Page 24 of Branded By the Cowboy

“You’re doing good,” I murmur. “Steady.”

Luna nods, her face creased in concentration.

Another contraction hits. The mare groans.

“I’ve got the left leg,” Luna says, panting now. “Okay. Now the right. Come on, baby…”

She shifts again, and suddenly, her whole body goes still.

“They’re straight.”

“Good work,” the vet says. “Now, when the next contraction hits, let her push. Support the foal as it comes. You’re almost there.”

The moment the next wave rolls through, Luna braces herself. Sable lets out a long, guttural groan, and the foal slides free in a wet rush, legs folding beneath her in the hay.

We both exhale at the same time.

“Oh, my God,” Luna breathes, collapsing back on her heels. Her hands tremble. “We did it.”

Her eyes are glassy, fixed on the small, steaming body twitching in the straw.

“I wasn't sure I could,” she whispers, turning back to me. “I thought I'd mess it up. I didn't want to hurt her.”

I reach out and place a hand on the back of her neck. Gentle. Solid. “You didn’t.”

She nods slowly, eyes still locked on the foal. The tiny creature lets out a bleat and kicks its legs, trying to lift its head.

And Luna laughs. A cracked, breathless sound that’s all relief and awe.

Then, as if suddenly remembering, she turns to the exhausted mare. She moves forward on her knees and strokes Sable's sweaty neck. “You did it, sweet girl. You were so brave,” she murmurs, running her palm along the mare's heaving flank. “Such a good mama. Rest now.”

Tom, still standing at the stall door, grins. “Nice work, Doc.”

Luna huffs a soft breath and leans into my side. Her shoulder presses into mine like she’s finally letting go.

And me? I look at her and know, without question, that this woman—nervous, determined, all heart—is someone I’d trust in any storm.

Tom heads back to the house while Luna and I stay behind to clean up. I scrub the hay and sweat from my body in the double sink. She does the same beside me, quiet but focused, her eyes meeting mine in the cracked mirror. Her cheeks are flushed, maybe from the heat of the stove. Or maybe from something else.

The fire crackles. The foal suckles.

And the barn suddenly feels like a holy place.

I sit beside Luna in the straw.

She glances over. “You okay?”

I nod. “Yeah. You were good.”

She shrugs. “I did what needed doing.”

“Still. You didn’t flinch.”

“Neither did you.”

I look at the flames. “You remind me of her sometimes.”

“Your mom?”

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