Riding Hard by Vicki Lewis Thompson Page A

you mention it.”
    “Same idea with a horse. Sometimes just lying there isn’t the best plan. When a mare’s in labor, it can feel better for her if she’s able to move around. Isn’t that right, Dottie?”
    The mare snorted.
    “I’ll take that as a yes. Need another lap?”
    Dottie paused by the stall door.
    “Up to you.” Drake smiled and stroked the mare’s neck.
    “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
    He glanced over at Tracy and blinked. “What makes you say that?”
    “You’re smiling, and you seem very relaxed and happy.”
    “That’s partly your doing, sweetheart. And I could say the same about you.”
    She blushed. “Point taken.”
    “But you’re right. I am enjoying myself, now that you mention it. Which is interesting, because lately I’ve been asking myself if I should continue being a vet.”
    “Why wouldn’t you want to be a vet? You’re obviously good at it.”
    “I’m a decent vet.” He continued to stroke and scratch Dottie’s neck. “Not as gifted as my buddy Regan, but decent.”
    What an interesting admission. She wondered if she could coax him to say more. “You must be excellent or he wouldn’t have left you in charge while he’s gone.”
    “I’m fine for backup. But Regan’s understanding of horses is exceptional. I admit I envy that ability.” He glanced at her. “I can see the wheels turning.”
    “So you’ll give up rather than compete with him?”
    “No, nothing like that. Or I hope that wouldn’t be my reason. And if you’re dying to ask if my jealousy had something to do with what happened last Christmas...”
    “It crossed my mind.”
    “The answer is yes, probably, to some extent. But it’s not that simple.”
    Tracy didn’t think so, either. She was about to ask another question when Dottie snorted even louder than before and stepped back into the stall.
    “I think it might be showtime.” Drake led her over to the bed of straw and unsnapped the lead rope. Dottie carefully dropped to her knees and rolled to her side. Then she rolled back and forth, groaning.
    “Is she okay?”
    “I’m sure it hurts, but this is normal.” Drake unsnapped his cuffs and folded back his sleeves before putting on clear plastic gloves. “Poor girl. Bet you’ll be glad when this is over.” He stood back and gave Dottie plenty of room as she continued to grunt and roll.
    Tracy hovered by the stall entrance. “Anything I can do?”
    “My usual plan is to let nature take its course. If nature flakes out on me, then I’ll move in and help things along. But for now, we let Dottie do her thing.”
    The mare finally stopped rolling and lay in the straw, her flanks heaving. Drake crouched down by her rump. He drew her tail aside and scooped away several handfuls of straw. “Here we go! Come on in here, Tracy. Get a better view.”
    She crept closer, heart pounding. Drake had done this countless times, so he probably wasn’t the least bit worried. But she was the one who’d agreed to take this pregnant mare, and she desperately wanted everything to go well. She was torn between fascination with the process and the urge to bury her head in her arms until it was all over.
    “See? Here come the forelegs.” Drake’s voice vibrated with excitement.
    “Feet first?”
    “If we’re lucky, and it looks as if we are.”
    Sure enough, two sticks that apparently were legs emerged covered in what looked like a greased, semitransparent garbage bag. Tracy held her breath.
    “There’s the nose. See it?”
    Tracy leaned closer as a blunt, somewhat head-shaped form followed the spindly legs. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Come on, Dottie. You’re doing great.”
    “She is. She’s pushing for all she’s worth, and...there...the body, the hind legs, and...we’re done!”
    “What about that slimy thing?”
    “We’ll see if Dottie wants to handle that part, too. The less interference from me, the better. Let’s give her a little more room.” Drake edged away a few feet