Page 15

Fifteen

Jackson

I reek to high heaven.

Foaling season has started and we have more pregnant mares than we have birthing stalls in the barn, so we’ve been splitting the field adjacent to the barn into smaller sections—like a staging area—and have moved some of the mares in there. The ones that look to be close to delivering are moved inside the barn.

Doc Richards drops in every so often to monitor how things are going but, unless there are complications, we manage the births ourselves. For the most part that means simply observing as nature takes its course, but occasionally some intervention is required.

Like with the small bay mare, who didn’t look anywhere near to delivering when I last checked, and ended up dropping her foal in the field. I didn’t even notice the small bundle in the grass at first. The mare was on the other side of the makeshift pen and appeared spooked. The foal was still mostly covered in the sack and I had to tear a hole to free its nostrils, but I don’t know how long it had been lying there. The little thing was limp.

In the birthing stalls we have a few tools at hand, like oxygen, so I scooped up the foal and hoofed it to the barn. We were able to perk up the little one, but when we brought the mare into the barn, she wouldn’t have anything to do with her foal. Fortunately, two stalls down from her, another mare had lost hers earlier this morning and with a bit of coaxing, she allowed the little guy to nurse on her.

My current condition is the result of rolling around in birth guck and horse shit all afternoon, but I’m otherwise feeling good. Nothing like the sight of newborn foals, stumbling around on legs too long for their bodies, to put a smile on your face.

It’s already after seven by the time I head for my cabin, I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. When I left Stephanie’s place this morning, I promised I’d bring some bear meat to grill for dinner. I pull out my phone and give her a quick call as I walk past the porch of the main house. Thomas lifts a hand in greeting as I pass.

She answers my call with a soft, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself. I’m just calling to let you know I’m running late, I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you sooner, but things have been hectic here.”

“Oh, no worries. We can do this another night.”

Dinner, maybe, but I fully intend on seeing her tonight.

“If you haven’t already, grab yourself something to eat, and I’ll be over, right after I wash this goop off me.”

“Goop?”

“You don’t wanna know. Foaling season started and we’ve had four mares deliver today.”

“I’m so jealous, I love foals, those awkward, gangly legs,” she shares.

I push open the door to my cabin and am greeted with silence. No dog to greet me because I left him with Stephanie.

“Okay, change of plans,” I suddenly announce. “How about you pack an overnight bag, grab the dog, and head over this way? I can scrounge us up some food and show you the new additions.”

I’m surprised how fast she jumps on it. I thought maybe she’d need a little coaxing, but her resounding, “Yes,” comes before I’ve even finished my last sentence.

After ending the call, I quickly tidy up the dirty socks I left on the floor by the couch and clear away the handful of dishes I’ve left in the sink. Then I hop in the shower.

When Stephanie arrives half an hour later, I’m clean and have a small pan of stew staying warm on the stove. Ama had left a large pot simmering at the main house for the stragglers. Dinner is generally a fluid concept at the ranch, and not a rigid time slot.

“Smells good,” she announces after I kiss her right inside the front door.

“Ama’s stew, not mine,” I clarify. “It comes with a chunk of fresh sourdough bread she baked this morning.”

Her stomach rumbles in response.

“That sounds so good. I’m starving.”

No surprise, dinner is a little late. I’m pretty damn hungry myself. I dish us each out a good portion of stew and set the half loaf of bread on a board in the middle of my small table.

“Come sit. Beer?”

Stephanie shakes her head as she takes a seat. “It doesn’t play nice with my medication. I’ll stick to water.”

“I also have orange juice, and a bottle of some green tea stuff I don’t drink, or I can make you regular tea.”

I can’t remember who left that bottle here. It may have been Ma; she went through a phase where she tried to fix me with all kinds of stuff that was supposed to be good for me. I think the green tea may have been a remnant of that time. I’m surprised it survived in my fridge; I ended up tossing most everything else she brought me.

“I’ll take the green tea.”

We don’t talk much, but I can’t keep my eyes off Stephanie as she scarfs down the bowl of stew I put in front of her. Every so often I catch her eye and she throws me a smile. I like that she doesn’t pick at her food and doesn’t apologize for enjoying it.

“More bread?” I ask her, when she drops her spoon in her empty bowl and sits back.

“Sadly, I’m going to have to pass, I’m already stuffed.”

I get to my feet and hold out my hand. “Then come with me, we’ll walk it off. I’ll clean up later.”

I hold on to her hand as we walk out the door, Ash darting ahead of us to do his business. It’s a nice night, fairly warm, even though the sun has dropped behind the mountains and dusk is setting in.

“Are you taking me to see the babies?”

I grin at her eager expression. “Yeah, before it gets too dark. There’s one left in the barn we’re keeping an eye on, and the other two mares and their foals are in the field behind the barn.”

“Out for a stroll?”

I hear Thomas’s voice come from the shadows on the porch. He usually goes back out there for an after-dinner drink before he heads up to bed. I stop as we pass in front.

“You remember Stephanie, Grandpa? Stephanie, this is Thomas Harvey.”

“Yes, we met last year,” she responds. “Good to see you again, Mr. Harvey”

“Pleasure’s all mine, but call me Thomas. If you’re hoping to see those foals, you best hurry. It’ll be dark soon.”

“We’ll stop for a chat on the way back, if you’re still up,” I promise him.

He raises his hand in response.

We check out the two foals in the field first, and for the next ten minutes Stephanie is totally taken with them. Both mares are gentle and allow us to approach their little ones.

“I can’t believe how soft their noses are. Boggles the mind these are going to be big honking animals one day.”

“Won’t be that long. Horses grow up fast,” I point out. “Why don’t we head inside to see the third one.”

“Didn’t you mention four mares delivered?” she asks.

“We lost one foal.”

“That’s so sad. That poor mother.”

“Actually, we had a first-time mare who rejected her little colt, so we put him with the mare who lost her own foal. That’s why we’re keeping those two inside, to make sure they’re bonding well.”

It’s clear they’re doing fine when we lean over the stall door. The little guy’s short tail is wagging as he’s nursing and the mare is calmly munching on some hay. They look like they’re fine.

I notice the porch light of the main house is on by the time we head back, and I see Jonas has joined his father. Those two often sneak out there at night for a cigar, I can smell the smoke from here.

But when we get closer, I notice only Jonas has a cigar in his mouth.

Thomas looks like he’s sleeping.

* * *

Stephanie

Oh shit.

I could tell something was off the moment I caught sight of those two on the porch.

In my line of work, the truth is in the details, so it pays to be observant. That’s not something you can simply turn off. It’s ingrained, almost like a second instinct.

Which is why I immediately notice Jonas is holding his father’s hand in his, while smoking a cigar with the other one. The second thing that stands out is the slackness of the old man’s face. There is no muscle tone whatsoever left, and he is slightly lilting to the side.

I recognize death. I’ve seen too much of it and studied it too closely to miss the obvious signs.

Jonas’s unfocused eyes tell the story when we approach.

I can feel the exact moment Jackson realizes; his steps falter and his hand twitches in mine.

“Dad?”

Jonas nods as he slowly turns his eyes to Jackson.

“His favorite spot in this whole damn place was this porch. Killed him to leave his ranch in Texas but he came to love it here, from this spot, watching the ranch life he couldn’t participate in anymore. He didn’t want to miss out on anything or anyone.”

Alex, Jackson’s mom, steps out on the porch and smiles at us, but then she notices her husband, and her smile is replaced with a look of concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“Pops…” The single word from Jonas is enough to clue her in.

“Oh, no…Thomas.”

I watch her approach the old man and bend over, putting a hand against his wrinkly cheek and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Then she turns to her husband, who wordlessly reaches for her. She responds by crawling onto his lap and I watch as tears slowly start rolling down her face. I didn’t know Thomas well, but my eyes are burning too.

Jackson still hasn’t said anything and is holding on to my hand as if it’s a lifeline.

“Jackson,” his mom calls out. “Honey, call the family. Tell them to come.”

I am out of place, this is too personal, too intimate.

“I should go,” I whisper.

His hold tightens as his hand almost crushes my fingers.

“Don’t…Please,” he adds as an afterthought. I hear the emotion thick in his voice. “Stay.”

Alex is apparently of the same mind when she turns to me.

“If you wouldn’t mind putting on a big pot of coffee, while Jackson makes the calls.”

I nod, “Okay,” and move with Jackson as he leads me up the porch steps and inside the house.

Thank God the coffee machine is pretty standard and I find a tin of coffee in the cupboard overhead. While Jackson is sitting at the large island, making phone calls, I start setting out mugs, and find sugar and creamer. Next, I dive into the massive fridge, find the makings for sandwiches and setting it all on the counter.

“What are you doing?” Jackson asks, walking up behind me.

“People are going to come and will want coffee, maybe a drink, so there should be food too.”

I’ve blocked out a lot of what happened after my mother died, but I distinctly remember that part. I recall being angry, at first, that people could even think about food or drink at a time like that, but I was twelve, and didn’t know people found comfort in sharing memories over a drink or a meal.

I turn in his arms when they slip around me, and lift my hands to his face.

“I’m so sorry.”

He opens his mouth to respond but closes it again, nodding instead, as I lift up on my toes and press a light kiss on his lips. For a moment, he closes his eyes and drops his forehead to mine, but then he straightens up.

“Okay, let’s get to work.”

Half an hour later, I carry a tray with coffee and sandwiches out to the porch where, to my surprise, a crowd has already formed. It looks like almost everyone associated with the ranch or the High Mountain Trackers has come.

It puts a lump in my throat to see how Thomas is being honored. He is still slumped over in the rocking chair, but now propped up by a few pillows and his lap covered in a blanket Ama is straightening, his community gathered around him. Alex and Jonas are still as they were, but others are sitting on steps, leaning against posts, and most of the men appear to be smoking cigars. Conversation is muted and no one seems too surprised to see me here.

Janey, who is sitting on the porch steps beside a petite blond woman I don’t recognize, smiles at me.

“Want me to make you some tea?” I ask her, realizing she probably passed on coffee because of her pregnancy.

“I’m okay. Stephanie, have you met Lucy yet? Bo’s wife? She runs Hart’s Rescue.”

“No, I haven’t. Hi.”

“You’re the FBI agent.”

Her tone is a bit abrupt, but perhaps I interrupted something.

“Yes, at least for now; I’m technically on leave.”

“So you’re just visiting,” she concludes with a bit of a snark.

“Lucy…” Janey gently cautions.

I’m not getting friendly vibes from this woman and I’m not sure why, until I catch her dart a concerned glance over my head in Jackson’s direction. That’s when I make the connection. This is the woman who taught him to cook. His mother’s friend. She’s worried about him, which is why I decide to give her honesty.

“For the moment. Right now, my future is in flux but I’m starting to get a clearer picture.”

She nods, but then her eyes narrow and her voice lowers to a near whisper.

“This is going to be hard on him. He loved Thomas and he’s had enough loss in his life. Don’t know how much more he can handle, so if you?—”

“Lucy?” I hear Jackson coming up behind me. The next moment his hand drops on my shoulder. “I see you two have met.”

“Yes, we have,” the petite woman is quick to answer, darting him a warm smile.

It’s clear she cares about him deeply and is concerned for his well-being, which I can understand. But Jackson is a grown man, and I’m not so sure he’d appreciate her meddling, which is why I change the subject back to refreshments and turn to Janey.

“Sure I can’t get you something else?”

“You know what? Maybe I’ll have some tea after all,” she returns, giving me the escape I was looking for. “I’ll come in with you.”

As Janey gets to her feet, I notice Lucy scrutinizing her closely.

“Wait a minute… Tea? Since when do you drink tea?” My friend looks like a deer caught in headlights as Lucy’s face morphs into one of shock. “Are you pregnant?”

“Pregnant?” The echo comes from Ama, who walks over, drawing everyone’s attention to our little group.

I feel guilty when Janey shoots me a pleading look, but her mother-in-law is already locked in on her.

“Janey?” she prompts.

“I’m so sorry,” I mumble under my breath, recognizing my innocent question may have caused this situation.

Jackson must’ve heard me and gives my shoulder a squeeze, as JD enters the picture, stepping up beside his wife and pulling her close to his side. He’s the one who answers his mother.

“We just found out. We were gonna wait for a better time, Ma.”

“Actually,” Jonas pipes up, setting his wife on his feet before getting up himself. “This is a perfect time. I’m gonna grab a bottle of the good bourbon and a box of Cubans I’ve been saving for a special occasion. I’m sure Pops would be tickled he gets to be part of a celebration of new life.”

Ama already has her arms around Janey and her son, smiling big through her tears.

It’s coming up on midnight when everyone is standing in front of the house, like some kind of honor guard, watching as the funeral home van disappears down the driveway, carrying Thomas inside.

“Come on,” Jackson whispers in my hair. “Time to turn in.”

There are goodbyes and hugs, as everyone disperses to their respective homes.

This was both the weirdest and most heartwarming experience I’ve ever been part of. These past few hours have given me a deeper sense of family than I’ve had with my own.

“How are you doing?” I ask Jackson later, when I crawl into bed with him.

“I’m okay,” he claims, but I have a feeling reality is only just setting in for him.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

He turns his head on his pillow and his brown eyes look black, glowing like polished onyx in the dark.

“Just hold me.”