CHAPTER 2

Beau curbed the impulse to push forward and confront the man. But he damn well didn’t like the way Slade Haskell was talking to his wife; still, any interference on his part would only make things worse for Natalie.

“I figured you’d be here when I got home early and didn’t find you.” Slade’s eyes were glittering slits. Blond, with close-clipped hair; blunt, handsome features; and a thickening belly, he was dressed in jeans and a grease-stained work shirt with HASKELL TRUCKING stamped on the chest pocket. “Spotted your SUV out front, but when I went in the house, none of those folks had seen you. How the hell do you think that made me look—a man who can’t keep track of his own wife?”

“That’s enough, Slade.” Natalie’s voice was low and taut. “I planned on going into the house, but first I needed to check on a mare.”

“And this hotshot government man just happened to wander in? Checking on a mare, my aunt Nelly’s ass!” Reaching out, he plucked a piece of straw from Natalie’s hair. His gaze burned into Beau like a red-hot poker. “She’s my wife now, Tyler. You’ve got no business fooling around with her! I ought to knock you down and kick your damned teeth in!”

“You’ve got the wrong idea, friend.” Beau spoke with great restraint. “Give your wife some credit. She’s a good woman. I simply wanted to say hello to her and good-bye, since I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

“Well you can say good-bye here and now!” Slade turned his fury on Natalie. “Back in high school, everybody knew you were doing it with him. If I find out you were messing around with him again—”

“Stop it, Slade!” Natalie exploded. “Don’t be an idiot! We weren’t even alone! Lute was there the whole time, cleaning out the stalls! If you don’t believe me, go in and ask him.”

Beau saw the big man pause, as if hesitant to call his wife’s bluff. Then Slade took a firm grip on her elbow. “Come on, we’re going to the house to say hello to all those fine folks together.”

“Not now.” She twisted away from him. “We both need some time to cool down. I’m going to my car. I’ll see you at home.”

“No, you don’t.” His big fist locked around her arm again. “They saw me arrive alone. I want them to see that you’re with me now.”

This time Natalie didn’t argue. She walked beside her husband across the muddy yard, her back ramrod straight, her small chin thrust forward, her dark curls ruffled by the breeze as he marched her toward the ranch house.

Beau watched them, his hands crumbling a piece of straw that had clung to his jacket. He hadn’t planned to stir up old memories or cause trouble between Natalie and her husband. Yet coming to the barn with her had done just that.

Turning away, Beau gazed westward, to the escarpment that rose in rusty white buttresses above the rolling bed of the canyon. A golden eagle, riding an updraft, soared above the Caprock where the high plain began. The scene was one of peace and beauty. But the tension in Beau’s gut wouldn’t go away. Holding Natalie in his arms had reawakened all the old emotions—emotions he no longer had the right to feel.

 

Inside the barn, Lute Fletcher smiled to himself and pushed the shovel under the last bit of dirty straw and manure. A man would have to be damned near deaf not to overhear every word of the confrontation that had just taken place right outside the barn door—just as he would have to be damned near blind not to see the near embrace between Beau Tyler and Slade Haskell’s wife. And Lute Fletcher was far from being deaf or blind.

As he tossed the shovelful of debris onto the mound already in the wheelbarrow, he wondered if that little scene he had witnessed between Beau and Natalie might prove useful to him. Maybe he’d get himself into Haskell’s good graces, because he sure as hell was tired of mucking out stalls. To emphasize his disgust with the job at hand, Lute let go of the shovel, letting it fall against the stall’s wooden partition instead of propping it up. It clattered onto the cement floor about the same time he heard the creaking hinges of the barn door opening again.

Figuring it was Beau Tyler coming back in, Lute reached for the wheelbarrow handles. It wasn’t Beau who walked in, but Lute’s older cousin Sky Fletcher. Lute ran a skimming glance over Sky, noting the crisp white shirt he wore tucked into a pair of dark, belted jeans, a silver and turquoise bolo tie around his neck. A dressy, tan Stetson covered most of his midnight-black hair.

Sharp blue eyes briefly locked their attention on Lute. “I thought you’d be finished in here by now,” Sky stated even as he angled toward the stall with the pregnant mare inside it.

“Almost.” Lute couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice over being stuck with such a menial task. “That lady vet was just here checkin’ on the mare.”

“I know. I spoke to her outside.”

The longer he looked at Sky in his clean clothes, knowing how much his own smelled like shit and sweat, the hotter his resentment grew—until it spilled out. “Don’t see why I gotta work on the day the big boss got buried.”

Unfazed by the heat in Lute’s voice, Sky slipped into the stall, moving to the buckskin’s side. “Bull would have been the first to tell you that there’s never a day off from doing chores.”

“Maybe not, but it seems like I’m always the one shoveling shit,” he grumbled. “When you hired me on last month, this sure as hell wasn’t the kind of work I figured I’d be doing. I figured I’d be out working cattle, learning the ranch business. Dammit, you’re my cousin, Sky. You know this isn’t fit work for a Comanche.”

“It’s how I started,” Sky replied, never losing his air of calm. “Eventually I worked my way up to wrangler, and now assistant foreman.”

“And how long did that take?” Lute challenged.

“Does it matter?” Sky countered.

“Hell, yes! I’m twenty-one and I don’t plan on spending the next however many years it will take pushing this shovel.”

“That’s your job for now.” Sky gave the mare a final pat on the neck and let himself out of the stall. “Don’t forget to clean the stallion barn when you finish up here.”

“Yeah, and after I finish that, I’ll be taking a shower and headin’ into town, so don’t be looking for me around here,” Lute shouted at Sky’s back as he exited the barn.

With the closing of the barn door, Lute resumed his grip of the wheelbarrow handles and used the built-up anger inside to propel the wheelbarrow out the back of the barn, where he dumped the reeking mass into a shallow pit. For a moment he glared at the growing mound piled there, knowing that his next job was likely to be loading it up and hauling it off to be spread over the lower pastures for fertilizer while the cattle were grazing up on the caprock.

He wondered what the chances were that Slade Haskell would be at the Blue Coyote tonight. Lute had heard some talk that Haskell might be looking for drivers for his trucking company. But when he’d cornered Haskell about a job a couple weeks ago, Haskell hadn’t been hiring.

Right now there was nothing that would give Lute more pleasure than to find work somewhere else and tell Sky where he could put this shovel.

 

By the time the last of the guests had left, the spring night had turned chilly. A blaze crackled in the parlor’s great stone fireplace, casting its warmth out to the room’s massive leather chairs and letting it rise to the open-beamed ceiling.

Will lounged in one of the four overstuffed chairs and let his gaze slide to the occupants of the other three—his brother Beau, the ranch’s aging foreman Jasper Platt, and Sky Fletcher. He watched as his brother took a swig from the bottle of Mexican beer in his hand.

“It was a fine service, Will,” Beau said with a nod, and absently used the back of his hand to wipe away the bit of foam on his upper lip. “But there’s one thing I’ve wondered about all afternoon. Why in hell’s name did you have Garn Prescott give the eulogy? Dad hated Ferguson Prescott his whole life, and I can’t imagine that he felt much different about Prescott’s son. I could almost picture Dad turning over in his coffin when the esteemed congressman took the pulpit.”

Will fixed a steady gaze on his brother, reminding himself that Beau hadn’t set foot on the ranch once in the past eleven years. It was time he learned the true situation, considering half the ranch would now be his.

“There are two answers to that question,” he said. “The simpler one is that Garn phoned me with an offer to do it. Since nobody else was stepping up, I let him. I knew he’d do a decent job, and he did. So what if he was looking for a few votes in next fall’s election?”

“As well as a vote from that good-lookin’ ex of yours,” Jasper added with a wink. “He’s been sniffin’ a trail around Tori ever since his wife died.”

“Not that Tori’s interested,” Beau said. “I know for a fact she’d like him to take a walk.”

“Tori can do whatever she wants,” Will snapped. “This isn’t about her.”

“So what’s your second answer?” Sky Fletcher was a man who did more listening than talking. Tall and lean, with the black hair, hawkish bones, and tawny skin of his Comanche ancestors, he studied Will with riveting cobalt eyes.

“The second answer’s about survival.” Leaning forward, Will set his bottle on the coffee table with a sharp thunk. “This isn’t the Old West anymore. Most of the ranches in these parts have sold off their acreage to farmers and developers just to stay afloat. The biggest outfits, the ones that haven’t broken up, have been taken over by syndicates of investors, a lot of them from back East or even places like Singapore and Dubai. More and more cattle are being raised on farms. As for big, open family ranches like ours . . .” Will shook his head.

“You’re saying we’re dinosaurs.” Beau’s remark wasn’t a question.

“Something like that,” Will admitted.

“What’s that got to do with letting Garn Prescott deliver Bull’s eulogy?” Jasper demanded.

“Just this,” Will said. “We can’t afford to have enemies. Bull and old Ferg may have feuded all their lives, but now that they’re both dead, we have to make peace. We need allies—and it never hurts to have one in Congress, looking out for the interests of ranchers in these parts.”

Jasper came close to spitting on the floor. “Bull wouldn’t like that. He always said, ‘If you wallow with pigs, you’re bound to get dirty.’ And he had the Prescotts in mind when he said it.”

Will sighed. As foreman, Jasper was entitled to be here. But the old man wasn’t making this discussion any easier, and given what needed to be said, his mood was bound to get worse.

“Let me paint the big picture,” Will said. “The Prescott ranch has been bailed out by investors. Garn’s the figurehead, but he’s no longer running the operation. That’s why he has time for politics. If we can’t manage to stay afloat, we’ll be fated to go the same way.”

“Are we in trouble?” Sky asked the question.

“Not yet, but we’re cutting it close. If we don’t make changes now, another drought like last summer’s could put us under.” Will leaned back in his chair, studying the man his father had taken in when he was a scruffy, lost teenager. Bringing Sky Fletcher in as part of the ranch family had been one of the best decisions Bull ever made.

“One idea I have involves you, Sky. Our Rimrock cow ponies have always gotten top prices at auction, as much for your training as for their breeding. I’d like to expand the operation, to shore us up in case we have to sell off our beef early. What would you think about choosing some prime-quality colts to be brought in and broken here?”

Sky’s expression barely flickered. “We could work it out. But training horses takes time. So does being second foreman. If you want me to focus on the horse side, we’ll need some help.”

“How about that young cousin of yours? Is he any good?”

“Not as good as I’d hoped. So far he does more complaining than working.”

“In that case, if we get those extra colts, it might be easier to find a man who can shoulder your other duties.” Will shifted his somber gaze to Jasper, bracing for what needed to be said. “I’m not telling you anything that you don’t already know, Jasper, but there are some days when you’re so crippled up with arthritis that it’s all you can do to climb into the saddle. And those days are happening more frequently.”

Jasper bristled with pride. “So what are you saying? That it’s time I retired?”

“Not until you can train a new boss to take your place, teach him everything you know about this business and this ranch. You have a wealth of knowledge that we’ll always need to draw on. So don’t have any doubts—you have a home on this ranch for as long as you want it.” Will could see that none of his words were sitting well with the old cowboy. But as much as he hated saying them, this had to be done. “Hell, Jasper, you were more a father to me and Beau than Bull ever was. You put us on our first horses, taught us how to work cattle and rope. And I need you to do the same with Erin. As things stand right now, she’ll be the one to inherit the ranch. She’ll need to know how to run it. No one could do a better job of teaching her that than you.”

The old cowboy brightened. He had always regarded Erin as a kind of granddaughter. “It’d be a pleasure to take her in hand,” he said, and meant it. He paused, a slight frown puckering his forehead. “But if you’re having Sky focus on the horse side of the business, who are you figurin’ on gettin’ to be foreman?”

Will fixed his gaze on Beau. “I’m looking at him.”

 

Ever since Will had turned the conversation to the ranch’s future, Beau had suspected he’d get drawn into it somehow, but he hadn’t foreseen this. He felt his jaw muscles tightening in instant resistance.

Beau took a quick swig of beer to try to cool his temper and managed an even response. “You’re overlooking one small detail,” he said. “I’m leaving in the morning to catch my flight back to D.C.”

Will came right back at him without a pause.

“That’s easily remedied. Just cancel the reservation.”

“You know damn well that I have a job waiting for me.” This time Beau couldn’t keep the heat out of his voice. “You don’t really expect me to walk away from it just like that.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you walked away from something,” Will countered, his expression one of hard challenge as he deliberately referenced the day when Beau had walked out of the ranch house, never to return until now.

The tension in the room was palpable, the air fairly crackling with it. Sky rose from his chair, unfolding his lanky frame with a movement as smooth as water. “The buckskin mare showed signs of going into labor. I need to check on her.”

Will glanced up at him. “Erin’s upstairs in her room. I know she wanted to be there when the foal came. Should I call her?”

“Not yet,” Sky replied. “It’s the mare’s first foal. Let’s wait until we’re sure everything’s all right.”

“Keep me posted.” Will directed the words to Sky’s back as he left the room.

Before he was out of sight, Jasper planted his hands on the chair’s armrests and proceeded to lever himself out of it. “Sky’s got the right idea. You two need some time alone to hash this out, and I’ll just leave you to it.”

Beau watched the old cowboy hobble from the room, then turned his attention back to Will, determined to end this discussion quickly and cleanly.

“I’m not the man for this job, Will,” he stated flatly. “It’s been years since I sat in a saddle, swung a rope, or doctored a cow. You need a foreman with experience.”

“Do you know the kind of salary a man like that would command ?” Will fired back. “The ranch can’t afford it. This place is land-rich and cash-poor. Another bad year, we could be cash-broke. And, yeah, you might be rusty when it comes to ordinary ranch work, but you know how to manage men. You’ve got the organizational skills we need. And better yet, you know your way around a computer.” With the last of his arguments thrown at Beau, his voice took on the thickness of repressed emotion. “If you have a drop of family loyalty in those ice-water veins of yours, brother, you’ll cut your ties back East and stay here.”

With the words still echoing in his mind, Beau realized this wasn’t some spur-of-the-moment idea; on the contrary, his brother had clearly given it a lot of thought before proposing it. He started to tell Will that all his arguments had failed to change his mind. Then Beau met that riveting gaze and felt his brother’s attempt to impose his will on him. He had always known that Will had been chiseled from the Texas Caprock in Bull’s image, but the resemblance was more than a surface one. Will had a stubborn streak every bit as wide as their father’s. Once he sank his teeth into an idea, he didn’t let go of it.

Knowing it would likely be futile, Beau tried one last time to make his position clear. “Look, Will, I’m sorry you’re going through a rough patch, but the ranch has been through them before. It’ll make it through this time as well. In any case, it’s your problem, not mine.”

“What the hell do you mean, it’s not yours?” Will’s voice vibrated with temper. “Half of this damned ranch is yours now. It’s time you accept the responsibility.”

Responsibility. Beau felt the surge of old anger, every bit as hot and strong as it once had been. How many times had Bull Tyler hurled that word at him, always following it with accusations that Beau was worthless, more interested in partying, chasing skirts, and pulling stupid pranks than he was in shouldering his workload. And every time it had ended in a shouting match between them.

Pushed by that old fury, Beau rose to his feet, fists clenched tightly at his sides. At the same moment Will stood to meet him. Realizing his temper was on a hair trigger, Beau swung away.

“Go to hell, Will.” He pushed the words through his clenched teeth and headed for the front door.

Will called after him, “Dammit, Beau! You can at least sleep on it.”

He didn’t waste any breath answering him, not stopping until the front door closed behind his back and the chill of the night air washed over him. He paused and drank in a deep breath of it and wondered why he had bothered to come home for Bull’s funeral.

“Fixing to run away again, are ya?” Jasper’s voice came from the porch shadows on his right. Beau jerked his head around, quickly locating the old cowboy’s dark shape sitting on the long bench. “Can’t say I’m surprised, considering this wouldn’t be the first time you did it.”

“And I’m telling you the same thing I told my brother—go to hell, Jasper,” Beau muttered.

Wisely, Jasper didn’t immediately respond. He waited a couple beats, then released an amused sound that fell somewhere between a chuckle and a harrumph. “Sorta gives a whole new meaning to that old phrase ‘When the going gets tough, the tough get going.’ ”

“Don’t try to lay some guilt trip on me, Jasper. It won’t work,” Beau stated. “I don’t know what Kool-Aid you two have been drinking, but the visions you’re getting have no basis in reality. I’ve been gone too long.”

“It’ll come back to you quick,” the old cowboy countered in an idle tone.

“So what?” he challenged. “For you and Will, this ranch is the center of your universe, but it isn’t mine! I have a job, a home, and friends waiting for me back in D.C. I’ve made a new life for myself, and it isn’t here. Why should you expect me to give it up?”

“Your brother needs you.”

“Sure he does.” Beau didn’t try to keep the mockery out of his voice.

“You don’t believe that, do you,” Jasper stated. “I guess you have been away too long or you’d remember a Tyler breaks his own horse, no matter how many times he gets thrown. Nobody else does it for him. Will can’t break this one by himself. That’s a hard fact to swallow. So he did the most natural thing in the world—he turned to family.”

For the first time, Beau had no ready comeback and fell silent, letting Jasper’s calmly issued statement sink in. He shifted his attention to the night’s darkness just beyond the porch. Overhead, the sky was a glory of stars—stars that, with all the light pollution, didn’t show up in D.C.’s night sky.

Here on the ranch, the constellations greeted him like long-lost childhood friends. He could pick out the Big Dipper, the North Star, Orion, and the Seven Sisters. And stretching across the Texas sky in a breathtaking spill of light was the Milky Way.

Again Jasper’s easy drawl invaded the silence. “ ’Course, you’re right. It is damned selfish of Will to think you might come to his rescue. Why should you care that we’re short of hands and it’s past time for spring roundup? I’m sure you’ve already used up all your vacation time, and your job’s too vital to expect any extra leave—”

Beau cut across his words. “You’ve made your point, Jasper.”

“It’s about time.” The old cowboy rolled to his feet, steadied himself, then moved stiffly to Beau’s side.

“I never said I was staying,” Beau warned.

“I never said you were,” Jasper agreed. “At least now you’ll sleep on it, like Will asked ya.”

“Will’s like Bull. He doesn’t ask; he tells.”

“And you bristle at just about anything that isn’t your idea, just like you always did,” he observed. “It amazes me how you ever took any orders in the army. I’ll bet your tongue’s scarred from all the times ya had to bite it.”

Beau was too intent on the set of headlights coming up the lane at considerable speed to take any notice of Jasper’s good-natured gibing. “Who would be coming to pay their respects this late in the evening?” With a nod of his head, he directed Jasper’s attention to the oncoming vehicle.

By then both men could make out the shape of the big, white SUV as it swung into the ranch yard. “That looks like Natalie’s ride,” Jasper murmured. A second later the SUV swung into the ranch yard and took aim on the barn area. “The mare’s in trouble or Sky wouldn’t have called her. We’d better git over there.” As quickly as his arthritic knees would allow, the cowboy started down the steps to his truck, parked in front of the house. “You comin’?”

Common sense told Beau that both he and Natalie would be better off if he stayed right where he was. But she was too close, and the pull of her was too strong for him to stay on the porch.

Calling himself every kind of fool, Beau went down the steps and straight to the pickup’s passenger side, sliding onto the seat as Jasper clambered behind the wheel.

By the time they reached the barn, Natalie had already disappeared inside it. With all his senses in high anticipation, Beau forced himself to pause long enough to hold open the barn door for the slower-moving Jasper, , then followed him inside.

Letting his long strides carry him past Jasper, Beau made his way down the wide alley between the stalls to the lighted one, all the familiar smells of hay and horses swirling around him. The aging Border collie, already curled in his straw bed for the night, noted Beau’s passing with a lift of his head and a wag of his tail.

The gate to the stall stood open. Beau stopped a step short of it. The sweating buckskin mare was on her feet, hobbled and snubbed to a post at the rear of the stall. Sky was at her head, stroking her neck and shoulders, murmuring to her in the singsong Comanche way he had that invariably soothed the most nervous horse. But it was Natalie he focused his attention on.

Her sleeves were rolled up, long, rubber obstetrical gloves covering her bare hands and arms all the way to the shoulders. He studied her bent head, the dark sheen of her hair standing out against the mare’s dun-colored coat. She looked so damned small next to the stoutly muscled quarter horse that Beau couldn’t check the surge of protectiveness that swept through him.

Jasper halted next to him. “What’s the problem?” he asked, directing the question to Sky.

“The foal’s coming nose first.” His voice maintained its crooning tone. “She’s working to pull the front legs. Just pray it’s not too late.”

No further explanation was needed. Regardless of how long he’d been away from the ranch, Beau knew, as well as Jasper did, that once the birthing process began, there was roughly a fifteen-minute window. If the foal wasn’t born within that time frame, it was a sign of trouble. Both the foal’s life and the mare’s could be in danger. No wonder Natalie had come roaring up the ranch lane like it was a highway, in an attempt to shorten the precious moments being lost.

Natalie offered no comment. She was too intent on working the unborn foal farther back into the birth canal so she could maneuver its front legs into the proper position.

“Got one.” Her low mutter of victory quickened Beau’s pulse. He held his breath as she went deeper, working to unbend the other leg and pull both feet into position. Seconds crawled past.

“Done!” She stumbled backward, catching her balance. Beau began to breathe again. “Turn her loose, Sky. Let’s hope she can finish this by herself.”

Working swiftly, Sky unfastened the hobbles, freed the rope, and stood back to give the mare plenty of room. Glancing to his right, Beau saw that Will had come in to watch with the others.

Horses most often gave birth on their sides, but Lupita didn’t take the time to lie down. Bracing her hind legs apart, she strained once. Muscles rippled as her foal slid into the world and dropped to the soft, clean straw.

Will gave a whoosh of relief. Jasper was laughing and cheering. But Beau’s eyes were on Natalie. She was staring at the foal.

“Something’s wrong,” she said. “It’s not breathing.”

In a flash she was bending over the newborn foal, extending its head and clearing the membranes from its nostrils. With a clean towel, she began rubbing the little body, almost roughly. “Come on . . . ,” she murmured, tickling the foal’s nose with a piece of straw. “Come on, breathe . . .”

There was a little sputter, then a cough as the baby sucked in its first breath of air and began to stir. Natalie sank back onto her heels, her head sagging, her shoulders slumping for a moment before she checked the foal again. “Congratulations, Lupita,” she said, grinning. “You’ve got a fine boy!”

The mare had shifted toward her baby and begun licking him clean. Behind her, Sky was busy tying up the long umbilical cord. It had been severed, as it should be, when the foal dropped, but until the mare passed the placenta, the trailing end had to be kept clear of her hooves.

Alert now, the foal raised his head. With the membranes cleared away, his true color could be seen in the shadowy stall. Natalie noticed it first. “Oh . . .” she breathed. “For heaven’s sake, will you look at that?”

Beau gave a low whistle as his eyes caught the gleam of a brilliant golden coat and the damp threads of a creamy mane. “Unbelievable,” he murmured, and it almost was. A random mix of recessive genes from the foal’s buckskin dam and chestnut sire had produced the rarest of colors. The tiny foal was a palomino, the first in memory on the ranch.

As if to make up for his rough entry into the world, the little fellow was already struggling to stand. He worked his rear up onto his impossibly long hind legs, toppled into the straw, and promptly tried again. The third time, with nuzzling encouragement from his mother, he made it. Wide-eyed and quivering, he stood for the first time, gleaming like a little piece of the sun.

Sky glanced back at Will. “Now you can get Erin.”

But Will had no sooner turned to go than Erin burst into the barn. Still in her pajamas, fuzzy slippers, and flannel robe, she’d evidently seen the lights from across the yard and discovered that her father was missing from the house.

“Is it born?” She was out of breath, her long hair tangled from sleep. “Is my foal here?”

Erin pushed forward past the watchers. Natalie had stripped off her gloves and moved back to stand near Beau. Only Sky remained in the stall with the mare and foal. Straightening, he turned and gave her a rare smile. “Come on in, Erin,” he said in a voice that scarcely rose above a whisper. “Quietly, now.”

Erin knew how to behave around mares with new foals. She walked softly into the stall, making no sudden moves. Only when she was close enough did Sky step aside, giving her a full view of the foal. “Oh!” she gasped. “Oh, he’s so beautiful!”

“Come and touch him,” Sky said. “Since he’s to be yours, you’ll want him and his mother to know your smell.” Beckoning her close, he took her hand and rubbed it along the foal’s back. “That’s it. Now put your arms around him. Lean over his back and give him a hug. You’ll want your scent all over him. And you’ll want him to know that scent means something good.”

Almost sobbing with excitement, Erin did as she was told. As she embraced her foal, a quiver passed through the small body. Lupita raised her head and nickered.

Sky touched Erin’s arm. “That’s enough for now. I think this little fellow’s ready for a meal.”

Released, the foal tottered under his mother, butted instinctively for a teat, and began to suck. His creamy little tail twitched with pleasure as he drank.

Beau glanced down at Natalie. Her cheeks were wet with tears. As if sensing his eyes on her, she looked up at him. “Sorry,” she muttered. “For a vet, I’m way too emotional. It’s late. Time for me to go.”

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Beau said.

“No.” Her eyes flashed him a warning look before she turned to gather up her gear. A moment later she said good night to the others and strode out of the barn.

Beau watched her leave, aware she was right not to trust being alone with him. Every time she was around, he had trouble keeping his eyes off her, let alone his hands. As much as he might wish otherwise, she wasn’t his girl anymore. She was another man’s wife. The sooner he accepted that, the better off both of them would be.