Page 8 of Second Chance with the Rancher

“Come on, little guy.” He set the small horse down on his right side, extended his neck, then covered one nostril tightly with his hand, held the foal’s mouth closed and breathed into the other nostril causing the foal’s chest wall to rise.

Mieka tasted blood and that’s when she realized she was biting her bottom lip. Smoothing her tongue over the puncture, she held her breath as Nate continued to fill up the little horse’s lungs, then let the air flow back out.

He pressed two fingers to the side of the foal’s ribcage, behind his elbow.

“There’s a heartbeat,” he said.

Mieka exhaled in relief.

“But he’s still not breathing.” He resumed the mouth-to-nose resuscitation, and then, as if just waking up from a restful sleep, the foal’s eyes blinked open, his feet kicked and he started to struggle to get up. He fell, attempted again, fell again, then on his third try, he succeeded and trotted over to his mother where he immediately started looking for milk.

“Thank fuck,” Asher breathed, on his knees, as well, and tilting his head skyward.

Nate ditched his gloves, then wiped his hand over his mouth. “Thank fuck, indeed.”

The two ranch hands exhaled in relief and Mieka wiped the tears of joy and relief from her eyes.

Nate and Asher stood up and wandered over to Callie and her newborn.

“He looks good,” Asher said, running his hands gently over the damp fur of the foal. “Healthy little colt from what I can tell so far.”

“Need Callie to pass the placenta otherwise we’ll have to give her a shot of Pitocin,” Nate murmured, walking up to Callie, pressing his forehead to the side of her head and whispering something. He scratched her ears, stroked the length of her nose and squeezed his dark blue eyes shut.

Mieka watched him, mesmerized.

He continued to whisper and it was almost as if Callie understood.

She huffed a couple of times through her nostrils, stomped her foot, then out came the placenta.

“Got it,” Asher said, using a shovel to scoop up the bloody mess and place it into a wheelbarrow. “Looks fine to me. All one piece, no tears.”

Nate was still talking softly to Callie and stroking her shiny black neck. Her colt was black, as well, and after a few more healthy sips of milk, he broke away and did a little hop to the side on wobbly legs before wandering over to the ranch hands and sniffing them.

“Little guy was lucky,” the taller, older ranch hand said. If Mieka remembered correctly, he was Ronny, and the big, muscly red-haired guy with the rusty beard and neck tattoo was Hank. Ronny scratched behind the colt’s ears. “Need to find you a suitable name.”

“What about Lucky?” Hank offered.

“Had a colt two summers ago named Lucky,” Asher replied.

“Chance?” Mieka suggested.

Nate nodded and broke away from Callie, leaving her to graze while her son trotted back over and started to nurse again. “Chance is perfect.”

Mieka beamed and a pleasant warmth filled her chest.

Their eyes locked. His dark, stormy blue to her brown. She smiled. He smiled.

“I can stay out here and keep an eye on them, boss,” Hank offered. “Then bring them back into the barn for supper.”

Asher and Nate nodded and thanked Hank just as another ranch hand came running into the pasture where they were, with panic all over his face.

“Fuck,” Asher muttered, knowing the news wasn’t good.

“Hula-Hoop’s in labor,” he said, slightly out of breath. “It’s progressing fast. She’s already showing the allantoic membrane.”

“What the fuck is with these fast-progressing mares?” Asher grumbled, gathering everything they’d used and tossing it into the tote before picking it up and running back toward the barn with the other ranch hand. Ronny was already running back, too.

Nate went back to Callie, said something to her, then with a quick head jerk toward the barn, while his eyes were like two blue burning coals on Mieka, he indicated they should catch up.

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