Page 7 of Irish Thoroughbred
How could she put her hard, rough hand into such a lovely soft one! Yet there was no way out without being pointedly rude, so, wiping her palm on her jeans, she joined it with the one Trish offered. The other woman had noted Adelia’s hesitation and concluded the reason for it when their hands met, but she made no comment.
At that moment, Travis entered the building, along with Paddy and a small, spare man Adelia did not recognize.
“Paddy!” The twins launched themselves at the stocky figure.
“Well, if it isn’t Tweedledee and Tweedledum. And what mischief have you been up to this fine day?”
“We came to meet Dee,” Mark announced. “She guessed which one of us was which.”
“She’s fey,” Mike added soberly.
Paddy nodded, equally grave, his eyes twinkling as they met Adelia’s over the two small heads. “Aye, that’s a fact. There’s been many a Cunnane who’s had the sight.”
“Adelia Cunnane”—Travis made introductions, a light smile playing over his mouth—“Dr. Robert Loman, our vet.”
“Pleased to meet you, Doctor,” Adelia greeted him, strategically keeping her hands behind her back.
“Rob’s come to look over Solomy,” Paddy explained. “She’ll be foaling soon.”
The pixie face lit with pleasure, and, looking down ather, Travis raised his brows. “Would you like to see her, Adelia?”
“Very much.” She beamed him a smile, previous animosity forgotten.
“She’s foaling quite late,” Travis commented as the group walked down the long length of stalls. “A Thoroughbred’s official birthday is January the first, and normally we breed with that in mind. We just acquired Solomy six months ago, and of course she was already in foal. She’s from a good line, and the stud she was bred to is by the same sire as Majesty.”
“Then you must have big hopes for the foal,” Adelia returned, thinking of Majesty’s style and speed.
“I think,” he said with a smile, “you could safely say we had hopes for this foal.” Placing a hand on her shoulder, he turned her toward an enclosure. “Adelia,” Travis said with amused formality, “meet Solomy.”
She sighed with delight at the animal, a dark, gleaming bay mare with a mane of flowing black silk. Running her hand down the stark flash of white on the forehead, she looked into dark, intelligent eyes.
“You’re a fine, beautiful lady.” The caressing of the smooth hide was met with a whinny of approval.
“I suppose you’d like a closer look,” Travis observed, opening the stall door and gesturing for her to enter.
She preceded him and the vet into the stall, carrying on a low conversation with Solomy as she explored the swollen belly, probing with gentle, capable fingers. Aftera few moments she stopped and turned concerned eyes to Travis’s laughing ones.
“The foal’s turned wrong.”
The blue eyes lost their laughter and studied her intently.
“Quite right, Miss Cunnane,” Robert Loman agreed with a professional nod. “A quick diagnosis.” Entering the stall, he too ran hands over the mare’s belly. “We’re hoping the foal will turn before she’s full term.”
“But you’re not thinking it’s likely; her time’s almost here.”
“No, we’re not.” He turned back to her, faintly surprised and greatly curious as to her knowledge. “We have to deal with the possibility of a breech. Have you had any training?”
“More doing than training.” She shrugged, uncomfortable at having the attention focused on her. “I worked with a vet back in Ireland. I’ve done some birthings and some stitching and splinting.”
She stepped out of the stall to stand beside Paddy, watching as the vet proceeded with his work. Paddy’s arm slipped around her shoulders, and she rested her head against him.
“I hate to think what a hard time she’ll be having. We had a mare that carried breech once, and I had to turn the babe.” She sighed with the memory. “I can still see her poor, trusting eyes on me. How I hated to hurt her.”
“You turned a foal by yourself?” Travis demanded,drawing her attention from the past. “That’s a difficult enough job for a full-grown man, let alone a little thing like you.”
She bristled, bringing herself up to the full of her meager height. “It may be that I’m small, Mr. Grant, but I’m strong enough to do what needs to be done.” She glared up at him, her pride under attack, and stuck out her chin. “I’ll tell you this: for all our difference in size I can work the day through with you!”
Stifling a snort of laughter, Paddy focused on a spot on the ceiling as Travis regarded her indignation with cool, steady eyes. After a moment, she turned and began to walk toward the front of the building.
