Читать книгу High Country Christmas - Joanna Sims - Страница 10

Chapter Four

They returned to the ranch undetected and went their separate ways. They both had jobs to do there, and those jobs weren’t going to wait from them to sort out their problems. At the end of his day, Tyler found London in the foaling barn watching over his mother’s mare.

“How’s she doing?” Tyler asked London quietly.

London glanced at him to let him know that she had heard him before she focused her attention back to Rising Star. She had moved the mare into the foaling stall located at the quieter end of the stable. Horses liked quiet, dimly lit areas to give birth and often waited until nighttime to foal.

London used a calm, quiet voice to answer his question. “She’s been showing some pretty strong signs that she’s going into labor. Her nipples are thicker and hanging down lower...”

“Any sign of waxing?”

London nodded. Some mares developed a waxy coating on their nipples a couple of days before giving birth, which signaled that they were getting ready to foal. “I was just about to tie up her tail and put down a fresh bed of hay for her.”

“I’ll grab the hay.”

While London set herself to the task of wrapping Rising Star’s thick, long tail up and out of the way of the birth canal, Tyler stacked fresh bales of hay outside the stall. They worked in silence, methodically preparing for the birth. Once the tail was wrapped, London left the stall to mix a warm, soapy solution. When she returned with a bucket and sponge, Tyler had already spread the hay around the stall, creating a soft, clean bed for Rising Star.

London quickly washed Rising Star’s teats, udder, hind legs and muscular buttocks. Tyler grabbed the feed and water buckets, and then they both left Rising Star alone, in peace. They had done everything they could do to help the mare have a successful birth, but the rest was up to her. All they could do now was wait. Watch and wait.

London slipped into the adjacent stall and sat down in a patch of hay. From her vantage point, she could have her eyes on the pregnant mare without disturbing her. Tyler, to her surprise, joined her in the stall.

“I thought you were going out with your sisters tonight,” London whispered to him.

“I never miss a birth at Bent Tree.”

Tyler leaned back, one leg stretched out straight, the other one bent. He dropped his worn Stetson onto the ground next to him, rested one arm atop his bent knee and riffled his longish light brown hair. Then he dropped his head backward to rest it on one of the stall’s wooden slats and closed his eyes with a long, tired sigh.

London frowned at him. “If you have to stay, you know you have to be quiet, right?”

“You’re the one who’s talking.” Tyler’s mouth lifted at the corner, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“Shh.” She scooted away from him an inch or two. “And quit crowding me.”

Tyler crossed his arms over her chest. “Wake me when it’s time.”

Within minutes of shutting his eyes, Tyler fell asleep sitting upright. She’d never seen anything like it before. But then again, she’d never seen anyone like Tyler Brand before. He was such a hard worker, dedicated to the ranch and his family. Tall. Lean. Cowboy rugged. Cowboy handsome. And he made her laugh. It had been a chore to push him away. There had been chemistry between them from the start—he had felt it, and even though she had consistently denied it to his face, she had felt it, too. She just couldn’t allow herself to act on the attraction and risk losing focus on her primary goal: get her degree and get back to Virginia ASAP.

For nearly two hours, London sat very still, waiting for the mare to begin labor. As one hour blended into the second, nighttime cooled the air and dimmed the light in the barn. The sounds of the ranch quieted as the last of the ranch workers started their trucks and slammed their doors, their loud voices fading as they drove away. Knowing that mares were known to wait until the stillness of the night to give birth, London had turned on a low-wattage light in the foaling stall so she could still see Rising Star as day transitioned to night.

Tyler was still asleep, it was dark and a little cold, and she had to pee really badly, but she didn’t dare move. The slightest noise could stop the mare from starting labor. Fifteen minutes later, her patience paid off. Rising Star began to pace in the stall, making short, tight circles. The mare nipped at her flanks several times before her legs buckled at the knees and she lay down on her side with a moan. Flat on her side, legs extended, her nose nuzzled into the thick bed of hay, Rising Star was in labor.

London hit Tyler on the leg. He stirred but was savvy enough not to make a noise. In a spontaneous show of excitement, they reached for each other’s hands, squeezing tightly. This was the moment she had been working toward since she had arrived at Bent Tree. She felt a personal connection with this foal. During her junior-year internship, Tyler’s mom had asked her to research bloodlines and select a sire for Rising Star’s insemination. When she returned to the ranch to start her summer job, she discovered that Rising Star was pregnant by the sire she had chosen. She felt honored to be the one to care for the mare and her unborn foal in the last stages of a pregnancy. And, now that she knew for certain that Rising Star was in labor, she had to be kind to her bladder.

A quick bathroom break, then back to her post. It was so still in the barn, she could hear the sound of Tyler’s breathing intermingled with her own. He shifted every once in a while, his arm brushing against hers, but other than that, he was a perfect witness to the beginning of the birth of her foal.

She checked the time on her phone. Rising Star had been down for thirty minutes, but the white amniotic sac hadn’t appeared. London had an odd, sick feeling in her gut. She shook her head as she stood up.

“We need to try to get her on her feet,” she told Tyler.

Tyler switched on the aisle lights before he followed London into the foaling stall. London had hooked a lead line on the mare’s halter and she was talking in a sweet, calming voice to the horse.

“She’s having hard contractions,” London confirmed. “We should have seen the sac by now. I’m concerned that the foal might be presented wrong.”

“Dystocia.” Tyler positioned himself at the mare’s hindquarters.

London looked at him, surprised. “Yes. Help me get her up.”

He had heard about London’s ability to stay perfectly cool under pressure, but he’d never witnessed it firsthand. She was calm, confident and certain of every move. She was elegance in motion.

After several attempts, they coaxed the mare to stand.

“Come on, Star...” London led the mare out of the stall. “Let’s you and me go for a little walk...”

The three of them walked together, up and down, up and down the long, wide breezeway of the barn. Tyler stayed at the mare’s flank to stop her from lying down in the aisle when the contractions started to cause her pain.

“We’ll walk her for ten more minutes and then take her back. Hopefully the walking has repositioned the foal and Star will be able to do this on her own,” London told him.

Tyler didn’t usually take a backseat in the deliveries on the ranch, but he knew that London had devised a birthing plan with the vet. She needed to run the show. He didn’t care about being in charge—all he cared about was seeing Star safely deliver a healthy foal.

“If this doesn’t work, then we’ll have to call the vet and let him know that he needs to stand by for a possible breech,” London continued. “After we get her back in the stall, we’ll give this a chance to resolve naturally, but if it doesn’t, I’ll have to glove up and try to reposition the foal manually and—”

“London,” Tyler interrupted her. “The placenta...”

They took Star back to the stall, dimmed the aisle lights and went back to their post. This was the hardest part—remaining still and silent so as not to disturb the birth.

“We have hooves...” Tyler whispered next to her ear.

Excited, she grabbed his arm and squeezed it tightly before she let go. Hooves first meant that the foal had repositioned during their walk and was presented properly now. And it appeared that the fetal sac, a sac that protected the foal once the placenta had broken, was still intact. For a second or two, London closed her eyes and thanked God. But her initial excitement shifted back to concern when Star was pushing and pushing without any success. The mare was already exhausted and the foal wasn’t halfway into the world.

“We have to assist. If not, we’re going to have a dead foal on our hands.”

The mare’s neck was drenched with sweat. Tyler knelt down by her head and started to talk to Star, reassuring her, while London slipped on a gown that covered the front of her clothing and gloves that went up well past her elbows.

“All right, girl...” London positioned herself behind the mare. “Looks like we’re going to have to get this done together.”

London grabbed the foal’s spindly legs encased in the slippery fetal sac. She told Tyler, “I’m going to pull with the contractions.”

With each pull, the foal came a little bit farther out into the world. “We have a head!”

That was the information Tyler was waiting to hear. The foal’s head was where it should have been in a normal presentation. London was patient and persistent, pulling with each strong contraction.

“We have shoulders...” Tyler heard London say. If they could get past the shoulders, they were on the home stretch.

Rising Star made a groaning sound and thrashed her head.

“The foal’s out!” London said loudly. She didn’t waste time—she cut open the fetal sac that covered the foal’s body.

Tyler was at her side. “Is it breathing?”

“Breathing,” London confirmed, lifting up the foal’s leg. “It’s a he.”

London peeled off her dirty gown and gloves, disposed of them and then stood in the open doorway of the stall next to Tyler. Neither one of them seemed to have words. They simply stood together and watched the foal wiggling, for the first time, in the hay. Soon, the new mom would regain some of her strength and clean her foal. As much as London wanted to go into the stall, she knew that she needed to let Rising Star bond with her foal without an audience. She’d have plenty of time to bond with the little fellow later.

London wiped the moisture from her eyes and gave a shake of her head to quell the rush of emotion she was feeling while she shut the stall door. Watching a new life come into this world always touched her; no matter how many times she witnessed it, each experience felt like the first time.

Tyler couldn’t take his eyes off London. This woman, so strong and determined, was the mother of his first child. He felt proud to be standing next to her. He knew, right then, that she was meant to be more than the mother of his child. She was meant to be his wife.

“You did good tonight.” He put his arm around her shoulder.

She smiled briefly. “So did you.”

She didn’t pull away from him, and this gave him reason to hope. They had gone through something here tonight.

“It’s two o’clock,” London finally said. “You should go and get some rest.”

“I never leave the newborns on the first night,” he said. When he was a boy of six or seven, they had lost a foal overnight. He’d never forgotten it.

London shook her head. “Neither do I.”

“Then we’ll both stay.”

They each picked a spot in the adjacent stall and prepared to pull an all-nighter. London needed to see Rising Star recover some of her energy and begin to clean her newborn. She needed to see the colt stand up for the first time. Then she could relax. One after another, she tied pieces of hay into knots to give her hands something to do. She had created a little pile of knots when Rising Star finally levered herself upright, found her colt and began to clean him. London smacked Tyler on the leg several times.

Tyler moved closer to her to get a better view of the scene unfolding in the next stall. This was the miracle of life. And, to her amazement, Tyler, whom she had always pinned as a devil-may-care cowboy too shallow to be taken too seriously, got it. He was as fascinated with the miracle they were witnessing as she was. She was usually alone with the mare and foal after a birth, and she liked it that way. But Tyler’s actions had naturally mirrored her own. He had been completely still—completely quiet. Like her, he wanted to be a witness, not an intruder.

London leaned her body forward, silently rooting for the wobbly legged colt to finally get up on his feet after so many unsuccessful attempts.

Come on, little fellow. You can do it. Come on...

Rising Star gave the colt a push with her nose and that push gave the newborn the extra boost he needed to get on his feet.

“Yes!” London whispered, her hand instinctively reaching for Tyler’s and squeezing it tightly. She looked over at him—he was in profile and his features were obscured in the low light. But she could see that he was smiling. Rising Star stood up to be with her colt and that was the finale.

In celebration, she found herself hugging Tyler. Hard. He hugged her back, just as hard, and then kissed her on the top of her head.

“This’s what I’ve been waiting for,” Tyler finally said in a low voice.

London broke the hug, retrieved a diluted iodine wash and dabbed it on the spot where the umbilical cord had been attached to reduce the risk of infection. After she applied the iodine, she couldn’t stop herself from staring at the perfect little colt. He was black with four white socks. All of these months, she had wondered what the foal would look like, and now she knew. He was a stunner.

“You’ve got a winner on your hands here, Star,” she said to the mare. She loved this colt. She had loved him for months. It was going to be so hard to say goodbye to him when she went back to school. Why couldn’t he be hers? London brushed the thought out of her mind with a shake of her head.

Tyler had created a temporary bed out of bales of hay and was waiting for her. The sun would be up in a couple of hours, but she just couldn’t bring herself to go back to her room. And it appeared that Tyler was of the same mind.

“Come join me,” Tyler said.

“You want me to lie down with you?” London asked, not entirely opposed to the idea.

“I just found out recently that I like sleeping with you better than I like sleeping alone.”

She had been stifling one yawn after the other for hours. She was exhausted, so the odds of her falling asleep when she closed her eyes were very high. Why was the thought of falling asleep in Tyler Brand’s arms so appealing to her?

“Come join me.” Tyler repeated the invitation.

She lay down next to him, rested her head on his shoulder. At first, her body was stiff next to his, but when he grabbed her hand and positioned her arm around his waist, she realized it was ridiculous not to relax.

“One of us has to stay awake...” Her eyelids closed.

He rubbed her shoulder. “You rest. I’ll take the first watch.”

“Okay.” She murmured her agreement.

Tyler wrapped her up in his arms and she released a long, tired sigh. He felt her relax with that sigh, which made him smile. Deep, steady breathing followed—Tyler tilted his head to get a look at her face in the dim early-morning light. She had fallen asleep in his arms. And with London sleeping so soundly in his arms, completely trusting him to watch over her, Tyler discovered that he was happier now—hungry, tired and sitting on bales of hay—than he had ever been before.

He had always known that he was going to be a rancher. It was in his blood. But beyond that...beyond what he was going to do with his life...he had never known who would be at his side when he was handed the reins of Bent Tree. Now he knew. As certain as he was that he belonged to the land of Bent Tree Ranch, he now knew that he belonged with London Davenport...with London and the child growing inside her. They, along with Bent Tree, were his future.

* * *

London stood on the threshold of Tyler’s cabin, poised to knock. It was impossible not to remember that last time she’d stood at his door...that was the night they had conceived. London knocked on the door quickly; while she waited for him to open the door, she looked around to see if anyone was around to notice her visiting Tyler.

“Hey...I was just about to track you down,” Tyler said. He was fresh out of the shower, feet bare. He had nice feet. “Do you want to come in?” he asked. And then he smiled. “Of course you do. That was a stupid question. Why else would you be at my door?”