A Little Bit Country: A Little Bit Country / Blackberry Summer

Star Bright reacted to his tension immediately, jerking about, her body twitching convulsively. One of her hooves caught Clay in the forearm and, almost immediately, blood seeped through his sleeve. Rorie bit her lip to suppress a cry of alarm, but if Clay felt any pain he didn’t show it.

“Hold her head,” Clay said sharply.

Somehow Rorie found the courage to do as he asked. Star Bright groaned once more and her pleading eyes looked directly into Rorie’s, seeming to beg for help. The mare’s lips pulled back from her teeth as she flailed her head to and fro, shaking Rorie in the process.

“Whoa, girl,” Rorie said softly, gaining control. “It’s painful, isn’t it, but soon you’ll have a beautiful baby to show off to the world.”

“Foal,” Clay corrected from behind the mare.

“A beautiful foal.” Rorie stroked the sweat-dampened neck, doing what she could to reassure the frightened horse.

“Keep talking to her,” Clay whispered.

Rorie kept up a running dialogue for several tense minutes, but there was only so much she could find to say on such short acquaintance. When she ran out of ideas, she started to sing in a soft, lilting voice. She began with lullabies her mother had once sung to her, then followed those with a few childhood ditties. Her singing lasted only minutes, but Rorie’s lungs felt close to collapse.

Suddenly the mare’s water broke. Clay wasn’t saying much, but he began to work quickly, although she couldn’t see what he was doing. Star Bright tossed her neck in the final throes of birth and Rorie watched, fascinated, as two hooves and front legs emerged, followed by a white nose.

The mare lifted her head, eager to see. Clay tugged gently, and within seconds, the foal was free. Rorie’s heart pounded like a locomotive struggling up a steep hill as Clay’s strong hands completed the task.

“A filly,” he announced, a smile lighting his face. He reached for a rag and wiped his hands and arms.

Star Bright turned her head to view her offspring. “See?” Rorie told the mare, her eyes moist with relief. “Didn’t I tell you it would all be worth it?”

The mare nickered. Her newborn filly was gray, like her mother, and finely marked with white streaks on her nose, mane and tail. Rorie was touched to her very soul by the sight. Tears blurred her vision and ran down her flushed cheeks. She blotted them with her sleeve so Clay couldn’t see them, and silently chided herself for being such a sentimental fool.

It was almost another hour before they left Star Bright’s stall. The mare, who stood guard over her long-legged baby, seemed content and utterly pleased with herself. As they prepared to leave, Rorie whispered in her ear.

“What was that all about?” Clay wanted to know, latching the stall door.

“I just told her she’d done a good job.”

“That she did,” Clay whispered. A moment later, he added, “And so did you, Rorie. I was grateful for your help.”

Once more tears sprang to her eyes. She responded with a nod, unable to trust her voice. Her heart was racing with exhilaration. She couldn’t remember a time she’d felt more excited. It was well past midnight, but she’d never felt less sleepy.

“Rorie?” He was staring at her, his eyes bright with concern.

She owed him an explanation, although she couldn’t fully explain this sudden burst of emotion. “It was so...beautiful.” She brushed the hair from her face and smiled up at him, hoping he wouldn’t think she was just a foolish city girl. She wasn’t sure why it mattered, but she doubted that any man had seen her looking worse, although Rorie was well aware that she didn’t possess a classic beauty. She was usually referred to as cute, with her slightly turned-up nose and dark brown eyes.

“I understand.” He walked to the sink against the barn’s opposite wall and busily washed his hands, then splashed water on his face. When he’d finished, Rorie handed him a towel hanging on a nearby hook.

“Thanks.”

“I don’t know how to describe it,” she said, after a fruitless effort to find the words to explain all the feeling that had surged up inside her.

“It’s the same for me every time I witness a birth,” Clay told her. He looked at her then and gently touched her face, letting his finger glide along her jaw. All the world went still as his eyes caressed hers. There was a primitive wonder in the experience of birth, a wonder that struck deep within the soul. For the first time, Rorie understood this. And sharing it with Clay seemed to intensify the attraction she already felt for him. During that brief time in the stall, just before Star Bright delivered her foal, Rorie had felt closer to Clay than she ever had to any other man. It was as though her heart had taken flight and joined his in a moment of sheer challenge and joy. That was a silly romantic thought, she realized. But it seemed so incredible to her that she could feel anything this strong for a man she’d known for mere hours.

“I’ve got a name for her,” Clay said, hanging up the towel. “What do you think of Nightsong?”

“Nightsong,” Rorie repeated softly. “I like it.”

“In honor of the woman who sang to her mother.”

Rorie nodded as emotion clogged her throat. “Does this mean I did all right for a city slicker?”

“You did more than all right.”

“Thanks for not sending me away... I probably would’ve gone if you’d insisted.”

They left the barn, and Clay draped his arm across her shoulders as though he’d been doing it for years. Rorie was grateful for his touch because, somehow, it helped ground the unfamiliar feelings and sensations.

As they strolled across the yard, she noticed that the sky was filled with a thousand glittering stars, brighter than any she’d ever seen in the city. She paused midstep to gaze up at them.

Clay’s quiet voice didn’t dispel the serenity. “It’s a lovely night, isn’t it?”

Rorie wanted to hold on to each exquisite minute and make it last a lifetime. A nod was all she could manage as she reminded herself that this time with Clay was about to end. They would walk into the house and Clay would probably thank her again. Then she’d climb the stairs to her room and that would be all there was.

“How about some coffee?” he asked once they’d entered the kitchen. Blue left his rug and wandered over to Clay. “The way I feel now, it would be a waste of time to go to bed.”

“Me, too.” Rorie leaped at the suggestion, pleased that he wanted to delay their parting, too. And when she did return to her room, she knew the adrenaline in her system would make sleep impossible, anyway.

Clay was reaching up for the canister of coffee, when Rorie suddenly noticed the bloodstain on his sleeve and remembered Star Bright’s kick.

“Clay, you need to take care of that cut.”

From the surprised way he glanced at his arm, she guessed that he, too, had forgotten about the injury. “Yes, I suppose I should.” Then he calmly returned to his task.

“Let me clean it for you,” Rorie offered, joining him at the kitchen counter.

“If you like.” He led her into the bathroom down the hall and took a variety of medical supplies from the cabinet above the sink. “Do you want to do it here or in the kitchen?”

“Here is fine.”

Clay sat on the edge of the bath and unfastened the cuff, then rolled back his sleeve.

“Oh, Clay,” Rorie whispered when she saw the angry torn flesh just above his elbow. Gently her fingers tested the edges, wondering if he needed stitches. He winced slightly at her probing fingers.

“Sorry.”

“Just put some antiseptic on it and it’ll be all right.”

“But this is really deep—you should probably have a doctor look at it.”

“Rorie, I’m as tough as old leather. This kind of thing happens all the time. I’ll recover.”

“I don’t doubt that,” she said primly.

“Then put on a bandage and be done with it.”