A Christmas to Believe In (41 page)

head. "Hard."

Using his finger, Clint cleaned out the mucus lodged in the

foal's nose, then elongated its head, stretched out its neck.

He held his breath while Ethan ran his hand over the damp,

brown fur. Chanted silent prayers in his head.

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The baby's next breath had him rocking back on his heels.

His shoulders slumped beneath crashing waves of relief. Deep

and strong, the foal sucked in a normal gulp of air.

It was over. He'd delivered the foal unharmed. No, he

argued silently.
They
had. If not for Ethan's help, this little

baby wouldn't have made it.

Ethan looked at him with wild eyes. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah. He's going to be just fine."

The panic seeped out of Ethan's gaze and he too expelled

a hard breath.

Clint bent forward to ease the rest of the sack off the foal's

hind end. "Dry him off, if you would. Then go ahead and

cover him up while we wait on momma."

Before his eyes, all of Ethan's pent up anger and

belligerence disappeared. He reverently stroked the

newborn's face, and the first smile Clint had ever seen

touched his mouth. Turning to tend to his mare, he casually

said, "If you keep petting him, he'll get used to humans

faster."

"Really?"

Clint maneuvered around Angel, lifted her tail to see how

badly she might have ripped. To his amazement, he found

only a small tear, less than a quarter inch long. He gave her

flank a pat. There was something to say about seasoned

broodmares. "Think about it," he answered. "That little baby's

never seen one of us. We're big and scary. The more you

fiddle with him, the more he'll get over it."

"Is he a he?"

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"Don't know yet. We'll look when the umbilical cord

breaks."

Cold and wet, in the aftermath of an adrenaline rush, Clint

shivered. He left the stall for his sweater. When he returned,

Angel struggled to her feet. The umbilical cord tore in half,

and as she turned to touch her nose to her foal, the placenta

passed in a neat glob.

Softly, Clint instructed, "Give them some space."

Ethan edged away from the baby. A high-pitched whinny

echoed through the barn as newborn looked up at mother.

Angel answered with a throaty nicker.

Stepping around Ethan to retrieve the placenta, Clint

clamped a hand on Ethan's shoulder. "You did good. Thanks. I

can get it from here."

Hesitant blue eyes lifted to his. "C-can I stay?"

Something deep down inside Clint shifted. This was what

he'd promised Jesse...a breakthrough. He knew it would

happen. He knew horses would affect it. But she hadn't

listened. For the first time in her life, she hadn't believed.

He answered Ethan with a slow nod. "There's a bottle of

iodine in my bag, and a small bottle. Fill it for me."

While Ethan did as he asked, Clint inspected the placenta

to insure nothing remained inside his mare. Satisfied it was

intact, he kicked it into the far corner.

"Now what?" Ethan asked.

Clint took the bottle from Ethan's hands and stepped

between Angel and her baby. He carefully lifted a hind leg,

submerged the umbilical stump and swished. Iodine sloshed

out of the bottle to stain his hands a light tea-color. He rolled

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his eyes, silently chastising himself for forgetting his gloves.

His nails would be yellow for weeks.

He passed the bottle back to Ethan, then moved the hind

leg farther back. "Filly." For Ethan's sake, he added, "Baby

girl."

Ethan stroked her head again. "What are we going to

name her?"

Halfway through the door, Clint paused. The opportunity to

make an overture loomed before him. But would it really

matter now? With no hope for a future with Jesse, did he

really care? He glanced at Ethan, took in the affection that

softened his maturing features. Yeah, he cared. Jesse or no

Jesse, Ethan had put his heart into this foaling. He deserved a

reward. "Why don't you see what you can come up with?"

Ethan shrugged. "I'm not very good at that. Mom had to

name my fish."

Clint returned with an empty muck bucket in one hand and

a pitchfork in the other. As he shoveled up the soiled straw,

he said, "Well, momma's name is Dollartime's Angel. Daddy's

is Run Me Ragged. Play with them. See if you can find

something that fits. No hurry."

He left Ethan to his thoughts and focused on cleaning out

the stall. Against his will, his thoughts returned to Jesse. Was

she laughing with Heath? Had Heath even told her Angel was

due to foal? She'd have loved being here tonight—seeing

Ethan step in with maturity more vast than his years. She'd

have been every bit as fascinated with the filly too. Heck, for

that matter, she'd probably be on her hands and knees

petting it as well. God, how he wished she were here.

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His heavy thoughts stirred the weariness in his body. His

muscles strained with fatigue, and his legs were so cold he

couldn't particularly feel them. He ached for the comfort of his

bed, and yet, he couldn't rest until the filly could nurse on her

own.

Picking up his watch, he checked the time. At almost nine-

thirty, the reception should be coming to an end. Jesse might

yet make an appearance in the barn tonight.

Clint frowned. If she did, he didn't intend to be here. He

couldn't handle another collision with her or that blue dress.

He nudged the baby with the toe of his boot. "C'mon, little

girl. Let's get up and eat."

She pulled her legs beneath her and made her first

attempt to stand. In a comical tangle of hooves and nose, she

pitched face-first into the straw.

"She's going to hurt herself," Ethan exclaimed as he

rushed forward.

On a chuckle, Clint put out an arm to stop him. "She's just

fine. Watch."

For several more minutes, the baby struggled to rise.

Angel encouraged with her hoof, nickered when the filly lifted

off the ground. She flopped on her side, collapsed on her

neck, and sat like a dog. Finally, she put everything together

and stood on wobbling legs.

Clint grinned at Ethan's astonished expression. "C'mon.

Now we show her where the milk bar is." He approached the

filly and waved Ethan over.

When the boy joined him, he showed him the correct hold,

and with steady pressure, guided the filly beneath Angel's

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teats. Using his finger, he drew her velvety muzzle up,

smeared a bead of milk across her nose. Enlivened by a burst

of energy, the filly gave Angel's udder a robust nudge. Her

lips searched. Tiny sucking sounds whispered into the silence.

When she latched on, Angel's flank twitched, but baby's tail

wagged in double-time.

Clint used the filly's preoccupation to fasten her blanket

around her. Clint dragged the muck bucket outside and

collected the last of his things. He packed them all up, then

set the bag in the folding chair. "Well, that's it. Time to let

them bond. I'm beat, and I'm freezing." A yawn broke free,

emphasizing his exhaustion. Too much for one day. His eyes

were so dry and sore, the five hundred yards or so between

his house and Jesse's seemed like miles to cross.

Ethan reluctantly stepped away from the horses. "Mom

should be home soon. She can help with a name and make

coffee. The fireplace is on—you can warm up inside. Aren't

you going to blanket Angel?"

Clint shook his head, unable to hold back a grin. He'd been

just like Ethan once—he hadn't wanted to leave his first foal

either. Not that he could blame the boy. Even the ugliest foals

were adorable once they dried off.

"She's got a thick winter coat. We'll leave the blanket off

until baby has a good grasp on nursing. C'mon, you can visit

them tomorrow." He held the stall door open for Ethan.

With another affectionate rub, Ethan relented. He trudged

through the stall door, gave the pair a backwards glance,

then shoved his hands in his pockets and started for the door.

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Clint followed, his heart as heavy as his steps. Christmas

Eve...and no Jesse.

Before the dammed-up pain could surface, he opened his

truck and climbed inside. He waited for Ethan to go inside and

shut the door, then started down the driveway. His gaze

pulled to Jesse's window, and he gritted his teeth to stop the

building memory. Turning the corner, he headed for home.

At the halfway point between his house and hers, her

Camry passed him by. He blinked back unexpected moisture

in his eyes, and watched her taillights disappear up her

driveway.

She hadn't even touched her brakes.

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Jesse rolled to a stop and shut off the car. Her hands

shook so badly, the keys jingled as she pulled them free. Just

as she'd finally believed she'd survived the night unscathed,

she passed his truck. Leaving her house. Ten minutes earlier,

and she would have run into him in the middle of her drive.

She fought the instinctual urge to start the car and chase

him down. She still had time before he went to bed to explain

how wrong she'd been. To fall on her knees and tell him she

couldn't live without him. Well, maybe she could. She sure as

hell didn't want to. One day had been damning enough.

But her heart knew it would only make things worse. She'd

made peace with Ethan. Inviting Clint back into their lives

now would spiral her right back to fights, slammed doors, and

Ethan's desire to leave. No, things were better this way. In

time, the pain would lessen. They'd both go on, forget they

ever crossed this crumbling bridge.

If they didn't... Time would heal Ethan's wounds. Maybe

then, if Clint could ever get past his anger and forgive her,

they might stand a chance.

She summoned strength and climbed out of the car.

Curiosity bade her to venture to the barn. Despite her heels

and her already soaked hose, she traipsed through the snow

and let herself inside.

Momma stood beneath the soft glow of incandescent

lights, munching on hay. Baby lay near her front legs,

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stretched out on its side. It lifted its fuzzy head and turned

wide brown eyes her way.

Her heart turned over at the picture. Like a classic

calendar photograph, the scene aroused a sense of beauty

amidst heartwarming affection. "Hey, little one," she

murmured. "You sure are pretty."

Dark brown like its mother, the fuzzy hair gave off a

healthy sheen. It's mane stood on end, not more than a few

inches long. But where Angel had only a solitary white sock

on her left hind leg, the baby had two. Both rose halfway up

her legs, compared to how Angel's stopped a few inches

above her hoof.

Clint must be proud. Even her limited horse knowledge

allowed her to see baby had long legs. They might be

toothpicks in comparison to Angel's, but they were long and

lean. She smiled at the tiny creature. "You be good to him.

He's counting on you, you know."

Unsure whether it would be wise to enter the stall or not,

she opted against it and ventured back outside. At least the

reception hadn't been as terrible as she'd anticipated. Alex's

good mood spread through everyone, and the triplets' energy

caught like wildfire. If Heath hadn't left, Jesse would have

danced. But as the only single person present, aside from

Keeley, she'd stayed at the table and picked at Zoe's pastries.

Yet as she stepped inside her house, and her gaze fell to

the table where she'd dined with Clint, those meager nibbles

rolled around like a roller coaster. Forcing herself to look

elsewhere, she wandered into the kitchen to soothe her

stomach with a cup of hot tea.

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"Mom!" Ethan barreled down the stairs. "Mom, Angel had

her foal!"

A renegade chuckle tumbled free. Jesse turned around and

grinned at her son. "I saw. Cute little thing."

"It's a girl." He dropped onto a nearby barstool. "I helped

deliver it."

"Oh?" Interest sparked. Ethan had helped Clint? How in the

world had that happened?

He nodded excitedly. "Yeah. It was stuck. I held Angel

while Clint put straps on it and fixed it."

Her eyebrow lifted in contrast to the grimace she held

back. He
had
needed help. "Heath wasn't here?"