Page 5 of High Density

“Doc Richards.”

I use Doc, a title I inherited the first time I showed up at the ranch and it stuck. I don’t mind it, doctor seems so stuffy, and Janey is too easy to dismiss, especially for some of these ranchers who are more set in their ways. Doc seems to hold the perfect balance, it’s casual, but the title still affords me some professional respect, albeit reluctantly in some cases.

“Doc, it’s Alex at High Meadow. Sunny, that paint mare you saw a few weeks ago, is in labor, but she’s struggling. Looks like the foal is wanting to come backward but one leg is folded forward.”

Shit. That’s a tricky presentation.

Only thing worse would be if the foal was a full breech with both legs forward. As it is, I’m going to have to try and move that stubborn leg backward without damaging the uterus. Once we have both legs, we can help the mare deliver quickly. Any time the back end comes first, there is a risk of the foal dying. The umbilical cord is compressed between the foal and the birth canal, cutting off oxygen to the foal. It’s imperative it is delivered immediately, with or without the mare’s help.

“On my way. Keep her on her feet and moving. Hopefully, it’ll keep her from straining.”

“Difficult delivery?” Logan asks, having guessed at the problem.

“Backward presentation with one leg breech,” I tell him. “Sorry, kid, you’re gonna have to hold down the fort. Frankie will be here in half an hour to give you a hand.”

I know he’d love to come—and it would be good experience for him—but I have open clinic this morning and someone has to be here. He’ll be able to handle most of the complaints that walk in.

I rush to toss any supplies I might need in the back of my truck and jump behind the wheel. Time is critical. But even as I’m peeling out onto the road, I find myself wondering if I’ll bump into JD at the ranch. I haven’t seen him since that awkward scene at Foxy’s a couple of weeks ago.

It sure looked like he was coming straight for my table when the waitress bolted out of the kitchen and jumped into his arms, practically mauling him on the spot. He was quick to pluck her off him, setting her back on her feet, and he didn’t seem too pleased with that course of events, but he did change direction. Instead of heading my way, he veered off to sit at the bar.

At that point, I turned away, and tried to put JD out of my mind. The man is as aggravating as he is attractive, or maybe I find him aggravating because he’s attractive. In my experience, men who are that good-looking tend to be cocky, arrogant, and often players.

That last encounter did little to prove me wrong.

JD

“Come on, girl, keep moving,”I urge the pretty little paint, who keeps wanting to lay down.

When I walked into the barn earlier, Alex was trying to manage this mare by herself.

It’s quiet at the ranch, Jonas and Sully are on day two of a three-day trip to Billings for a livestock auction, while Fletch, Jackson, and my father are on a search for a missing hiker. Dan is sticking close to home since Sloane is on bedrest with only five more weeks until her due date.

This time I volunteered to help Alex keep an eye on things here. Sunny isn’t the only mare about to pop, there are two others who are getting close. Maybe I wanted to stick around because of the possibility we’d need to call Doc in. I haven’t seen her since that disaster at Foxy’s after I finally worked up the balls to approach her. I should’ve explained what she witnessed right on the spot, but I didn’t, and there really hasn’t been an opportunity since.

Staying behind appears to have paid off, as I watch her stride into the barn, all business. She’s already wearing coveralls—probably wise, since birthing can be a messy business—and her hair is in two braids with a bandana tied around her head. Her eyes are focused on the mare, and she barely even acknowledges me as she puts down her bag and starts rummaging through it.

She works with a singular focus, which is one of the things that drew me to her in the first place. The animals are her first and main concern, and she has a bedside manner many a physician could learn from when dealing with their human patients.

“Did her water break?” she asks when she rounds the mare.

I notice she’s looking at the dark wet spot running down the horse’s legs.

“No. She had the shits and made a mess of herself. I rinsed her down.”

Her eyes briefly flash my way before I get a mumbled, “Thanks.”

Then she hands me the horse’s tail to keep it out of her way.

“Alex is just up at the house grabbing a thermos of coffee for us,” I share.

She barely nods, already easing her gloved right arm into the mare’s birth canal.

“Hold her tight,” she warns, her cheek pressed against Sunny’s butt.

I can see the concentration on her face as she closes her eyes and frowns. The mare shifts uncomfortably, the invasion of her body not exactly a pleasant one.

“Hush, girl, you’ll feel better soon,” I mumble at Sunny.

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