Much Ado About Mavericks (13 page)

“Be awake,” she told Ben as she rolled her right sleeve all the way up to her armpit.  Positioning herself to the backside of the mare and holding the tail in one hand, she scrunched her fingers together in a point, took a deep breath, and shoved her hand in the birth canal.  The mare whinnied and struggled, but Ben kept her back legs from kicking Jake. 

“Why are you frowning?” Ben asked.

“Four hooves, I think.  Only s’posed to be two--the front two.”

She felt around.  Birthing a healthy foal would be the difference between the Circle J being a respected horse breeding operation, or just another ranch that tamed mustangs and sold them to folks who couldn’t afford a blooded horse.  Shoving farther, she was just about to give up hope when she realized two of the hooves were upside down.”

“Shit criminy--I think we have twins!” 

Ben smiled, and she was glad he was there.  “Jake, you’re a wonder!”

“Brownie’s the wonder.  Now let’s see if we can pull her through this.”  She felt around and grabbed the top two little hooves and pulled.  Grunting with effort, she had to, some way or the other, get one of those foals out.  The hooves slipped out of her grasp. 

“Damnation, I lost ‘em.”

“You got ahold of them once, you can do it again.”  Ben’s voice was low and soothing.  A true friend.

She nodded once and reached further into the birth canal--now in as far as her arm would go--and caught hold of the foal’s hooves again.  This time she wouldn’t let go no matter what.  The mare’s muscles contracted, nearly squeezing Jake’s arm off, but she refused to let go.

“Take it easy there, Brownie.”  The contraction eased off after a minute, and Jake put one foot on the mare’s butt and pulled the tiny hooves as hard as she could.

“Hand me that rope.”

He uncoiled the rope and gave her the noosed end. 

“Hold her tail.  I gotta go in there with both hands ‘cause I ain’t letting go of them hooves lest they go right back where they come from.”

He raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat.  “Didn’t you forget something?”

“No.”

“Your sleeve.”  He rolled up her left sleeve, his fingers brushing her skin over and over, causing a flutter deep inside that reminded her why she wanted to stay away from him.

Slipping the noose around the two little hooves while the mare’s contractions squeezed Jake’s arm mercilessly was no easy task, but eventually she got the job done.

Jake put her foot on the mare’s butt for leverage and pulled on the rope for all she was worth.  The mare whinnied in pain, but Jake didn’t let up.  Pain now was better than death later--she only hoped Brownie understood that.  She watched the mare’s belly for another contraction.  When it came, she pulled until her arms ached, her hands were rope-burned, and beads of sweat ran down her face. 

Finally, she dropped the rope and wiped her brow with her upper sleeve, her bare arms covered with fluid.  “Brownie, I’m sorry, old girl, but we’re gonna have to do this the hard way.”  She patted the mare on the forehead and trickled some water into the horse’s mouth.  Jake could see that Brownie’s strength was sapped and knew there wasn’t much time.  At this point, all she could hope for was that she could save either the mare or at least one of the foals, but the chances of all three coming through this alive was slim at best.

“Ben, you pull as hard as you can.  I’m gonna shove those other hooves back into her womb so we can born this one.  Then we’ll worry about the other.”

He nodded, took the rope and stuck his boot on the mare’s rump.  “Let me know when you’re ready.”

She waited for the mare’s contraction to abate, then shoved her hand up the birth canal.  Once she felt the two upside down hooves, she nodded at Ben.  He pulled, she pushed. The rope cut a burn into the side of her arm, but she ignored it. He pulled some more and she pushed harder.  The mare’s sides heaved, then she let out a long, slow breath.  Jake was scared it would be her last. 

“Pull harder,
Boston
.  Give it all you got!”

His face red and sweaty, he heaved with a mighty groan.  She felt the hooves move forward while the upside down hooves were sucked deeper into the mare’s womb.  She yanked her arm out of the birth canal and grabbed the rope.  “Pull!”

They pulled together, and with that, the foal’s legs and head popped right out.  She dropped the rope and tore the sac from the foal’s nose.  “Keep pulling,
Boston
.”

He did, and in short order, one healthy foal was born.

“It’s a girl!”  He laughed.  “Lordy, wouldn’t you know what trouble women cause.”

But Jake took one look at the mare and knew there was no time for celebration.  “I got to find the other one,” she said, slipping the noose off the foal’s front legs.  “You rip the sack off this one off and make sure she’s breathing proper.”

Once more, she took the noose in hand and pushed her arm up the mare’s birth canal.  The two hooves were pressing forward and she easily slipped the rope over them.  She removed her arm and pulled on the rope.  Ben’s hands closed over hers and they pulled together.  On the second try, the foal’s front legs emerged.  Another pull and its head came out.  The third mighty tug brought the little critter into the world.

Jake fell to her knees, ripped the velvety sack and placed her cheek by the foal’s nose.  No breath.  She leaned over and blew her own air into the little one’s nose.  Still no breath.  Again she blew into its nostrils, and saw its sides heave with air, and a wisp of air blowing out.  Then breathing in.  And breathing out.

She stood, grinning like an idiot, tears streaming down her face.  Hell, she didn’t even give a damn if
Boston
saw.  What could be more wondrous than helping birth two foals--two little fillies--and they both lived.  They were the most beautiful little fillies she’d ever seen in all her born days.  And she had delivered them.

Strong arms encircled her and she buried her teary face in Ben’s chest.  He held her close and rubbed her back.  “Jake,” he murmured.  “Jake, honey, you’ve got to take care of the mare.”

His eyes held the kindness she’d always known was there but had thought of as weakness.  But he hadn’t been weak, he’d been downright stubborn when the chips were down.

“Thanks, I needed you.”  She stepped away from him and cleared her throat.  “Try to get those foals on their feet.  They’ll be wobbly and probably topple a few times, but you’ve got to get them standing.”  She turned toward the bunkhouse.  “Homer!  Teddy!”

The boys came running.  Teddy skidded to a stop in front of her.  “Is it borned yet?”

“Look, Teddy,
two
of ‘em.”

Eyes wide and a big grin plastered on his face, Teddy said, “I knew you could do it, Jake.  You can do anything.”

She patted the younger boy on the head.  “We ain’t done yet, son.  Go fetch some rags to dry off these little ladies.”

He wrinkled his nose.  “Them’s girls?  Why’d they have to be girls?” 

Jake waved her hand.  “Go on, now.”  As Teddy left, she turned to Homer.  “You fetch me two buckets of water.  This here mare ain’t doing too well and we might lose her.  I’m fixin’ to dribble some water down her throat and stand her up.  Otherwise, well, it don’t look good.” 

Homer nodded bravely.  “I won’t tell Teddy.  He don’t understand man things yet.”

“Good.  Now, off with you.”

“Yes, sir!”

She bent down and patted the mare on the head.  “We’re gonna fix you right up, Brownie.”

The chestnut mare blinked her dark lashes, her big brown eye staring at Jake in such trust, her throat tightened.  She swore not to let the old gal down.  Whatever needed done would get done and that was that.

“Sounds like the luckiest horse in the territory to me,” Ben commented, holding up a foal on either side of him.  “Two healthy foals and one magnificent mistress.”

*   *   *   *   *

Jake spent the night checking on the Brownie and the fillies.  The foals looked bright-eyed and healthy, but the new mother sagged with the effort it took to tend to her twin charges.

The next morning
came early and
Jake
felt about as worn out as the mare, but called on her bluster to
gave the Bar EL cowhands their orders. 

“I want you riding the perimeter of the whole damned place.  Use the greenbroke mustangs, not your regular mounts
—
they need rode before roundup.  And go in pairs so’s if one of you hits the dirt, you’ll have someone to drag your sorry ass home.”

The men grumbled but she paid them no heed.  Not for the first time, Jake cursed under her breath that Ben hadn’t shown up for work.  She had intended to thank him, but now she’d have to give him hell for shirking.  No man, owner or not, shirked his duty under her watch.

“Slim, Crazy Jim, you fellers keep bucking out the rough stock.  Fred, you, too.” 

“How ‘bout me?” Crip asked.

“You ride out the rest of the greenbroke stock.  Time’s drawing short.  First, I want you to fix up all the hands with the tamest of the green mounts and send ‘em on their way.  Whip, you help.”

“Got to wash up the dishes first.”

She always forgot about crap like that.  “Crazy Jim, you got dishes duty.  And make short work of it.”

As soon as the men left the grub hall, Jake sent Crazy Jim out to the corrals and took over the dishes herself.

Whip handed her a towel and asked, “Why’d you tell the young feller to help me if you was planning to do it yourself?”

“On account of because I don’t want them men thinking I’m gonna be washing the damned dishes every day.  Now let’s get to it.”

Noon came and went, and still no sign of Ben.  Her temperature went up with the midday sun.  That greenhorn would be sorry he’d ever laid eyes on her once she got done giving him a piece of her mind.  To keep her vexation in check, she busied herself riding out the greenbroke stock with Crip.  Most of the horses had been convinced not to buck every time a rider mounted them, but they still had no notion of reining, and a few of the beasts could use a lot better brakes.  But it kept her moving and her mind off a certain
Boston
lawyer she’d tear limb from limb once she got a hold of
him
.

“Ain’t seen Fred,” she said to Crip as she mounted her next horse while he held it.

“That’s cause he ain’t here.”

She lifted an eyebrow, questioning.  The only thing that vexed her more than a shirker was
two
shirkers.

“Said he was riding out with the hands.”  Tugging on the brim of his hat, Crip shrugged.  “I told him that wasn’t a good idea, but he didn’t pay me no mind.”

“If you see him ‘fore I do,” she said, a whole lot more calm-like than she felt, “send him my way.”

Crip chuckled.  “I wouldn’t want to be in that poor sap’s shoes.  No, sirree.”

She nodded grimly.  “Let’s go, I’m ready to ride.”

He groaned as he slowly got to his feet, then put his hands on the small of his back and stretched.  “Well I ain’t.”   But he followed her back to the round pen.

She rode six hours straight, training each mount for a vigorous half-hour.  Every buck and every balk stirred her irritation a little more.  Benjamin Lawrence would be one sorry
Boston
lawyer if he didn’t show up pretty damned soon.  Shifting her saddle to the next mustang, she nodded at Crip to let go and she dug her spurs in for another wild ride.

Sweat ran down her face as the mid-afternoon sun bore down on her, and she called a halt to the broncbusting to give the men a break.  “You need some water, fellers, before you wither away on me.”  She was thirsty enough to drink Jump Creek dry and she knew they must be, too.

They sat a spell, joshing one another and topping each other’s lies.  About the time Jake was ready send them back to work, she spotted a one-horse buggy coming up the driveway with  Ben’s big bay tied behind it.  For a split-second, a funny feeling ran through her, but then she remembered she had a thing or two to say to him.  He wouldn’t like it, either.

“Them mustangs ain’t gonna buck theirselves out.”  She took another drink and stood.  “C’mon, we’re wasting the day.”

With good-natured grumbling, they picked up their hats and left.  Jake waited, wondering who he’d brought and why.  She never knew what strange notions might be rolling around in his head.

“Whoa!”  The driver said as he brought the buggy to a stop.

Ben hopped off and strode to her.  “I brought Doc Mabry from Oreana.”

The doc tipped his derby to her and she nodded back, then pinned her glare on Ben.  His excuse had better be damned good--he’d missed nearly a whole day’s work, and his roping hadn’t improved a bit.  “Your mama or Suzanne sick?”

“No, but your mare needs a check-up.”

“I don’t normally work on horses,” the doctor said.  “I’m a people doctor--but Ben, here, insisted on my coming.”

Bad as she wanted the doc to look at Brownie, Jake didn’t have the money to pay him, and that was that.  She hastily untied the bay from the back of the buggy and motioned for Ben to follow her to the corral.  “I can’t pay no high-falutin’ doctor!” she hissed as soon as they were out of hearing distance.