Read A Christmas to Believe In Online
Authors: Claire Ashgrove
head. "Hard."
Using his finger, Clint cleaned out the mucus lodged in the
foal's nose, then elongated its head, stretched out its neck.
He held his breath while Ethan ran his hand over the damp,
brown fur. Chanted silent prayers in his head.
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The baby's next breath had him rocking back on his heels.
His shoulders slumped beneath crashing waves of relief. Deep
and strong, the foal sucked in a normal gulp of air.
It was over. He'd delivered the foal unharmed. No, he
argued silently.
They
had. If not for Ethan's help, this little
baby wouldn't have made it.
Ethan looked at him with wild eyes. "Is he okay?"
"Yeah. He's going to be just fine."
The panic seeped out of Ethan's gaze and he too expelled
a hard breath.
Clint bent forward to ease the rest of the sack off the foal's
hind end. "Dry him off, if you would. Then go ahead and
cover him up while we wait on momma."
Before his eyes, all of Ethan's pent up anger and
belligerence disappeared. He reverently stroked the
newborn's face, and the first smile Clint had ever seen
touched his mouth. Turning to tend to his mare, he casually
said, "If you keep petting him, he'll get used to humans
faster."
"Really?"
Clint maneuvered around Angel, lifted her tail to see how
badly she might have ripped. To his amazement, he found
only a small tear, less than a quarter inch long. He gave her
flank a pat. There was something to say about seasoned
broodmares. "Think about it," he answered. "That little baby's
never seen one of us. We're big and scary. The more you
fiddle with him, the more he'll get over it."
"Is he a he?"
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"Don't know yet. We'll look when the umbilical cord
breaks."
Cold and wet, in the aftermath of an adrenaline rush, Clint
shivered. He left the stall for his sweater. When he returned,
Angel struggled to her feet. The umbilical cord tore in half,
and as she turned to touch her nose to her foal, the placenta
passed in a neat glob.
Softly, Clint instructed, "Give them some space."
Ethan edged away from the baby. A high-pitched whinny
echoed through the barn as newborn looked up at mother.
Angel answered with a throaty nicker.
Stepping around Ethan to retrieve the placenta, Clint
clamped a hand on Ethan's shoulder. "You did good. Thanks. I
can get it from here."
Hesitant blue eyes lifted to his. "C-can I stay?"
Something deep down inside Clint shifted. This was what
he'd promised Jesse...a breakthrough. He knew it would
happen. He knew horses would affect it. But she hadn't
listened. For the first time in her life, she hadn't believed.
He answered Ethan with a slow nod. "There's a bottle of
iodine in my bag, and a small bottle. Fill it for me."
While Ethan did as he asked, Clint inspected the placenta
to insure nothing remained inside his mare. Satisfied it was
intact, he kicked it into the far corner.
"Now what?" Ethan asked.
Clint took the bottle from Ethan's hands and stepped
between Angel and her baby. He carefully lifted a hind leg,
submerged the umbilical stump and swished. Iodine sloshed
out of the bottle to stain his hands a light tea-color. He rolled
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his eyes, silently chastising himself for forgetting his gloves.
His nails would be yellow for weeks.
He passed the bottle back to Ethan, then moved the hind
leg farther back. "Filly." For Ethan's sake, he added, "Baby
girl."
Ethan stroked her head again. "What are we going to
name her?"
Halfway through the door, Clint paused. The opportunity to
make an overture loomed before him. But would it really
matter now? With no hope for a future with Jesse, did he
really care? He glanced at Ethan, took in the affection that
softened his maturing features. Yeah, he cared. Jesse or no
Jesse, Ethan had put his heart into this foaling. He deserved a
reward. "Why don't you see what you can come up with?"
Ethan shrugged. "I'm not very good at that. Mom had to
name my fish."
Clint returned with an empty muck bucket in one hand and
a pitchfork in the other. As he shoveled up the soiled straw,
he said, "Well, momma's name is Dollartime's Angel. Daddy's
is Run Me Ragged. Play with them. See if you can find
something that fits. No hurry."
He left Ethan to his thoughts and focused on cleaning out
the stall. Against his will, his thoughts returned to Jesse. Was
she laughing with Heath? Had Heath even told her Angel was
due to foal? She'd have loved being here tonight—seeing
Ethan step in with maturity more vast than his years. She'd
have been every bit as fascinated with the filly too. Heck, for
that matter, she'd probably be on her hands and knees
petting it as well. God, how he wished she were here.
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His heavy thoughts stirred the weariness in his body. His
muscles strained with fatigue, and his legs were so cold he
couldn't particularly feel them. He ached for the comfort of his
bed, and yet, he couldn't rest until the filly could nurse on her
own.
Picking up his watch, he checked the time. At almost nine-
thirty, the reception should be coming to an end. Jesse might
yet make an appearance in the barn tonight.
Clint frowned. If she did, he didn't intend to be here. He
couldn't handle another collision with her or that blue dress.
He nudged the baby with the toe of his boot. "C'mon, little
girl. Let's get up and eat."
She pulled her legs beneath her and made her first
attempt to stand. In a comical tangle of hooves and nose, she
pitched face-first into the straw.
"She's going to hurt herself," Ethan exclaimed as he
rushed forward.
On a chuckle, Clint put out an arm to stop him. "She's just
fine. Watch."
For several more minutes, the baby struggled to rise.
Angel encouraged with her hoof, nickered when the filly lifted
off the ground. She flopped on her side, collapsed on her
neck, and sat like a dog. Finally, she put everything together
and stood on wobbling legs.
Clint grinned at Ethan's astonished expression. "C'mon.
Now we show her where the milk bar is." He approached the
filly and waved Ethan over.
When the boy joined him, he showed him the correct hold,
and with steady pressure, guided the filly beneath Angel's
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teats. Using his finger, he drew her velvety muzzle up,
smeared a bead of milk across her nose. Enlivened by a burst
of energy, the filly gave Angel's udder a robust nudge. Her
lips searched. Tiny sucking sounds whispered into the silence.
When she latched on, Angel's flank twitched, but baby's tail
wagged in double-time.
Clint used the filly's preoccupation to fasten her blanket
around her. Clint dragged the muck bucket outside and
collected the last of his things. He packed them all up, then
set the bag in the folding chair. "Well, that's it. Time to let
them bond. I'm beat, and I'm freezing." A yawn broke free,
emphasizing his exhaustion. Too much for one day. His eyes
were so dry and sore, the five hundred yards or so between
his house and Jesse's seemed like miles to cross.
Ethan reluctantly stepped away from the horses. "Mom
should be home soon. She can help with a name and make
coffee. The fireplace is on—you can warm up inside. Aren't
you going to blanket Angel?"
Clint shook his head, unable to hold back a grin. He'd been
just like Ethan once—he hadn't wanted to leave his first foal
either. Not that he could blame the boy. Even the ugliest foals
were adorable once they dried off.
"She's got a thick winter coat. We'll leave the blanket off
until baby has a good grasp on nursing. C'mon, you can visit
them tomorrow." He held the stall door open for Ethan.
With another affectionate rub, Ethan relented. He trudged
through the stall door, gave the pair a backwards glance,
then shoved his hands in his pockets and started for the door.
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Clint followed, his heart as heavy as his steps. Christmas
Eve...and no Jesse.
Before the dammed-up pain could surface, he opened his
truck and climbed inside. He waited for Ethan to go inside and
shut the door, then started down the driveway. His gaze
pulled to Jesse's window, and he gritted his teeth to stop the
building memory. Turning the corner, he headed for home.
At the halfway point between his house and hers, her
Camry passed him by. He blinked back unexpected moisture
in his eyes, and watched her taillights disappear up her
driveway.
She hadn't even touched her brakes.
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Jesse rolled to a stop and shut off the car. Her hands
shook so badly, the keys jingled as she pulled them free. Just
as she'd finally believed she'd survived the night unscathed,
she passed his truck. Leaving her house. Ten minutes earlier,
and she would have run into him in the middle of her drive.
She fought the instinctual urge to start the car and chase
him down. She still had time before he went to bed to explain
how wrong she'd been. To fall on her knees and tell him she
couldn't live without him. Well, maybe she could. She sure as
hell didn't want to. One day had been damning enough.
But her heart knew it would only make things worse. She'd
made peace with Ethan. Inviting Clint back into their lives
now would spiral her right back to fights, slammed doors, and
Ethan's desire to leave. No, things were better this way. In
time, the pain would lessen. They'd both go on, forget they
ever crossed this crumbling bridge.
If they didn't... Time would heal Ethan's wounds. Maybe
then, if Clint could ever get past his anger and forgive her,
they might stand a chance.
She summoned strength and climbed out of the car.
Curiosity bade her to venture to the barn. Despite her heels
and her already soaked hose, she traipsed through the snow
and let herself inside.
Momma stood beneath the soft glow of incandescent
lights, munching on hay. Baby lay near her front legs,
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stretched out on its side. It lifted its fuzzy head and turned
wide brown eyes her way.
Her heart turned over at the picture. Like a classic
calendar photograph, the scene aroused a sense of beauty
amidst heartwarming affection. "Hey, little one," she
murmured. "You sure are pretty."
Dark brown like its mother, the fuzzy hair gave off a
healthy sheen. It's mane stood on end, not more than a few
inches long. But where Angel had only a solitary white sock
on her left hind leg, the baby had two. Both rose halfway up
her legs, compared to how Angel's stopped a few inches
above her hoof.
Clint must be proud. Even her limited horse knowledge
allowed her to see baby had long legs. They might be
toothpicks in comparison to Angel's, but they were long and
lean. She smiled at the tiny creature. "You be good to him.
He's counting on you, you know."
Unsure whether it would be wise to enter the stall or not,
she opted against it and ventured back outside. At least the
reception hadn't been as terrible as she'd anticipated. Alex's
good mood spread through everyone, and the triplets' energy
caught like wildfire. If Heath hadn't left, Jesse would have
danced. But as the only single person present, aside from
Keeley, she'd stayed at the table and picked at Zoe's pastries.
Yet as she stepped inside her house, and her gaze fell to
the table where she'd dined with Clint, those meager nibbles
rolled around like a roller coaster. Forcing herself to look
elsewhere, she wandered into the kitchen to soothe her
stomach with a cup of hot tea.
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"Mom!" Ethan barreled down the stairs. "Mom, Angel had
her foal!"
A renegade chuckle tumbled free. Jesse turned around and
grinned at her son. "I saw. Cute little thing."
"It's a girl." He dropped onto a nearby barstool. "I helped
deliver it."
"Oh?" Interest sparked. Ethan had helped Clint? How in the
world had that happened?
He nodded excitedly. "Yeah. It was stuck. I held Angel
while Clint put straps on it and fixed it."
Her eyebrow lifted in contrast to the grimace she held
back. He
had
needed help. "Heath wasn't here?"