Confusion.
Perplexities of who she’d always been and goals she chased seemed to dim with every day spent on the ranch. New dreams and prospects flourished inside making her head spin, leaving her with more questions than answers.
One question in particular whispered to the far edges of her soul.
Am I losing myself or am I finding myself?
The ludicrous notion of filling the shoes of her father, a great man, overwhelmed her. The thought of leaving behind lifelong dreams and aspirations, were equally as terrifying. Yet, Ember believed life held no coincidences. She was meant to be at Walker Ranch.
Nothing came easy. Days were filled with intimidation and hard work. Routines that were uncomfortable in the beginning, now began to feel natural and in some ways instinctive. Ember found herself glimpsing into the future with a new mindset.
That inclination also included prospects of a relationship with Nash.
They’d been spending every weekend together as well as occasional weeknights. Their connection drew an undeniable energy from a new and heightened level of attraction, leaving her riding a cloud of bliss and pleasure mixed with a twist of sultry mischief. The man was anything but conventional or predictable, and completely different than anyone she’d dated previously.
Mr. Montgomery, though extra salty and perhaps even gruff at times, had become a mentor and her biggest champion. Though her lack of understanding and skills habitually triggered a deep crease between his brows, and his words were often limited to those of firm instructions, the approval that shone in the twinkle of his eyes brought a newfound warmth to her heart.
Each silently enjoyed forcing the other out of their comfort zones. Coaxing more than ten words out of the man became Ember’s secret objective and teaching her to shoot a firearm was his. The latter seemed to be the one thing that every man in her life agreed on, insisting she need lessons to protect livestock from coyotes and in rare instances mountain lions.
Watching Mr. Montgomery pick off tin cans with a pistol from fifty yards out in quick succession was like watching something out of an old western movie. Travis claimed her ability to handle a rifle while riding horseback was just as much for the horse’s sake as her own. His teaching came with a strict warning that the horse’s natural reaction was to throw the rider, but thankfully Storm was a pro and never flinched. And then there was Nash. Not to be outdone by Travis of course, he insisted on taking her to the gun range. Witnessing his stealth and precision was like watching a James Bond movie—and arm porn.
Though timid at first, after a few weeks of instruction, she could shoot the spines off a cactus. To her own surprise, it left her feeling energized and accomplished. Taking responsibility for her safety and that of the cattle caused a shift in her confidence on the ranch, and that brand of empowerment began to translate into her everyday life. A life she was beginning to love more than she’d ever anticipated.
A trail of dirt floating through the air in the distance captured Ember’s attention. Spotting Travis’s truck, she rose to her feet, rolled up her mat, and offered a casual wave as he neared the house. Veering off course, he slowed to a crawl pulling up alongside her under the tree.
Bent arm resting along the open window, he tipped the brim of his black hat. “Mornin’.”
“Hey, you’re out and about early this morning,” she replied, grasping to the last bit of relaxation clinging to her bones.
“Mr. Montgomery sent me up here to get you.”
“What’s going on?”
“It’s time for you to cowgirl up, Miss Thompson.” Challenge clung to his words and a lopsided grin ticked the corner of his lips.
The smile she was working on slid from her features. Ember swallowed the nerves bouncing in her throat. “Oh boy.”
“Not sure if it’s a boy or a girl, but we’ve got a heifer that’s ready to deliver.”
“Should we call the vet?”
“No ma’am, but you’re gonna get dirty so you might want to change your clothes.” Travis took a quick, but respectful, observation of her spandex leggings and crop top. “Make it fast though.”
“Sweet Jesus, he’s really going to make me deliver a baby?”
“It’s a calf not a baby. Besides, you’ve already survived Hell’s Front Porch, so I think you’ll be capable of delivering a calf.”
“I’m not sure which one of those things I should be more terrified of.” A swell of panic panged in her chest. “English please.”
“Weren’t you raised in this great state? Hell’s Front Porch is the season after summer.”
“Yes, but I didn’t take Cowboy Language 101 in high school,” Ember hollered over her shoulder darting toward the house. Travis’s rough laughter spindled through the air behind her.
Thirty minutes and fifty questions later, Ember attempted to remember the advice Travis rattled off on the drive to the barn. However, the glossary of foreign Texan verbiage was now lost to the sight of the messy backside of a very large heifer.
“I’m fixing to leave if y’all don’t stop bickerin’,” Mr. Montgomery warned. “She’s ready. Now, go easy on her. She’s a first-calf heifer so she doesn’t know what to do.”
“Go easy on her?” Eyes bulging wide, Ember’s nose wrinkled, and her voice rose a few octaves.
“This is nature at its finest. Don’t fret too much, the heifer does most of the work.” The cow’s spine arched as another contraction hit and her tail lifted upward. “Take your time. Just slip your hand in and grab hold of its hooves.”
Nerves zipped through her like a current zipping through electrical lines. Her heart pounded against her ribs. She’d never been squeamish, but it wasn’t as if she’d ever seen a baby born let alone an animal.
Horrified, Ember questioned, “Do you have any gloves?”
“What do you think this is? A vet’s office?” Mr. Montgomery crooned before handing her a pair of gloves that reached all the way up to her shoulders.
“Of all the things I thought I’d be doing in life this was not one of them.” Ember grimaced hard, features twisting into an awkward knot. She focused on Mr. Montgomery’s instructions and the task at hand instead of the sac of fluid hanging from the cow. Tentatively, she reached in to find the hoof. “Got it.”
Ember struggled for a few minutes until she had a good grip on both hooves with two hands. Between each contraction, she lost a little momentum, but managed to keep the tension. Travis assisted, circling a chain around the calf’s hooves, working together in unison not to regress. He remained at Ember’s side manipulating the delivery until they saw the head.
Sweat beaded on her upper lip as she huffed and puffed.
“Now, when she has another contraction, pull straight back. When she stops pushing, you stop pulling and take a break.”
The momma mooed and fidgeted. Bracing her feet for traction, Ember did as instructed, slowly but forcefully pulling on the chain with all her strength, tugging until the calf’s tongue and head unveiled themselves.
“Now, on the next couple of contractions, first try to walk its shoulders out one at a time. Once you get that far, pull hard and quick.”
“Okay,” she panted.