His Texas Bride

Buck asked around, but no one had seen her in a while. And then Buck remembered something Ellie had said earlier, when they were at the gravesite together. She’d said she would handle Tyler, once they’d agreed to come to the reception at her ranch.

Was that where she was?

With Tyler?

Ellie was in for trouble if she had any notion of pulling Tyler out of his shell. The boy was so angry and bitter, he rarely talked to Buck anymore, much less some strange woman from a town his father rarely spoke of, and only then with an animosity he knew he could not hide. He wouldn’t be too keen on anything Ellie offered, especially meeting new friends. Tyler had always been a bit of a loner.

Like Buck.

Even so, Buck’s gut was telling him he was on the right track with that line of reasoning, that he would find Tyler wherever Ellie was lurking.

Ellie had always been a stubborn woman, and Buck doubted that had changed in twenty years. She would be a formidable opponent, even for Tyler, though Buck wasn’t the least bit certain who would win any quarrel between them.

Buck hoped there was no quarrel.

Spinning on his heels, he clamped his black Stetson down on his head and moved slowly and awkwardly toward the front door, having to explain several times that, no, he was not leaving so soon, but rather that he was trying to find his son so he could introduce Tyler around.

If Buck could get the boy out of the truck. And if Ellie’s feelings weren’t too hurt by his son’s sharp tongue and broody disposition.

The scenario in Buck’s mind was looking worse by the minute. Tyler biting into Ellie in suppressed grief over the death of his beloved grandmother. Ellie forcing Tyler to meet kids his own age, when all that would do was make the boy even more uncomfortable than he already was. Buck couldn’t get to his truck fast enough—only to find it empty when he arrived.

Chapter Two

Ellie’s theory had been right on the mark. Once she’d remembered whose son Tyler was, she’d known just where to look for him—in the stable, with the horses.

Where Buck would have hidden given the same set of circumstances.

The boy obviously shared the same love for horses as his father, because as soon as Ellie entered the stable, she knew Tyler was present. She could hear Tyler making the same soft crooning sounds his father had always used—quite effectively, she clearly remembered—with his own horses.

“Tyler?” she called cheerfully, but her only answer was a sudden deafening silence in the stable. “Tyler Redmond? It’s Ellie McBride. We met earlier.”

Still no sound, but Ellie was no less certain Tyler was somewhere in the stable, and that he was no doubt straining his ears for any sound she might make. She moved noisily from stall to stall, speaking to each of her beloved horses as she went and thus giving Tyler plenty of warning—wherever he was. It was only when she peeked over the last door, the one to the birthing stall, that she found Tyler.

One of her quarter horse broodmares, Sophie, was due to deliver soon, so the sorrel-colored mare had been recently confined to the roomy birthing stall, filled with fresh straw to welcome the newborn foal whenever he or she came. Ellie thought it would be soon.

To Ellie’s alarm, Sophie was lying on her side, her breath coming in heaving snorts. Tyler was there with the sorrel, on his knees, hunkered over the mare, rubbing her down with his own bandana and murmuring encouragement to her. Ellie noted vaguely that Tyler’s denim shirt was now untucked, and the boy had obviously given no thought to dirtying his crisp new blue jeans as he knelt before the laboring mare.

“Tyler?” Ellie said again. “What is it? What’s wrong with Sophie?”

She realized belatedly she had no idea why she was asking a twelve-year-old boy such a question, but she opened the stall door and slipped inside, sliding to her knees next to the horse’s head and running her hand down Sophie’s sweat-stained withers, then rapidly across her stomach, mentally assessing how far into labor Sophie might be.

Her adrenaline surged as she realized help for the birth was not readily available. Doc Stevens, the local vet, wasn’t inside the ranch house with the rest of the community. Just after Esther’s funeral, the vet had been unexpectedly called away for an emergency at a nearby farm.

Ellie toyed with the idea of having Tyler run and ask someone at the house to fetch Doc Stevens immediately. Still, she waited patiently for the boy’s answer to her query, allowing Tyler the opportunity to voice his own opinion, as he’d been with the mare longer.

Tyler looked up at her with the same serious, low-browed gaze Buck often wore, shadowed by a camel-colored felt cowboy hat pushed low over his eyes. The boy reminded Ellie of his father in so many ways, it made her heart turn over and emotions clog in her throat.

“She’s in labor,” Tyler said, his voice at once soft and gruff, with the high-pitched twinge of a young man entering puberty. “It’s been an hour, maybe?”

Ellie smiled inwardly. She might have pointed out that she had already assessed that much just by looking at the situation, but she didn’t. Instead, she nodded briskly and allowed the boy to continue. “And?”

“Well, I found her this way,” Tyler explained, shrugging his shoulders. “I know mares lie down to give birth, but it seems to me she’s struggling awfully hard. I think the foal might be in the wrong position.”

That was exactly what Ellie was thinking. She smiled encouragement to the boy and then frowned as she thought through the implications of this situation. “Our town vet couldn’t make it to the reception,” she explained hastily. “Some kind of emergency at a neighboring ranch. I may need you to find your dad and have him drive you out to find Doc Stevens, the vet.”

The boy scowled for a moment, then nodded briskly. Obviously the idea of dashing into a house of strangers to find his dad was not high on Tyler’s list of things to do, much less jaunt all over town, looking for a veterinarian he didn’t even know.

The boy surprised her. Despite his obvious discomfort, Tyler tipped his cowboy hat with his fingers and answered her politely, if not willingly. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

At that moment the mare made a horrible groaning sound, almost a scream. Ellie and Tyler at once turned their attention back to Sophie. Ellie had been breeding horses long enough to realize that Sophie shouldn’t be experiencing the kind of pain she was obviously in. As Tyler had gravely noted, something was definitely wrong.

A gush of liquid from the mare sealed it for Ellie. There wasn’t time to go for help. “I’ve changed my mind, Tyler. I need you with me. Do you think you can give me a hand? Sophie is obviously delivering this foal now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tyler answered, his brilliant blue eyes shining delightedly at this new opportunity. Once again Tyler reminded Ellie of his father. Ellie was surprised at the quiet respect the young man showed her. He’d appeared so bitter and broody earlier. But like his father, Ellie guessed, Tyler had a special bond with horses—apparently enough of a connection to allow the boy to set his other concerns aside.

“There is a box of supplies in the corner. I need you to grab the tape and wrap Sophie’s tail for me.”

Without a word, Tyler went to work, efficiently wrapping the mare’s tail while Ellie held it up for him.

“You’ve done this before,” Ellie stated.

“Yes, ma’am. A few times.”

“Good. I can use your experience.”

Tyler looked up at her, surprise—and maybe a little pride—evident in his expression. One corner of his mouth tipped up ever so slightly. Ellie thought that might be the closest thing to a smile she’d seen from the boy.

“Now what?” he asked softly. “Dad and I usually let our mares do the work themselves.”

Ellie nodded. “And that’s what we’ll do, as well. This isn’t Sophie’s first foal, so she knows what she’s doing. We’ll just stand back and watch God’s miracle of birth. Hopefully that’s all it will take and Sophie will manage this just fine on her own, but just in case, we’d better stick around and be ready to lend a hand if it becomes necessary.”

Tyler moved to the side of the stall and leaned a somewhat brawny shoulder against the wall. He maintained some of the gangly awkwardness of puberty, but he was a handsome boy, Ellie thought—just as his father had been. Clearly farm life kept Tyler in good physical shape. He looked a good deal stronger than most boys his age. Ellie remembered that Buck had been much the same way at age twelve.

She remembered far more about Buck Redmond than she ought to, she thought, frowning inwardly. She had let that part of her life go—at least she thought she had, until he’d shown up again, twenty years later.

Hopefully, Ellie thought, she was twenty years wiser.

As for her heart, well, she couldn’t vouch for that.

“Look!” Tyler exclaimed, moving to hunch beside the mare. “I can see the foal’s legs!”

Ellie leaned over Tyler to view the foal’s progress. She, too, saw the legs, which normally appeared first. But she immediately recognized the problem.

“It’s a breech birth,” she explained to Tyler as she bent in to take a closer look. “See, the hooves are pointed upward, toward the top of the mare. With a normal birth the hooves point down.”

Tyler frowned. “I’ve never seen a breech birth,” he admitted. “What does that mean? Should I run and fetch the vet now?” His voice was a mixture of alarm and concern.

Ellie was pleased that the young boy was suddenly so willing to do a task he had not been so eager to perform earlier, but she shook her head. “No need. Breech births don’t generally require a vet’s presence. Let’s just wait and see what happens.”