Mexican woman with snapping black eyes and round, rosy cheeks. She was chopping onions at the counter. Tate was treated to a smile that revealed two rows of brilliant white teeth.
“Who have you brought to meet me, Señor Adam?” the woman asked.
“Maria, this is Tate Whitelaw. She’s going to be my new bookkeeper. Tate will be staying in the guest bedroom. Tate, I’d like you to meet my housekeeper, Maria Fuentes.”
“Buenos días, Maria,” Tate said.
“¡Habla usted español?” Maria asked.
“You’ve already heard all I know,” Tate said with a self-deprecating grin.
Maria turned to Adam and said in Spanish, “She is very pretty, this one. And very young. Perhaps you would wish me to be her dueña.”
Adam flushed and answered in Spanish, “I’m well aware of her age, Maria. She doesn’t need a chaperon around me.”
The Mexican woman arched a disbelieving brow. Again in Spanish she said, “You are a man, Señor Adam. And her eyes, they smile at you. It would be hard for any man to refuse such an invitation. No?”
“No!” Adam retorted. Then added in Spanish, “I mean, no I wouldn’t take advantage of her. She has no idea what she’s saying with her eyes.”
Maria’s disbelieving brow arched higher. “If you say so, Señor Adam.”
Tate had been trying to follow the Spanish conversation, but the only words she recognized were “Maria,” “chaperon,” “Señor Adam” and “No.” The look on Maria’s face made it clear she disapproved of the fact Tate would be living in the house alone with Adam. Well, she didn’t need a chaperon any more than she needed a keeper. She could take care of herself.
Fortunately, it wasn’t necessary for her to interrupt the conversation. A knock at the kitchen door did it for her. The door opened before anyone could answer it, and a young cowhand stuck his head inside. He had brown eyes and auburn hair and a face so tanned it looked like rawhide.
“Adam? You’re needed in the barn to take a look at that mare, Break of Day. She’s having some trouble foaling.”
“Sure. I’ll be there in a minute, Buck.”
Instead of leaving, the cowhand stood where he was, his eyes glued on the vision in a peasant blouse and skin-tight jeans standing in Adam’s kitchen. He stepped inside the door, slipped his hat off his head, and said, “Name’s Buck, ma’am.”
Tate smiled and held out her hand. “Tate Wh—atly.”
The cowboy shook her hand and then stood there foolishly grinning at her.
Adam groaned inwardly. This was a complication he should have foreseen, but hadn’t. Tate was bound to charm every cowhand on the place. He quickly crossed past her and put a hand on Buck’s shoulder to urge him out the door. “Let’s go.”
“Can I come with you?” Tate asked.
Before Adam could say no, Buck spoke up.
“Why sure, ma’am,” the cowboy said. “Be glad to have you along.”
There wasn’t much Adam could say except, “You can come. But stay out of the way.”
“What kind of trouble is the mare having?” Adam asked as they crossed the short distance to the barn, Tate following on their heels.
“She’s down and her breathing’s labored,” Buck said.
Tate saw as soon as they entered the stall that the mare was indeed in trouble. Her features were grim as she settled onto the straw beside the mare’s head. “There now, pretty lady. I know it’s hard. Just relax, you pretty lady, and everything will be all right.”
Adam and Buck exchanged a look of surprise and approval at the calm, matter-of-fact way Tate had insinuated herself with the mare. The mare lifted her head and whickered in response to the sound of Tate’s voice. Then she lay back down and a long, low groan escaped her.
Tate held the mare’s head while Adam examined her. “It’s twins.”
“Why that’s wonderful!” Tate exclaimed.
“One of them’s turned wrong, blocking the birth canal.” In fact, there was one hoof from each of the twins showing.
“Surely your vet can deliver them!”
Adam’s features were somber as he answered, “He’s out of town at his daughter’s wedding.” Adam couldn’t imagine a way to save either foal, entangled as they were.
Tate’s excitement vanished to be replaced with foreboding. She had encountered this problem once before, and the result had come close to being disastrous. Garth had managed to save the mare and both foals, but it had been a very near thing.
“I’ll have to take one foal to save the other,” Adam said in a flat voice.
“You mean, destroy it?” Tate asked. She couldn’t bring herself to say “dismember it” though that was what Adam was suggesting.
“There’s nothing else I can do.” Adam turned to the cowboy and said, “Buck, see if you can find me some rope.”
Tate stroked the mare’s neck, trying to keep the animal calm. She looked up and saw the dread in Adam’s eyes. It was never easy to make such decisions, yet they were a constant part of ranch life.
She was hesitant to interfere, but there was the tiniest chance the second foal could be saved. “My brother Garth went through this not too long ago. He was able to save both foals by—”
Buck arrived and interrupted with, “Here’s the rope, Adam. Do you need my help?”
“I’m not sure. I’d appreciate it if you’d stay.”
Buck propped a foot on the edge of the stall and leaned his arms across the top rail to watch as Adam knelt beside the mare and began to fashion a noose with the rope.
Adam paused and glanced over at Tate. She was gnawing on her lower lip again while she smoothed her hand over the mare’s sleek neck.
Adam found himself saying, “If you know something that can be done to save both foals, I’m willing to give it a try.”
He watched Tate’s whole face light up.
“Yes! Yes, I do.” She quickly explained how Garth had repositioned the foals.
“I’m not sure I—”
“You can do it!” Tate encouraged. “I know you can!”
Her glowing look made him think he might be able to move mountains. As for saving two spindly foals…It was at least worth a try.
A half hour later, sweat had made damp patches under the arms and down the back of Adam’s chambray shirt. He had paused in what he was doing long enough to tie a navy blue bandanna around his forehead to keep the
