Cowboy All Night. Vicki Lewis Thompson

      “Good,” Herb said. “I just felt her relax. Keep talking.”

      Brant settled into the rhythm he’d developed over the years. Moving his hand in slow circles, he congratulated Lucy on the beautiful baby she was about to bring into the world. He praised her bravery and talked about what a good mother she would be.

      What joy he felt during these moments. Every time he watched a birth, he felt like a kid on Christmas morning. Or rather, the way he imagined a kid who’d had a typical childhood might feel. His type-A dad had always been on the phone or his computer, even on Christmas morning. Probably why he’d died so young.

      With luck and good care, the foal would live thirty or even forty years. It would bring happiness to many people and would be trustworthy because he would teach it not to be afraid. He couldn’t guarantee that every foal’s life would be perfect, but he only accepted jobs when he knew the people in charge were kind.

      If Rosie approved of Aria, that was good enough for him. The brother was an unknown, but Rosie must have faith that Aria could handle that situation, too. He believed horses could work miracles with people, so he’d do his part to help this plan along.

      “I see the forelegs.” Herb’s voice vibrated with excitement.

      Love for his foster father gripped him in a warm embrace. The guy had been delivering foals for many years, yet he still felt the thrill. Herb and Rosie Padgett had been wonderful role models for all their foster boys.

      Lucy shifted beneath his hand and her flanks heaved. “Doing great, Lucy,” he said softly. “A few more minutes and we’ll meet your little one.”

      “There’s the nose.” Herb nearly chortled with glee.

      Someone sucked in a breath. Brant glanced up to see Aria white-knuckling the stall door as she stared at the emerging foal with wide eyes. Rosie, Lexi and Cade had given her the front-row view.

      “It’s going well, Aria,” Brant said quietly. He willed her to bring it down a notch.

      She nodded without taking her attention from the foal. Then she took a deep breath and her shoulders relaxed a little. She was trying.

      “And there you go,” Herb said. “Just like that. All done. Lucy, you have a beautiful little colt.” He reached for a bucket and began cleaning the glistening membrane away.

      Brant glanced up at Aria and smiled. “Congratulations.”

      “Thanks.” Her response was shaky and she blinked away tears as she continued to hold on to the stall door for support. Behind her the others kept up a happy little buzz of conversation. Their camera phones clicked many times, but Aria didn’t move.

      “Yep, he looks great,” said Herb. “Brant, ready to switch with me while I check Lucy’s vitals?”

      “You bet.” Brant traded places with Herb and sank to his knees next to the peach-colored colt. This little guy might turn out to be a palomino like his mom. “Pleased to meet you, buddy.” He picked up a clean towel from the stack Herb had brought in and began slowly wiping the colt’s damp coat while he murmured every compliment he could think of.

      When the foal was reasonably dry, he discarded the towel and used his bare hands to massage the tiny body. Then he raised his voice enough that Aria would be able to hear him. “Does this fellow have a name?”

      “Linus,” came the whispered reply.

      That made him smile. Linus had been his favorite Peanuts character.

      “Can I...can I come in?”

      He mentally crossed his fingers. “Sure.” He kept his focus on the baby, who seemed relaxed. “Just do it slowly. No quick movements.”

      Her flowery perfume was subtle, but he registered it as she knelt in the straw beside him. The straw must be rough on her bare knees, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her breathing was steady and he didn’t feel tension coming from her. For a moment she didn’t say anything.

      He wasn’t surprised. Miracles had a tendency to rob people of speech. He would have been disappointed if she’d started chattering away, oblivious to the wonder of watching a life begin.

      At last she spoke, awe in her voice. “He has a blaze.”

      “Yep.”

      “And blue eyes.”

      “For now. They’ll darken later.”

      “He’s...perfect.”

      “Yes, he is.” The emotion in her voice matched what he felt every time he attended a birth. He didn’t know much about her, but judging from her reaction to this foal, he would get along with her. If she could manage to relax a little more, they’d get along even better.

2

      AS THEY ALL headed back to the house for a celebratory dinner, Aria was still puzzling over this exceedingly tall and muscular cowboy with the gentle voice. Her high school memories of him were vague, although she’d recognized him the minute he’d walked into the barn. But she hadn’t spent any time with him before today and hadn’t been prepared for his laid-back attitude.

      When it came to this foal, she wanted a trainer who had laser-like focus. Rosie had said Brant was the best, but Rosie was prejudiced. She thought all her foster boys were the best.

      Aria couldn’t deny that Brant had concentrated on the task during Linus’s birth. He’d been calmer than Herb. Although she didn’t fully trust his relaxed manner, she’d felt it settle over her like a soft blanket when she’d dropped to her knees to pet the foal.

      Slowly her agitation had been replaced by awareness of Brant, the man. How unnecessary. How inappropriate. In spite of that, she’d noticed the ripple of muscles in his tanned forearms. She’d glanced at his profile and admired his strong nose and well-defined chin.

      As if he’d felt her gaze on him, he’d looked her way. The warmth in his hazel eyes had stolen her breath. He loved animals. She could trust him with Linus. That might be all she needed to know.

      On the way to the house, Cade, Lexi and Brant walked ahead with Cade’s gray cat, Ringo, trotting behind them. At one point Brant stopped, scooped up the cat and carried him. Ringo wore a blissed-out expression as he perched on Brant’s wide shoulder.

      She couldn’t hear the cat purring at this distance, but with Brant stroking him, he must be. Brant made some remark about being a certified cat whisperer. Then he started whispering to Ringo and whatever he said sent Lexi and Cade into hysterics.

      What a happy soul, this Brant Ellison. She wondered what it felt like to be that relaxed. She wouldn’t know.

      Whether due to nature or nurture, both she and her brother had been high-energy kids who’d thrived on competition. She’d always known she’d run her own business someday and Josh had expected to ride his way to fame and fortune. Although fate had knocked him down, she was determined he’d get back up.

      Brant must have been knocked down, too, or he wouldn’t have landed in foster care as a teenager. But if he’d been emotionally traumatized, he hid the damage well.

      Rosie and Herb walked on either side of her on the way back to the house. “I’m sorry Josh wasn’t here.” Rosie’s voice was filled with compassion. “I know how much you wanted him to be a part of it.”

      “He’d said he would come, but then he changed his mind. He must have had a bad day.”

      “I’m sure it’s tough.” Herb took off his glasses and tucked them in his shirt pocket. “I’ve never had to use a wheelchair, thank God. Is he making any progress with his physical therapy?”

      This was a recent development Aria hated talking about. “He’s stopped going. Says it’s no use.”

      “Huh.”