Chapter Twelve
Dair couldn’t keep from making a happy sound as Noah wheeled her into the large, airy broodmare suite. It was fifty feet long and twenty feet deep, giving the pregnant mare an opportunity to pace around in the glass-enclosed area. Reese had ordered bulletproof glass for the front of the stall. Only the sliding door was of heavy oak and had a set of Dutch doors, allowing the mare to poke her head out of the stall if she wanted.
Harper grinned widely and walked out to meet them in the aisleway. “Hey, you got some food for me, Dair?”
Laughing, she held up the tray. Noah had thoughtfully placed a large spoon, a napkin, a bottle of water, a thermos of coffee, plus the food. “Here you go,” she said.
“Thanks,” he said. “Hey, go take a look at mama and baby. They’re doing fine. I’m gonna go over to that bale of hay, sit down and eat. I’m starving to death.”
“You already had one bowl of chili,” Noah reminded him with a grin. “It’s that perennial hollow leg, pardner. Either that or you won’t sleep tonight because of indigestion.”
Harper tittered and walked with the tray to the bale of timothy hay sitting along the opposite oak wall. “I know. My mother always said I was born with a tapeworm in my gut.”
Noah laughed and so did Dair. “We’ll just stand quietly outside the stall.”
“Yeah. When I get done, and when that pretty little filly gets done drinking her fill, I’ll take you inside one at a time.”
Straining her neck as Noah wheeled her down the aisle, Dair caught sight of the tiny black foal who was less than an hour old. She had her thin, long legs spread out like a tent to stay upright as she assertively bumped her mama’s milk sac and suckled noisily, gulping and drinking as fast as she could.
“Ohhhhh, she’s so pretty!” Dair whispered, turning, catching Noah’s smile.
“Yeah, pretty, well built, and she’s a winner,” he agreed, critically looking at the foal.
Candy, the mother, a red sorrel, lifted her head as they quietly spoke to one another. She nickered softly, remaining in the center of the straw-covered stall, her ears up, alert as they slowly approached.
Noah placed the chair in the vicinity of the shatterproof glass wall. He set the brake and said, “Let’s just stand and watch. I don’t want the filly to be disturbed from getting her fill of milk.”
“For sure,” Dair agreed, absorbing Noah’s presence, his hands resting on the handles of the chair. Dair could feel the heat of his body and it just made this experience so much more special for her. She grinned and said, “Wow, look at her little brush tail waving back and forth like a clock ticking.” Dair knew the importance of assessing the strength of a foal less than an hour old. And this filly was strong! She was constantly head-butting her mother’s milk sac, suckling noisily so that even Dair could hear it from behind the glass wall. The mother would turn and lick the baby’s black, fluffy fur, smoothing it down here and there across the back. Candy was a wonderful mother, as Harper had told her before.
“This is one of the best things about being around horses,” Dair whispered, tipping her head upward, meeting Noah’s gaze. “I love working with broodmares, helping with the foaling process. The are so cute!”
Noah laid his hand on Dair’s jacket, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You’re just a natural mother, is all,” he said.
The heat of Noah’s hand transferred through her heavy coat, and Dair had never felt so happy as right now. The black filly moved around, those tiny, slender legs of hers still unsteady, but she was bound and determined to stay upright to get that milk. Candy hung her head, her eyes half-closed.
It was always amazing to Dair how strong the broodmares were after the foaling process. It took them an hour or less, once in labor, to deliver their foal. They remained standing, taking care of their baby and then semi-dozing as the foal suckled, just as Candy was doing right now. She had lots of straw stuck in her red mane, and Dair itched to get in there and pull it out, to give the mare a nice curry and soft brushing down to make her feel better.
They stood there quietly, watching the filly eagerly drink her fill. And when she was done, her spindly legs collapsed beneath her and she plopped down on the thick, cushiony wheat straw spread throughout the suite. The foal then stretched out, nestling her face into the straw, and promptly fell asleep.
Dair laughed softly. “What a little sweetie that filly is.”
“Yeah,” Noah said, smiling, keeping his hand on Dair’s shoulder. “She’s a real tiger. But that’s a good sign. She came out strong and ready to take on the world.”
“That’s right,” Harper said, coming up and standing next to them. He rubbed his belly beneath his sheepskin vest. “That was really good chili, Noah. You outdid yourself. Must be Dair’s influence on you.”
“Yeah,” Noah deadpanned, “you’re asking for digestive nightmares if you go to sleep with that second bowl of hot, spicy chili in your gut, Harper.”
Harper pulled off his Stetson and pushed his fingers through his short brown hair. His gray eyes were the color of old silver that hadn’t been polished, and he was lean and lanky. “I have a stomach made of cast iron, Mabr y, so no worries. The hotter it is, the more chili peppers in it, is fine by me.” He flashed them a smile.
“Well,” Dair said, “you’re a glutton for punishment, Harper.”
“Maybe,” he murmured, giving them a wicked look. “I’m going into the stall. I don’t want to wake the baby, but I want to give Candy a little TLC. She’s half asleep herself.”
Dair watched the wrangler quietly enter the suite. The straw was so thick it was up to his knees as he carefully walked through it. What she really liked about the suite was that the floor beneath it was hard-packed clay soil, covered with thick rubber mats, not concrete. Reese had been very thoughtful about every aspect of creating a large, safe foaling stall. Even though the straw was thick and deep, a small foal had tiny little hooves, and if they ran, bucked, or suddenly whipped around the stall within a few hours of being born, they could slip on slick concrete. But if their little hooves struck the hard, safe rubber with treads on it, they wouldn’t slip or slide, putting them in danger of snapping one of their fragile legs.
Dair was glad it was those three-inch-thick mats and the clay beneath it, for so many reasons. They acted like the earth itself, shock absorbers. She didn’t like concrete anyway, because shoed horses easily slipped on it. But most horse facilities had concrete aisleways, and there was no getting around the possibility of injury.
She watched Harper work quietly with Candy, who looked exhausted. Who wouldn’t be after foaling a baby? Candy weighed around a thousand pounds, and generally speaking, foals were ten percent of the mother’s weight. She guesstimated that the filly was around a hundred pounds at birth. Big, black, and incredibly feminine looking, this foal was going to be a looker, no question. Harper had a soft dandy brush and he was gently smoothing it out across Candy’s thick winter coat. Dair knew the power of touch with animals, and she could see the tired mare truly appreciated it, blowing softly through her nostrils, along with an appreciative, soft snort. Harper then picked out all the straw in her mane and tail that she’d accumulated while on the floor of the stall birthing her daughter.
“I think it’s his Navy medic side expressing itself,” Noah said. He knelt down on one knee next to her chair so he could meet her eyes. “He’s always been a big softy. When he was over in Afghanistan, he helped birth about forty babies off and on through different deployments. He could never be with the mother because of Muslim law over there, but the midwife would come out of the hut and ask him for help or directions.”
“That’s wonderful. Harper told me he is working at becoming a paramedic right now. Once he finishes his college courses, I’m sure he’ll get hired either by the fire department here in Wind River, or he’ll have to move away and work at the hospital in Jackson Hole. I hope he gets an invite by the fire department to join and stay here with us, Noah.”
“Oh, I think it’s already a done deal,” he said. “The fire department captain has talked at length with him and he knows he’s got another six months of college. The chief has already offered him a job when he graduates.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah.” Noah gestured toward the wrangler in the stall. “He doesn’t want to leave the Bar C. He’s already talked to Reese and Shay about staying here, paying full monthly rental on the house he’s living in, and still working for them during his off days from his fire department schedule.”
“Plus, I think he loves broodmares and foaling too much to walk away from that end of it, too.”
“For sure,” Noah agreed. “He’s got a real special touch with animals and they love him. Since I’ve been here, he’s sorta taken over all the broodmares and foaling duties.”
“He’s good at it. Just because he was a Navy medic doesn’t mean he can’t transfer that wonderful healing ability to animals.”
“Right on.” Noah met her gaze. “So, we aren’t going to lose Harper to Jackson Hole. He’s already got a job waiting for him at the fire department.”
“That’s such great news,” Dair agreed, watching as Candy nuzzled into Harper’s vest, nibbling on it and then licking the roughened sheepskin. She laughed. “Candy loves him!”
“Yeah, the three broodmares all have a crush on Harper, and that’s good. You want someone with that kind of gentle quietness around a mare who’s in pain, pacing and trying to foal. She’s exhausted and wants to get rid of that foal in order to stop the contraction pain. Harper just lends a calm and quiet environment around them. I’ve seen all our broodmares drop healthy babies into his waiting hands. The mare will sometimes stand to deliver, and that’s quite a fall for the foal coming out of her. Harper has been there every time to catch the tyke as it was birthed, and gently lower it to the stall floor so it isn’t injured or shocked by the drop.”
“The mares must truly trust him, Noah, because I don’t know many who would allow a human behind her like that while birthing.”
Nodding, he said, “Yeah, I’ve seen men kicked and sent flying by a broodmare wh+923&en they try that.”
² “Me, too,” Dair agreed. “Harper is so special. I wonder why he doesn’t have a woman in his life?” She looked up at Noah. “Really. He’s so darned handsome and he’s a nice guy. What’s wrong with this picture?”
Noah sighed, resting his arm on his knee. “It’s a long story, Dair. He was married once to a woman named Camille. He was in the Navy, attached to a Marine Corps company in Afghanistan at the time. He was married to her at twenty-one. Like all of us, Harper got PTSD. His marriage to her broke up three years later and it devastated him. He’s still friends with Camille, but she’s engaged to be married to a doctor who has three girls and is divorced. Harper knows he has bad PTSD issues and I think, even though he hasn’t said anything to us about it, he doesn’t want to get involved with another woman until he can get through the worst of his PTSD. He doesn’t want to make another woman miserable like he did Camille.”
“That’s so sad,” Dair murmured, watching Harper gently rubbing Candy’s withers. He was giving the mare what she called a horsey massage, and all horses loved to be massaged just as he was doing with his long, spare hands. “He’s such a decent dude.”
“Yeah, but like all of us,” Noah said, catching her gaze, “his night hours are when the PTSD nightmares and flashbacks stalk him. And he loses half a night’s sleep three or four times a week.”
“Just like us,” Dair muttered unhappily. “I hate it, Noah. I really do.”
“It’s no way to live,” he quietly agreed. “But at least in Reese and Shay’s case, they fell in love even though both of them had severe PTSD.”
“Yes, but they both know the issues and know what to do to protect the other partner from a bad flashback or nightmare,” Dair pointed out.
“Yes, in their case, it worked. Kira and Garret were in Special Forces. They were together in the same A-team for three years. And they both have PTSD. There’s another happy ending. They live together and are in love with one another.”
“Well, it appears to be working well here at the Bar C,” she noted.
“Yes, it is,” Noah said, “but you’re new here, Dair. So much of the environment here is due to Shay and Reese Lockwood. They’re fully invested in military vets who are injured by combat, physically, mentally, or emotionally. Shay originally set this ranch up when she came home to take over the reins of the operation because her father had that stroke at forty-nine. It was her vision, her heart, to help all of us.”
“She’s an incredible role model,” Dair agreed, her voice thick with emotion. “She deserves a Medal of Honor.”
“Really,” Noah agreed. “Oh, Harper’s gesturing for us to come on in the stall.” He slowly rose, smiling down at her. “Ready?”
² Was she ever! “You bet. But I worry that Candy might spook when she sees me in a chair.”
“Let Harper handle this, okay? He’s not going to put you or Candy at risk, but he’s got the mare’s trust.”
Dair wasn’t sure, but trusted Noah. Harper had already slid open the huge oak stall door and was standing in the entrance. He had a big smile on his face.
“Dair? I’m going to ask Noah to step aside, and I want to wheel you in here just beyond the sliding door. Candy will want to come over and sniff you out. You know how that goes.”
“Yes, I do. Are you sure about this, Harper? I don’t want to scare the mare or the foal. I know I look odd in their eyes. I’m human, but I don’t have two legs like you do.”
“No worries,” he murmured, taking the handles of her chair and easing her into the stall. He’d tamped down some of the straw so the wheels would sit firmly. Noah slid the door shut, remaining outside. He ambled over to the glass end of the stall, watching, his hands draped over his hips.
Candy lifted her head, her dark brown eyes assessing Dair as Harper called her over. The mare shook her head and then stepped over to Dair.
“Now, she’ll just smell you all over,” Harper said, leaning down near her ear.
“I know the drill,” Dair assured him. “I’ll just sit real quiet.”
“That’s it,” he assured her, patting her shoulder.
Candy, like any other horse, smelled and sniffed Dair’s hair, face, her clothes, the chair itself, curious about the wheels, and, finally, her one foot encased in a sneaker. Dair loved the warmth of the mare’s moist, timothy-hay breath on her face. Horses were very thorough in smelling something they didn’t know. The mare wasn’t afraid of her, and that was good. She was all curiosity, and Dair knew that Candy was going to make sure that Dair and the contraption she was sitting in, were not a threat to her newborn.
“She’s relaxed about you,” Harper murmured, pleased, as he remained beside her. “Candy likes you. If she licks you, that’s a sign of great affection from her to you.”
Candy was licking Dair’s clasped hands in her lap.
Dair laughed softly. “Are you sure it isn’t the salt on my hands she wants, Harper?”
He chuckled and leaned his hand slowly forward so as not to startle the mare. “Nah. There’s a nice mineral salt block for her in the corner of the stall over there. It’s low enough so that she and her foal can lick from it all they want. She’s licking your hands because it’s her way of letting you know that she trusts you. A good sign, but I’m not surprised. Are you?”
Shaking her head, Dair smiled into Candy’s huge face. She had a wide white blaze down the middle of it, just like her foal. “No, not surprised, Harper. But I’m glad you’re here to make introductions. I think if you weren’t, Candy would be jumpy about my chair and the fact I’m not walking like the other humans she’s used to seeing and dealing with.”
“Probably right,” he agreed amiably. “You okay with me leaving you? I want to check out the little tyke while she’s sleeping. Get a closer inspection of her when she’s not a tornado tearing around this stall.”
Grinning, Dair said, “Yeah, go ahead.” She saw Candy follow Harper, who slowly and quietly walked over to where the foal lay sleeping heavily. Candy then devoted her attention back to Dair, satisfied that her foal was not in any danger. The mare gently nuzzled Dair’s chest.
Dair smiled, slowly lifting her hands and rubbing each side of the mare’s long head. Reaching her ears, she moved her fingers into each of them, a favorite for a horse because they couldn’t scratch their own ears inside if they itched. Candy groaned, her head resting more fully against her, trusting her and enjoying her ears being gently scratched and then massaged.
“I think you’ve made a good friend,” Harper said softly, grinning as he continued to inspect the filly without touching her. She was sleeping like a proverbial log, dead to the world around her.
“I think I have, too, Harper. Candy is such a loving horse.” She began to smooth her hands along the horse’s jawline. There were lots of itches that never got scratched beneath the horse’s jaw, and that’s where Dair went next.
Candy gave a pleased snuffle, eyes closing as she rested her head against Dair.
Smiling, Dair leaned forward a little and placed her cheek against the white blaze down the front of Candy’s face. She smelled so good, the sweetness of being horse combined with the mare having nibbled on a flake of timothy hay strung from the ceiling in a nylon netting bag that she could easily reach. All of Dair’s tension bled out of her body as the horse entrusted herself to her. It was a thrilling warmth that skittered through her wide-open heart. She could feel how exhausted the mare really was from that labor and birthing process. Continuing to ease her fingers around that region beneath the horse’s jaw, scratching it and giving Candy pleasure, Dair closed her eyes, happiness tunneling through her.
There was nothing like an animal loving her in return, in its own unique way. The past few days of her own trauma melted away as this thousand-pound horse, her hooves on either side of the chair as she continued to rest her head against Dair, righted her world once more. Animals had always done that for her, and now was no different. Dair had always loved horses. Her grandmother said it was her Comanche blood. Dair had been so fortunate to have spent nearly every weekend at her grandmother’s home just outside Laramie, where Rainbow had given Dair the lifetime gift of learning how to work with, and love, horses.
Candy made another long, soft snuffle, content just to lean into Dair and be patted, scratched, and massaged. She was so tired, and Dair knew if the mare could, she’d lie down to sleep, too. But with a newborn, the mother usually remained on her feet the first twenty-four hours, to be available for her hungry little charge when the foal would suddenly wake up and head to the udder. It struck her that, like Candy, she too was exhausted emotionally by what had happened to her. It formed another emotional bond between her and the weary mare.
“Uh-oh,” Harper chuckled in warning, “the baby is awake! Get ready!”
Candy lifted her head, looking toward Harper, who had stood up, giving the foal room to sit up and then stand up, on stronger legs this time.
Dair smiled as Candy left her and walked over to where Harper stood so that her foal could nurse once more. The little filly was all flailing legs for a moment as she rolled over on her back and then grunted, struggling to get herself upright once more. She wasn’t used to pushing her weight around, and her front legs splayed out in front of her. She grunted again, pushing off with her hind legs.
“We need to name this little black filly,” Harper called to her.
“I thought Shay gave them names.”
Shrugging, he said, “If there’s a new foal, then at our weekly Friday night meeting, we all put names in a hat and choose the one we like best.”
“That’s a great, democratic idea,” Dair said. She always looked forward to the weekly meeting that was mandatory for all the vets. Often, Shay would ask psychologist Libby Hilbert, who lived in Jackson Hole, to drive down and act as therapist-moderator for their meeting. It was always a lot of fun and laughter, and sometimes, tears. Libby was a nurturing mama bear, taking care of all of her cubs. She was at the forefront of PTSD research, and was an international expert on the condition. Everyone loved the widow who had two grown children. Maybe it was her red hair, green eyes, and freckles that endeared her to Dair. Libby didn’t act like a therapist among them. Even the guys opened up to her. And that allowed all of them to heal just a little bit more at each session. Besides, Garret always baked a pan of cinnamon rolls, Shay made the coffee, and they sat in that large living room like a family. And they were family, there was no question in her heart and mind.
“I think I’m going to choose the name Ebony for her,” Dair told Harper, who was watching the foal’s awkward antics to get to her feet once more.
“I like that name,” he said. “She’s a very prettily marked girl with four white stockings, that big, wide blaze on her face, just like her mama.”
That was true, Dair agreed. Ebony made a quick leap into the air and landed right at her mother’s side. She knew where the milk was located and proceeded to snake her thin neck and tiny head beneath her mama’s belly and butt that sac swollen with the good stuff.
Grinning, Dair turned to see Noah standing slouched and watching the horses through half-closed eyes. Her heart swelled even more with need of this man. She knew Harper didn’t want more than one stranger at a time in the birthing suite.
“Maybe Noah would like to come in now?” she asked Harper.
“In a moment. I want Ebony to drink her fill, and then she’s going to want to check you out. I want the little girl to get used to seeing people in chairs, too. Okay?”
“Sure.” Dair lifted her hand toward Noah, who smiled and gave her a wink in return. She knew he loved babies of all kinds here on the ranch. The small herd of Herefords that Reese and Shay kept were for breeding purposes only. They’d calved last year, and soon would be dropping five more starting in April.
As soon as Ebony was done getting her fill of milk, she whirled around, scampered like mad around her mother’s hindquarters, and raced around in a semicircle. Ebony came to a sliding halt when she saw Dair sitting there. Instantly, she picked up her legs, prancing toward her, big dark brown eyes sparkling, tiny ears pricked forward, and her tail straight up like she was carrying a flag. Dair had to smile as the filly came to a halt directly in front of her, fearless. Of course, her mama wasn’t giving a sharp, snorting sound which meant “danger,” and so the little tyke stretched out her neck, woofed loudly, and smelled Dair. Her tiny teacup muzzle stopped at her hair, and Ebony enthusiastically began to chew on the strands.
Laughing, Dair slowly raised her hands so as not to startle Ebony, and eased her tiny mouth off her now very wet strands. Right now, she had no teeth, just those wet gums that were chewing eagerly on the strands. “No, you don’t eat hair, little one,” she said in a soft tone. She rubbed her hands over Ebony’s tiny ears, and the filly leaned into Dair’s palm as she began to lightly scratch inside of them. Ebony closed her eyes, laying her head into one of Dair’s hands while being scratched by the other.
“She likes that,” Harper praised.
“Bold little thing, isn’t she?” Dair murmured to him, smiling.
“Yes, she’s like her father, the stud. He’s big, bold, and fearless in that same kind of way, but not mean like Champ was.”
Nodding, Dair left Ebony’s ear and smoothed her fingers across her velvety muzzle. The filly drowsily opened her eyes, lifted her head, opened her mouth, and sucked on several of Dair’s fingers.
“No,” she said to Ebony, “I’m not your mama.” She pulled her fingers out of the foal’s mouth. Foals were born without teeth, but soon they would come in. Her shiny pink gums caught Dair’s fingers again as she withdrew them with a laugh.
Harper chuckled. “She likes the way your fingers taste, Dair.”
Wiping them on her jeans, Dair nodded and watched as the foal then took off, scampering around her chair and around Harper, who stood still. She then leaped playfully around her mother. Ebony made two leaping, jumping circuits around Candy before she dived beneath her mom’s belly to get another shot of warm, nutritious milk.
Harper walked up to Dair. “Ready to leave? At least for now?” he teased.
“Yes. Noah will love coming in here.”
“From the look on his face, for sure,” Harper said. As he turned Dair around in her chair, Noah came over and slid the door open so she could leave.
“Well,” Noah asked as she came out of the stall, “did you enjoy yourself?”
Dair melted beneath his gray gaze, feeling that tightening of need that always seemed to be strung between them. “I loved every second of it. Your turn.”
Harper placed her chair so that Dair could easily watch everyone within the huge stall. He took Noah in and then slid the door shut. She couldn’t help but smile. Noah and Harper were like brothers. Although they didn’t look alike, they had that same whipcord body type. Lean but strong. And Noah had been strong for her in so many ways. She felt so much happier now, watching Ebony leave her mother’s milk to go sniff curiously around Noah, the strange newcomer. Harper had been dead-on about the filly’s boldness. Nothing fazed the little tyke. Dair’s lips lifted into a fond smile, and she wanted to spend hours just sitting there watching the filly’s antics, absorbing Noah’s laughter, and watching the delight and amusement come to his expression as Ebony doted on and adored him, as well.
Just one visit had lifted Dair from the darkness that occurred after her injury. If she’d been back at Bethesda, she’d have had to fight, claw, and scratch her way out of her depression over a week’s time. But one tiny black foal, Harper’s kindness, and Noah’s care for her, made all the difference. Dair didn’t feel as if her world had been shattered, any longer. It had been rebuilt, and she sat there, stunned by how quick a turnaround she’d made emotionally from the accident. It had been Harper’s nurturing, Candy and Ebony’s trust in her, and something even more important: Noah’s protectiveness and thoughtfulness toward her. He didn’t try to smother her, knowing that she was independent and not going to be a victim of what had happened to her.
When Noah knelt down on one knee, little Ebony came racing around her mother and slammed into him, nearly knocking him over. Luckily, Harper was nearby and kept the foal from stumbling over him, righting her so that she could give a shrill little whinny, and off she went again! Dair couldn’t stop laughing as Noah looked bemused and got up out of the straw, dusting himself off.
“I guess,” Harper said loud enough for her to hear, “Ebony thought you were her new play toy, Noah. An odd looking foal just like herself.”
That brought laughter inside and out of the broodmare suite from everyone.