by Amber Kelly
I stand behind him and wait as he uses all his strength to get the baby in the right position.
Minutes later, I can see the front legs emerge, and I let out the breath I was holding. I have seen enough births to know this is what we want.
He pulls back and makes room for me to his right. I grab the baby’s legs as he rolls his hands underneath, and together, we tug until we see the eyes and snout of the foal. I can feel when the mare’s normal contractions begin, and her body strains to help us expel her baby. Once it’s out, Brandt quickly removes his gloves and reaches for a large piece of straw. I watch anxiously as he swabs the baby’s nose to clear its airway.
“Come on now. Breathe for me, little one,” he prompts.
A few seconds later, the foal releases a tiny sneeze, and its chest begins to rise and fall.
“Is it okay?” I ask as I sit back in the straw, watching him work.
“He’s small. But I think he’ll make it,” he says as he turns to look at me with a triumphant smile on his face.
He. It’s a colt.
“Come here, Bellamy.” He beckons as he reaches out to me, and I take his hand. “I need you to count its breaths.”
He places my hand on its rib cage, and I start to track the in-and-out movements while he pulls a watch from his bag. I count, and he times.
“Is that a good rate?” I ask about the respiration.
“Perfect,” he says, and he smiles a relieved smile at me.
“Oh, thank God,” I say as I watch the little guy struggle to open his eyes.
Pop and Foster come rushing into the barn a moment later.
Pop takes us in. We are both on the floor of the stall, exhausted and covered in slime, with the babe between us. What a sight we must be.
“Foster, get that mare washed down quickly, and I’ll grab the colostrum bottle,” Pop barks.
I stand, and Foster enters with wash buckets and sponges.
Pop hands off a feeding bottle to Brandt, and he promptly coaxes the colt to suckle. Once he latches on, Pop places his hand on my shoulder.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m great now that the little one is here and is going to be okay.”
“We’ve got it from here. Go get cleaned up and have some lunch,” he tells me.
I nod and turn toward the door.
“You did good, Bellamy,” Brandt calls after me.
“Me? I didn’t do anything. You just saved them,” I say in awe.
“I couldn’t have done it without your help,” he states before he looks back down and starts tending to the patient.
“I think you should get to name him, Bells,” Pop says.
I look at the newborn lying in front of Brandt, and I say, “Ali. His name is Ali. He’s a little fighter.”
“Ali it is,” Pop proclaims.
I walk to the house, filled with joy at watching that baby struggle to make it into this world and a little in awe of our handsome vet. That is the first breech birth I’ve witnessed on this ranch, where both momma and baby survived.
Bellamy
I make my way back to the house and find Momma and Miss Elaine chatting over coffee.
“Bellamy, what in the world happened?” Momma asks as I climb the steps.
“I had to help Brandt deliver a breech foal,” I offer in explanation of my appearance.
“My goodness, is everything all right?”
“Yep, Doc was amazing, and he was able to save them both,” I praise.
“Thank the good Lord. Oh, honey, you go get yourself cleaned up, and I’ll heat you up some lunch.”
I scurry into the house, and enjoy a long, hot shower before I rejoin them on the porch in clean clothes, my hair still damp.
Momma sets a bowl of hot stew in front of me, and I devour it in minutes. She offers me seconds.
“I guess delivering babies makes you hungry,” she muses.
“Ravenous. I hope you have enough for Brandt. He deserves a whole pot to himself. He was amazing out there,” I tell them, still filled with admiration for the doctor.
“Is that so?” Momma asks as she brings her eyes to Miss Elaine.
“Yes, ma’am. You should have seen him. He kept his cool, and before I knew what was happening, he’d saved that mare’s and colt’s lives. I was scared out of my mind, but he was steady as a rock. It was like watching a superhero in action or something,” I recount for them. Reverence clear in my tone.
“That’s his job,” Miss Elaine states. “It amazes me every time I see a sick animal with a distraught owner come through the doors of our clinic and then leave with a new lease on life. That boy makes me proud every day.”
“How is the clinical practice?” Momma asks.
“Busy. Too busy for me sometimes. He had a mixed practice in Oregon, too, but he wasn’t the only vet in town, so it wasn’t that stressful. If he was out on large-animal calls, our vet techs would see to the routine visits, and if there was an after-hours emergency, there was an emergency clinic about twenty minutes away,” she explains.
“Maybe he should look into hiring a technician to help out,” Momma suggests.
“It’s part of the plan. We’ve just been so busy that we haven’t had a chance to start looking properly. I intended to go home and visit my daughter and grandchildren for a couple of weeks this month while they were out of school, but I can’t leave him without any help.”
“I can help,” I offer.
Both their eyes come to me.
“I mean, I can work temporarily while you go for your visit. I promised Pop I’d help out here on the ranch until Myer returned from paternity leave, but after that, I’m free for a few weeks. I won’t be leaving for Denver until the end of summer. That is, if you trust me to do a good job.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Momma says. “She has a degree in animal science, and she’s great with animals, has been since she was a little girl. She’s a perfect candidate to help in a veterinary clinic.”
“Are you sure you want to spend what’s left of your summer break working?” Miss Elaine asks, but I can hear the hope in her question.
I shrug. “Sure. It’s only a couple of weeks, right? Besides, maybe I can even talk Dr. Haralson into calling in a personal recommendation on my behalf afterward.”
“I’m sure he would be happy to,” Miss Elaine assures me.
“Then, we’ll talk to Brandt, and if he agrees, you can call your daughter and make arrangements,” I tell her as she beams at me.
“Thank you, dear.”
Once the men finish up in the barn, Pop and Foster walk Brandt up to the house to fetch his mother.
Momma forces stew on him, after he cleans up a bit, and he humors her and has a big bowl and a slice of corn bread.
We discuss me filling in for Miss Elaine while she takes a trip home, and he readily agrees.
“Thanks. I can use the experience,” I tell him as I walk with them to his SUV before they head back to town.
He looks back at his mother while she hugs my momma.
“Actually, thank you, Bellamy. She could use this break. She loves it here in Colorado, but I know she misses the kids and her friends back home. It’ll be good for her to get away and see them.”
“Do you? Miss home, I mean,” I ask.
“Oregon? Nope, not in the least,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Good, because I think Poplar Falls wants to keep you,” I tell him.
That gets me a happy crinkle at his eyes.
“Brandt,” Pop calls as he approaches with his hand extended. “I appreciate all you did today.”
Brandt takes the offered hand and shakes it firmly. “My pleasure. Just keep an eye on her for the next hour or so, and if she has any problems passing her placenta, give me a ring, and I’ll come check her out.”
“Will do.”
Miss Elaine joins us, and Brandt opens the door for her. She climbs in and looks back at me.
“Dro
p by the clinic anytime you have a few minutes to spare, and I’ll run over the basics with you,” she tells me.
“Perfect. I’ll swing in sometime this week.”
Brandt rounds the Rover, and they back out. We stand and wave until they make the turn out of the gate.
“I think we got a good one with him,” Pop observes.
“Yeah, me too,” I agree.
“Well, cowgirl, are you ready to finish this day?” he asks as he wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side.
“I am,” I say, and I let him lead me back to the barn, where the evening chores await us.
Brandt
“Thank you, sir.”
I shake Mr. Stroupe’s hand before he stands and passes me a manila envelope with all the paperwork tucked inside.
“Congratulations, Brandt. You got yourself a fine piece of property. I think you are going to love raising a family there,” the bank manager offers as he walks me to the door of his office.
I just purchased an old estate fifteen minutes from downtown. I had driven by the place a dozen times while making calls, and there was just something about it that spoke to me. The property is overgrown, and the house is in a state of severe disrepair, but I can tell that it was once magnificent. I know in my gut that it can be again even if I don’t know the home’s story. I just felt compelled to buy it and help restore it to its former glory.
I’m not sure what I was thinking, and I have a brief moment of regret as I toss the envelope into the passenger seat of my vehicle. It’s probably going to take a lot of time and money to fix that place up. Of course, I have nothing better to do. The small apartment above the clinic is not what I promised Mom when I convinced her to move with me. I want her to have a real home to retire in. Somewhere she has a yard to fill with flowers and for her dog, Lou-Lou, to run around in. One with a big kitchen and maybe a she-shed in the back for her to make her soaps and lotions.
As I turn down Main Street, Mr. Phillips waves as he exits the hardware store, and Mrs. Pickens looks up and smiles at me as she sweeps the gazebo outside the courthouse. Then, I see Mr. Henderson leaving Bountiful Harvest Bread Company with Beau Wilson, tightly gripping one of his hands, while Beau licks the ice cream that’s dripping from a cone off the other. And I know that Poplar Falls is where I want to lay roots.
I feel that numbing pain in my chest at that thought. Roots. I planted them once before, and they were yanked from the soil that was my life. They’ve been exposed and withering ever since. It’s been hard to pull myself back together, and I’m not there yet, but making this purchase is a huge step forward. Maybe I’ll be able to restore both of us.
I swing into the parking space behind the clinic and enter through the back door.
Mom is sitting at the desk on the phone, with Lou-Lou lying at her feet, and she turns as I approach.
She raises her eyebrows in question, and I wave the envelope in my hand.
Her eyes fall to the paperwork, and she smiles hugely. She turns back and finishes the call as I walk to my office and grab my lab coat. I have three appointments here this afternoon before I have to head out to give some vaccines at a farm outside of town.
I hear her hurried footfalls as she reaches my door.
“Everything went through? You bought it?”
“Yes, ma’am. Since the property was owned by the bank, they accepted my cash offer on the spot.”
I made a lowball offer, sight unseen. No inspection. No haggle. I figured I’d salvage what I could of the bones of the main house and tear down everything else and build from there. Mr. Stroupe assured me the septic had been serviced and inspected recently and that a new well had been dug last year. That was enough for me. I followed my gut, and now, for better or worse, I am the proud new owner of a huge chunk of land in the Rocky Mountains.
“Wonderful!” she exclaims as we hear the bell above the front door chime.
She turns on her heels and hurries back to greet our client.
“Is it bad, Doctor?” Ms. Krause asks as I examine her white Maine Coon.
“He might have scratched his cornea, and it’s caused irritation. That’s why the eye is red and oozing. Or it could be a bacterial infection. I’m going to get a swab of the discharge and take a better look, and we’ll get a blood sample to send off to the lab, just to rule out anything more serious. But I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s nothing an antibiotic and eyedrops can’t fix,” I assure the nervous cat owner.
She sighs in relief. “Thank goodness. Hazel is my best friend, aren’t you, boy?” she coos at the large cat.
“Hazel?” I ask.
“Yes, I named him before I knew he was a boy. He was a little ball of white kitten fur, and he just looked like a Hazel. My husband complained about his name until the day he passed,” she explains.
“I think it suits him just fine. If you want to check out with Mom up front, I’ll finish up here, and I’ll bring Hazel out to you.”
She scratches the cat behind his ear before exiting the exam room.
I put a few numbing drops in Hazel’s right eye, do a quick eye swab, and collect a blood sample, and then I pick him up and carry him out to Ms. Krause in the waiting area.
“Here you go.” I hand the pet off to her.
“We’ll give you a call in a couple of days with the results. Until then, here are some eyedrops to help with the discomfort. You can put them in the affected eye twice a day. We’ll call out for any other prescriptions needed once we know exactly what we are dealing with, and you can swing by and pick those up next week.”
“He already looks better,” she cries as she cuddles Hazel close to her.
“He’s going to be just fine,” I tell her.
“Thank you, Dr. Haralson. You’re a doll.” She places Hazel in the carrier to take him home. “Bye, Miss Elaine. We’ll see you next visit,” she calls down the hallway to Mom.
The bell above the door chimes again, and Bellamy Wilson breezes into the office.
“Bellamy!” Ms. Krause calls.
She comes fully in and stops in front of the elderly woman.
“Well, hello. How are you and Mr. Hazel today?” Bellamy asks as she reaches into the carrier and pets the cat.
He closes his eyes and purrs loudly.
“Oh, we’re okay. He just has a little eye infection, but Dr. Haralson is getting him all patched up.”
“That’s good to hear,” she says as she smiles a beautiful smile at the pair.
In fact, everything about her is beautiful, not just her smile.
She has her long hair pulled back in a ponytail, which hangs through the back of a charcoal-gray ball cap that says, Charm and Chaos. She’s wearing a pair of well-worn, faded jeans, which have ripped knees, topped with a tight sage-green Stoney Ridge Ranch T-shirt and finished off with gray hiking sandals. Her blue eyes are dancing underneath a fan of long, dark lashes. She’s makeup-free, and yet her face is absolutely glowing.
I catch Ms. Krause’s eye as she watches me watching Bellamy.
“Well?” she asks me.
“Well?” I say.
“Dear, Bellamy asked if you were busy at the moment,” she says and nods encouragement for me to answer.
I clear my throat and speak, flustered that I was caught staring, “No, not busy. We’re done here for the day. I’m heading out to make a house call.” I avoid Ms. Krause’s curious expression and direct my response to Bellamy. “How can we help you today, Miss Wilson?”
“I was just on my way out to Rustic Peak and thought I’d drop in, so your mom could give me a quick office tutorial, if she has the time,” she says as she blinks up at me.
“Are you working here now, Bellamy?” Ms. Krause interrupts.
“I’m just going to fill in for a couple of weeks while Doc’s mom is on vacation.”
“How lovely. Oh, there is my ride. Give Winston and Beverly my regards, won’t you, dear?” she says as Bellamy holds the door open for her.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She waits until Ms. Krause is safely in the minivan that pulled up to the curb, waves good-bye, and then shuts the door, turning back to me.
“So, where do we start?”
“Mom’s in the break room. Follow me,” I say and then lead her to the small break room in the back of the clinic.
When we walk in, Mom is sitting at the table in the center of the room, watching one of her daytime soaps while stirring cream into her coffee.
“Bellamy,” she greets.
“Hi, Miss Elaine. Is this a good time to go over your procedures?”
“Oh, yes. We just finished with our last in-clinic patient of the day, so I’m free—after I find out who the John Doe who just checked into General Hospital actually is. Come sit. Would you like a cup of coffee?” Mom asks.
“No, thank you, but please enjoy yours. I can wait. Besides, I’m willing to bet money that patient is a long-lost Cassadine,” Bellamy says as she takes a seat.
Mom’s eyes go round. “You think so?” she asks, excited at the prospect.
“Um, I’ll leave you two to it, then. It was good to see you again, Bellamy,” I say before excusing myself.
“You too, Brandt,” she says on a smile.
I make it all the way back to my office before I realize I have a goofy grin on my face.
Bellamy
After Miss Elaine gives me a brief rundown of the clinic’s day-to-day operation, I head out to Rustic Peak to meet with Elle, Sonia, and Sophie. They are in cahoots to plan a surprise sixty-fifth birthday party for Doreen. Sophie doesn’t want her aunt’s big day to be lost in the chaos of her pregnancy and Elle’s engagement, and she knows Doreen will insist they don’t make a big fuss over her, so we have to run a covert operation. Which isn’t easy. The Lancaster women are all-knowing, and to surprise one of them with anything is nearly impossible.
I walk into the ranch’s office above the barn, and the summit is already in progress.
“There’s no way to have it here. We’d never be able to get her gone long enough to set up without her asking too many questions. Besides, as soon as she pulled up the driveway and saw everyone’s vehicles, she’d figure it out. I want us to actually be able to hide and jump out and yell, Surprise,” Sophie says as I take a seat on the sofa next to Sonia.
