High Country Christmas

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“Come on, Star...” London led the mare out of the stall. “Let’s you and me go for a little walk...”

The three of them walked together, up and down, up and down the long, wide breezeway of the barn. Tyler stayed at the mare’s flank to stop her from lying down in the aisle when the contractions started to cause her pain.

“We’ll walk her for ten more minutes and then take her back. Hopefully the walking has repositioned the foal and Star will be able to do this on her own,” London told him.

Tyler didn’t usually take a backseat in the deliveries on the ranch, but he knew that London had devised a birthing plan with the vet. She needed to run the show. He didn’t care about being in charge—all he cared about was seeing Star safely deliver a healthy foal.

“If this doesn’t work, then we’ll have to call the vet and let him know that he needs to stand by for a possible breech,” London continued. “After we get her back in the stall, we’ll give this a chance to resolve naturally, but if it doesn’t, I’ll have to glove up and try to reposition the foal manually and—”

“London,” Tyler interrupted her. “The placenta...”

They took Star back to the stall, dimmed the aisle lights and went back to their post. This was the hardest part—remaining still and silent so as not to disturb the birth.

“We have hooves...” Tyler whispered next to her ear.

Excited, she grabbed his arm and squeezed it tightly before she let go. Hooves first meant that the foal had repositioned during their walk and was presented properly now. And it appeared that the fetal sac, a sac that protected the foal once the placenta had broken, was still intact. For a second or two, London closed her eyes and thanked God. But her initial excitement shifted back to concern when Star was pushing and pushing without any success. The mare was already exhausted and the foal wasn’t halfway into the world.

“We have to assist. If not, we’re going to have a dead foal on our hands.”

The mare’s neck was drenched with sweat. Tyler knelt down by her head and started to talk to Star, reassuring her, while London slipped on a gown that covered the front of her clothing and gloves that went up well past her elbows.

“All right, girl...” London positioned herself behind the mare. “Looks like we’re going to have to get this done together.”

London grabbed the foal’s spindly legs encased in the slippery fetal sac. She told Tyler, “I’m going to pull with the contractions.”

With each pull, the foal came a little bit farther out into the world. “We have a head!”

That was the information Tyler was waiting to hear. The foal’s head was where it should have been in a normal presentation. London was patient and persistent, pulling with each strong contraction.

“We have shoulders...” Tyler heard London say. If they could get past the shoulders, they were on the home stretch.

Rising Star made a groaning sound and thrashed her head.

“The foal’s out!” London said loudly. She didn’t waste time—she cut open the fetal sac that covered the foal’s body.

Tyler was at her side. “Is it breathing?”

“Breathing,” London confirmed, lifting up the foal’s leg. “It’s a he.”

London peeled off her dirty gown and gloves, disposed of them and then stood in the open doorway of the stall next to Tyler. Neither one of them seemed to have words. They simply stood together and watched the foal wiggling, for the first time, in the hay. Soon, the new mom would regain some of her strength and clean her foal. As much as London wanted to go into the stall, she knew that she needed to let Rising Star bond with her foal without an audience. She’d have plenty of time to bond with the little fellow later.

London wiped the moisture from her eyes and gave a shake of her head to quell the rush of emotion she was feeling while she shut the stall door. Watching a new life come into this world always touched her; no matter how many times she witnessed it, each experience felt like the first time.

Tyler couldn’t take his eyes off London. This woman, so strong and determined, was the mother of his first child. He felt proud to be standing next to her. He knew, right then, that she was meant to be more than the mother of his child. She was meant to be his wife.

“You did good tonight.” He put his arm around her shoulder.

She smiled briefly. “So did you.”

She didn’t pull away from him, and this gave him reason to hope. They had gone through something here tonight.

“It’s two o’clock,” London finally said. “You should go and get some rest.”

“I never leave the newborns on the first night,” he said. When he was a boy of six or seven, they had lost a foal overnight. He’d never forgotten it.

London shook her head. “Neither do I.”

“Then we’ll both stay.”

They each picked a spot in the adjacent stall and prepared to pull an all-nighter. London needed to see Rising Star recover some of her energy and begin to clean her newborn. She needed to see the colt stand up for the first time. Then she could relax. One after another, she tied pieces of hay into knots to give her hands something to do. She had created a little pile of knots when Rising Star finally levered herself upright, found her colt and began to clean him. London smacked Tyler on the leg several times.

Tyler moved closer to her to get a better view of the scene unfolding in the next stall. This was the miracle of life. And, to her amazement, Tyler, whom she had always pinned as a devil-may-care cowboy too shallow to be taken too seriously, got it. He was as fascinated with the miracle they were witnessing as she was. She was usually alone with the mare and foal after a birth, and she liked it that way. But Tyler’s actions had naturally mirrored her own. He had been completely still—completely quiet. Like her, he wanted to be a witness, not an intruder.

London leaned her body forward, silently rooting for the wobbly legged colt to finally get up on his feet after so many unsuccessful attempts.

Come on, little fellow. You can do it. Come on...

Rising Star gave the colt a push with her nose and that push gave the newborn the extra boost he needed to get on his feet.

“Yes!” London whispered, her hand instinctively reaching for Tyler’s and squeezing it tightly. She looked over at him—he was in profile and his features were obscured in the low light. But she could see that he was smiling. Rising Star stood up to be with her colt and that was the finale.

In celebration, she found herself hugging Tyler. Hard. He hugged her back, just as hard, and then kissed her on the top of her head.

“This’s what I’ve been waiting for,” Tyler finally said in a low voice.

London broke the hug, retrieved a diluted iodine wash and dabbed it on the spot where the umbilical cord had been attached to reduce the risk of infection. After she applied the iodine, she couldn’t stop herself from staring at the perfect little colt. He was black with four white socks. All of these months, she had wondered what the foal would look like, and now she knew. He was a stunner.

“You’ve got a winner on your hands here, Star,” she said to the mare. She loved this colt. She had loved him for months. It was going to be so hard to say goodbye to him when she went back to school. Why couldn’t he be hers? London brushed the thought out of her mind with a shake of her head.

Tyler had created a temporary bed out of bales of hay and was waiting for her. The sun would be up in a couple of hours, but she just couldn’t bring herself to go back to her room. And it appeared that Tyler was of the same mind.

“Come join me,” Tyler said.

“You want me to lie down with you?” London asked, not entirely opposed to the idea.

“I just found out recently that I like sleeping with you better than I like sleeping alone.”

She had been stifling one yawn after the other for hours. She was exhausted, so the odds of her falling asleep when she closed her eyes were very high. Why was the thought of falling asleep in Tyler Brand’s arms so appealing to her?

“Come join me.” Tyler repeated the invitation.

She lay down next to him, rested her head on his shoulder. At first, her body was stiff next to his, but when he grabbed her hand and positioned her arm around his waist, she realized it was ridiculous not to relax.

“One of us has to stay awake...” Her eyelids closed.

He rubbed her shoulder. “You rest. I’ll take the first watch.”

“Okay.” She murmured her agreement.

Tyler wrapped her up in his arms and she released a long, tired sigh. He felt her relax with that sigh, which made him smile. Deep, steady breathing followed—Tyler tilted his head to get a look at her face in the dim early-morning light. She had fallen asleep in his arms. And with London sleeping so soundly in his arms, completely trusting him to watch over her, Tyler discovered that he was happier now—hungry, tired and sitting on bales of hay—than he had ever been before.

He had always known that he was going to be a rancher. It was in his blood. But beyond that...beyond what he was going to do with his life...he had never known who would be at his side when he was handed the reins of Bent Tree. Now he knew. As certain as he was that he belonged to the land of Bent Tree Ranch, he now knew that he belonged with London Davenport...with London and the child growing inside her. They, along with Bent Tree, were his future.

* * *

London stood on the threshold of Tyler’s cabin, poised to knock. It was impossible not to remember that last time she’d stood at his door...that was the night they had conceived. London knocked on the door quickly; while she waited for him to open the door, she looked around to see if anyone was around to notice her visiting Tyler.

“Hey...I was just about to track you down,” Tyler said. He was fresh out of the shower, feet bare. He had nice feet. “Do you want to come in?” he asked. And then he smiled. “Of course you do. That was a stupid question. Why else would you be at my door?”