Texas Gold (Mills & Boon Historical) Page 9

  He opened it, calling her name as he did so, his voice low and husky, as if he’d just awakened and hadn’t yet used his vocal cords. “Faith? Something’s going on outside. The dog’s having a fit.”

  “I’m up,” she said, quickly stripping off her nightgown and pulling her discarded dress over her head. She drew up a pair of drawers beneath it and shoved her feet into her house shoes. Max was in the doorway, his eyes intent on her and she snatched at her brush, pulling it through her hair and then tying it with a kerchief so that it hung down her back in a tail reminiscent of her mare’s in color and length.

  “Get a shawl or sweater,” Max said. “It’s chilly out there.”

  “It won’t be cold in the barn,” she told him, but nodded in agreement, reaching for her shawl as she ran through the kitchen.

  “Did you think she was ready before we went to bed last night?” Max asked, gripping Faith’s elbow as they raced across the yard.

  She shook her head, unable to speak. The dog ran beside them, silent now that his humans were awake and aware of the disturbance in the barn. “What woke you?” she asked Max.

  “I don’t know. I thought at first you had called me. Then I realized it was a noise from outside. The dog was whining.” He pushed the barn doors open and plunged into the darkness. “I’ll get the lantern,” he told her.

  Faith stepped carefully, aware of the rustle of straw and the sounds of her mare straining and whuffling in the confines of the standing stall. “I need to get her out of there,” she said. “But first, I want the other horses out in the pasture.”

  “All right,” Max said. The lantern was lit, the globe replaced, and he hung it high over the aisle behind the stalls. “She’s down,” he told Faith. “Damn. There isn’t enough room in that stall for the mare, let alone either one of us to help her.”

  He released the other three horses from their stalls and led them to the back door, then outside and through the corral. The glow from the barn lit a path for him to travel and within minutes he’d turned the animals loose in the pasture and returned to Faith.

  “She’s trying to get up,” Faith told him. “Help me get her on her feet.”

  “Not as easy as it sounds,” Max muttered, climbing over the side wall of the stall to join Faith at the animal’s head. She’d fastened a second rope to the mare’s halter, and Max grasped it, then tossed it over the wall and climbed back to the adjoining stall.

  “Don’t let her get on top of you,” he told Faith, worry lacing his words with a harsh note.

  “Just pull,” she told him, lifting the mare’s head from the barn floor and then standing atop the manger as the animal struggled to get to her feet.

  With a loud whinny, the golden creature got her front feet beneath her, struggled to find purchase on the straw-covered floor with her hind legs, then backed from the narrow enclosure to the wider aisle.

  “That’s got it,” Max called out, scrambling to stand beside the mare as she swayed on her feet. He grabbed a pitchfork and tossed a small mountain of straw about the area and within moments the mare was down again, but this time in a space large enough for both Max and Faith to work in.

  “What can we do?” he asked, kneeling beside the horse, one hand rubbing the mare’s side in a distracted movement.

  “Nothing, for now,” Faith said. “Just watch her and see if things are going to happen the way they should.”

  “What do we look for?” he asked, and she heard the note of helplessness he made no attempt to conceal. “I haven’t the faintest idea what I’m doing here, sweetheart. But if you’ll tell me what to do, I’ll help you.”

  As he spoke, a gush of fluid flooded the floor behind the mare’s body, and Faith smiled at him. “You might want to toss a little more straw over that for starters. This is a messy business, Max. Are you sure you want to be involved?”

  “Do you think for one minute I’d leave you here alone with her?” he asked. “Not on your life, lady.” He eased down behind the mare and placed his hands on her heaving side. “Have you ever done this before?” he asked.

  “I watched a colt be born a couple of years ago in this barn, before Lin and Nicholas moved here. It went like clockwork. But then that mare had had several foals, and she at least knew what was happening.” Faith rubbed her mare between her ears, and her voice softened. “This one is new at the job.”

  “What’s her name?” Max asked. “It seems as if we should be calling her something. Or haven’t you named her?”

  Faith glared at him. “Of course I have. I call her Goldie.”

  He grinned. “Makes sense to me. I couldn’t have come up with a more appropriate name myself.” He looked down at the straining horse, and his mouth pressed into a thin line. “I’ve always wondered how animals in the wild survive this sort of thing. If something goes wrong and they’re all alone…”

  “Sometimes they don’t survive,” Faith said. “Even cattle ranches lose a number of cows and calves every year.”

  “What goes wrong?” he asked.

  “The baby is supposed to emerge front legs first, with the head between them,” Faith told him. “If things don’t go right, it might be butt first, or upside down.”

  “Well, I’m counting on this lady making this easy for us,” he said quietly. “What does the stud look like?” he added. “Are you pretty much guaranteed to have a colt with the coloring you want?”

  “That’s the odd part about this whole thing,” she said. “In order to get another golden or cream-colored foal from the mare, you have to use a sorrel for breeding. If you use a stud of the same color as my mare, you could very well end up with an albino.”

  Max shook his head. “Did you find out all this yourself, or did your neighbor do the digging? Where did he find a suitable horse to breed?”

  “Nicholas found a sorrel stallion in Oklahoma,” she answered. “He had him shipped on the train.” Her smile widened. “The railroad car may never be the same. That stud didn’t like being confined that way, and had a fit. By the time Nicholas got him out into daylight, there was hell to pay. The man assigned to travel with the horse was banged up and the stall was torn to smithereens.”

  “Weren’t you worried about your mare when you introduced the two of them?” The thought of Faith working with a wild stallion in a confined breeding area was enough to make Max’s heart stall.

  “Nicholas handled most of it,” she said. “Brace helped him and they were careful to see that the mare was safe.”

  “You weren’t there?” The thought of Faith participating in such a deed was beyond his imagination. It was something any well-bred young woman would shrink from. But then, Faith had managed to overcome most of the restrictions her former life had imposed, it seemed. Probably helping to breed her mare wouldn’t faze her.

  She shook her head. “I stayed in the house with Lin. Nicholas didn’t want any interference, and Lin tends to be vocal at times. And he wanted to be certain that their little girl, Amanda, was nowhere around.”

  “But Lin did as he asked?”

  “I suppose the idea of Brace being there put us both off a bit,” Faith admitted. “There’s something about the process that seems more suited to the male temperament.”

  Silently, he agreed. He’d heard that stallions were lusty creatures, certainly not averse to violent behavior, should they be thwarted in their pursuit of a mare.

  “I think we’re in for a long wait,” Faith said quietly. “She doesn’t seem to be making much progress, does she?” Her hands were moving against the mare’s head and neck, petting and stroking as she spoke, her words soft and coaxing, aimed at keeping the animal calm. “We’ll give her a while before we do anything else.”

  Yet it seemed the mare was not about to cooperate, her body convulsing in one long contraction after another with no progress evident. When an hour had passed and Faith had been as patient as her concern would allow, she moved to the rear of her horse and grasped the tail, braiding it quickly and tyi
ng it so that it no longer hung in the way.

  “I’m going to have to go in and see what’s happening,” she said. “Will you return to the house and get the bucket of lard from the pantry?”

  “Lard?” Max asked, rising slowly. “What are you going to do?”

  “Grease down my arm and hand and see if I can figure out what’s wrong.”

  “Inside the mare?” he asked, his voice incredulous.

  “Can you think of a better method of helping her?” Faith looked up at him, and he grimaced. Her forehead was lined with concern and her brow was damp with perspiration, yet her hands were gentle on the mare, her voice soothing as the animal struggled to rid herself of the burden she carried.

  “All right.” Max hurried out the barn door, leaving the door open behind him. Faith watched as he trotted across the yard, heard the screened door slam behind him as he entered the kitchen, and in less than a minute watched his return.

  She knelt beside her horse, rolled her sleeves above her elbows and then dipped her hand into the pail of lard, spreading the white grease thickly over her right arm. “I’ll reach inside and see if I can find the problem,” she said quietly. “Can you hold her still? I don’t want to take a chance on my arm being broken if she tries to get away from me.”

  Max felt his heart stutter and then resume its normal pace. She said it so calmly, seemed so matter-of-fact, as if this were an everyday event, this aiding in the delivery of a foal. He tried for a fleeting moment to equate this slender, wiry woman with the soft, elegant female he’d married six years before, and saw no resemblance between them.

  Faith was a product of the life she’d lived over the past three years, a sturdy, capable creature who feared nothing so much as losing her mare. Not even the threat of a broken arm caused her to hesitate in the job she faced.

  Max nodded in agreement, then offered her a choice. “If you think it would work better, I can try it,” he said. “My arm is longer than yours and I’m stronger.”

  “Let me give it a shot,” she said, “and if I can’t reach the foal, you can try.”

  She watched closely as the mare whinnied quietly, then lying on her side, her face a mask of concentration, she pushed her hand deep into the mare’s body.

  Her eyes widened and she bit at her lip, then her gaze swept up to meet Max’s. “There’s one leg coming down, Max. I don’t think I can reach far enough to push it back and grab both of them together.”

  “I’ll do it,” he said, hesitating not at all, relieved, in fact, if the truth were known, to see Faith’s arm appear, her hand intact.

  He rolled up his sleeve, and greased his arm, Faith helping as he coated his skin liberally with the lard. Blood and mucus stained her dress, and she had never looked so far from the pristine woman he’d lived with in Boston. She moved from her place behind the mare to crawl forward until she cradled the great, golden head against herself, her whispers and cajoling murmurs catching the horse’s attention.

  Again the mare strained and Max reached inside, locating a tiny hoof and spindly leg. He pushed gently against the extended limb, felt it withdraw farther up the birth canal, and followed it, groaning as the mare’s muscles clamped down on his arm. She strained harder, and he groped with fingers extended for the slender, fragile legs that must emerge first, lest the mare die without giving birth.

  There. He closed his eyes, both hooves in his hand, drawing them forward, easing his arm back from the mare’s body. He pulled with a steady, hard grip on the tiny, fragile bones, and the mare whinnied, a shrill sound that rang among the rafters of the barn.

  “Max?” Faith called his name, and he grunted a reply.

  “Got him,” he said, the words a guttural sound of triumph as he delivered the miniature creature onto the soiled straw. “He’s out, Faith.”

  And indeed the baby was born. A replica of the mare, it drew breath, trembled with the effort and struggled to stand.

  “It’s not a he,” Faith said quickly. “We’ve got a filly, Max. A girl.” She knelt, leaning back on her heels. “And the color is good.”

  “Isn’t she a little dark?” he asked. “Or is that just because she’s wet?” He leaned closer. “What do we do about the cord that’s attached?”

  “I think Goldie will tend to it,” Faith said quietly. “We’ll give her a chance anyway before we do anything about it.” And then they watched as the mare nuzzled her newborn and nosed over the entire length of the foal until she found the pale cord that had been its lifeline during the long months past. Her teeth nipped sharply at the limp, ropy length and it fell to the floor.

  “Amazing.” The single word was all Max could speak aloud as he watched the natural instinct of the mare respond to the birth of her foal. Goldie snorted and whinnied again, and with a stiffening of her whole body, expelled the sodden afterbirth upon the straw. She ignored it then and returned to the inspection of her offspring.

  Faith snatched up a towel from a stack she kept close at hand. “I’ll dry her off so she doesn’t take a chill. And I think her color will lighten up in a few weeks or months.”

  “Well, she’s a beauty, I’d say,” Max breathed quietly. “Not that I know a whole lot about the breed, but I’d say you managed to produce a winner for Nicholas. He should be happy with her.” He looked up at Faith as she rubbed vigorously at the wobbly filly. “Was he hoping for a colt?”

  She shook her head. “No, he’d like to establish his own breeding program. This should make him happy. Now he’ll have to locate another stud, though. I doubt he’ll want to breed back to the same stallion.”

  “How about you? Are you interested in a breeding program?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’d like to have a colt from Goldie, but raising horses is too big a job for a woman alone. I have my hands full just keeping ends together here.”

  “Well, at least you recognize your limitations,” he said. “I’d probably be filled with grand ideas about having a whole pasture full of these beautiful creatures.”

  Goldie staggered to her feet, her flanks shuddering with effort. Faith stood quickly, touched the mare’s quivering side and whispered soft words of encouragement, and then watched as the new mother turned to her foal.

  “Well, there’s no guarantee that I’d get a perfect colt each time,” Faith said after a moment. “It’s a gamble, but the chances are good that the next breeding will work out the same way this one did,” she told him, stepping back as the mare nuzzled her daughter. “Nonetheless, Goldie going through this twice is all I’m planning on. I’ll be content with that.” And then her attention was caught as the mare nickered softly as the gangly filly got her legs beneath her.

  “Does she know enough to nurse?” Max asked, enjoying the picture that played out before them. He’d never been privy to such a thrilling event, and recognizing his own contribution somehow made it even more exciting.

  “Just watch her,” Faith said. And sure enough, the newborn’s nostrils widened as if she scented the life-giving milk that was even now leaking from the mare’s bag. Her long neck bent in an ungainly pose as the filly twisted to investigate the source of the aroma she sought, and within moments she was suckling noisily. All four legs spraddled wide, giving her a fairly firm foundation, and she set to nursing with a will.

  Faith laughed softly. “I feel like we’ve been in the presence of a miracle, Max.”

  She had squatted beside the filly, watching closely as the baby discovered her mother’s milk, and now Faith looked up at him. Her hair was tangled and had a fair amount of straw caught in its length. Her clothing was stained by birth fluids and her arms were coated with the residue of lard and blood.

  She was altogether a mess, Max thought, and yet she was blessed with a glow of accomplishment that overshadowed her disarray, lending her a patina of beauty that superceded the dirt and grime of the past hours.

  Within him, he felt the rise of an emotion he did not recognize. Not desire or passion, for those were familiar to hi
m. But instead, a warmer, more alluring excitement that had to do with the whole woman. It was not her beauty alone that attracted him, he decided, although there was a certain amount of appeal in that.

  Rather, he was taken by the strength and wisdom she had attained over the past years, by the purpose in her every action. Faith was a woman to be admired. And beyond that, a woman to be won, no matter the cost.

  And if it took every bit of stamina he owned, every dollar he had managed to stockpile in his accounts, every iota of intelligence he possessed, he would assail the fort of her stubborn willfulness and storm the walls of her defenses until he prevailed.

  The woman didn’t stand a chance.

  Chapter Six

  Nicholas sat atop the sorrel stallion, his hat pulled low over his forehead. From all signs, he’d just arrived, and Faith looked up at him, weariness gripping her with talons that caused her to wince in the sunlight. Her neighbor frowned, and then in less time than it would have taken to greet her with a wave of his hand, he stood before her. One gloved hand rose and he touched her face with his index finger.

  In a quick movement, he doffed the leather coverings and tucked them in his belt, then looked beyond her to the open barn door. “What does the other guy look like?” he asked, not a trace of humor lacing his words. He bent to peer into Faith’s face. “Is that blood?” he asked, his words rasping.

  She nodded. “Probably. But then, along with everything else I’m covered in, a little blood doesn’t seem to matter, does it?” She yawned widely and Nicholas looked confused. That same index finger touched her arm, and withdrew to rub off the grease against the side of his denim trousers.

  “What the hell is going on here?” he asked bluntly. “Are you hurt, Faith? And where’s Max?”

  “Right behind you,” Max answered.

  Nicholas spun to face the other man, and his back stiffened. “Hell, you don’t look much better than she does. What did the two of you do? Have a war?”