Page 31 of The Cowboy and the Stray

Do not puke. That’s probably not helpful.

Calder uttered a low curse, turning back to the laboring horse. "I need another set of hands. Wash up in that sink and get over here. Now."

It wasn't a request, but an order. One I had no choice but to obey. My legs shook as I fumbled with the hose, my fingers clumsy as I scrubbed them pink.

I couldn't do this. I'd never even seen an animal give birth, let alone helped. What if I messed up? Made it worse?

But Calder was looking at me again, those deep brown eyes holding mine. Beneath the steel, there was something else. Something steadier. Trust. He thought I could do this.

He needed me to do this. No pressure. Just horse life and death. Great.

Swallowing my fear, I unlatched the stall gate and slipped inside. The copper-sharp scent of blood was overwhelming, the sounds of the straining mare deafening in the close space.

"What do I do?" My voice shook like my hands.

"Get behind Naomi," Calder commanded. "Support her back end. When the foal starts coming, you need to pull on its legs. Straight back, steady pressure. Got it?"

I nodded, even though I was pretty sure I would throw up. Kneeling in the sodden straw, I pressed my shaking hands to the mare's hot, damp flanks. I could feel the muscles rippling, the bones shifting beneath the skin.

The raw power, the raw effort of it. She was a living, breathing engine.

Please don’t explode.

"Get ready," Calder warned as the mare grunted and strained, her whole body seeming to clench. "Here it comes. Pull!"

I pulled. The foal slid into my hands in a rush of heat and blood and fluid, slick and impossibly alive. It was the most visceral, most intimate thing I'd ever felt. The most terrifying.

The most wondrous.

"Keep pulling," Calder urged, but I almost couldn't hear him over the pounding of my own heart. The foal kicked and struggled, fighting its way into the world in a tangle of spindly limbs.

It seemed to take forever, and yet it was over in an instant. The foal slid free with a final push, a final gush of fluid. I caught it against my chest, heedless of the mess. It had gone still and limp, its dark eyes closed. Oh, no.

"Is it alive?" Tears choked my voice. Please, please let it be alive. It was just kicking but now it was so still. I couldn't bear it if I'd gone through all that, if that brave mama had gone through all that, only for the baby to be...

The foal snorted wetly, then kicked out with one tiny hoof, catching me square in the stomach. I yelped, as much from shock as pain.

Ow. Okay. She's fine. She's really fine.

Calder laughed, short and surprised. "She's alive, all right. Congratulations. You just helped deliver your first foal."

I stared down at the baby, blinking and snuffling against my chest. She was a miracle. A slimy, stinky miracle, but a miracle all the same. Tears streamed down my face, dripping into her inky coat.

"She's perfect," I whispered. "So perfect."

Calder knelt beside me, one strong hand coming to rest on the foal's shivering back. The other, hesitantly, touched my shoulder.

"You did good," he said quietly. "Real good."

I lifted my head to meet his gaze. Those eyes were soft, deep with emotions I couldn't name. Pride. Wonder.

Something tender and fragile, like a new shoot pushing through snow. It punched the air from my lungs.

Don't cry. Don’t you dare cry again.

Because he was looking at me like he'd never seen me before. Like I was something rare and unexpected.

Like I was something precious.