High Meadow, page 7
Eight
Jonas
* * *
The ride back is silent.
This was the third run—checking another couple of places—in the past six days where we’ve come up empty. That is, if you don’t count the hapless father and son we gave the scare of their lives about two hours ago.
We had our hopes pinned on this last cabin when we crossed two different sets of boot prints in the damp earth. We approached the last cabin on our list carefully, noting the embers in the firepit still smoking. Someone had made sure there was plenty of firewood to last a while, but there was no one around. The cabin was empty but also showed the presence of two individuals.
Then we laid in wait for five damn hours. We’d tied off the horses well back and got closer on foot, taking up positions around the cabin. Despite stiff muscles and creaking joints, we had the two men who came walking up disarmed and facedown in the dirt, hands cuffed, in seconds.
Turned out to be an accountant and his teenage son from Kalispell who’d taken a couple of weeks off to go bear hunting. Poor kid pissed his pants, he was so scared.
Definitely not our guys, but it gave us an opportunity to ask whether they’d seen anyone else up there. They hadn’t seen anyone. Hadn’t even been aware of the missing prisoners. I think that may have been a little more than they bargained for and they were packing up when we left. I suspect they won’t be far behind us.
After that burst of adrenaline, the letdown leaves you drained. Even the horses seem to be dragging their feet. At least it feels a fuckload longer coming out than it was going in.
But it’s my job to keep up morale.
“Could’ve just as easily been them, guys. Good practice run. We’ll get them on the next one.”
“Fucking hope so,” Fletch, who is moody on the best of days, grumbles.
Yeah, me too.
Schroeder is breathing down my neck for results, but we’re going as fast as we can if we don’t want to miss anything.
“Ready for a shower and some of Ama’s chili,” Sully shares.
“So am I,” James agrees.
“And a shot of the good bourbon,” Bo suggests, receiving several confirmative grunts.
I’m looking forward to my bed—my whole fucking body is sore—but I keep that to myself. Then tomorrow morning after I’ve slept all the kinks out, I hope I can convince Alex to go on another ride.
Since our picnic, I’ve only been able to catch her once when she was working with Blitz. I enjoyed watching her too much—she really is a sight to behold—so by the time I approached her for a chat, I got called away again.
From what Dad and Ama shared, she’s been busy between the rescue, my horses, and the hunt for a new truck they apparently need. I’m told Hugh Standish has inserted himself in that effort, which pisses me off. He’s a decent enough guy, I guess, but that doesn’t mean I have to fucking like his involvement with Alex.
I’m starting to feel the pressure.
“That dang Arabian tossed Alex today,” Dad says before I even have my boots off.
The house smells amazing and my mouth was watering the moment I walked in. My plan was to wash the stench off first, but Dad was waiting for me.
“Is she all right?”
“She’s fine. Before I could check her out that dang filly got right back in the saddle. She’s a tough one, I tell ya. She doesn’t flinch, no matter what that fancy horse of yours throws at her.”
Despite my worry, I grin at him. He’s right, she is made of tough stuff. I could tell when I had her ride him back to the ranch that one day, she’d be able to handle him. But I hadn’t counted on the damn horse bucking her off. Not that I didn’t think he’d try—heck, he’s been trying to toss me since I got him—but I didn’t take into account he’d have an easier job with her. She’s half my size, it wouldn’t be more to him than tossing a feather.
“And another thing.” Dad stops me as I head for the stairs. “I think Missy’s gettin’ ready to drop her foal. She was pacing back and forth along the fence line, so I got her inside not twenty minutes ago. Had Dan put down clean straw in her stall and sent him to find some wrapping for her tail.”
I don’t waste time telling him I don’t usually bother with that. It’s sometimes done to keep the tail clean and out of the way, but it’s just as easy to wash up any mess after.
It’s not a big surprise. I expected it sometime this week or the next. The other day when I checked her udder, she was leaking a bit. But I wish I could’ve gotten a good night’s sleep in first. Now it looks like I’ll be spending the night in the barn.
“Get some dinner first, Dad. The wrap can wait. I’m going to hop in the shower, grab a bite myself, and then I’ll give you a hand in the barn.”
The shower and clean clothes go a long way to feeling a bit better and, hopefully, the couple of ibuprofen I took before coming down will do the rest of it.
I’m lucky Ama put me aside some cornbread and a hearty bowl of her chili, because of course the guys left nothing but crumbs by the time I make it to the kitchen. Ama is the only one left.
“Shouldn’t you be heading home to the kids?” I ask her.
“Kid,” she corrects me.
That’s right. JD, the eldest at twenty, is away at college. It’s just Una, their sixteen-year-old who’s still home.
“She’s at her boyfriend’s. Studying,” she adds as she rolls her eyes.
“Bet James is having fun with that,” I comment as she slides a steaming bowl in front of me, along with a healthy chunk of cornbread dripping with butter.
“I had to change the combination on the gun safe,” she shares dryly, making me laugh.
I can only imagine. I think if I’d ever had a daughter, I’d have locked her up until she turned thirty. Una is a younger version of her mother, gorgeous, strong-willed, and smart as a whip. Since those were the exact qualities that had James fall for Ama some twenty-odd years ago, I’m sure he’s not blind to the appeal his daughter holds for the opposite sex. It’s got to be hell.
“Anyway,” Ama continues. “I’m just making a thermos of coffee and a stack of sandwiches for you guys tonight. Thomas tells me Missy is getting near?”
“Yeah. I’ll probably stay out in the barn. The coffee and food are appreciated.”
Half an hour later, I head to the barn with a backpack and my bedroll. Dad is sitting on a hay bale outside Missy’s stall. On the opposite end of the barn, Phantom sticks his head over the door, his nostrils flaring.
He knows something is going on. We may need to move him outside at some point.
“How is she?” I ask Dad as I dump my pack on the floor beside him.
“She’s all right. Doesn’t wanna be touched much, though. I waited for you.”
He holds up a roll of bandages.
It’s almost eleven when I can finally convince Dad to grab a few hours of sleep in the house. We’ve got Missy cleaned up and prepped. She’s rustling about her stall, pawing at the straw. Her version of nesting.
I’m sure it won’t be too long before she goes into active labor, so I line up a few of the hay bales, spread my bedroll on top and lie down. Exhaustion has me pass out in minutes.
What feels like a short couple of hours later, I wake up to the sound of thuds. A healthy kick of adrenaline clears my head instantly.
Phantom.
I get to my feet and a quick peek at Missy shows her in the throes of a contraction, her neck dark with sweat and the muscles of her stomach straining.
Then I head for Phantom’s stall, hearing another thump as he kicks at the boards. His head jerks up when he spots me.
“How about we put you in the small paddock for a bit? Give Missy some peace and quiet.”
He’s restless, straining against my hold when I snap a lead onto his halter and open the door. It takes every effort to keep him from beelining it to Missy, but I finally manage to get him out of the barn and in the paddock. To my surprise the first faint sign of daylight appears at the horizon.
It’s later than I thought. With another hour or so, Alex should be here.
The thought puts a smile on my face as I run up to the house to warn Dad.
Alex
* * *
The first thing I notice coming up the drive is the horse trailer parked on the side of the barn. Looks like the men are back.
Jonas wasn’t kidding when he said he’d be busy. I’ve barely seen him since he announced wanting to take me out.
I’ve thought about that a lot. Hell, he seems to be all I think about these days. Even when Jackson Zoom called me—a very rare occurrence—the other day, he mentioned I seemed distracted and asked if everything was all right. Ashamed of myself, I banished any thoughts of Jonas from my mind and for the rest of the conversation focused on my son.
Last night, Lucy and I finally decided on a truck. Second-hand—we can’t really afford new at this time—the four-year-old Dodge Ram was the best choice. Lucy almost needs a booster seat to drive it, but it’s more powerful than my F-150, and would make a safer towing truck for the trailer in these mountains. At least that’s what Hugh said and since I know little to nothing about engines, I’ll gladly take his word for it.
He’s been awesome. Clueing in to our needs, understanding the financial limitations, and finding us a bunch of different options to look at. He claims he just felt bad because the Chevy wasn’t really worth the repairs it would’ve required, but I suspect his interest in Lucy was the real reason he spent so much time helping us out.
I park my truck beside Doc Evans’s old rusty heap. Wonder why he’s here so early?
The prospect of seeing Jonas has those damn butterflies going when I get out from behind the wheel.
I spot Sully heading toward the barn. I wonder if Missy is foaling, she looked primed to go yesterday. Instead of stopping in to say hi to Ama, I rush after him. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve been at a birth and I can’t wait to meet the little foal.
As soon as I step inside, I see Doc and Jonas standing outside one of the stalls where Missy is pacing restlessly, occasionally stomping the ground with one of her hooves. Her neck is glistening with sweat and her nostrils are flaring.
I don’t see Sully, but when Jonas catches sight of me, I notice the lines on his face appear deeper. He’s worried. Suddenly I am too.
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s struggling,” he says. “Getting tired, her legs are shaking but she won’t stay down.”
“It’s her first, right?”
“Yeah. Doc just got here and checked her. She’s been trying to push but the foal’s legs are back.”
In horse terms that’s a complication. Usually the front hooves and the nose present themselves in the birth canal first, but in rare occasions one or both legs, or even the foal’s head can be bent back.
As we watch, her legs start to buckle and she goes down, immediately rolling on her side as her distended stomach visibly strains.
Doc Evans immediately slips into the stall, crouching down by her tail.
“What can I do?” I ask Jonas, feeling helpless.
“Help me keep her down.”
I sit down on the straw beside Missy’s head. Her eyes are wild as she snorts short bursts of air.
“You’re okay, pretty girl,” I mumble, stroking her face gently. “Hard work, isn’t it? I promise you the reward is worth it, though. Hang in there, honey, you’re so close.”
I listen to the mare grunt as her flank contracts with the force of her labor.
“Gonna pop her sac. See if I can reach the legs,” Doc announces.
He does so during the next contraction. Sweat beads on his forehead as he struggles to get hold of the slippery foal.
“Got them,” he finally announces.
This time when the mare strains, along with the gush of amniotic fluid, two small hooves and a nose become visible. Doc grabs its legs firmly and pulls. Missy’s grunting turns into a higher-pitched squeal as she works to deliver her foal.
“Alex!”
I scramble to my feet and turn to the barn door where Sully is standing.
“I need you out here.”
I rush out of the barn to catch Sully heading for the paddock at the rear. I’m about to follow him when I hear it, the sharp snap of hooves slamming against boards.
“Phantom,” Jonas says behind me.
“I’ll go. Doc will need you here,” I tell him as I set off on a trot. The stallion could hurt himself; undo any recovery he’s made so far.
Sully is halfway into the paddock.
“Stay back,” I call out as I catch up with him. “Let me.”
“Be fucking careful,” Sully grunts. “That horse is out of his mind.”
Just as I lower myself on the other side of the fence, Phantom kicks it just a few feet from where I’m standing.
“Easy, buddy,” I coo, holding up my hands as I cautiously approach. “You’re not making this any easier on your girl.”
For a moment he appears to recognize me, but then he suddenly rears up, a panicked neigh escaping him as he thrashes his head. I notice the wrap on his leg has come loose, creating an added hazard.
“Easy, boy. It’s just me,” I continue to ramble, making sure to keep my voice steady and soothing.
Finally, he seems to calm a little, still snorting hard breaths from his flared nostrils, but his eyes appear to focus on me.
“That’s my boy. Nice and easy. Let me see that leg of yours.”
I edge closer, staying along the edge of the paddock, and wait for him to adjust to my presence. When I’m close enough, he extends his nose to sniff the hand I hold out. Then I carefully reach down to pull off the wrap. It’s safer off than on right now.
I ball up the length of bandaging and am just about to toss it at Sully when a gut-wrenching squeal sounds from the barn. The next thing I know, Phantom swings around, kicks out his rear legs, and slams me into a post. I instinctively make myself small, feeling a sharp burning pain on my side.
“Alex! Are you okay?” Sully’s head sticks over the fence.
“I’m fine, just give me a minute.”
It takes a little longer than a minute to talk the horse back down, but once I feel it’s safe to do so, I try climbing out.
“Shit, Alex.” Sully points at my shirt. “You’re bleeding.”
Nine
Jonas
* * *
Christ, if I weren’t gray already, Sully’s yell, “Alex is hurt” would’ve surely done the trick.
I don’t even give poor Missy and her newborn foal a second glance and take off running.
She’s standing beside Sully on this side of the fence, keeping an eye on Phantom, who still looks agitated. My mouth goes dry when I notice the blood on her shirt.
“What the hell happened?”
“Knocked her into the post,” Sully answers, but my eyes are on Alex.
“I’m fine,” she says. “He just took me by surprise.”
Of course she’d defend the horse.
“Sully, go see if Doc needs help.” I turn back to Alex. “And you’re coming with me.”
“It’s just a scratch. Really, I’m fine.”
She can tell me she’s fine until she’s blue in the face. I call bullshit, fine doesn’t bleed.
Not about to take no for an answer, I grip Alex’s arm and hustle her into the house, straight upstairs to the master bath, where I leave her to go chase down the first aid kit.
“What’s going on?” Ama asks when I storm into the kitchen. “What is wrong with Alex?”
“She got hurt. Where the hell is the first aid kit?”
“I’ll get it.”
She ducks into the laundry room and reappears a minute later with what looks like a tackle box, holding it up.
“You can go back to the barn, I’ll check on her,” she says, dismissing me as she tries to pass by me.
Like hell.
I snag the kit from her hands and head for the stairs, tossing, “I’ve got this,” over my shoulder. I just catch a grin spreading on Ama’s face before I take the steps two at a time.
When I push the bathroom door open, I catch Alex trying to get a glimpse of her injury. An angry-looking jagged tear across her ribs stands in stark contrast with creamy white skin and I stop in my tracks.
Jesus.
In the time I was gone, Alex had taken off her shirt and is sitting on the edge of my bathroom vanity in nothing more than a serviceable cotton bra. Heck, it could’ve been black lace and it wouldn’t have been any sexier. The discovery the freckles on her face extend to the creamy skin of her cleavage already has me harder than I’ve been in years. I need to get this cut clean before I lose all control.
Tearing my eyes from her, I set the kit on the toilet seat and start digging through for disinfectant and gauze. Then I force myself to focus on her injury. The temptation is strong to let my fingers linger on her soft skin longer than necessary, but the woman keeps twisting, trying to get a glimpse of the tear along her ribs.
“Will you sit still?”
I ignore her annoyed sigh and focus on cleaning the three-inch cut.
“Did you catch on something?” I ask to fill the static silence in the bathroom.
“I think a nail in one of the fence boards Phantom kicked loose.”
“We should have Doc take a look at it,” I suggest, not sure if it needs stitches.
Her scent—fresh and subtle—wafts up my nose when I bend closer to place the small butterfly bandages, just in case. Then I cover it with sterile gauze and tape it down.
“You’ll probably need a tetanus shot.”
“It’s fine,” she says, wincing a little when she hops off the counter. “I’m up to date.”
“What else hurts?” I look for other injuries, but I don’t see anything.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s just my hip, where Phantom caught me when he spooked.”
“Show me.”
“Been kicked a time or ten over the years, Jonas. It’s nothing.”
