Page 14 of Buried Roots

Wepullintandem,so hard my arms tremble, and I hope with everything in me I’m not killing the baby or hurting Eclipse.

Finally, I see the head, and I grunt out a ragged breath.

“Almost there.” Owen guides the foal the rest of the way out, and together, we lower her to the ground.

“She’s blinking!” I cry out, my eyes misting. Her rib cage grows and shrinks with her gulps of breath as she lies still.

I sit in silence as Owen moves quickly, rubbing the foal with a towel before shifting her around.

When she squirms, he releases her. Then, when she fights to balance on her twiggy legs, I say, “She’s trying to stand. That’s a good sign, right?”

“She’s a he, but yes, it is.” Owen’s voice crackles with emotion. “That’s a good boy.”

I hold back the sob that’s bubbling in my chest, but a tear escapes. I furiously blink it away.

I rarely cry. Doing everything in my power to stop, I focus on what’s in front of me.

A new life—who barely made it—struggles to stand, so innately beautiful and pure. And he’s supremely cute with those eyes, way too big for his small face. At the same time, he’s blinking as he looks at us, trying to figure out this wild new world he’s entered.

Eclipse struggles, but she approaches her baby before licking him. The foal continues to fumble around until he finally stands on his wobbly legs.

I gasp, letting another tear fall off my cheek. “He did it.”

“Yes, he did.”

Now, all Owen and I can do is watch in awe as nature does its miracle. There’s just perfect love filling the air around us.

“Amazing,” I whisper, the word catching in my throat. “He’s gorgeous.” He’s got a white mane and black hair, just like his mother.

“Yeah, he is. They’re purebred Gypsy Vanner horses.” Owen studies the colt. “He’s got a mild case of contracted tendons in his forelimbs, but that can be fixed. I’m just glad he’s alive.”

“No kidding.” I meet Owen’s gaze, and we exchange proud glances. His expression is one of unbridled joy, a beautiful look on him, his long lashes showing in the bright lighting. He’s so tall and muscular, it’s hard to believe he’s the one who whispers to animals, literally.

And that’s outrageously cool. I’m still trying to take in everything that just happened, and my emotions are changing by the second. I can’t keep away the glaze in my eyes, so I stop trying. “How do we keep finding ourselves in tight situations?” I run a clammy palm over my face. “I feel like I already know you.”

“Me too. And I’m glad. Twelve hours ago, you thought I was a serial killer. Was it the white windowless van?”

“You think?”

He scrubs his chin. “Yeah, it’s for my animals, but it’s not a good look.”

A weak laugh escapes. “Nope.” I look around to see spots appearing in my glossy vision. Sweat films my face.

Owen grins, but it falls away. “You look like a ghost.”

And then, as though my mind has finally relaxed enough to listen to my body, my stomach rebels, churning like I ate bad fish. “Not okay.”

I dart out the stable doors, my heels clicking on the cement, and yak into a bush.

Owen’s right behind me. “You gonna live, Manhattan?” he asks.

“I’m from Queens,” I manage to say, squeezing my eyes shut. “I think I’m okay now.” My stomach feels like it’s empty, at least.

“Let’s get ourselves over to the horse shower.” He takes off his surgical gown.

I don’t know what that is, but I say, “Fantastic.”

Behind the stable is a gigantic cedar-walled roofless shower with a bench, several faucets, and a huge overhead panel that has multiple nozzles. There are side nozzles and faucets too. It’s the type of system that I’ve seen installed by luxury outdoor pools. “Bo got this to wash the horses.”

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