The Rancher's Surrender Read online

  Delia had suggested they utilize their manager—namely Ty—and let him take over the technical aspect of the ranch, but Zoe didn't want to lean on him. She didn't want to lean on anyone.

  But if she let her stubbornness have rein, she was going to lead them all to bankruptcy. She couldn't be that stupid, or selfish. The stress of it had started to keep her awake. She was hurting both Delia and Maddie with her hard head.

  It had to stop. She spent Saturday dwelling on it.

  Sunday morning she woke up and without thinking about it, because then she might change her mind, she hopped into one of the old trucks and drove the short distance to Ty's house. The most difficult part of the ride was craning her neck to catch the view. It was limited only by the horizon. It was impossible not to be touched by the spectacular scenery as she bounced along on the rough excuse for a road. The land was rugged, untamed.

  Serenity and serendipity, she thought. Both abounded here. Still, the closer she got, the more nerves danced in her belly. She hadn't been to Ty's house before, so she shouldn't have been surprised at the lovely, one-story ranch-style home, which was obviously well-cared for. The windows opened to the early sun, and flowers grew in a series of pots on the wraparound porch.

  Flowers?

  Frowning, Zoe hopped out of the truck, then didn't move as she digested the fact she was staring at yet another layer of the mysterious Ty Jackson.

  She was here for a purpose, she reminded herself. And nothing would detract her from that purpose: no bickering, no teasing, and most definitely no kissing.

  He didn't answer her knock.

  Deflated, Zoe turned around, taking in the property. It was much smaller than theirs, and every bit of it looked to be wisely used. There were pastures, each occupied with horses. The barn was red against the green forest behind it. The river cut close here, splashing even more color. It was such a perfect day she almost expected the colors to run together.

  Then she heard sounds coming from the barn, strange sounds that were almost like loud groans … as if an animal were in horrible pain. She walked down the path and toward the building, slowing when the unusual noises became louder, then louder still.

  It sounded like a horse in great pain, and when that horse screamed, a spine-tingling, ear-splitting whinny, Zoe started running. She burst into the barn, and when she did, someone let out a shout.

  She recognized that shout—it was Ty's—and Zoe's heart stopped. Blinking uselessly in the dim barn, Zoe was forced to waste precious seconds as her eyes became adjusted.

  "Zoe," Ty barked while she was still struggling to see. "Come here!"

  She could make out the shadows in the stall now. A horse down on its side, its flanks rising and falling rapidly as the animal grunted and breathed as though she'd been running a race.

  It was Abby, the pregnant mare.

  Ty was on his knees behind her, face tense with strain. His shirt was plastered to him, covered in muck that Zoe didn't want to think about.

  Immediately she realized the problem—the horse was in labor, and given Ty's face, she was not doing well. Just days ago she'd melted at the thought of a new foal, but being here, in the midst of the controlled chaos, watching Abby writhe in pain, was another thing entirely.

  Suddenly she was sorry she'd followed the sounds.

  When she didn't move, Ty swore and lifted his head, piercing her with his intense gaze. "You're going to have to help."

  "Me?" The word came out like a squeak. As a true city girl, she'd never even seen a dog have puppies. The thought suddenly made her feel light-headed. "Are you alone?" she asked in horror.

  "Not anymore." He nodded curtly to the other end of the stall. "Hold her head still and talk to her when the next contraction comes. She's getting too tired to push, so I'm going to have to help."

  "Oh God." She could see blood on the floor, in the straw beneath the whimpering horse, and on Ty. Her own blood roared in her ears. Her stomach did somersaults.

  "Zoe."

  She looked up at the low, terse command. Ty's eyes were lined with strain and determination. "I've had Abby since she was born. I'm not going to lose her now, dammit, because you're squeamish. If you're going to faint or throw up, then get the hell out."

  "I'll be fine."

  "This is ranch life," he told her harshly when she flinched at the strong smell of blood and sweat and birth. "This is life, period. And it's now a part of your life."

  She got the picture. If she couldn't do this, she had no business being in ranching. But she resented him for pointing it out and resented even more his doubting her, when she had enough of her own.

  The horse whinnied again, weaker now, her eyes rolling back in her head.

  "Not much longer," he crooned softly. Abby immediately responded to his gentle voice, but she was still suffering, and it no longer mattered that she wasn't human— Zoe's body ached in sympathy.

  She tried to imagine her own mother giving birth. Had she suffered? Cried? Rejoiced?

  Zoe had no way of knowing and no one to ask, and the injustice of that was hard to take. Had she been a good baby or a sickly one?

  Had she been loved?

  "Zoe, touch her."

  She did, whispering soft, inane words of encouragement as she fought emotions she didn't know she had. Time passed, could have been a moment, maybe an hour, but Zoe was so attuned to Abby and her pain it didn't matter. Abby's struggle became her own, so that when Abby made a horrible straining cry, so did Zoe.

  Ty's jaw tightened, his hands spread wide on the horse's belly. The muscles in his shoulder and back rippled through the cloth of his T-shirt as he moved over the horse. "Another contraction," he clipped, his hands smoothing over Abby's bulging belly. Then they disappeared and Zoe held her breath as he checked the foal's position.

  "Come on, baby, come on. Help me," he muttered, sweat beaded on his forehead. His face was tight with worry and fear, his voice perfectly calm as he let Abby know how much he cared in every breath he took.

  What would it be like to have a man like that on his knees, desperate to relieve her pain? To have him care for her above all else?

  "Talk to her, dammit," came Ty's low command.

  Zoe, stroking Abby's face gently, did just that while the horse strained and pushed. "You can do this," she whispered, wondering if Abby really could. "I know it's awful, but women go through this all the time. Of course human babies don't have four legs and weigh … how much does a foal weigh, I wonder?"

  Abby quivered and Zoe's heart constricted. She stroked some more and whispered more silly comments, anything to help calm her down. "You know what I wish? That the stallion that did this to you had to deliver the baby. Now, that would be justice."

  "It's coming," Ty called. "Come on, Abby, you can do it."

  Abby lifted her head and screamed—and it sounded so real, so utterly human, and so full of suffering, Zoe's throat closed. Her heart tightened in her chest. "Oh God," she whispered. "Oh God. Abby, honey, hang on, it'll be over soon! Ty is doing everything he can."

  Abby screamed again, shivered once, then fell so still Zoe shot up to her knees. "Ty?" she cried, desperately afraid for the horse. "Ty!"

  His wide shoulders were hunched over Abby, his face contorted into a grimace born of fear and stress. Sweat ran down his face. "I've got a hoof!"

  A hoof? Just one? Zoe groaned and sat back down, leaning close to Abby. "Come on, Abby, almost there. Push. Do it for me. Do it for Ty."

  Then suddenly Ty was shouting with triumph, his face split into a grin as he quickly helped clear the mucus and birth sac from the foal. He rose over Abby to see Zoe. "He's perfect!"

  Abby lifted her head, saw her baby sprawled out wet and shivering, half in Ty's lap and half between her back legs, and struggled to get up.

  "Let her," Ty said quietly when Zoe tried to hold her back. "She has to get to him."

  Abby managed, though it was painful to watch her as she was so shaky. She whinnied softly, and the baby l