set his full weight against the chains. She grabbed the calf’s slippery hindquarters. Together they struggled to tug the sodden calf out of the steaming security of its mother’s body.
“Daddy! Oh, yuck, what are you doing?”
Startled, Kaycee hazarded a quick glance at the breathless little girl pushing long, sun-streaked hair out of her eyes and staring in disgust at the cow’s bloody side.
“Not now, Michele.”
“But, Daddy, you have to come in—”
“Not now,” Jon said in a sterner voice.
“But, Daddy, Rachel says—”
“Is Bo worse?”
“No, sir.”
“Is anybody hurt?”
“No, sir.”
“Is the house on fire?” Jon shot the questions at her in staccato succession, his voice choked from the effort to free the calf.
“No. But—”
“Then it can wait. Go back in the house.”
“Dad-dy.”
“Go!” Jon ordered, repositioning his weight, subtly changing the direction of the leverage.
“Good,” Kaycee said. “It’s coming. Just slow.”
The wide-eyed girl turned and ran. Kaycee concentrated on her work, but it worried her that the child had seemed frightened. Maybe it was just the shock of coming upon a cow with her belly slit and a calf hanging half out.
Jon made no further comment as he strained harder against the chains.
“We need somebody else to pull,” Kaycee said, her knuckles white as she gripped the slippery skin.
“I don’t have anybody else around right now,” Jon muttered between clenched teeth. “Stubborn little fellow.”
Kaycee dug her heels in, knowing her strength would fail soon. Stinging sweat trickled into her eyes. Jon braced a booted foot against a support post and widened his stance. Sweat streamed down his face, too, veins popped out in his neck and his hard thigh muscles swelled beneath his jeans as he grunted with the effort. The chains inched back, digging into his leather gloves.
The calf’s body shifted and the suction of the uterus gave way with a soft whoosh. The massive black calf squirted into Kaycee’s arms, its weight staggering her backward. Jon caught her against his chest. He reached around her, grasped the big calf by the hind legs and hauled it out of her grip, gently shaking it to clear the mucus.
“Take care of my heifer,” Jon said. “I’ll see to this one.”
Kaycee jerked her head toward one of her cases. “There’s a resuscitator in there. Looks like you might need it.”
Finding no postpartum problems, Kaycee cleaned and sutured the incision layer by layer. Behind her she heard Jon working feverishly with the calf, talking softly, urging it to live. All the while the mother stood patiently, her pain relieved by the anesthetic. She tried once or twice to look around for her calf, but the headgate restricted her. After a penicillin shot to waylay infection, Kaycee gathered her equipment.
She flicked a glance at Jon. He sat on the floor of the barn, his broad shoulders hunched over the black calf gathered in his arms like a child. He’d given up on the artificial resuscitator and was blowing his own breath into the calf, determined to force life into it. He jumped when Kaycee stooped beside him and put her hand on his shoulder.
“It’s too late. He was probably dead before we pulled him.”
“It’s not too late.” Jon blew another stubborn breath into the calf’s nostrils.
“Use the resuscitator.”
“Tried it,” Jon said between breaths. “This is better.”
Kaycee ran her fingers up and down the limp calf’s sides, encouraging circulation. Still the baby didn’t move. She watched Jon’s desperate attempt to infuse life where there wasn’t any.
“Jon,” Kaycee said. “It’s too—”
A tiny hoof quivered. Jon blew gently into the baby’s nose again. A shiver ran down the slick black body. Jon grinned. “Told you.”
Another five minutes of nurturing and the newborn was breathing without help. Gently Jon carried it to a box stall and laid it in the corner. He took off the soiled leather gloves and pulled his shirt collar over to wipe his mouth.
“I’ll milk the heifer and get a first meal down this little one,” he told Kaycee. “Then hope Mom takes over.”
While Jon coaxed colostrum from the heifer’s udder and made up a bottle, Kaycee removed the chains from the slender hind legs and laid them across the top of the stall door. Jon gave her the bottle to feed while he steadied the newborn calf. When the bottle was empty, he released the heifer into the stall.
“Maybe there’s enough afterbirth left for her to recognize her baby. Never should have happened this way, but looks like it turned out okay.”
“Looks like,” Kaycee said with a smile. “Really big calf, though. Over a hundred pounds, I’d guess.”
“Yep, felt that way. My fault, too. I should have had my mind on my business when I bred her, but I—” Jon stared at the confined heifer nosing her calf. “I just didn’t,” he said finally.
He studied Kaycee with eyes as deep blue as the Montana sky. His dark good looks overshadowed his somber, drawn expression. As tall as she was at five foot ten, she still had to look up to meet his gaze.
“You did a good job,” he said. “I’m impressed.”
“Thank you. I’m glad I could help.” Warmth spread through Kaycee’s midsection. Why did it thrill her that this particular rancher was pleased with her work? Before this, she’d only felt a satisfying triumph when she proved one more cowboy wrong about her.
They reached for the chains at the same time. Jon’s hand accidentally closed over hers. A frisson of electricity crackled through her body. He tightened his grip and lifted her hand off the chains, so he could pick them up.
“I guess we need to clean up,” he said, in a deep, low voice that resonated through her.
Kaycee cleared her throat and nodded. The barn was suddenly awfully close and overly warm.
“Urmmmm!”
Jon and Kaycee jerked apart at the sound of the accusatory grumble. A woman wearing a severely cut gray business suit glinted a hard look at them from a few feet away. No doubt they were a pretty sight, covered as they were with the drying remnants of new life.
Jon frowned at the newcomer. “Can I help you?”
Michele, along with another girl about her age
