Within My Heart by Tamera Alexander Page A

you see to my heifer.” She gestured. “Her calf is coming, and I . . . I believe something’s very wrong.” She nodded toward Lady to emphasize her point, hoping Rand would follow her lead.
    He didn’t.
    She had no difficulty deciphering the look he gave her because it was one she gave often to Kurt when he made a suggestion she had absolutely no intention of following.
    Rand’s attention dropped to where she held her leg. He looked pointedly back up at her. Telling by the faint shadows beneath his eyes, he’d gotten little, if any, sleep since they’d last parted. “Mrs. Boyd, if you’re injured, my primary obligation, as you know, is to see to—”
    “Dr. Brookston.” She tried again, seeing the gray of his eyes darken. He wasn’t a man who took kindly to being interrupted. It wasn’t something she liked either. “This heifer and her calf are very important to me—to my ranch. My primary obligation, at the moment, is to them.”
    He looked as if he were about to say something. Then his gaze flickered to Mitch and he closed his mouth.
    Rachel could well imagine what his response might have been if they’d been alone. She’d gotten a tiny taste of this man’s forthrightness and wasn’t eager to repeat the experience, especially in front of her son. “Please, Doctor”—she summoned her most respectful tone—“I’m asking you to see to my heifer and her calf . . . while there’s still time.” A wave of weakness washed through her, and her fingers tightened on the rough wood. “Please,” she added, her voice a whisper.
    He stared for a long moment. Then with an almost imperceptible nod, Rand laid aside his medical bag, shed his coat and hat, and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He removed a large brown bottle from his satchel and proceeded to rub a clear ointment over his hands and forearms, then knelt beside Lady. With an ease that bespoke experience in working with animals, he wasted no time in his examination.
    Rachel had witnessed countless births in her lifetime—both of babies and livestock—but Mitchell hadn’t, and the boy’s attention was riveted to the doctor’s ministrations. Thomas had allowed the boys to attend a handful of births—after all, they were going to be ranchers like their father. But never had the animal giving birth been so special or loved, and Rachel found herself wondering if she’d made a mistake.
    Perhaps letting Mitchell watch this particular birth wasn’t such a good idea.
    “How long ago did her water break?” Rand asked, his hands moving in slow, arching circles over Lady’s distended abdomen. He pressed on her belly and Lady answered with a definitive kick, but his swift reflexes spared him a fate similar to Rachel’s.
    Seeing his reaction only worsened the ache in Rachel’s leg—and in her pride. “At least an hour and a half ago. She tried to stand up, but I managed to keep her down. It wasn’t easy.”
    Rand rose and rinsed his hands and arms in the barrel of icy water outside the stall, then dried them on a rag, saying nothing. Rachel studied his expression, reading no trace of disapproval in his features but sensing it all the same.
    Her gaze lowered, and she saw it—
    The jagged scar edging a path down the lower left side of his neck and disappearing beneath his open collar. She’d seen it before but never this close up and with his shirt collar unbuttoned. Judging by the length of the scar and the puckered skin, the wound had been deep, and whoever stitched it had not been gifted with the needle. Not like Rand Brookston was.
    His expression turned guarded, and realizing he’d caught her staring, she quickly looked away. Much like she’d caught him doing the previous evening. Well, turnabout was fair play, wasn’t it?
    “The calf is in a posterior-facing position, Mrs. Boyd. It needs to be turned.”
    She didn’t respond for a moment, the seriousness of the situation setting in. “But you can do that, can’t you? Turn the calf, I