“I am. Thanks for coming by. We’ve been biting our fingernails to the quick over whether you’d be available. I’m no expert, but I think she’s close. Tex and I gave her a fresh bed of straw this morning and decided to keep her in the barn, just in case.”
“Good planning.”
“This’s my Auntie Mari.” Tex pointed to her as he accepted the hat she’d brought him. “Want a brownie?”
“I would love one after I take a look at Speckles. Want to come?”
“You bet!” He crammed on the hat.
“We’ll all come.” Marigold took off her apron and left it on the porch railing. “Everyone has a stake in this birth.”
“We’re having steak?” Tex wheeled to face her. “What about the meatloaf?”
“We’re having meatloaf, sweetie. I was talking about a different kind of stake, like the ones we pound into the ground when we anchor the pup tent.”
His face scrunched up. “We’re putting the tent in the barn?”
Monty choked back a laugh. His little sis Greta used to say things like that when she was Tex’s age. He’d forgotten what it was like to have a small child around.
Zinnia walked over and put her arm around her son’s shoulders. “We’re not doing that, either. It’s complicated.”
“Sure is.” He held out both hands, palms up. “I don’t gots a stake, Mommy.”
“Yes, you do.” She smiled. “It’s invisible.”
“What?”
“Come on.” She gave his shoulders a squeeze and coaxed him toward the barn. “Trust me.”
Tex let out a resigned sigh and glanced back at Monty. “She always says that.”
His breath caught. Something like ten minutes had passed, and Tex was already treating him like a new friend, one who needed an interpreter to explain how things worked around here.
Tex had clearly appointed himself to the job. Whether it had been the Stetson and boots or his skill as a vet, he’d passed muster. He was in.
He wasn’t sure what to think about that. But once he entered the barn all his attention snapped to the Appy pacing in her stall.
Her white and black spotted coat was gray with sweat and milk dripped from her swollen udder. She kept glancing back at her belly as if she was telling that little one to get a move on.
He turned to the group assembled next to her stall. Zinnia had picked up Tex so he could see over the stall door.
He gave a little gasp. “She’s leaking, Mommy.”
“That’s milk for her baby.” She looked at Monty. “What do you think?”
“She’s very close.” He glanced at the empty hay net. “You might want to go ahead and feed her. She likely won’t eat now, but she’ll need it after she gives birth. I’ll get my stuff from the truck.”
“How close is she?”
“I think tonight.” Good thing he’d brought everything he needed, including a cot. He wouldn’t be going home anytime soon.
Chapter Six
Thank God Monty had agreed to come. Speckles needed him. Zinnia transferred Tex to Mari and filled the hay net with the alfalfa mix she’d picked up at the Mustang Valley Feed Store last week.
Her mare showed no interest in the pricey food as she wore a track in the straw, while periodically glancing back at her swollen belly. She wanted that baby out.
Zinnia knew the feeling. She’d had a calm and experienced midwife to help her give birth, but when you’ve never been through it, the process seemed endless and scary. She remembered?—
