Rachel had left the stall door open so the Satterlys’ mare had access to the corral at will. For now the animal must have preferred the outdoors. She nickered softly and stretched her neck over the top rail to be petted.
Grady was glad to oblige. “You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you, girl?”
Her responding nicker sounded to him as though she said, “Of course I am.”
Grady laughed. Slowly, so as not to startle her, he climbed the fence. She stood patiently and let him run his hands down her side. “That foal of yours isn’t going to surprise us tonight, is it?”
This time she shook her head. “No.”
“Atta girl.” He gave her a final pat on the shoulder, then went back over the fence and walked slowly home in the starlight.
At about 1:00 a.m. he took a final look out his bedroom window before going to bed. His room faced north, toward the drive and the clinic. He was just releasing the edge of the curtain and turning away when a long shaft of light stabbed through the darkness.
A car had turned off the highway and into the drive.
Grady waited and watched. It wasn’t unheard of for someone to decide they were headed the wrong way on the highway and use the Standing Elk drive as a turnaround. But they wouldn’t keep driving toward the clinic, as this car did.
He could tell now that it was a car, a small red one. It pulled up at the clinic, and the headlights winked out. Grady was turning away again, ready to race back up the drive to see what the hell was going on—nobody had any business messing around the clinic this late at night—when the interior light of the car flashed on and the driver opened the door and climbed out.
Black hair drank in the glow from the utility light and reflected it back.
It was a woman. On the small side, slender. And familiar.
“Hello, Rachel,” he whispered.
“Hello, Maggie M’Darling.” Rachel stroked the soft muzzle and smiled. “I know you didn’t need me to come check on you tonight, but I was restless. I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind a friendly visit.”
In truth, it was Rachel who needed the friendly visit. She had fled from the tangled covers on her bed, or more accurately, the thoughts of a certain man who haunted her mind.
Yet even here she felt him. It was an odd sensation. During the years of his absence, she had managed to disassociate him from the clinic. Yet now she felt as if she’d walked into a room he had just left. Something in the air, a scent perhaps that was too subtle for her conscious mind to register, but picked up by her senses nonetheless. She fancied she could smell his aftershave.
Ridiculous. He probably didn’t even still use that brand, after all this time. That scent that had always made her close her eyes and inhale, made her want to nuzzle his neck, nibble his jaw. Eat him alive. She remembered that smell now as if he were here next to her. Sharp and tangy, yet sweet and subtle.
She knew other men who used that same fragrance—her brother Trey, for one—but it never smelled quite the same on another man as it did on Grady.
“Oh, Maggie.” She rested her head on the mare’s warm neck. The haunting fragrance seemed stronger. “What am I going to do? I can’t seem to get him out of my mind. I thought I was free of him, until he came back.”
The mare bobbed her head, in effect stroking the side of Rachel’s face.
“Yeah, I know,” Rachel answered. “He is kinda unforgettable, isn’t he? But how can I still have such…warm…is that the word? Warm thoughts? About a man who hurt me so badly?”
As she feared, the mare had no answer.
A heavy sigh eased from between Rachel’s lips. “Well, thanks for listening, anyway.”
Rachel went home then, but the next night, she came back. And the night after that.
Grady didn’t go back the following nights to check on the mare, but he stood at his window and waited to see Rachel. She came every night, between midnight and one. She never stayed long, never even turned on the lights, but she came.
She was going to wear herself out, he thought. She showed up every morning at eight or earlier. She worked hard all day, and as far as he was concerned, she wasn’t getting enough sleep.
And you are, pal?
Yeah, well…
Rachel’s jaw nearly cracked on a yawn. She hoped Louise hadn’t seen her or there would be a lecture, for sure. It was just four o’clock in the afternoon. A little early to start yawning.
Rachel didn’t need a lecture. She knew she wasn’t getting enough sleep, but that unconscious state eluded her each night until she felt compelled to get up, get out, move. Do something. So she drove out to the clinic to visit the mare. By all indications, tonight would be the last time she would have even the lame excuse she had planned if anyone asked—that she was checking on the mare.
“Pathetic,” she muttered to herself.
“Did you say something?” Louise asked from the doorway.
“Just talking to myself.”
“How’s our mare doing? Is she ready to foal yet?”
Rachel looked over at Louise and smiled. “She’s waxing, and her calcium and magnesium took a big jump today over yesterday.”
“Tonight, then?”
“I’d say so.”
“If you’re going to stay with her, why don’t you run on home and get a nap and something to eat now, then? We don’t have any more appointments this afternoon.”
Rachel blinked. “How did that happen?”
Louise rolled her eyes. “It happened because we had this afternoon booked to spay both of the Hensleys’ rottweilers, but they got cold feet and canceled.”
“The rottweilers?”
“The Hensleys, smarty. They said they wanted to think about it some more. They might want to let each of them have a litter before having them spayed.”
“Just what we need in this county. Two more litters of puppies.”
“No kidding. So, the rest of the afternoon is free. Get out of here for a while, why don’t you.”
Rachel nodded. “I think I will. Thanks. Don’t wait on me. I won’t be back until around dark. I doubt Maggie will get serious about foaling until after that.”
Louise murmured in agreement and followed Rachel out of the small exam room. “Have you seen Grady lately?” the woman asked.
Just the sound of his name set butterflies dancing in Rachel’s stomach. Or maybe it was frogs jumping. “No,” was all she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Grady realized that this was the night. First, because Rachel was so early—it was just after dark—and second, she had turned the lights on in the small stable behind the clinic. Maggie M’Darling would foal tonight.
He held out until midnight, then he couldn’t stand it any longer. He brewed a pot of coffee and filled the thermos. Then he went to the magnet board and moved his marker to the clinic.
It was a system he and Cody had designed last year. Sometimes Grady had been needed in the middle of the night if there was an emergency with one of the horses in his care. He didn’t want to wake Cody and drag him along to the barn in the middle of the night, and there was usually no one handy to come watch the boy.
Grady never went out of sight of the house while Cody was there alone, no matter what the emergency was. The magnet board contained a rough drawing of the ranch. The round red magnet represented Grady. He put the magnet over whichever area of the ranch he’d been called to—the barn, the pasture, the corral.
They had rules. If Grady had to go outside after Cody was asleep, Grady’s rule was to leave enough lights on so Cody could see his way to the kitchen, and he was to place the magnet so Cody would know where he was.
Cody’s rules were that if he woke in the middle of the night and couldn’t find his dad, he was to turn on his bedroom and the front porch lights so Grady would know he was up, and he was to check the magnet board. He was not to go outside, nor was he to open the door to anyone for any reason, not even for someone he knew—unless the house was on fire. If he got scar
ed, or just wanted to hear Grady’s voice, he knew how to speed-dial the cell phone that never left Grady’s belt.
Most people would say Cody was too young for such a system, but he’d grown up on a ranch, with older kids for playmates. They’d all had their chores, and Cody was extremely responsible for one so young.
He was also a sound sleeper. Grady had used the board half a dozen times in the past year, but so far Cody had yet to wake in the night and find him gone.
They’d had to draw a new map, of course, when they’d moved here. Cody had helped him, so the boy knew what everything was on the board.
Confident that Cody would be fine, and that he himself would be able to keep the house in sight, Grady picked up the thermos and let himself out the back door.
Rachel finished wrapping the mare’s tail in a two-inch wide strip of clean flannel to keep it out of the way.
“There you go, girl.” She stroked Maggie’s side and felt the tenseness of the muscles there. “All washed and wrapped and ready to foal. Now, all we need is the foal, huh?”
She heard approaching footsteps. Without looking, she knew who it was.
“It’s all right, girl,” she murmured to the mare. “It’s just Grady. He likes horses. Knows all about them. I bet he’ll like you.” Then she raised her voice to a normal tone. “It’s okay, Grady. You won’t upset her.”
Grady stopped outside the large foaling stall and looked in. “I saw the light. How’s she doing?”
“She’s doing fine.” Rachel was amazed and pleased to realize that her nerves weren’t dancing just because Grady was near, as they had in the past. “Classical stage one restlessness, lying down and getting up, pawing at the bedding. She’s just now starting to sweat, aren’t you, girl?”
“I brought coffee,” Grady offered.
Rachel faced him with a deadpan expression. “She’s not allowed to have caffeine.”
Grady shrugged. “It’s just as well. I wasn’t going to let her drink out of my cup anyway. If you want to share yours with her…”
Rachel smiled. It felt good to smile at him. “No, thanks. She likes sugar in hers. I take mine black.”
Grady unscrewed the cap and poured her a cup.
As he handed it to her, Rachel closed her eyes and sniffed the steam. “Wonderful. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Rachel blew on her coffee, then took a sip, searching her mind for something safe they could talk about.
Grady beat her to it when he spoke. “Fourth of July’s coming up. Does Hope Springs still have a parade?”
Thank you, Grady.
“Parade, rodeo, barbecue, dance, games, craft booths, you name it, we still do it. You’re going, aren’t you?”
“Thought I would. Cody will get a kick out of it. Is the clinic going to have an entry in the parade the way it used to?”
Rachel blew a puff of air that made her bangs flutter. “I hadn’t thought of that. I’ve missed the last few Independence Days.”
“That happens when you cram eight years of school into seven.”
Surprised, Rachel looked at him. “How did you know about that?”
“I can count. Besides, Dad told me what you were doing.”
She made a humming noise low in her throat. They were about to tread on dangerous ground, and she didn’t want that. “Well, you’re the majority partner around here. What do you suggest we do about the parade?”
Grady shrugged, took a sip. “I hadn’t thought about it. I just wondered. Dad usually just drove the clinic rig with a few streamers tied on the back bumper.”
“With David, and you before you left, riding on a trailer, throwing candy to the kids. David always had a dog with him, too.”
Grady chuckled. “With those stupid elk antlers tied on the poor dog’s head. Wonder what ever happened to those antlers.”
“Gee.” She grinned. “I wonder.”
“What?” he asked, cocking his head.
Rachel laughed. “You just walked right beneath them.”
Grady turned and looked. There, over the doorway to the stables, hung the papier-mâché antlers David had made one year in school. “I’ll be damned.”
“We could do something similar,” Rachel said. “Maybe use the antlers somehow, or think of something new. But it’ll probably be up to you and Louise to drive, because I promised months ago that I’d ride with the family and will have to race back to the end of the line if I’m going to ride in the clinic’s entry.”
“Oh, yeah.” A slight smile curved his lips. “The famous Flying Ace riders. Do the kids ride, too?”
“Try and keep them out,” she answered with a laugh. “I heard talk last Sunday of the three of them entering the stick-horse races at the arena just before the rodeo. That is, if Jason and Clay don’t decide they’re too old. Will you and Joe enter the team roping, the way you used to do?”
Grady shrugged. “Hadn’t thought about it.”
“He’d love it if you did. He’s missed it. Swears he won’t ride with anyone but you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded. “I didn’t know. Thanks for telling me.”
“You’re welcome.” Rachel started to speak—there was a question nagging at her, no, more than one.
“What?”
She glanced at him, then shook her head.
“Come on,” he coaxed quietly. “You’ve obviously got something on your mind.”
She shrugged. “Just something I’m curious about, that’s all. You can tell me it’s none of my business.”
“And I might.”
That was encouraging. She shouldn’t have said anything.
“What is it?” he asked.
He seemed so open and accessible just now. And she felt so calm. She felt none of the tension or anxiety she usually felt around him. Did that mean she was truly, finally, putting the past behind her?
“I don’t want to rake up the past,” she told him.
“That’s what you’re curious about? The past?”
“Not that past,” she said in a rush. “I don’t see any point in dredging all that up. What I’m curious about is…”
“Come on, Rachel, spill it.”
She looked at him for a long moment, then smiled. “I just can’t imagine how you managed a newborn baby.”
His single, short laugh was traced with irony. “Who says I did?”
“No, I mean it. You’d never even been around babies, and all of a sudden, there you were.”
“Yeah, there I was, scared as hell that I’d do something wrong, hold him wrong, feed him wrong. A nurse at the hospital gave me a crash course in diaper-changing and bottle-feeding, and the rest was learn-as-you-go.”
“Well, you must have learned. You both survived.”
“Barely,” he said with a small smile. “I figured he’d survive, but I wasn’t so sure about me.”
Rachel laughed. “Big, bad Grady Lewis, changing diapers, walking a crying baby in the middle of the night.”
“That was me.”
Rachel’s smile faded. Sadness slowly seeped through her bones. She envied him the experience. She couldn’t say it aloud, but she envied him. The baby should have been hers. They should have experienced all those things together. The diaper changing, the feeding, the teething, the first steps.
Oh, God, she was going to start crying.
She was saved from disgracing herself when Maggie M’Darling chose that moment to lower herself onto the thick straw bedding and lie flat on her side.
“Here we go.” Shaking off the sadness, Rachel handed her cup back to Grady and let excitement fill her. “Stage two parturition.” A moment later the mare’s water broke. “Atta girl, Maggie, you’re doing great, girl.”
The mare whinnied on a hard contraction and looked at Rachel with liquid, pain-filled eyes.
“I know, girl, but it won’t be long now and you’ll have a beautiful baby.” Slowly, so as not to worry or startle,
Rachel moved close and knelt in the fluid-soaked straw.
The mare strained on another hard contraction.
Rachel strained with her.
Then, “There. I see a hoof. Good girl, Maggie, it’s coming, girl.”
And then, in a rush, it was there. Or, half of it, at least. With the head, neck, shoulders and both front legs of the foal out, but the hind legs still in the birth canal, the contraction eased and the mare paused to get her breath.
“That’s it, Maggie M’Darling. Oh, aren’t you clever! Just one more push now, and we’ll know if you’ve got a colt or a filly.”
In less than a moment, the push came, one final, hard effort from the mare, and the foal’s hindquarters slid free.
“There you go. No hiplock for you, eh, Maggie? Oh, and isn’t he beautiful.”
“A colt?” Grady asked. From where he stood outside the stall, with the lighting she’d purposely kept dim, and with Rachel in his way, he couldn’t see.
“That’s right. A little-boy horse.”
“Is that what they call them in veterinary school?”
She heard the laughter in his voice. “Actually, one professor called them horse puppies.”
“Hmm. Cost you a lot, that kind of education?”
“You’re just jealous.” She could have bitten off her own tongue the second the words were out. He, too, had wanted to become a vet, but because of—well, he hadn’t been able to finish his education. She’d just rubbed salt into his wound. A self-inflicted wound, to be sure, she reminded herself. But her comment had to have hurt.
“No, actually I’m not,” he said easily. “I think I’m happier training horses than I would be doctoring them.”
Rachel used a clean, soft rag to wipe the foal’s nose. “Really?”
“Really.”
She sat back on her heels with outward patience to wait for the mare to rest a minute, then rise, or for the foal to struggle, either of which would break the umbilicus. After that the mare would clean the foal, and the foal would take a few spills climbing up onto those impossibly spindly legs on its way to nurse. Then, sometime after that, the placenta would come.
From the corner of her eye she saw Grady reach for the clipboard she’d hung on a nail on the outside of the stall. He checked his watch, then started making notes.
The Price of Honor Page 9
