“Easy, girl,” I say, keeping my voice calm. The air is heavy with the smell of damp hay, horse sweat, and fear, and I can’t stop my hands from shaking as I unlatch the stall door and step inside. “We’ll get through this together.” They’re the same words the nurse said to me the night Madison was born, and for a moment I’m back in the tiny apartment Hooper rented for us in Nashville, feeling more alone than I’d ever felt in my entire life.
Hooper was out so much of the day and night—trying to get the country music scene to take him seriously, taking whatever gigs he was offered. I was barely nineteen and terrified out of my mind at the growing swell of my belly. I was too young to be a mom. Too scared. Too worried I’d mess up a child’s life like I’d screwed up my own. But then Madison arrived, and the nurse placed her in my arms, and it felt like I’d been given a piece of myself I hadn’t realized was missing until that moment.
The memory fades and I focus on Moonlight. I’ve handled plenty of foalings alone before, but a mare’s first can be challenging, and every instinct in my body tells me this one isn’t going to be easy. Where is Bill when I need him? My granddaddy’s experience and calm are exactly what I need right now. But he’s not here. I’m alone. And the only person who can save Moonlight and her foal is me.
I crouch beside the mare, running my hands carefully over her belly and down her flank. I press gently, searching for the foal’s position inside the womb. I feel something, but it’s all wrong. The foal’s legs are tucked back, the head nowhere near the birth canal.
“Shit,” I whisper, pulling my phone from my pocket and opening my contacts. Camila Martinez is the best ranch vet in Colorado and we’ve worked together for years. She’s the one person I trust with these horses’ lives.
It rings three times before she answers, her voice tired. “Izzy?”
“Moonlight’s in labor,” I say by way of hello.
“That’s a week earlier than we expected.”
“The foal’s malpositioned,” I say, unable to keep the panic from creeping into my voice.
There’s a pause before Camila replies, her voice apologetic but firm. “Izzy, I’m sorry, but I’m tied up with a colic case on ayearling. I’ll get to you as soon as I can, but it’s going to be a few hours.”
“She can’t wait that long,” I cry.
“I know,” she says. “But you’ve helped me turn a foal before, Izzy. You know what to do. Keep her calm, lubricate your hands, and work gently but firmly.”
“I can’t do it,” I reply. I’m not a vet.
Camila’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “If you do nothing, you’ll lose the foal and possibly Moonlight, too. You can do this, Izzy. I know you can.”
I close my eyes, steeling myself for what’s ahead. “Please get here as soon as you can.”
“I will,” she says, and we end the call just as Moonlight unleashes a strained groan, her entire body trembling. My pulse thunders in my ears, but I force myself to take a steadying breath.
“I got you, girl,” I whisper, not sure who I’m talking to—Moonlight or myself. All I know is that I won’t let this mare die because I wasn’t thinking clearly. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”
But even as I say the words, I know they’re not true. I’m not alone. I have Dylan.
“I’ll be right back.” I sprint out of the barn. Dylan can avoid the decision about his future all he wants, but tonight, I need him. Moonlight needs him.
NINETEEN
DYLAN
I’m dragged from sleep by hands shaking me, bright light in my eyes. For a moment, I think it’s Jake or Chase, needing my help with some dumb stunt they’ve pulled—sneaking a girl into the ranch they now need me to help sneak back out before Mama gets wind. But the hands are small and cold, and I’m not a teenage boy anymore, hauling my brothers out of trouble. My eyes snap open and it’s Izzy I see. Even as I’m registering the urgency flashing in her eyes, my first thought is how much I want to reach for her.
“Moonlight’s having her foal,” Izzy says, breathless. Scared. “You need to get up.”
It takes my head a second to catch up as I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “I thought she wasn’t due for another week.”
“Yeah, good point, I’ll just go explain that to her.” Her sarcasm cuts through the last of my sleep.
I’m already scrambling for my clothes as she keeps talking, voice laced with panic. “I wouldn’t have woken you, but the vet’s stuck dealing with a colic case. She’s not going to make it in time.”
“Wouldn’t have woken me?” I reply, irritation flaring. I tug my tee over my head. “These are my horses, Izzy. You wake me for this kind of thing!”
“Well I am, aren’t I? Can we just go?” She spins on her heels and heads for the stairs, her boots pounding each step like a countdown ticking in my head.
I grab my socks, my heart hammering against my ribs like it’s kickoff in the playoffs and I’m about to take the field. Moonlight is having her foal and I have no idea what I’m doing. The thought hits hard as I shove my feet into my boots and run after Izzy. The barn comes into view, its light spilling into darkness. My chest tightens as I sprint toward the barn. But nothing can prepare me for what I find inside.
I slow as I approach the stall, not wanting to spook Moonlight. She’s lying on the hay, gray coat darkened with sweat. Izzy is kneeling in the damp hay, murmuring softly to the mare.
