Page 158 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys
“Same,” Boone said the one word louder, then went back to whispering to Dolly. It took me a moment to realize he wasn’t speaking English.
I moved nearer to him, dropping to the hay carefully, making sure I didn’t startle the cow. Boone’s speech was almost musical, lilting through the air, light enough to be carried on a breeze. Each syllable floated like a feather, and Dolly's head raised slightly as she turned to watch Boone. Her eyes fixed on his face as he spoke to her, one of his large hands still stroking with rhythmic, infinite gentleness. The fear in her gaze began to soften.
Without me asking for it, Wade began translating in a gentle voice. “He’s telling her she’s strong. That she comes from an endless line of mothers, back to the beginning of time. That her calf is healthy, that she’s the world creator.” Wade paused, brow furrowing as he focused on pushing Dolly’s stomach. “She’s a still lake, a clear sky, an unshakable mountain.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Boone. Warmth unfurled in my chest. The sight of this huge, taciturn man speaking ancient words of comfort to a suffering animal struck me with unexpected force. It was too intimate, too genuine, too determined to make me fall impossibly in love with my Alpha with the raven locks and soulful eyes.
My hand moved of its own accord, reaching out to touch Dolly's swollen, struggling body. Her coat was damp with sweat, hot beneath my palm. I'd never been around something soraw. It made all my struggles pale in comparison. There were moments after the injury when I truly thought I’d die.No, sometimes I thought I’d already died.Losing the ability to dance was like losing a limb. Watching Dolly struggle at the precipice of losing not only her life but also her child, put the surgeries and therapy into sharp perspective.
"What can I do?" I whispered, my voice catching.
Wade looked up, his eyes meeting mine. "Go into my bag and pull out the antiseptic. Wash your hands with it, then help me do the same.” He skipped polite ‘pleases’ as he shifted into gear. “The calf started to turn but didn’t make it. I’m worried it’s in distress.”
“What does that mean?” I shuffled over to the bag.
“Cord could be wrapped around its neck. Body could get stuck in the birthing canal and kill them both. Uterine rupture. Infection. We have to try pushing the calf back in and then guiding the legs out.” Wade rattled off the options clinically; I wondered if he had to stay detached to keep from sobbing right now. Just the two possibilities made tears well in my eyes. “Get the antiseptic, Nelly.” He reminded me, and I realized I was frozen.
I felt fear pang inside me as I pulled open the top of the bag and rummaged around, finally finding a translucent bottle marked ‘antiseptic’. I pulled it out, positioning the long, strange nozzle near my left palm and squeezing with my right. The sharp smell of the solution burned my nostrils. It reminded me of the hospital I’d stayed in while learning how to walk again. It reminded me of the hospice wing of Serenity. It reminded me of goodbye. I hated the scent of it, but I pushed those thoughts away. This wasn't going to be another goodbye. We weren’t going to lose Dolly.
When I’d rubbed my hands together, the alcohol-sting of the wash fading, I squeezed the solution all over Wade’s hands. Hedistributed the liquid, then shook droplets that were taking too long to dry off his skin.
“There’s a tub of lubricant in there, grab it.”
I did so, finding the screw-top white container quickly. Opening it, I held it out to Wade. He rolled up his sleeves quickly and dipped his left hand, all the way to the base of his fingers, in the jelly substance. He didn’t hesitate for a second, coating his right arm up to the elbows. And then I watched, mesmerized and slightly horrified, as he carefully pushed his entire right arm inside Dolly to feel for the calf.
"The head’s coming first," he confirmed, face tight with concentration. “Come her, Nelly. Grab the towel and be ready to help pull.”
The weight of his words hit me. I'd never helped birth anything before. The closest I'd come was watching a nature documentary about elephants with Grandpa when I was maybe twelve. That scarred me enough that I’d insisted for years I’d never have kids.
"I don't... I've never..." My voice trailed off, but I grabbed the clean towel from the bag anyway, clutching it to my chest like armor.
"You can do this," Wade said, his eyes finding mine with unwavering confidence. "Just follow my lead."
Boone’s soft murmuring never faltered, his quiet, rich voice an undercurrent to Dolly's distressed lowing. I shuffled forward on my knees, getting into position beside Wade, the hay pricking through my jeans.
The closeness to Wade sent a jolt through me at first, but then his Alpha scent was so confident and calming that I found myself feeling steadier. I could do this.
"When the first slipper comes into view, I need you to get into position beside me with the towel. I’ll keep working until we’ve got some leg showing, then I want you to grab that first ankleand start tugging. I’ll focus on the inside, positioning the second leg which won’t be far behind," Wade instructed, his arm still inside Dolly, face tense with concentration. "The key is a steady, gentle pressure. Don’t yank or we’ll risk a dislocation, might even hurt Dolly."
I nodded, my hands trembling slightly as I readied myself. My heart hammered against my ribs. Less than a week ago, I'd been a city girl whose biggest concern was making rent and fending off pervert Alphas at the club. Now I was kneeling in hay, preparing to bring life into the world.
Dolly let out a low, pained sound as Wade slowly rocked back, his arm fractionally exiting her body. Boone's humming deepened in response, his massive hand stroking her neck with infinite tenderness.
A little hoof came into view and my heart beat so fast I thought it would escape my body. I stared in fascination as Wade continued coaxing the leg out.
"Now," Wade instructed, pushing his arm once again inside the cow to find the second leg and bring it outward.
I quickly wrapped the towel and my hands around the calf’s ankle. Together, Wade and I gently pulled. A thrill shot me through me as the second slipper appeared moments later. When Dolly began instinctively pushing, Wade and I worked with her instead of against her. After what felt like an eternity of controlled tugging and holding my breath until my lungs ached, the resistance gave way. There was a warm rush of fluid, then the quick release of the calf’s body. It slipped onto the hay in front of us, its coat dark and slick. Boone's voice lifted in what sounded like praise, still comforting Dolly. The cow, though obviously exhausted, tried to shift her body to see her baby
The calf lay motionless on the straw, impossibly fragile looking.
Wade immediately moved to clear fluid from the calf's nostrils and mouth. His movements were quick but gentle, wiping away the birth membrane with practiced efficiency. I sat back on my heels, feeling drained yet proud, my hands and arms stained with birth fluids. I couldn’t believe what I’d just done. This couldn’t be me, the worthless ballerina, doing something so important. Dolly was fine. And we’d saved her baby. I turned, joy spreading my lips into a smile.
But my heart sunk and the smile died when I saw Wade's concerned expression.
“What is it?” The question felt hollow as I said it, my mind already fearing the worst.
"The calf's not as responsive as I'd like," he said, running his hands over the tiny body. "There's some swelling in the head and tongue. Probably from being stuck in the birth canal too long."
