Cowboy in My Pocket (16 page)

The tiny chest heaved.

One leg straightened out, then another. The foal shook his head, tried to raise up, then snorted, blowing more nose bubbles, before it flopped, exhausted, back into Tag’s lap.

Tag raised his head and grinned at Lee. His face was streaked with tears. He wiped them away with the swipe of a bloodied forearm, leaving a dark smear across his face.

Lee thought she’d never seen anything more dear in her entire life. “You did it,” she said, running her fingers along the foal’s damp neck. You saved his life.”

Tag briefly closed his eyes, then cleared his throat and ran his bloodstained hand along the mare’s bony flank. “We lost the mother, though. She’s an old mare. I recognize her, that star on her forehead and the three white socks. She’s from the herd that roams through here every spring.” His voice broke. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. “She must be at least twenty. For a wild mustang, that’s old. I wish we could have saved her.”

“You did what you could, Tag. What the mother would have wanted.” Lee wrapped her fingers around his corded forearm and squeezed lightly to make her point. “It’s human nature, animal too, I imagine, to want life for your child. You said she’d lived a long time. Be thankful you were here when she needed you.”

Tag glanced down at the fingers wrapped around his arm, then covered Lee’s hand with his own. “Yeah,” he muttered, clearing his throat.

“What about this little guy?” Lee asked. She let go of Tag’s arm and stroked the newborn. “What can we feed him?”

“I’ve got some powdered cow’s milk replacer at the line shack in the east valley. We keep it on hand for orphaned calves. If we can get the foal there in one piece, we can feed him formula until we get him down to the Double Eagle.”

“What about his mama?” The mare seemed to have shrunk since giving birth, her tired body nothing more than skin and bones.

“We’ll leave her here.”

At Lee’s stricken look, Tag explained. “It’s all part of the cycle, Lee. If we hadn’t come along, both mother and baby would have died. Within a few days, scavengers would have taken care of both bodies. This way they’ll only get the one, but it’s nature’s way. C’mon. We need to get some warm milk into this little guy.”

“Okay. You’re right. It just seems so callous to leave her like this, after she worked so hard to have her baby.” Lee smiled sadly at Tag, her eyes sparkling like green emeralds through her tears. “It doesn’t seem fair,” she added, biting her lips and looking away.

“I guess this is where I’m supposed to say life’s not fair, right?” Tag stood up and lifted the foal in his arms. “Well, I’m not gonna say it, so quit waiting to hear it. If life weren’t fair, this little guy would’ve died with his mama.”

“You’re right.” Lee stood up and ran her hand along the colt’s flank. “Is he heavy?”

“No, and that’s good because we’ve got a ways to go before we get to the line shack. You’ll have to lead Chief for me. I don’t want to try holding on to this bag of bones and my horse at the same time.”

As if it understood Tag, the colt’s long legs stiffened and stuck out like broomsticks. It struggled a moment, then snorted and rested quietly against Tag’s chest.

Lee led the way through the brush, holding branches aside to protect both Tag and the newborn. Dusty streaks marred her cheeks and blood and dirt covered her hands. She’d done everything Tag had asked since they’d left the ranch without complaining.

She might not remember riding a horse but she wasn’t afraid to try something new. She had a good heart and a soul filled with compassion.

Deep in his heart, Tag knew he couldn’t have saved the baby if he’d been alone. He’d needed Lee beside him, if only for that brief moment. She’d been a partner to him, the kind of partner he’d only imagined.

For the first time in his life, Tag found himself really wondering what it would be like to know that such a woman would stand by him for the rest of his life.

Would be there, loving him, needing him the way he needed her, mothering their children, holding the family together. Tag glanced at the warm dark body nestled in his arms and imagined his own child there. A daughter or a son.

He couldn’t remember his father ever holding him. He had no memories of his mother, other than the pain of watching her leave, the disappointment when she didn’t call, the emptiness he’d felt when she died.

“I’ll lead both horses, instead of trying to ride, okay?” Lee’s gentle question snapped Tag out of his memories. He blinked, adjusted the colt in his arms and nodded in agreement.

Lee seemed to understand his silence. “Do you want some water?” she asked, pouring some out of the canteen onto her kerchief and using the damp rag to wipe the blood off her hands.

“I’m fine,” Tag muttered. “We’d better get moving. We need to get some nourishment into this little guy. I’ll wait to clean up at the shack.”

“First, let me . . .” Lee rinsed the cloth with clear water. Before Tag had a chance to react, she was gently sponging the side of his face, cleaning the muck and blood away as if she were wiping breakfast crumbs off her child’s face. “There,” she said, stepping back and smiling. “That’s better.”

“Thanks, Ma,” he drawled. “You’re not gonna be one of those moms who spits on a tissue and cleans her kid’s dirty face with it, are you?”

“I don’t know.” Lee rinsed the kerchief off and tied it back around her neck. Her look was pensive. “Guess I never thought about what kind of mom I’d be. Why? Did your mother do that?”

“No,” Tag mumbled. “Let’s go.”

Lee grabbed the reins for both horses and followed Tag along the winding path. They climbed over a low knoll and the trail leveled out, following the ridgeline for about a mile before dropping down into a narrow valley.

Lee spotted what had to be the line shack, a small log structure tucked up close against the trees. “Is that it?” she asked. Her boots pinched her toes and her legs were beginning to wobble. She could only imagine how Tag must feel, carrying the awkward weight of the foal as he hiked over the uneven surface.

Tag merely grunted, adjusted the youngster in his arms and continued down the rocky trail. Daisy and Chief snorted, obviously eager to pick up the pace. Lee hung tightly to the leather reins and hoped the horses wouldn’t decide to pass her.

Here, where the route led down into the valley, there was a fairly good drop on the right. In some areas, the hillside had fallen away and trees had taken root below the trail. The brushy tops swayed in the light breeze, level with the hikers.

The leafy treetops caught Lee’s attention and she paused for a moment, staring. What was it about the sensation of looking down into branches that seemed familiar? Chief impatiently tossed his head, almost tugging the reins out of Lee’s grasp.

Whatever memory had teased her thoughts fled with the abrupt movement. “C’mon, horses,” she muttered, tightening the leather straps in her fist and rushing to catch up with Tag. He’d already made it to the bottom of the hill and was carefully working his way across the boggy valley floor.

Lee was soaked to the knees by the time she reached the cabin. Tag had placed the foal on a dry pile of burlap bags in a warm sunny spot out of the wind and was rummaging around in a wooden storage cabinet on the porch. “Just stick Daisy and Chief in the corral,” he said, nodding in the direction of a small fenced pen behind the cabin. “There’s a spring-fed trough in there. They’ll be fine ’til I can unsaddle ’em.”

“Do you need any help?” Lee opened the gate and led the horses inside. She held the reins carefully, aware of the tender beginnings of blisters on her palms.

“Yeah. There’s an old army blanket just inside the cabin door. Oh, and bring me one of the canteens. They’ve been in the sun long enough, the water should be fairly warm.”

Lee grabbed the canteen off of Chief’s saddle, then carefully slipped the bridals over both horses’ heads, the way she’d seen Tag do it earlier. She hung the gear on a post outside the corral, carefully latched the gate and handed the canteen to Tag. The pile of neatly folded blankets was just inside the door of the cabin. Lee grabbed the one on top and laid it on the porch next to the colt, then squatted down next to Tag.

“Thanks,” Tag mumbled. He measured a bland-looking powder into what looked like an oversized baby bottle with a long rubber nipple, added the warm water from the canteen and shook the bottle to mix it. Lee absently stroked the foal’s soft neck. The black coat had dried to the texture of warm velvet and the animal’s tiny hooves glistened like ebony.

“Shouldn’t he be more alert?” she asked. The baby seemed so listless, not anything like the newborn horses she remembered from old Disney movies. Those babies were up and nursing within minutes after birth.

“This little guy had a rough start and he hasn’t had a thing to eat,” Tag said. Then he grinned at Lee and added, “Yet.”

Tag dribbled a small amount of the formula around the baby’s mouth, then gently worked the soft nipple between the rubbery black lips. “C’mon, little guy,” he muttered. “It may not taste quite like mama’s, but you don’t know the difference. C’mon, you can do it.” The colt tried to suckle, choked, sneezed, blinked, then glared at Tag when the cowboy removed the bottle.

But his head came up and he rolled over onto his chest, folding his spindly legs beneath him. Lee carefully supported the tiny body and Tag offered him the nipple once more.

This time the colt got it right. He suckled greedily at the bottle, took too much and choked again. Tag backed away with the bottle and stood up.

The baby struggled, rising up on his forelegs in search of the elusive nipple. Lee stood too, just in time to help steady the colt’s bony back end as he thrust his hips into the air, then wobbled upright on four skinny legs.

Lee didn’t know whether to cheer or cry. Instead, she grinned at Tag through a blur of tears. He smiled back, his eyes overly bright and sparkling with relief. Tag held the bottle while the colt got the hang of things. Within minutes, the tiny black whisk broom of a tail was wagging back and forth in time with the loud slurping noises coming from the other end.

The baby emptied the bottle, looked around for more and snorted. Tag brushed back the bristly forelock between the colt’s stiff black ears, exposing a perfect white star, the only mark the animal carried.

“I was going to ask you if you wanted to name him, but it seems almost too obvious,” Tag said. “What do you think?”

“I think Star probably needs a nap,” Lee said, covering the burlap bags with the warm blanket just as the colt’s skinny legs folded and collapsed underneath him.

“Good timing.” Tag knelt down and stroked the soft neck, then pulled an edge of the blanket up to cover the baby’s flanks. “I guess I’ll take care of the others. Can you keep an eye on this little guy?”

“You’re kidding, right? I can hardly take my eyes off him.” Lee covered Tag’s hand with her own. “I’ve never had an experience like this, ever. You seem to take it all in stride, but I feel as if I’ve witnessed something so special today . . .”

“Birth . . . and death, are always special.” Tag turned away and stared in the direction of the lowering sun. “You were more than a witness, you know. I appreciate your help, Lee. You didn’t panic. You did everything I asked. This little guy might not have made it if you hadn’t been there. I’m . . .”

He turned back toward Lee. His expression was unreadable, angry, if anything, his dark eyebrows bunched together in a slight frown. “I’m glad you came,” he said. “Thank you.”

Before Lee could respond, Tag abruptly stood up and headed for the corral. For a guy who said he was glad she had come along, he certainly didn’t act very happy to have her around. Lee shivered, more a nervous reaction than anything else. What had she done to make him so angry?

One more thing to wonder about. She folded her legs and sat quietly next to the sleeping foal. Too many questions, she thought. Too many questions and never enough answers.

TAG SLIPPED the saddle and blanket off of Chief’s broad back, then repeated the procedure with Daisy. Both horses snorted, but where Daisy merely shook her dainty frame, Chief spun around and went down in the soft grass, rolling completely over to rub his back. He snorted again, waved his long legs in the air, then rolled back over, lurched to his feet and shook like an oversized dog.

Tag grabbed the currycomb and brush out of the tool box near the gate and started on Daisy. He’d always loved working on the horses after a long ride. It was a quiet chore, one that gave him time to think, time to work out the problems of the day.

Why, though, with all the problems facing him right now, could he think of nothing but Lee? He’d meant every word of what he’d said to her, even though it scared the hell out of him to admit to any woman he’d actually needed her help.

But she had helped. She’d been there for him, was still there for him, patient, helpful, smiling. Even though Tag knew she was confused. He knew this little jaunt today had convinced both of them that they didn’t have a clue to her real identity.

Riding a horse had to be like riding a bike. Something you never forgot, no matter what. Lee Stetson obviously hadn’t ever ridden a horse in her life. She’d never witnessed the birth of a foal, never seen the beautiful mountains of Colorado.

Who the hell was she?

For all Tag knew, Lee Stetson had a husband somewhere. And as naturally good and gentle as she was with the foal, she might even have children.

Tag didn’t think he could handle that. Another man . . . maybe. All he had to do was look at a guy as a competitor for his lady’s hand.

Children were another matter altogether. Tag couldn’t possibly do anything that would break up a home where children were involved. He’d grown up in a broken home.

It wasn’t a good way to raise a child.

He swept the brush down Daisy’s long back, watching the late afternoon sunlight play across the mare’s sorrel hide. The deep reddish coat was almost the same color as Lee’s hair, maybe a little lighter than his lady’s rich auburn tones.

His lady. Now, when had he started thinking of Lee as his lady? He’d have to stop that nonsense, right now. The whole point of this charade was to save him from marriage. The last thing he needed was to start thinking of some little gal as his lady.