A Family for the Farmer (8 page)

She
really
hated farming.

“Stay right here by the fence, you two,” she told the twins. “I'm going to check on the goat, and I'll be right back.”

“But I don't want to stay out here in the da-ark,” Phoebe sobbed.

Paul and Emily sighed in unison. Phoebe had probably cried more in the last twenty-four hours than she had in the last twenty-four days. Phoebe didn't handle change or stress very well. She never had. Emily was trying her best to be patient and supportive, but she had to admit that she was a little off her game at the moment.

The truth was, Emily didn't handle change or stress all that well, either.

“Give me your hand, Pheebs,” Paul was saying. “I'll hold it until Mama comes back out.”

Her sweet son was saving her bacon yet again. “Thanks, hon. I'll try not to be long.”

Swallowing hard, Emily picked up a flake of the hay from the wagon and tossed it over the fence to distract the other goats. Then she went through the gate, shaking the little flashlight and willing it to light.

It flickered on, and she pointed it into the doorway of the shed. It illuminated the eyes of a bloated-looking goat lying on its side in the hay, and the animal promptly bellowed and started struggling to get up.

“Switch that off. You're spooking her. They're not used to artificial lights, and it's best not to use them until you have to.” A masculine voice spoke from the corner of the dark shed, making Emily jump and drop the flashlight.

The impact caused the light to brighten, and the goat cried out again and thrashed her legs. Abel reached out from the shadows and grabbed the offending object. He switched it off, and the shed was plunged back into darkness.

For a few heart-pounding seconds, Emily could see nothing at all. Then as her eyes adjusted, she made out Abel leaning against one corner of the murky little building, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Waiting.”

She swallowed. “Waiting for what?”

“You, for one thing. You're running a little late with the goat feed, aren't you?”

Emily felt her hackles rising. “Sorry. I didn't figure the goats had any place to be.”

“Animals need to eat on a schedule. It stresses them out if they're late getting fed.”

Another thing she was doing wrong. Fine. He could add it to the list. The goat made another loud cry, and Emily's heart sank guiltily. “Is that what's wrong with her? Seriously? She's like that because I was an hour late feeding her?”

Abel's chuckle drifted through the darkness. “No. Cherry's the other thing I'm waiting on. I've been watching her for the past week, and I figured it was about her time, so I came by to check. She's going to kid.”

The goat was in labor. Well, that explained it. Emily cast her mind back to her summers at Goosefeather Farm, trying to remember what she could about the kidding process. Since goats usually had their babies in early spring, Emily had only seen a couple of births.

She did notice one strange thing about this one. “Why's she lying down? I thought goats usually gave birth standing up.”

“Most do. But Cherry's an older goat, and she tends to have some problems. That's why I've been keeping an eye on her. When I saw her this morning, I figured she was getting close. I've come over and checked on her a couple times.”

“But you didn't mention it to me.”

She heard Abel shifting in the crackling straw. “No. I didn't.”

Her nervousness and exhaustion solidified into annoyance. He was elbowing her aside again, just like he'd done in the barn and in the farmhouse kitchen. How could she take care of things she didn't even know about? “You should have written me a note about this goat, and I could have checked on her myself. And Bailey Quinn stopped by with a check and a long story about a deal she had with Grandma. I'd have appreciated a heads-up on that, too.”

The goat made another loud noise, which was echoed outside by a sob from Phoebe.

“Mama, I'm scared!”

“It's okay, sweetie!” Emily called out cheerfully. “Mr. Abel's here, and the goat's about to have a little baby!”

Abel shifted again in the corner, and suddenly a steady beam of light illuminated the shed. That figured. His flashlight was bigger than hers. And it worked.

“I thought you said no lights,” Emily said crabbily, and then felt a twinge of embarrassment. She sounded as whiny as Phoebe.

“Nope. I said it was best not to use them until you had to. Now we have to.” Abel carefully heaped up some straw, propping up the flashlight so that it shone on the goat's backside, where Emily could see a dark bubble protruding. Her heartbeat quickened as the goat made another pained noise, but Abel seemed completely calm. “Things are moving along fine. Why don't you get the twins in here? I doubt they've seen anything like this before.”

“You underestimate the powers of YouTube,” she replied drily, but she stuck her head out of the barn and called the children in. They came reluctantly, still holding hands, and their eyes widened at the scene that greeted them.

“Is that goat dying?” Paul asked solemnly.

“No,” Emily reassured him. “Like I said, it's the other way round. She's about to have a baby.”

“That's messy,” Phoebe pronounced, wrinkling her nose.

“Well, I can't argue with you there,” Abel said. “But lots of things that start out messy end up pretty good if you just hang in there. Watch and see.”

Emily half expected her daughter to refuse, but instead the little girl dropped her brother's hand and crept over to Abel's side. “Is that the baby?” she asked, pointing to the enlarging bubble.

“No, the baby's inside that sac. In a minute or two we should see hooves. They come first, then the nose.”

Phoebe mimicked Abel's position, crouching down beside him to peer intently at the goat's backside. The little girl was concentrating so hard that she leaned a little too far forward. She swayed precariously, and Abel put out an instinctive hand to steady her, his eyes never straying from the laboring goat. The little girl took hold of his muscled arm and held on, balancing herself.

Emily felt a warm pressure gently squeeze her heart. As annoying as Abel Whitlock could be, she had to admit he was good with the twins, even Phoebe, who wasn't an easy child to charm.

There was something rocklike about the man, a steadiness that seemed somehow quiet and safe and immovable. It was also frustrating if you happened to be the woman beating your head against it. A phrase from her grandmother's letter flitted through her mind.
Harder to move than a sack of bees.

“See?” Abel was saying. “Here he comes.”

Tiny yellowish hooves were now visible, and they could see a little brown snout resting peacefully on top of them.

“He looks like he's praying,” Paul said, edging closer.

“If he isn't he should be,” Abel answered with a chuckle. “This is a pretty important day for him.”

Emily watched guiltily as the big man spread a handful of clean straw over the birth area. She knew she should be in there handling all this, but she was so tired. If she had to navigate one more learning curve today, there was a very real possibility that she might start screaming and never stop.

She backed up a step and sagged against the planks of the shed wall, past caring about the dirt and potential spiders. Abel wanted to do this. Fine. She'd let him handle it, and hopefully she'd live to fight another long, dirty and exhausting day.

* * *

Abel's attention was focused on the laboring goat, but he was dimly aware that Emily had removed herself to a corner of the shed. She'd apparently decided to give in and let him deal with the birth without a fuss. That was a relief.

Cherry gave a strain, and suddenly the baby goat, still enclosed in his birth sac, slid out onto the clean straw. Abel sprang into action, quickly releasing the kid from the membrane and rubbing him hard with a towel he pulled from a sack in the corner. He flipped the bleating baby over and clamped the umbilical cord with a tiny plastic clamp. Sure enough, it was a little buck. He'd guessed as much when he'd first seen the baby's blocky head.

“Here.” He wrapped the wet kid in the towel and pushed him toward Phoebe. “Hold him still, sweetheart. I've got to put some medicine on him.”

He'd already figured out that Phoebe was the more squeamish of the two, but she had something of her mother's grit. After only an instant's hesitation, she put her hands gently around the slimy baby. “Why does he need medicine? Is he sick?”

“No, and we're going to keep it that way.” Quickly Abel measured iodine into the cap of the bottle and doused the umbilical stump with it. “All done now.” He gave the baby another quick toweling and then leaned forward and settled him next to his mother. Cherry sniffed him appreciatively and made a little chuckling noise deep in her throat.

“She likes him!” Phoebe sounded jubilant.

“Of course she does, silly. All mothers love their babies.”

Paul's innocent statement made Abel's heart tighten. He knew better, but he felt a rush of thankfulness that this solemn little boy didn't. He glanced up at Emily, who was standing with her arms crossed defensively just where the flashlight ebbed into dark.

He smiled at her, but her lips stayed stubbornly straight. She was still ticked.

“Well, looks like the show's over,” Emily said briskly. “We'd better give the other goats their feed and get back to the house. We've still got chores to finish, and as Mr. Abel pointed out, we're running late already.”

That comment of his had really rankled with her. This was not just a woman who liked to do things for herself; she also wanted to get everything right the first time. It was too bad he had to point out her mistake.

“Oh, I don't think the show's over quite yet.” Abel winked at Phoebe and Paul. “Goats generally have twins.”

“Twins! That's our favorite thing!” Phoebe clapped her hands gleefully and hunkered back down into position as the goat made a guttural noise and strained again. “Come on, Cherry! You can do it!”

Abel's heart expanded about two sizes as he looked at the little girl's excited face in the soft glow of the flashlight. He'd dealt with plenty of animal births since he started working with Miss Sadie, with all kinds of outcomes, but he'd never shared one with a child before. Seeing it all unfold through Phoebe's and Paul's eyes made the experience brand-new for him, too.

This must be what it was like to be a father, he realized. You got to see all the little things in life with fresh eyes.

He glanced back at Emily. She caught his eye and tilted up that infuriating chin. “There's really no point in both of us staying. I can handle the rest of this.”

His reprieve was over. This woman was as frustrating as shoveling mud. She pushed away help with both hands and planted her feet stubbornly right in the middle of trouble with a mixture of foolishness and bravado that worried his heart and stirred it all at the same time.

Yes, Emily Elliott was an unsettling woman, the kind of woman who could keep a man off balance for the rest of his life if he let her. He should be thankful she was only here for the summer.

Cherry shifted on the hay slightly and made an uncomfortable noise. It looked like that second twin was going to arrive pretty soon. Abel glanced from the goat to Emily's shadowed face, trying to feel out what to do. “I don't mind finishing up, and Cherry's used to me.”

“She'll have to get used to me sooner or later, and there's no time like the present.” Emily spoke lightly, but Abel could hear the steel beneath her words. “I really appreciate all your help, but I'll take it from here.”

This wasn't a good idea, but he had a feeling that even if he won this battle, he'd end up losing the war for sure. He sighed. “Let me take the barn flashlight then, and you keep this one. You'll need a good light.”

Emily made a noise as if she were going to argue, then stopped herself. “Thanks. I'll return yours as soon as I can.”

He nodded, cast one last worried look at Cherry and walked slowly out the door of the barn into the cool freshness of the night. The goats were milling around outside the barn as they tended to do when one of them was birthing, and they nuzzled against him as he went by. Abel caressed their soft noses, feeling guilty. They trusted him, and here he was leaving one of them when she needed help. That didn't sit well with him at all. He went out the gate, banging it a little harder than he normally would.

His insides were twisting around like a net full of snakes, and he didn't like the feeling one bit. If something went sideways with the twin, and with Cherry that was about as likely as not, Emily wouldn't have a clue what to do. Abel stood in the path for a moment, torn.

He heard a babble of excited voices coming from the little barn, and he felt a punch of disappointment. The twin must have been born, and he'd missed it. Worse than that, he'd also been cheated out of seeing the twins experience it. Funny how hard you could take missing out on something you didn't even know about half an hour ago.

“Mr. Abel!” Paul came barreling through the gate. “Come quick! Something's wrong, and Mama doesn't know what to do!”

Abel sprinted back into the barn to find Emily crouched down behind Cherry. She glared at him as he knelt beside her.

“I told Paul not to call you back. I can manage.”

Abel took one good look and shook his head. “Not this time. Like I said, Cherry tends to have problems. See that?” He pointed to where the second sac was bulging out.

“What?” Emily leaned farther into the circle of light. “It looks the same as the other one.”

“Look again.”

“No hooves,” Paul said softly. “Just a nose this time. That's why I called Mr. Abel.”