley,” Jack said. “He didn’t even mention yer gender. I’ll admit I was a bit surprised.”

  She shrugged. “Sick animals don’t care one whit or another whether they get looked after by a man or a woman. Not like people.”

  “Speakin’ of sick animals, we got a mare that’s a bit lame,” Jack went on. “Maybe yeh could take a look at her.”

  “I’m sure Windstorm will be fine,” William cut in. “And that Miss Marsh is tired.”

  “I’d be happy to have a look,” she said. “Did she get rode too hard?”

  William shot her a look. “Course not. Hadn’t been ridden at all yesterday, but today she has a bit of a limp. I’m sure she’ll be fine in a day or two.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself. But if she isn’t, let me know.”

  “Will,” Jack went on, “couldn’t help but notice Mrs. Stower left us chow back at the house. I hate to take French leave, but I’m a might starved.”

  “You’re right. It’s definitely past chow time,” William said. He turned to Kate. “A housekeeper comes in a couple times a week to clean and cook. You’re welcome to join us for supper.”

  “She more than earned it,” Jack said.

  Her smile at him in response tripled William’s pulse. Was she interested in Jack?

  “I’d love to,” she said. “But I’m afraid I have a supper of my own to get on the table.”

  “Of course,” William said, trying to hide the flash of disappointment that was even more obvious on Jack’s face. “I should have known you have a family of your own to attend.”

  A knowing smile lit her face. “I’m not married, Mr. Tyler. But I’m afraid my pa is ailing. Doesn’t eat much these days, but I like to stay close and make sure he gets something in his belly each meal.”

  Jack folded his arms. “And your pa don’t mind yeh callin’ on a stranger’s ranch?”

  She shrugged. “He’s had to come to an understanding about my work.”

  William smiled. “I’m sorry we kept you,” he said. “I’ll take you on home now.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I rode my own mount over.”

  He shot Jack a sharp look, but the man shrugged. “She insisted on riding alongside.”

  “No use having you ride me back and forth,” she said. William’s stomach heated with a meaning for the sentence that she seemed completely oblivious to. “And I’m betting you could use something in your belly yourself, anyway.”

  William turned to the other man. “You run on ahead, Jack. Grab chow and I’ll see Miss Marsh off.”

  “Pleasure meetin’ you, ma’am.” Jack tipped his hat and shot Kate his best smile. He was really laying it on thick, and her flushed smile and nod in return seemed to indicate she didn’t mind one bit.

  When his attention returned to Kate, she grabbed her spli
t skirt and gestured to her soiled trousers. “Saved my better garment a thrashing, see?” The same smile she shot frequently at Jack came his way.

  He laughed. “So you did.”

  She moved to an empty stall and hung the skirt over the top. “If you wouldn’t mind turning your back a spell?”

  He raised a brow, but did as he was asked. He did his best to ignore the sound of her shucking boots and garments, realizing this time she was actually stripping out of her jeans and standing half naked in his stable. He cleared a suddenly dry throat. “You’re sure I can’t offer you company for the ride home?”

  “No use keeping two men waiting for their supper. But thank you.”

  William walked over to Misty’s stall and put on his hat, then stood watching the two new foals with their dam. The colt was standing upright again to nurse. The filly was lying in the straw with her legs folded beneath. Jack was right. The whole thing was a miracle, and Kate Marsh had been a large part of the reason for it.

  She came out with her shirtsleeves buttoned and split skirt on. Her soiled trousers were draped over one arm. They walked together in silence to the front of the house, where she untied a palomino and lead it a short ways from the hitching post. “I’ll swing back around to check on the foals soon,” she said. “Keep an extra close watch. Their size makes ’em more likely to take ill or have trouble getting milk.”

  “I will. Thank you again,” he said, wishing he could think of a reason to prolong her visit or accompany her back. “Nice makin’ your acquaintance.”

  She mounted her horse and tugged the reins to swing around toward William. “I didn’t figure you’d remember me.”

  He raised a brow. “I think you’re mistaken. I’m sure I’d know if we’d met before.”

  “Oh, I’m not mistaken.” She bent down toward him. “In fact, you’re the sole reason I decided to pursue animal medicine.” She clucked to her horse and they trotted off. “Good night, Mr. Tyler.”

  He stared after her until the night swallowed her shrinking image.

  Chapter Three

  Kate tied the ribbon around her head, frowned at the mirror, and then pulled the satin frill out for the fifth time. She was trying too hard, a concept that didn’t work well considering her lack of experience with primping. Turning her head this way and that, she checked the pair of braids she’d coiled into a figure-eight bun at the back of her neck. Another braid circled the top of her head from ear to ear. Good enough. This wasn’t her wedding day, for heaven’s sakes. It was just a barn dance.

  She twirled once for the mirror, watching her best frock fly out with a flourish over her petticoats. The dress wasn’t dreadful fancy, but it flattered her. The delicate blue calico brought out the shade of her eyes. The neck had a scalloped collar, adorned with just a tiny border of lace that also edged the cuff of her fitted sleeves and skirt hem. Kate had gone wild and opted to wear two petticoats beneath the ankle-length dress. Not quite a trendsetting decision considering some women wore as many as five, but a big to-do for her nonetheless. She had no time or use for fashion and fancy hairstyles. She had little time or use for barn dances, for that matter. Much as she tried to ignore the truth, she knew she would not be attending this one had it been held even a couple of weeks ago. But now a small, ridiculous glimmer of hope drove her to preen like a desperate female while a flock of nervous doves took flight in her stomach. She was making all this fuss over the practically nonexistent chance that two certain cowboys would be at the dance—one of whom hadn’t even remembered her. Nevertheless, both men took hold of her sensibilities and twisted them like wrung out laundry whenever she laid eyes on them.

  What a pickle, going from no interest in men to interest in two men at the same time. Still, she needed to face facts. William and Jack had a ranch to run, one she’d learned would require a good deal of money, spit, and vigor to revive. They had even less time or cause to frolic at a square dance than she did, and to waste effort spiffing herself up in hopes of taking a turn through the squares with either of them made less sense than keeping a bag of fool’s gold in a bank safe.

  Kate could have saved herself the trouble if she’d just had the guts to ask if they were attending. She’d been out to Tyler ranch twice in the week since the mare had foaled her twins, and the question sat on the edge of her tongue both times. Yet there was no way such a request would sound like anything other than a fishing trip, one where an eye-batting female was looking to hook herself a husband. That was the last thing she needed right now. So despite the fact that she’d been tongue-wagged about in the past over her alleged bold behavior, she couldn’t bring herself to spit out that simple sentence. Fine. It would serve her right when she stood around the barn feeling stupid while the men took care of business back home.

  She had barely made it to the front room when her pa spoke up. “Well, ain’t you gussied up like you got a man in yer sights.”

  Kate ignored his steel-eyed gaze and bustled over to where a pot of rabbit stew hung over the fire. “Don’t be silly, Pa. It’s just a barn dance.”

  “Why don’t you use the stove, girl? Paid good money fer it.”

  “It’s easier to wrestle a pot of stew over an open fire than fret all day over the dampers and flues on that cast iron monster. Besides, I used it for your biscuits.”

  Steam from the pot caressed her face as she stirred, and she felt heat flush her cheeks and curl strands of the hair already escaping her braids. The broth warmed her throat as she tested it. Satisfied, she spooned up a bowl and set it on the table in front of her father. Clyde Marsh sat at the head of their simple pine table, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and gray-brown hair tousled. Rheumy gray eyes shot her a wary look. Each day that passed seemed to ring those eyes with darker shadows and narrow his face into thinner, harsher angles.

  “There,” she said. “Your favorite stew, biscuits, and fresh churned butter. I didn’t have time to set the butter up fancy in the mold, though.”

  He snorted. “What use have I got fer that? It’s just goin’ to my gut anyway. Ain’t you gonna eat?”

  A flash of guilt shot through her. True, if she stayed to share the meal with Pa, she could make sure he ate. But she so rarely got out for social occasions. “I’ll eat at the dance. All the womenfolk are bringin’ something to share.”

  Speaking of which, she went to the small kitchen and grabbed the basket in which she’d tucked more biscuits inside a linen square to take along.

  “I’ve got the wash to soak in the tubs, so I can launder it tomorrow.” She grabbed her shawl from a hook near the door and wandered back to kiss her father’s slightly greasy head, her boot heels clicking across the floor when they left the padding of the braided rug that needed beating again. “I won’t be out late. Eat and get some rest, Pa.”

  “Rest. You act like I’m a useless old codger.” He threw her a sharp look, but picked up a biscuit and sopped it in his stew. “I’ll rest when I’m dead.”

  “Which will be soon enough, if you don’t start listening to the doc and taking better care.” Fear tinged her words, but she pasted on a smile. “Love you, Pa.”

  The wagon ride to the Jessup’s barn was filled with thoughts she tried hard to set aside. William and Jack wouldn’t be there. The sooner she accepted that, the less disappointment she’d feel when it turned out to be true.

  Lively fiddling, laughing, and chatter could be heard from well outside the dance, owing to the barn doors having been thrown wide open. The early evening felt warm, so Kate left her shawl with the buckboard and secured her horse before carrying her basket inside. A fair portion of the town had turned out for this event, and for good reason. The Jessup’s barn dances were known far and wide as festive occasions with good spreads of food and better company. The Jessups had the biggest barn this side of Tanner’s Grove, maybe this side of Redding. And they employed the services of a professional caller for their square dances.

  Excited despite herself, Kate returned greetings f
rom several familiar faces and headed for the long tables holding a mouthwatering array of meats and baked goods in the back of the barn. Lanterns hung on posts and walls, adding light and a festive air. She knew most of the faces, but the ones she was most interested in catching a glimpse of were not among them. When she drew level with the table covered with red-checkered cloth, she unhooked her basket from her arm. Before she could set it down, she felt it being taken from her.

  “So what did you bring, Kate?”

  She turned to the breathless voice and smiled. “Evening, Elspeth. I made a batch of Ma’s famous biscuits.”

  The girl lifted a corner of linen to peer inside. “A fitting accompaniment to my creamed onions,” she said.

  Elspeth was the Jessup’s younger daughter. Since she belonged to one of the township’s more well-to-do families, Elspeth had little interest in befriending the likes of Katie Rose Marsh when they were kids, until the day Kate gave Thomas Lowe Jr. a whoopin’ outside the schoolhouse for dipping Elspeth’s pretty blonde braids in her inkwell. They became inseparable after that for several years. A stray memory of that day brought a gay smile to Kate’s lips.

  Sam Tulare strolled by, his spurs clanging out each step. “Evenin’, Sam,” Elspeth all but gushed.

  He barely glanced her way and made a half-hearted hat-tipping gesture her way. “Evenin’,” he muttered.

  “My,” Kate said, “he seems in a less than festive mood.”

  Elspeth grunted and ran a hand through the curled bangs framing her forehead. “Didn’t you hear? His place got raided last week. Lost three of his best horses and twenty head of cattle.”

  “No. Did they catch the thief?”

  “Sheriff’s got no idea who did it, but you know it isn’t the first time. We had a string of thefts just like it after you ran off to animal school or whatever. Then it stopped for a while.” The girl sucked in a breath for a subject shift before Kate could answer. “Did you see Tom Junior when you came in?”