High Country Christmas

She nodded. “And a negative sign or one line means that I’m not pregnant.”

“I...think I see a second line on this one...” He leaned forward to get a closer look at one of the tests. “Do you see a second line, too?”

London’s body crumpled forward, her hands pressed tightly into her stomach. She didn’t want to see it, but she did see a second line. And then, to make matters worse, she saw a plus sign, too. One by one, the tests came back positive. She was pregnant with Tyler Brand’s child.

London stared at the four positive tests, her hand over her mouth to stop herself from saying something horrible she might regret later. She wanted to scream and curse and throw something so hard that it would shatter into a thousand pieces. But she couldn’t. So she just sat there, staring and knowing that going to Tyler’s room that night had been a terrible mistake.

Tyler was staring at the four positive tests as well. Even though he’d known this was a real possibility, he still felt a little bit in shock. And he didn’t know what the heck he should say to London. He had the certain feeling that anything he said was going to be wrong.

“You’re pregnant,” Tyler said robotically.

She looked at him as though he was the dullest nail in the toolbox before she stood up, gathered up the offending tests and shoved them back into the bag.

“I know,” she snapped at him.

“Do you want to talk about it now?”

“No.” She jerked a knot into the top of the bag to make certain that the tests wouldn’t fall out when she threw them away. “I don’t want to talk about it. We should head back.”

Tyler was actually relieved she didn’t want to talk. They both needed some time to adjust to the idea. In his family, there was no such thing as pregnancy without marriage. He was just getting used to the idea of being in love for the first time and now he was on track to be a father. Other than his responsibility to ranching, maturity had never really been high on his priority list. Babies and marriage, especially with a woman like London, would take all manner of maturity.

He cleaned up downstairs while London tackled the loft. She quickly made the bed and then sat down on the edge of the mattress to look out the window. The world outside that window was so pretty and peaceful and simple. She placed a hand on her flat stomach.

Pregnant.

She quickly began to mentally count out the months in her head. If she kept the baby, she’d still be able to finish her last semester as planned. But she would be very pregnant by graduation and she wouldn’t be able to hide it.

“What have I done?” London closed her eyes tightly and forced the flood of emotions bubbling up inside her back down. There was no sense getting all weepy. It wouldn’t do her a bit of good.

London stood up, plumped the pillows and then headed down the spiral staircase. Tyler was waiting for her; he watched her closely but didn’t detect any hint that she might have been crying while she was upstairs. He wasn’t all that surprised—she had a stiff-upper-lip attitude. Even so, at the door, he put both hands lightly on her shoulders and waited for her to look at him.

“London...I promise you,” he said sincerely. “It’s going to be okay.”

“That’s not a promise you can keep, Tyler.”

“Yes, it is.” Tyler wrapped his arms tightly around her body, a body that seemed to be trembling from the inside out. “Yes. It is.”

Chapter Four (#ulink_35218e6e-a5b1-5632-b61b-b16c83052086)

They returned to the ranch undetected and went their separate ways. They both had jobs to do there, and those jobs weren’t going to wait from them to sort out their problems. At the end of his day, Tyler found London in the foaling barn watching over his mother’s mare.

“How’s she doing?” Tyler asked London quietly.

London glanced at him to let him know that she had heard him before she focused her attention back to Rising Star. She had moved the mare into the foaling stall located at the quieter end of the stable. Horses liked quiet, dimly lit areas to give birth and often waited until nighttime to foal.

London used a calm, quiet voice to answer his question. “She’s been showing some pretty strong signs that she’s going into labor. Her nipples are thicker and hanging down lower...”

“Any sign of waxing?”

London nodded. Some mares developed a waxy coating on their nipples a couple of days before giving birth, which signaled that they were getting ready to foal. “I was just about to tie up her tail and put down a fresh bed of hay for her.”

“I’ll grab the hay.”

While London set herself to the task of wrapping Rising Star’s thick, long tail up and out of the way of the birth canal, Tyler stacked fresh bales of hay outside the stall. They worked in silence, methodically preparing for the birth. Once the tail was wrapped, London left the stall to mix a warm, soapy solution. When she returned with a bucket and sponge, Tyler had already spread the hay around the stall, creating a soft, clean bed for Rising Star.

London quickly washed Rising Star’s teats, udder, hind legs and muscular buttocks. Tyler grabbed the feed and water buckets, and then they both left Rising Star alone, in peace. They had done everything they could do to help the mare have a successful birth, but the rest was up to her. All they could do now was wait. Watch and wait.

London slipped into the adjacent stall and sat down in a patch of hay. From her vantage point, she could have her eyes on the pregnant mare without disturbing her. Tyler, to her surprise, joined her in the stall.

“I thought you were going out with your sisters tonight,” London whispered to him.

“I never miss a birth at Bent Tree.”

Tyler leaned back, one leg stretched out straight, the other one bent. He dropped his worn Stetson onto the ground next to him, rested one arm atop his bent knee and riffled his longish light brown hair. Then he dropped his head backward to rest it on one of the stall’s wooden slats and closed his eyes with a long, tired sigh.

London frowned at him. “If you have to stay, you know you have to be quiet, right?”

“You’re the one who’s talking.” Tyler’s mouth lifted at the corner, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“Shh.” She scooted away from him an inch or two. “And quit crowding me.”

Tyler crossed his arms over her chest. “Wake me when it’s time.”

Within minutes of shutting his eyes, Tyler fell asleep sitting upright. She’d never seen anything like it before. But then again, she’d never seen anyone like Tyler Brand before. He was such a hard worker, dedicated to the ranch and his family. Tall. Lean. Cowboy rugged. Cowboy handsome. And he made her laugh. It had been a chore to push him away. There had been chemistry between them from the start—he had felt it, and even though she had consistently denied it to his face, she had felt it, too. She just couldn’t allow herself to act on the attraction and risk losing focus on her primary goal: get her degree and get back to Virginia ASAP.

For nearly two hours, London sat very still, waiting for the mare to begin labor. As one hour blended into the second, nighttime cooled the air and dimmed the light in the barn. The sounds of the ranch quieted as the last of the ranch workers started their trucks and slammed their doors, their loud voices fading as they drove away. Knowing that mares were known to wait until the stillness of the night to give birth, London had turned on a low-wattage light in the foaling stall so she could still see Rising Star as day transitioned to night.

Tyler was still asleep, it was dark and a little cold, and she had to pee really badly, but she didn’t dare move. The slightest noise could stop the mare from starting labor. Fifteen minutes later, her patience paid off. Rising Star began to pace in the stall, making short, tight circles. The mare nipped at her flanks several times before her legs buckled at the knees and she lay down on her side with a moan. Flat on her side, legs extended, her nose nuzzled into the thick bed of hay, Rising Star was in labor.

London hit Tyler on the leg. He stirred but was savvy enough not to make a noise. In a spontaneous show of excitement, they reached for each other’s hands, squeezing tightly. This was the moment she had been working toward since she had arrived at Bent Tree. She felt a personal connection with this foal. During her junior-year internship, Tyler’s mom had asked her to research bloodlines and select a sire for Rising Star’s insemination. When she returned to the ranch to start her summer job, she discovered that Rising Star was pregnant by the sire she had chosen. She felt honored to be the one to care for the mare and her unborn foal in the last stages of a pregnancy. And, now that she knew for certain that Rising Star was in labor, she had to be kind to her bladder.

A quick bathroom break, then back to her post. It was so still in the barn, she could hear the sound of Tyler’s breathing intermingled with her own. He shifted every once in a while, his arm brushing against hers, but other than that, he was a perfect witness to the beginning of the birth of her foal.

She checked the time on her phone. Rising Star had been down for thirty minutes, but the white amniotic sac hadn’t appeared. London had an odd, sick feeling in her gut. She shook her head as she stood up.

“We need to try to get her on her feet,” she told Tyler.

Tyler switched on the aisle lights before he followed London into the foaling stall. London had hooked a lead line on the mare’s halter and she was talking in a sweet, calming voice to the horse.

“She’s having hard contractions,” London confirmed. “We should have seen the sac by now. I’m concerned that the foal might be presented wrong.”

“Dystocia.” Tyler positioned himself at the mare’s hindquarters.

London looked at him, surprised. “Yes. Help me get her up.”

He had heard about London’s ability to stay perfectly cool under pressure, but he’d never witnessed it firsthand. She was calm, confident and certain of every move. She was elegance in motion.

After several attempts, they coaxed the mare to stand.