by Leigh Riker
He was gone before Kate could thank him.
She almost wished he had stayed for lunch.
CHAPTER SEVEN
NOAH FILLED THE last water bucket, then carried it to Midnight’s stall and hung it on the hook inside. The horse eyed him as if thinking whether to start kicking, revenge for their one ride after the first blizzard, but Noah should be the one seeking payback after getting dumped. Kind of like Zach about the WB. With a pat on the stallion’s neck, which made Midnight shy, Noah slipped out into the aisle—and ran into Wilkins.
The foreman’s tone was grudging. “Thanks for helpin’.”
The comment didn’t sit well with Noah. Helping? “Thought I’d made myself clear. You work for this ranch—meaning me, at the moment.” That afternoon, after he’d left Kate’s, the two of them and Calvin Stern had counted head, rescued a balky steer from the dry wash near Sweetheart Ranch and herded a few more heifers toward the safety of the barn for tonight. “I wasn’t ‘helping’ this afternoon. I was leading the way.” That latest storm system had stalled out last night, but the snow was almost here now. Looked to be a long winter. Noah hoped Willow, whose cruise ended tomorrow, might be home the day after.
By Tuesday—after he’d made his apology to her—he’d be on a plane to LaGuardia. Even with Noah’s attempt to work remotely, things were already slipping through the cracks at J&B. Yet oddly, and in spite of that, he wasn’t as eager now to get back as he’d expected to be. The realization unsettled him.
And at Sweetheart Ranch today Teddie had been glad to see him, but Kate not so much, although she had managed to apologize. He’d felt tempted to accept her son’s invitation to lunch, but he could tell Kate hoped he’d say no. So, instead, he’d returned to the WB, where Wilkins never missed an opportunity to remind him that Noah didn’t belong here.
Noah even agreed. He would never succeed on the WB. But for now, “Wilkins, tell the new guy at the ag store that last delivery had some mold.”
“I’ve ordered more hay—and made the complaint. Probably a onetime mishap. When the load comes, I’ll make sure it’s better quality.” Wilkins gazed at him. “Anything else?”
Evening feeding was finished, the horses bedded down, blankets on against the growing cold, a monitor set up at the house for one pregnant mare on stall watch. She wasn’t due yet but had shown signs of preparing for birth. Noah hoped that wouldn’t happen. He looked forward to spending the evening in front of the TV. Tomorrow being Sunday, and the end of the cruise, couldn’t come soon enough.
“Nothing else,” he finally told Wilkins, who left the barn without further comment.
Unlike his work at J&B, which needed his presence, Noah was out of his element on the WB. He still didn’t understand why Zach was so angry with him for leaving when Zach seemed to run the ranch with ease. He’d made it even more profitable than their father had.
If Noah had stayed, by now the ranch might have filed for bankruptcy. Not that he’d let anyone else point that out. This wasn’t his arena in which to truly prove himself, yet even at J&B, and without his dad around, Noah still felt the impact of his disapproval. “Have a good night,” he called to Calvin, who was in the feed room, measuring out doses of medications for the next morning. “See you all at five a.m.”
In New York, too, Noah got up early—sometimes even spent the night on the sofa in his office—but this was ridiculous, day after day working in the dark, the cold and snow, until his fingers and toes went numb. Why was Kate, a woman alone now, so all-fired bent on keeping Sweetheart Ranch for Teddie? If she sold their land, his college would be paid for. She’d have the funds then to provide extra education for Teddie, the stimulation he needed. She’d have time to focus on her own needs, but he wouldn’t dare to mention that.
In spite of his exhaustion, Noah couldn’t sleep that night. In fact, he’d no sooner closed his eyes at last when the foal monitor went off. On his feet in the next second, he pulled on the clothes and jacket he’d worn that day.
Between the alarm sounding and his reaching the barn, to his relief the mare had delivered her premature foal without help, which Noah suspected in his case would have been minimal anyway. But at midnight he was on his own. It being Saturday, Wilkins had gone with the other hands into Barren for a few beers at Rowdy’s. Calvin was home with his wife and baby.
Noah hunkered down beside the too-still foal in the stall bedding. The mother hadn’t nudged it at all and was standing in the farthest corner, clearly spent.
“She’s rejecting that foal,” Noah’s mother said, startling him as she opened the stall door. “It happens, but I’m never pleased when it does.”
“Mom. Sorry I woke you.”
“You mean practically falling down the stairs in those boots? Of course not.” She knelt down next to him beside the foal. “Poor baby.”
“You think he won’t make it?” The newborn was a colt, its hide wet from birth and a darker bay than its dam. It had a broad white strip down its face and a pair of blinking brown eyes that seemed to beg Noah to save it.
Jean laid a hand on his arm. “I’ll call the vet.”
Noah’s gut clenched. Did she mean for advice or to put the foal down before it had any chance at all? When his mother came back, the news wasn’t great. The WB’s vet had gone to Topeka on another emergency, and Noah thought of calling Wilkins, then just as quickly decided against it.
“Mom, you must know what to do in cases like this.”
Her tone softened. “I run the house. Zach’s responsible for the rest of the ranch. That’s our agreement, just as it was with your father. My heart goes out to this baby—” she glanced at the mare in the corner “—but for now, we’ll just have to hope his mama decides to take care of him.”
Noah stroked the tiny colt’s side, its flesh quivering. He hadn’t felt this helpless, so alone with a problem, except for the day he’d finally packed his bags, then left the ranch for the last time as his father’s favored son. They’d barely spoken for the rest of his dad’s life. It had been a long time since Noah had even seen a newborn colt, and then his father had still been in charge. Now Noah had another choice to make about this helpless little being. Call a different vet from another town? Or wait to see what happened?
As he wrestled with the options, he heard a sudden sound.
“Look, Mom.” The foal had nickered feebly. “I think he wants us to try. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?” He took a breath. “Call Kate. She’ll know what else to do, won’t she?”
“Yes. I imagine she will.”
* * *
KATE KNELT DOWN in the stall bedding. “Gosh, he’s awfully small. Winter foals are often less vigorous. Has he tried to stand?”
“Not that I’ve seen,” Noah murmured, grateful that she’d answered his call so quickly.
Frowning, she ran her hands over the colt. “We should try to get him up. I wish Doc Crane could be here. I’ve delivered my share of foals, but this boy, in addition to his size, isn’t as alert as I’d like to see either. He may be exhausted from birth—his mama appears to be—but he should stand within the first two hours of life.”
With a bit of prodding, and a coaxing tone, she managed to help the foal to its feet. “I was right. His legs are weak. See how he’s down in the pasterns and fetlocks?”
Noah glanced at his mother. She looked as uncertain as he felt.
“Can’t say that I do,” he admitted.
“His legs will probably straighten out soon, and I can’t see any obvious defects, but I wonder why his mom isn’t taking to him as she should.”
Noah shrugged. “I don’t know this horse—or any of the others on the WB.”
“Except for Midnight,” Kate couldn’t resist saying, tongue in cheek.
Jean thought for a moment. “I do know Zach was concerned about this mare. Before he and Cass left, he told Wilkins to keep a close wa
tch during the day and to keep the monitor on in the off-hours.” That duty had fallen to Noah tonight. “I believe this was her first foal. She may simply not know what’s expected of her yet or even realize that she gave birth.”
“Rejection is more common then,” Kate said. “Let’s hope it’s temporary. Her ears aren’t flattened. I don’t think she’ll hurt this little guy, but she’s not curious about him either.” Kate guided the colt closer to the bay mare. The foal was still standing but wobbly, his legs splayed out to hold him upright. He nickered again, as if to ask his mother for permission to come near. “He needs to nurse.”
“I don’t think we have any other nursing moms on the WB right now,” Jean said.
Kate encouraged the foal to take up the proper position, but his dam sidestepped out of reach. Kate bit her lip. “Hold him, Noah. I want to take a closer look at this mare.”
“You think she’s sick?”
“It’s possible she’s only feeling a ‘let down’ response to her milk coming in, which can be uncomfortable...” She bent to examine the horse. “Ah,” Kate said, straightening. “It appears your foreman wasn’t watching her as closely as he was supposed to. She’s inflamed and must feel quite tender, which probably explains her reluctance to let her baby nurse. I suspect she has a fever.”
Noah didn’t like the sound of that. “Doc may not come before tomorrow to prescribe medication.”
But Jean remembered Zach keeping some antibiotics on hand and offered to look in the feed room, leaving Kate alone with Noah.
“Thanks for coming over,” he said, “but this doesn’t look good.”
She kept her gaze on the foal, which had lain down near its mother yet not close enough to get kicked.
“We’re not done yet,” Kate murmured. “This colt still needs to nurse. It’s vital to get colostrum into him—with the antibodies his mama should pass on to him. For tonight, you’re going to have to milk her.”
“Me?” And get booted into the stall boards?
“I don’t see anyone else here in charge of the WB. Do you?”
Noah thought of asking Kate to stay, but as soon as she’d arrived, she’d claimed she needed to get home, and she’d already sacrificed a night’s sleep to help him.
“Once you get this mare treated,” Kate added, “I imagine she’ll accept her baby. If not, after the vet sees him, give me a call. I have one mare who might act as a surrogate mom.”
“Thanks again, Kate.”
She arched an eyebrow as if to prompt Noah, who had no choice but to take his cue.
“Show me what I need to do.”
* * *
A COUPLE OF hours later, Noah went to the house, kicked off his boots inside the kitchen door, then rummaged through the refrigerator. After all the excitement in the barn, he’d managed, ham-handed, to get a few ounces of milk from the mare—who certainly wasn’t his friend—and he’d given the colt a bottle. Knowing he wouldn’t sleep now, he popped open a beer, tore into a bag of corn chips, then collapsed on the living room sofa with the TV remote. He hadn’t started to channel surf before he remembered a call he should have made. His partner, Brent, had labor issues in London; the office manager they’d hired had abruptly quit after a contract dispute. Yawning, Noah had just dealt with that when he noticed a missed call from Margot. He glanced at his watch. It was almost five, six o’clock in New York. Better call her back, or she’d be peeved again.
“Hey, baby,” she purred, having answered on the first ring. Margot was an early riser. Noah conjured up an image of her, that rich dark red hair, her brown eyes.
“Hi. What’s up?”
“Does something have to be ‘up’ for you to return my calls?”
Already peeved, then. Noah raked a hand through his hair, which felt gritty. He needed a shower. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation, never his strong suit. “Sorry I didn’t phone before. I’ve been too busy to do anything but drop my weary bones onto this sofa every night. I’d forgotten how rough this kind of work could be.”
And how capable Kate had been tonight. Which wouldn’t impress Margot.
“There must be staff there, Noah.” Margot hired people for everything. He could imagine Wilkins’s reaction to being called staff. “You work too hard. Sometimes you forget to have a life beyond J&B—and now, it seems, taking care of a bunch of smelly cows and horses.” She took an audible breath. “You forget about me.”
“Margot, Willow’s cruise ends today.” He was counting the hours. Milking the mare had been enough for him. “That’s good news, isn’t it?”
Margot paused. “I could fly out for the last day or so you’ll be there—if I didn’t end up sitting in the house by myself while you play cowboy?”
“Hardly.” But at least she imagined he could.
Her voice perked up. “You could tour me around, then we could fly home together. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“I wouldn’t want you to be disappointed.” The WB was far from the home where Margot had grown up, the pampered only child of wealthy parents in Greenwich, Connecticut, who’d indulged her every whim. They still did. Her dad was one of the original investors in Noah’s firm, which was how he had met Margot. He was always trying to play catch-up, as he had with his own father, a role he didn’t relish any more than he did “playing cowboy” on this ranch. He studied the room. “My folks’ house is comfortable, but it’s part of a working spread, without the sort of elegance you’re used to.”
Even her three-bedroom apartment in Manhattan, which Margot owned, had been done to the nines, including expensive artwork on the walls. Noah always feared sitting down and ruining some pricey piece of white furniture. At least in the barn, he didn’t have that worry.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” he said. “Besides, it’s freezing cold here.”
“I suppose you’re right. But I do miss you.”
A short silence followed while she waited for him to say he missed her, too, but Noah couldn’t. Finally, she said, “Hurry back. There was another party at the Plaza last night, one of Mother’s charities. I had to make an appearance, so I went by myself, and everyone wanted to know where you were. This is where you belong, Noah—where we belong.” As if he needed the reminder. Then: “With J&B doing so well, there’s no limit to where we can go.”
Noah straightened. She was about to broach the topic of an engagement. Margot had begun to slip that possibility into every conversation, and he couldn’t blame her. They’d been seeing each other for almost two years now. She’d been the first woman he’d taken a serious interest in since he’d left the WB. At first, he and Margot had rubbed along with no conflicts, but lately... He owed her a commitment but couldn’t seem to make one. He’d liked things the way they were. He didn’t relish the tough conversation they needed to have—but not tonight.
When his cell phone dinged again with another text, he breathed a sigh of relief. “Sorry, don’t mean to cut you off, but I have to take this other call.”
Without waiting for her objection, Noah hung up with a promise to phone tomorrow. Then he looked at the incoming text from Zach, who said nothing about when he was coming home, and the bottom of Noah’s empty stomach dropped out. Just heard from Willow/Cody. Spending extra days in Miami after cruise. Zach had added a smiley face emoji and the words—Stay put, buddy.
Noah wasn’t going anywhere.
CHAPTER EIGHT
KATE HADN’T PLANNED to return to the WB, but at breakfast she’d told Teddie a new foal had been born overnight, and after that there’d been no choice but to get in the truck. Now, as they drove through the ranch gates, the tires making fresh tracks in the snow that had finally fallen, she wished she’d explained her morning yawns a different way. “Remember, we can’t stay long,” she cautioned him, meeting Teddie’s gaze in her rearview mirror.
He drummed his legs against the car seat a
nd wriggled with impatience.
“I read all about baby horses in my book from the library,” he said.
As she pulled up at the barn, Kate just hoped the foal had stayed alive and they weren’t walking into a sad situation. She’d called the WB first, of course, but something might have changed since then. “I want you to stay here until I see if it’s all right for you to meet the baby.”
Perhaps because of Kate’s tone, Teddie went on alert. “Is he sick?”
“No, but...please stay in the truck.”
Too tired to think of a better explanation, she reached for a bag on the floor, then hopped out just as Noah appeared in the barn doorway. He lifted a hand in greeting. “Sorry to be a pest,” she began, “but your neighbors are wondering how the new arrival is doing.”
“Same as when we spoke.” Noah glanced over at Teddie, and the two exchanged waves. “The colt looks better. But he’s still wobbly, and his mama doesn’t want much to do with him.”
“Have you managed to give him more colostrum?”
Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, and that’s always fun. Good news—the vet’s coming at noon to see its mama. Over the phone, he agreed with your diagnosis of infection.”
“In the meantime, I’ve brought you a present.” Kate handed him the bag. “The mare I mentioned donated lunch.” She paused. “And if you don’t mind, Teddie is beside himself. Is it still all right if he sees the colt?”
“Sure.” Noah motioned for Teddie to join them, and her son unbuckled his seat restraints, then tumbled out of the truck.
“Hi, N—Mr. Bodine!” Teddie flung himself at Noah’s legs. “Congrat’lations. You have a new baby! I bet he’s prettier than even the ones in my book.” Teddie started to reel off every statistic he’d read about newborn foals.
Noah grinned over Kate’s head. “He definitely has enthusiasm.”
“That’s my boy.” She trailed them into the barn, blinking against the change of light.
