Long Shot

by D. Jackson Leigh

“The hell I don’t.” She grabbed him in a headlock like she had done when they were kids and pulled him down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  “My goodness. Tory, let your brother go,” Alma said. “What has gotten into you today? You’re tracking mud everywhere.”

  Tory released her grip on her brother and he jerked away, red-faced. “He’s fired. Don’t ever ask me to hire him again. He’s lazy and irresponsible. If you want to continue to enable him to be a screwup, that’s your business. It’s none of my concern anymore.”

  She headed for the door, but the buzzing of her pager stopped her. The readout was two words. Long Shot.

  Tory clipped the pager back to her belt and stalked out.

  *

  Leah was tense during her drive back to the farm. She could barely see the road through the sheets of pouring rain. At one point, she nearly careened off the pavement when a blazing bolt of lightning struck a tree she was passing. It was so close the residual static electricity raised the hairs on her arm. When she finally pulled up in front of the house, her hands were shaking.

  She cursed the lightning ripping across the sky and the thunder that was rattling the windows of her Jeep. Slamming her hands against the steering wheel, Leah cursed even more the storm that she felt raging inside. She despised the sharp uncertainty that had stabbed at her, the fear that had clapped loud in her ears since the moment that pink slip had landed on her desk.

  She was so tired.

  She took a ragged breath as she peered through the rain at the old farmhouse. It had always been more of a home than her parents’ house. The tears she thought she had exhausted filled her eyes again and trailed down her cheeks.

  She was so tired of crying.

  Gram was gone. Nighty was gone. Tomorrow, the farm would be gone and she would be headed to Wisconsin…away from Cherokee Falls. Away from Tory.

  Maybe she’d see her again, at Gram’s or MG’s funeral. Maybe Tory would be standing at the graveside with someone else who would be sharing her life, laughing with her, pouring a shot of tequila and crying with her.

  Despair settled over Leah like a heavy cloak. She had fallen in love with Tory, and that terrified her. But she was more scared that walking away would be the worst mistake of her life.

  And she was so tired of being scared.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Turning the heater up full blast in her truck had helped dry the mud to a stubborn, flaking crust on Tory’s clothes and skin. She thanked the heavens for a lull in the rain when she pulled up at Creek Barn.

  Skyler had closed the heavy barn doors. It would be warm inside, but not warm enough to thaw the cold emptiness, the icy anger that had been growing since she drove away from the Montgomery farm.

  Tory grabbed a stainless-steel bucket from the back and filled it with the items she would need to deliver a foal. When she stepped inside the barn, she spotted Skyler and Jessica standing outside a stall at the other end of the building.

  Skyler took one look at Tory and laughed. “Damn, Tor. Have you taken up doctoring on pigs? You look like you’ve been rolling in the mud with a bunch of them.”

  Tory scowled at Skyler, but didn’t reply. Instead, she stepped into the wash stall and filled her bucket with antiseptic and warm water.

  She heard Jessica shush Skyler before she joined Tory to watch as she stripped down to her racer-back undershirt and thoroughly washed her hands and arms.

  “Tell me what’s going on with Long Shot, Jess,” Tory said brusquely.

  “She’s been having contractions for a while. Skyler thinks the baby may be turned wrong. She’s been lying down and getting up and lying down.”

  That behavior was normal for a mare trying to reposition the baby in her womb so it could deliver. “Let’s take a look.”

  Sweating from the pain of the contractions, Long Shot pinned her ears back when Tory joined Skyler in the stall. Skyler held on to her halter while Tory listened with her stethoscope to the mare’s belly sounds. She moved her hands over the bloated abdomen, feeling the baby move under the pressure. Long Shot shifted her feet and grunted.

  Skyler tightened her grip on the halter when Tory reached for her tube of lubricant and applied it liberally to her arm. Holding the mare’s tail to the side, she carefully slid her hand into the birth canal and felt one small hoof, though she should be feeling two front feet and a nose. A new contraction crushed down on her arm and, with a grimace, she pulled back a bit to wait for it to pass.

  When she pushed forward again, Long Shot suddenly shifted and kicked out. Her hoof caught Tory on the thigh and spun her around to slam into the wall.

  “Fuck.” Tory pulled away from the oak partition, holding her nose while blood trickled through her fingers. She stomped out of the stall, Skyler’s chuckle following her.

  Tory was just returning from her truck with an ice pack wrapped in a clean towel to stop her nose from bleeding when she heard Jessica say, “Go check on her, Sky. She could really be hurt. I’ll try to calm Long Shot. And don’t laugh. I don’t know what’s eating at her, but she seems really upset. I’ve never heard Tory use that kind of language.”

  Skyler sauntered toward her. “You just can’t seem to get women of any kind to warm up to you, can you? Let me see how bad it is.” She pulled Tory’s hand away from her face. “It doesn’t look broken.”

  “Thanks, Doctor.” Tory jerked her hand out of Skyler’s grip and headed back toward Long Shot’s stall, dabbing at her still-bleeding nose.

  Skyler followed. “What the hell’s wrong with you, anyway? You strike out with Leah yesterday? That’s it, isn’t it? Geez, didn’t I teach you anything about how to handle women?”

  Tory wheeled. The fury had simmered below her surface since high school. It had begun to steam when Jessica ditched her for Skyler. And now, it was finally boiling over. Skyler staggered backward when Tory’s fist caught her squarely in the eye.

  “You taught me plenty about how to lose out.” She grabbed Skyler’s shirt and slammed her against the wall. “Every time I fell for someone, it turned out she’d rather sleep with you. And you know what? Even after all these years, I’m still a slow learner,” she yelled, banging Skyler several times against the oak boards. “It still hurts. Losing still hurts.” She had always been able to blame Skyler, and, damn it, she wanted someone other than herself to blame for losing Leah, too.

  Skyler pushed Tory off and neatly stepped around her so their positions were reversed. She pushed Tory, chest first, against the wall and twisted her arm upward behind her back to hold her there. “God damn it. Are you accusing me of cheating on Jess? I’ll kick your stupid ass if you are.”

  “Of course not, but only because you’ve already screwed every other woman in Cherokee Falls,” Tory growled, spitting away the blood that was flowing from her nose. She wanted to strike out again, but Skyler increased the pressure on her arm to stop her from struggling.

  “Okay. I probably deserve that. I do deserve that. I’m sorry. More sorry than you know. I can’t change what happened back then, but things are different now. I’m different. I wouldn’t cheat on Jess.”

  Tory sagged against the boards, her anger deflating. “I need it to be somebody’s fault.” She wished for the anger to return. It had been the only thing dulling the hurt.

  “What are you talking about?” Skyler eased her grip. “I’ll let you go if you promise not to—oof.”

  Skyler was suddenly gone, and Tory turned to stare into Leah’s worried eyes.

  “Oh my God, what’d she do to you?” Leah’s small hands were cool on her face. “You’re bleeding.”

  Skyler was sprawled on the dirt floor, scowling and cradling her recently healed hand. “She hit me. I didn’t hit her.” She reached up to touch her swelling eye. “Shit. I need an ice pack.” Skyler struggled to her feet and stomped down the hallway to disappear into the barn office.

  Leah ignored Skyler and retrieved a clean towel from the wash stall. She wiped away the blood o
n Tory’s face before applying gentle pressure to her nose. “If she didn’t hit you, how’d you get this bloody nose?”

  “Long Shot did it,” Tory mumbled through the towel. “I thought you were gone.”

  “No, sugar. My things are packed and Gram is settled, but—”

  Tory pulled the towel from her face and held up her hand. “You know what? For once I want you to just shut up and listen to what I have to say. Really listen, okay?”

  Leah dropped her hands to her sides and took an uncertain step back, but silently nodded.

  Emotions swirling, Tory paced across the hallway and back to gather her thoughts. She stopped and faced Leah. “What would have happened if Willie had done something different the day Lori got married?”

  Leah looked confused by the sudden change of subject. “Willie? What in the world are you talking about?”

  “The day Lori got out of the car at the church and saw MG—Willie—standing across the street. What if Willie hadn’t just stood there? What if Willie had come for her, crossed the street to stop Lori from going into the church? What do you think would have happened?”

  Leah’s breath hitched as comprehension dawned. Her eyes filled with tears. “If Willie came for her, had stopped her from going into that church, I think Lori would have run right into Willie’s arms.”

  Tory took a deep breath. This time, this woman was too important for her to hang back. “I realize we haven’t known each other very long, but I’m so in love with you, Leah. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.” Tory stepped closer. “So this is it. I’m coming for you. If you feel the same about me, if you think you might love me, then don’t leave. We’ll figure something out. I don’t know what, but don’t leave. Give us a chance.”

  Tears spilled over and rolled down Leah’s cheeks. She took a halting a step forward, then dove into Tory’s arms.

  “I love you, too,” she cried. “That’s what I came to tell you. I’m in love with you.”

  Tory hugged her tight. “You love me? You’re not leaving, then?”

  “I can’t.”

  “You didn’t sell the farm?”

  “Yes, I did. But it was Gram who made it feel like home to me, and she’s living with MG.” Leah laughed, a bit of her swagger returning. “I’m sure I can stay with Jessica while you woo me.”

  Tory loosened her hug and looked down at Leah. “Woo you?”

  “Yes. Underneath it all, I’m an old-fashioned girl. I want to be wooed.”

  Tory felt the last piece of what always seemed missing click firmly into place. “It would be my pleasure. I’m a bit old-fashioned myself.” But would wine and dining at romantic places be enough to keep Leah happy in Cherokee Falls? “What do you plan to do for a job?”

  “Incorporate, sugar.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I was thinking about all the job offers I got because people wanted to get their hands on my story. So I thought, what if I just sell my research services on a contract basis? That way, I’m my own boss and nobody can force me to do biased articles. It’s kind of a long shot, but I’m betting I can make it work.”

  “Can you live here and do that?”

  “I’ll probably have to travel some to make presentations and sign up clients, but the Internet lets me gather information from anywhere I want to live. The news world is changing. I just had to figure out how to change with it. And I just may write a book.”

  “You’re so smart.”

  “Not so smart. Leaving you would have been a very dumb thing. It would have ripped my heart out because you stole it from me that first day when I picked buckshot out of your leprechaun.”

  “It must have been my cute butt.”

  “It was definitely the sexy tush.” Leah pulled a clump of dried mud from Tory’s hair. “So, does that mean you’re willing to put everything you’ve got on another long shot?”

  “Another long shot?”

  “A smart but opinionated, sweet but sometimes irritating, pushy but incredibly cute journalist?”

  Tory ducked her head, their lips so close she could feel Leah’s warm breath. “You know, I’ve had good luck lately with long shots,” she said, placing her bet with a deep, lingering kiss.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  “She’s down, Tory. You need to come now.” Trotting toward them, Jessica skidded to a stop. “Oh. Uh, hi, Leah.”

  Tory pulled back from the kiss, her gaze still locked with Leah’s.

  “You guys, hurry.” Jessica turned back toward Long Shot’s stall and nearly collided with Skyler as she stepped into the hallway, holding a wet cloth to her cheek. “What happened to your face?”

  Skyler glared at Tory and Leah. “Apparently the two of them had an argument, so Tory sucker-punched me and her pushy girlfriend knocked me down. I can’t find an ice pack.”

  Jessica dutifully inspected Skyler’s face. “Oh, honey. That doesn’t look good.” She gave Tory a reproachful look. “You take care of the mare. I’ll take care of slugger.”

  Tory grabbed Leah’s hand and tugged her down the hallway.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Long Shot is foaling.”

  *

  Tory took a quick look at the mare lying on the floor of the stall with one hoof and a nose crowning the vulva, and turned to the bucket to wash and lube her arm again.

  “One of the forelegs may be rotated back. I need to bring it forward for her to deliver. That’s what I was trying to do when she slammed me against the wall. I need you to keep her calm.”

  Leah squatted next to Long Shot’s head and spoke softly. The little mare grunted with another contraction, but her ears flicked toward Leah’s voice.

  Tory slid her hand in the birth canal again, in search of the errant foot. She felt her way down the foal’s neck, groaning when another contraction clamped down hard on her arm. The leg she sought was curled against the beginning of the canal, so she pushed back on the small chest. The slender leg unfurled and she pulled the tiny hoof forward. It finally lay alongside the first leg, and she gathered both in her hand and waited for the mare to push. When the contraction began, she gently pulled the foal forward. Moments later, a small black colt with a large white star on his forehead lay in the straw, taking his first breaths.

  “He’s beautiful,” Leah crooned to Long Shot. “He’s so beautiful. You did good, sugar.”

  Tory heaved a sigh of relief.

  Long Shot struggled to her feet and turned to sniff her colt as he gathered his long, spindly legs under him in an effort to stand.

  Tory washed her arm clean and Leah went to her, picking up a clean towel to dry her and then wipe the remaining mud and blood from her face.

  “I can do that,” Tory said. But she readily submitted. She braced her back against the wall and pulled Leah to her. Leah’s mouth was warm and sweet.

  “I love you,” she said, relishing the words as she spoke them.

  Leah’s gaze was soft, her answer like sun-warmed honey soaking into Tory’s soul. “I love you, sugar. So very much.”

  Tory hugged her and turned so they could watch together as Long Shot nudged her colt to his feet. Instinct led his first jerky steps toward mother’s milk, and he poked at her side until his inquisitive nose slid under her belly and his eager mouth latched on to a teat.

  Tory rested her cheek against the top of Leah’s head. It had been an emotionally draining day, but she’d do it again and again if the outcome would always be Leah nestled securely in her arms.

  His belly finally full and his confidence in his legs growing, the colt began to explore his surroundings. Because the Chincoteague ponies shared the wide forehead and small ears of the Welsh breed, his dark coloring made him a near double for Nighty. Tory rubbed her hands in comforting strokes along Leah’s back. She was so quiet, Tory wondered if she also was thinking about Nighty. “What should we name him?” she asked.

  Leah pulled back and reached up, her hand warm against Tor
y’s face, the brief caress of her lips soft against Tory’s. “Exactly what popped into my mind when I finally came to my senses and decided to gamble on a lifetime with you.”

  Something tugged at Tory’s jeans, and they both looked down to see the colt curiously mouthing the material of her pants. Leah laughed. “Let me introduce you to Sure Thing.”

  About the Author

  D. Jackson Leigh works as a newspaper journalist in North Carolina, where she feeds nightly off the adrenaline rush of breaking news and close deadlines. She shares her life with her wonderful partner, a Jack Russell terror, and “the cat” that made herself at home when Jackson and the JRT weren’t watchful. Her first book, Bareback, was published by Bold Strokes Books in December 2008.

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