The Maverick's Snowbound Christmas. Karen Rose Smith

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      Pressure for what? Finding Mr. Right when Mr. Right didn’t exist? Pressure to be some woman she wasn’t? Pressure to get hurt again?

      She took the fork in the lane that led to the house and barn. She assumed that if the mare was having problems, that’s where Eli Dalton would be. She thought about this rancher who was supposed to be one of the eligible bachelors in town. Their paths had crossed now and then, most recently at his sister Kayla’s wedding. But there were so many cowboys and ranchers in Rust Creek Falls that Hadley didn’t pay much attention to him. After all, she wasn’t looking.

      As she climbed down from her vehicle and slammed the door, complete silence surrounded her. There wasn’t a creature stirring. Snow fell more heavily now, and she supposed they’d all taken cover as best they could. Montana was beautiful, but the winters could be harsh. Most humans and creatures living here knew how to survive and thrive. She was still trying to figure out the thrive part.

      Opening the back door of her SUV, she grabbed her bag, closed the door and trudged to the barn. After she opened the door, her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. As they did, she took in the scents—horses, hay, aged wood. She took a few more steps forward, and then she saw him. Eli Dalton was leaning low over his horse. She assumed it was his horse. The way he was caressing her, she saw so much caring just in the stroke of his hand. He was murmuring to her, encouraging her, and something in his tone made Hadley’s throat tighten. That was silly. She’d seen a man’s kindness to a horse before.

      Eli’s hair was dark brown, thick, and fell over his brow as he leaned forward. He knelt by the horse’s back, his own back long and lean as he bent down to the horse’s belly and put his ear to it. His shoulders were so broad. Although he was kneeling, she could tell his legs were long. He was wearing the requisite worn cowboy boots that looked like his favorite pair. His navy insulated vest fell open over his green-and-navy flannel shirt. He was so focused on the horse, he was totally unaware that she’d come in.

      She made sure her boots made a scuffling noise as she approached him.

      He looked up as if startled from his concentration.

      “I’m Hadley Strickland,” she said in explanation. “Brooks Smith called me to help you.”

      He looked torn, as if he wanted to stand and approach her, yet he didn’t want to leave the horse. To help him with that dilemma, she went to him.

      He held out his hand to her.

      “I’m Eli Dalton. We met at Kayla’s wedding briefly. In the receiving line.”

      As Hadley shook his hand and gazed into his eyes, her world seemed to spin a little faster. His grip was firm and warm and urged her breaths to come faster. Recognizing the red flags of attraction, she pulled her hand out of his clasp. “There was a lot of chatter and bedlam at the wedding,” she murmured for something to say. “That’s a wedding for you.”

      He gave her an odd look, and she changed the subject. “So what seems to be the problem?” She looked over the horse again from her golden-brown coat to the white blaze, from her forelock to her nose.

      “I’m not sure. Amber is a wild mustang I adopted. I gentled her. I’ve been with her every day. I’ve been around pregnant horses since I was three, and I know what pregnancy and labor is supposed to look like.”

      “What are the signs that make you think something’s wrong?”

      “This is a maiden mare from what I can tell, so I know she can foal a bit early or late. She’s not particularly high-strung, so I don’t think she’s resisting the normal process of delivery. Her udder has been swollen for the last five weeks. I’ve been cleaning her with warm cloths.”

      “And she let you?”

      “She trusts me.”

      Hadley took that in. As she knelt beside Eli, she saw the thickened nipple. They naturally developed a thick waxy material. When the nipple got waxed, that was an indicator that the foal would be born within the next day or so. Even though Hadley didn’t often handle large animals, she knew each mare was unique. All the owner could do would be to evaluate all the signs for an impending foaling.

      “Will she let me examine her?” Hadley asked.

      “If I stay here and talk to her, she will.”

      “All right, let me get my gloves on and we’ll do it.”

      Hadley tried to forget that Eli was there as she checked signs of the rump and tail-head muscles softening. “Any changes in behavior?”

      “She’s been more affectionate lately and separated herself from the other horses.”

      “What about appetite?”

      “She hasn’t eaten today.”

      “I see you laid down straw.”

      “I’ll switch it to shavings a few days after birth. Usually this is a natural process, but something’s bothering me about it.”

      “Nothing specific?”

      “No, but I didn’t want to get in trouble with the snowstorm. It was better to have someone here to help than me not having the expertise to handle anything unusual that comes along.”

      Aha, Hadley thought. Eli was a planner. Rumor had it that he was steady and responsible. His attitude today proved it.

      Hadley continued her examination, then stripped off her gloves and put her stethoscope back in her bag. “All we can do is wait. This could be a couple of hours, maybe more.”

      They both heard the howl of the wind against the side of the barn. “Maybe you should leave. Go back to the boardinghouse while you can still get out.”

      “Brooks is a friend, Mr. Dalton. He asked me to help so I’m here to help. I’m staying.”

      Eli had to be a good six foot four. She was only five foot four. He studied her with probing green eyes from her green jacket to her cowl-necked pullover sweater to her skinny blue jeans and boots. “All right,” he said, “But call me Eli.”

      “And I’m Hadley.”

      He nodded. “It’s good to have backup here, Hadley. Thanks for coming out. Have you eaten lunch?”

      “No. I didn’t think to grab anything to bring along.”

      “I’ll go up to the house and get us something.” He nodded to the horse. “We have to keep up our strength so we can help her.”

      “Amber, did you say?” she asked.

      “Her coat’s that color,” he explained. “And her eyes.”

      A man who noticed the color of a horse’s eyes. Eli Dalton was intriguing her more and more.

      * * *

      As Eli trudged through four inches of snow to the farmhouse, he knew he shouldn’t feel hot. It was just the stress of worrying about Amber. It wasn’t his blood running faster every time he looked at Hadley Strickland.

      Although СКАЧАТЬ