Serendipity (Southern Comfort) (19 page)

Damn horse farmer. 

On a low cry, a Great Egret unfurled like a sail above a small pond alongside the drive. Jordan watched it cut through the beam of his headlights, until what he thought of as Tara came into view.  All columned porticos and white painted brick, the house sat like an overindulged southern belle with the emerald jewel of marsh spread at her feet. 

“Turn in here.” Ava indicated a fork in the drive which veered off toward a long, metal-roofed stable.

Jordan pulled in beside a black Ford F-250, hitched to a silver horse trailer bearing the name of the farm in fancy script.  A pool of golden light illuminated the stable’s open door, a kamikaze formation of insects playing their deadly game with the overhanging lantern.

“Thanks.” Ava grabbed her doctor bag and offered Jordan a distracted smile.  “I appreciate the ride.”  She moved to buss his cheek but he cagily shifted. “Jordan –” 

Ignoring the protest, he met her lips, took the kiss deep.

And deeper.

“Mmm.”   He pulled back, noting her dazed look with satisfaction.  “I’ll walk you in. I want to check out the horse that beat me out.”

It smelled of hay, Jordan thought as they entered the barn.  Hay, with a faint wash of leather.  They passed empty stalls, a tack room neatly lined with shiny bridles and saddles of all kinds.  And veered around the corner, to what Ava referred to as the foaling stall.

The mare, an elegant sorrel that Ava told him went by Josephine, was pacing erratically, and blew heavily when they approached.  Two men leaned over the half wall watching the nervous creature– one grizzled, lined and so brown that he put Jordan in mind of a human walnut, the other tall, lean and what Jordan thought of as sun-gilded.  Streaky blond hair.  Perfect, golden tan.

The man basically glowed all over when he turned, caught sight of Ava. 

Dimming, Jordan noted, when he saw that she wasn’t alone.

“Ava.”   The warmth in the voice spoke of familiarity.  “I’m so glad you came.  We, uh wrapped her tail, like you said.  Washed her udder, her hindquarters with mild soap.  The stall’s been scrubbed, disinfected, clean bedding installed.  Hell, it’s clean as my mama’s kitchen.”

“Your mother’s obviously an admirable housekeeper.”  Ava slipped a band off her wrist, bundling her hair into a kind of knot before opening the door to the stall.  Murmuring unintelligibly, she approached the wide-eyed, tail-switching creature with what Jordan thought of as one part caution and three parts balls.  Laboring female or not, that horse was damn big.  But Ava stood, boots firmly planted, and ran her hand over the animal’s flank.  “You’ve done everything right.  Foaling rails in the stall should keep her off the walls, out of the corners, so that the foal has plenty of room to come out.”  She inspected the wrap, and the animal’s… well, genitals, Jordan guessed.  And felt oddly embarrassed to watch.

“Tailhead’s become more prominent, pelvic girdle’s relaxed, so we’re moving right along.  Josephine is clean, well-fed and cared for, and I’ve boosted her vaccines myself.  She’s healthy, and happy, as far as it goes.”  With that, she stroked the mare’s head, gave Bailey a brilliant smile.  “She’ll give you a beautiful foal, Sam.”

  “After three hundred and forty days of anxiety on my part, I can tell you that’ll be a pure relief.”  The warmth in his tone edged to nerves when the horse moaned.   “Is there anything we need to do for her?”

“Not unless she suffers any complications,” Ava said with another smile.  “She’s still in the first stage of labor, but even after that moves to visible contractions and the foal begins the final descent through the birth canal, we’re pretty much here to offer moral support while nature takes its course.  In fact, she’ll probably progress more easily the less we try to interfere.  No female really likes an audience when she’s laboring.”

The mare blew through her nose as Ava stepped out of the stall to join the men. 

“I guess this is sort of what it feels like to be an expectant father,” Sam said with a rueful grin.  “Excited and helpless and… hell, almost guilty.”  At that, Josephine jerked her sweaty head.  “I know girl.  This is all my fault.”

“That comment lends itself to some very interesting interpretations,” Jordan remarked dryly.

Sam’s gaze slid to where Jordan stood, and Ava said “Oh.”

Realizing she’d all but forgotten him didn’t make Jordan feel any more kindly toward the farmer.

“Sam, Carl, this is Jordan Wellington.  He gave me a ride because my car’s still at the clinic.”

They exchanged pleasantries, Sam moving away from the stall to shake Jordan’s hand, and more, take his measure.  Keeping his eyes on Jordan, he called over his shoulder. “There a problem with your car, Ava?”

Jordan lifted a brow.  If you were familiar with human nature – and Jordan was – there was a whole lot of subtext to that question.

Ava, caught up in conversation with Carl, didn’t seem to notice.  “Oh, uh, flat tire.”

Sam stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.   Rocked back on the heels of well-worn cowboy boots.

Squinted like Dirty Harry.

“So.  You a client of Ava’s?”

Jordan stuffed his own hands into his pockets. He was enough of an angler himself to recognize a fishing expedition when he saw one. 

And because he’d had a crappy day, and a frustrating, if exciting night, he figured it just might be interesting to tug this guy’s line.  “Among other things.”

Sam glanced back at Ava, then tried to set the hook.  “So have you been… using her services long?”

“A little less than a week, actually.”

Sam nodded with satisfaction, as if he’d reeled in a keeper. “Not long, then.  She’s been treating my horses for the better part of a year.”  And it was abundantly clear to Jordan that the man had had his sights set on Ava for the same length of time.

Jordan eyed Sam levelly.  Decided to break the line.  “Is that so?  Guess us city boys move a little faster.”

Irritation spiked, but before the other man could offer a retort, the mare let out a soft whinny.

“You’re doing fine,” Ava soothed when the animal paced past the stall door. 

Both men’s eyes flicked toward the females, then just as quickly snapped back.

“You look familiar,” Sam said after another moment of blatant scrutiny.  “Have you been on TV recently?”

“Not unless it was As the Courtroom Turns,” Ava called over her shoulder.  “Jordan’s an assistant district attorney.”

“That’s right.” Sam snapped his fingers, memory kicking in.  “I saw the press conference you gave a couple of weeks ago about that serial killer.  What’s his name?”

“Elijah Fuller,” Jordan replied, and felt another hook in his mouth that had nothing to do with Ava.

“Are you prosecuting that case?” Ava’s dark gaze swung back toward Jordan.   

“I’m lead counsel, yes.”  It was true, but what he didn’t say was that if it were up to him, there wouldn’t be a case left to try.

“A terrible thing, that.” Carl leaned against the stall, wizened face set in lines of disgust.  “All those innocent women.  I sure hope you’re going to send that fella up the river.”

Uncomfortably aware that all eyes in the barn aside from the horse’s were focused in on him, Jordan firmed his jaw.  “I’m going to do my best to see that justice is done.”

Something about the way her gaze narrowed told Jordan that Ava hadn’t forgotten what he’d said the night before.  That despite the best intentions of the law, it didn’t always go hand in hand with justice.  But as the mare moaned again, she returned her focus to more immediate concerns.  “There’s no need for you to stay any longer, Jordan.  Like I said, I’m not sure how long this is going to take.  This first stage can last anywhere from two to twenty-four hours.  I’m sure Sam or Carl wouldn’t mind giving me a ride home.”

Over his cold, lifeless body.   “I’m sure you’re right,” he agreed.  “But if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to stick.  It’s not every day you get to witness the miracle of birth.” 

Obviously caught between manners and the desire to boot his competition out the door, Sam chewed the inside of his cheek.  “Well.”  Graciousness – barely – winning out, he turned over an empty five gallon feed bucket and gestured unhappily toward Jordan.  “You might as well have a seat.  It’s likely to be a while.” 

It took the better part of two hours.  After the sac ruptured, which Jordan couldn’t help but compare to the popping of a truly enormous, but far more disgusting, water balloon, the contractions became visible.  You could literally see the animal’s uterus tightening in an effort to push the baby inside of her out.  All three men winced when Ava explained that Josephine had entered the active phase of the birth, and they should soon see the presentation of the foal’s feet, easing the way for its head and shoulders to make their passage through the bony pelvis.

“Thank God I got a Y chromosome,” Carl muttered, and had Jordan suppressing a grin.

“Shouldn’t she be lying down?”  Sam asked after a nerve-wracking ten minutes.  He paced, ran his hands through his hair, and then stuffed them into his back pockets.  “Everything I read indicates she’s supposed to be lying down.”

“Most mares do,” Ava agreed, easing closer to the stall to check the mare’s progress.  “Some insist on standing.  Seems Josephine’s independent-minded, and is going to do this her own way.  You’ll need to hold her.”  She motioned Sam and Carl forward, and pulled some rubber gloves out of her bag.  “So she doesn’t move around.  I’m going to catch the foal.”

Catch the foal, Jordan thought with amazement.

And then he watched her do just that.

“Is it stuck?”  Sam fretted after the spindly legs emerged and nothing followed for several minutes.

“It’s okay.  It’s great.  Josephine’s just taking a minute to rest.”

Jordan was overwhelmed by the fearless, competent way Ava helped the baby into the world.  The blood that came with new life streaked her arms as first a head and finally a small brownish body emerged from its panting mother. 

When the foal slithered free, sloppy and wet, Jordan’s momentary disgust was replaced with sheer wonder.  Here was life at its very start.  New.  Unsullied.  Bursting with possibility. 

The baby began to struggle as Ava lowered it gently to the hay.  “You’ve got a fine looking colt here, Sam.” 

“Hot damn.  It’s a boy.  You’ve got a son, Josephine.” 

Sam came around to get a look at the foal, and Ava explained that they needed to wait at least ten minutes before cutting the umbilical cord.  Carl held the mare, who was actively trying to turn around and see her newborn, until Ava had made the cut, and dipped the stump in antibiotic. 

“She’s getting fractious,” Carl warned.

“Mother’s instinct.  We should step back, let them get acquainted.”

“Congratulations,” Jordan said as they filed out, and caught up in the moment, Sam even shook Jordan’s hand.

“Hell of a thing.” The other man shook his head in wonder.  When he looked back toward the stall, Jordan caught the sheen of tears, and resigned himself to tolerating the man.  It was pretty hard to drum up an active dislike for someone who cried at his first horse birth.

Provided, of course, that man kept a safe, professional distance from Ava.

After the mare had a chance to clean the foal and Ava had dealt with the placenta, she made use of the tack room sink.  “He should be trying to stand soon,” she commented to Bailey as she lathered soap up to her elbows.  “He doesn’t show signs of it within four hours, you give me another call.  But I think you’ve got a strong, healthy mother and foal.  Shouldn’t give you any problems.”

Accepting the towel the man held out, she choked out a laugh as he caught her in a hug.

“Thank you.”  And casting Jordan a glance, he dropped a kiss on her surprised cheek.  Were Jordan a betting man, he’d put money on that kiss landing on her lips if Jordan hadn’t been in the room.

“My pleasure, Sam.  Best part of the job.”

Once they were on the road and she started to come down off of the inevitable high, Jordan could see the exhaustion pressing her into the seat. Tendrils of hair slipped out of the knot in messy, curling ribbons and Jordan could swear he heard her jaw crack from the force of her yawn.

“Thanks again.” Weariness dragged at the words like tin cans tied behind a car.   “You really didn’t have to stay.”

“It was amazing,” he admitted.   And then thought of the blood.  The other stuff he didn’t have a name for, and truthfully didn’t care to. “A little gross at times, but amazing nonetheless.”

“You handled it well.” A thread of amusement tied up most of the cans, and had her words bouncing out like balls.  “I was worried it was going to be a high price for you to pay just to assert your jurisdiction.”

“My jurisdiction?”

“Uh-huh.  You know, the whole marking your territory thing you were doing with Sam.”

Jordan winced before he could stop himself.  “You noticed that, huh?”

Ava’s chest rumbled with a sleepy chuckle.  “As you said earlier tonight, ‘I’m not stupid, nor am I blind.’  I was a little surprised you didn’t come over and pee on me.”

“I’ve been potty trained since I was three,” Jordan said with a chastised laugh.  “And besides, I’m pretty sure Mr. Bailey got the message without my resorting to urination.”