Her Unexpected Cowboy (Unforgettable Cowboys Book 1) Page 6

  “Peaceful, huh?”

  “Not necessarily quiet, but peaceful.”

  He watched her silently, and when she didn’t continue, he asked, “What were your aunt and uncle like?”

  “Peaceful.” She sighed. “They always spoke kindly to and about each other. Their eyes sparkled of love when they retold stories of their younger years. Ranch life is hard work, but they never complained, never got down on one another for not doing enough.”

  “Sounds like good people.”

  “Yeah, they were.” Her eyes strayed to the photo before remembering it had fallen.

  Jameson ground his teeth.

  Poor guy was too hard on himself. To distract him, and herself, she picked up the meat and walked out to the porch to start up the barbeque.

  “You grill, too?” he asked as he followed her.

  “Well, if I want it, I have to do it, ya know.”

  He sat in a chair and leaned the back against the house.

  “Uncle Joe always sat there. We came out here every evening after dinner. As a kid, he would play, What can you hear? with me. I learned to recognize the difference between a coyote and a wolf howl. Here on this porch I heard my first grunt of a bear, call of an owl, cry of a fox, and so much more.” She let her eyes scan the darkening sky, noticing billowy, forbidding clouds rolling in. “It’s amazing how alive this place becomes at night.”

  The wind whipped up, blowing the loose strands of her hair around. The breeze held the promise of rain, a smell like no other.

  “Storm’s coming,” she said as she plopped the steaks on the grill.

  “You a weather forecaster too.”

  “No, smart-aleck.” She pointed at the clouds quickly building in and blocking the light left in the sky. “Look for yourself.”

  “I know. Just teasing.”

  “The kids will come tonight.”

  “You have kids?” He shifted to the edge of the seat.

  “No. Pearl and Josie, they will have their babies tonight.”

  He scratched his chin and shook his head. “A weather forecaster, a griller, and premonitions, now just whose house did I land at?”

  “No premonition.” She shrugged. “Experience.”

  “Storms mean baby goats?” he asked jokingly.

  “When they are this close, yeah. Don’t ask me why. It’s just how it is.” She flipped the steaks. “We should get to bed early. Once they go into labor there won’t be much sleep being had.”

  His face paled slightly, but he didn’t argue with her.

  ~*~

  Jameson walked the perimeter of the main part of the property. Sydney had sent him off to bed, but he knew he wouldn’t have been able to fall asleep yet. He couldn’t tell if he was excited or nervous about the thought of helping to birth baby goats. He had no idea where he came from, but this did not feel normal.

  However, roaming out here in the dark searching for danger, did feel natural and comfortably normal.

  He froze as movement shifted in the brush ahead of him. His breath slowed even as his heart rate sped up. Every part of him became alive and alert. When a long-eared rabbit hopped from behind the bush, Jameson smiled. The rabbit twitched its nose and loped off into the woods as the sky lit up for a split second.

  Thunder crashed in the distance. Looks like the weather forecaster was right. He ambled past the house on the way to the barn. The bathroom light turned off and a few seconds later the bedroom light turned on. He paused beside a tree, unable to move as he saw her shadow moving.

  She seemed so vulnerable, living out here on her own, at the mercy of nature and man. Yet, he smiled as he remembered how she had greeted him. She wasn’t as vulnerable as most would suspect.

  Before he couldn’t, he pushed away from the tree and made his way to the barn. Wouldn’t it be funny if in his old life he lived a ritzy existence and now he slept in a barn? It was only temporary, but where would he be without it?

  He petted the bleating goats on his way to the last stall. In his straw bed he stretched out, feeling like he lived a dream he would soon wake from to a harsh reality that awaited him.

  ~*~

  Sydney couldn’t sleep, again. Every time her mind traveled to Jameson, she redirected it towards sleep. Birthing kids on no sleep was no good. Especially because she expected both goats carried twins. More complications can happen in twin births.

  Her will must have worked because she slept hard, so hard that she didn’t wake up until a light touch on her shoulder and someone calling her name jarred her awake.

  “Syd, Sydney.” Jameson shook her a little, his voice frantic.

  Sleep kept trying to pull her back in while she pondered why Jameson was in her room. Wait! Jameson was in her room! Adrenaline spiked through her.

  “What!?” She sat upright and pulled the blankets to cover the thin tank top she slept in.

  “I don’t know what to do! They sound like they’re dying!”

  “Oh, the goats.” She plopped back against her pillow, a wash of relief soothing the prickles that had shot through her. “How long?”

  “Hour or so?” He shifted his weight back and forth.

  “There’s several more to go.” She stole a glance at him as he remained standing there watching her, shadows increasing his look of bewilderment. “Okay, okay, I’ll get up.”

  A held breath escaped him, but he just took a step back and continued watching. His wet shirt clung to him and his hat dripped in a slow, steady rhythm.

  “Uh, do you mind?” She nodded towards the door.

  “Oh, yeah.” His voice sounded flushed, like if the lights had been on, Sydney thought she would have seen a blush covering his dark, stubbled cheeks.

  Once she heard him pacing in the living room, she quickly threw on some clothes. She made a mental list of everything she would need: warm water, rags, and gloves.

  “Is this really normal?” Jameson asked as soon as she made it to the living room.

  Pearl and Josie’s desperate bleats carried on the whipping wind. She looked at Jameson. His rain-soaked hair and shirt clung to him and goosebumps rose on his bare barrel-like arms.

  “Yes, giving birth is not easy nor pain-free.” She grabbed her coat and Uncle Joe’s, which hadn’t left the hanger for two years. Dust floated off it as she shook it out and handed it to Jameson. “I hope it fits.”

  He slipped it on, and though snug across the shoulders, it would do for now. He looked to the barn and back to her again. “What can I do?”

  ~*~

  Jameson’s eyes frantically shifted from each of the birthing goats to Syd and back to the goats. An unnerving, anxious shaking had begun in him the moment they first woke him up with their frantic bleating. His bewilderment only grew as Sydney reacted calmly, almost slowly. He felt like an impatient kid running circles around her, trying to rush her in any way possible.

  Why was she moving so slowly? He knew she just woke up, but babies were coming!

  He followed her instructions as she told him how to set up for the births. They ended up putting the mothers in the same pens so they could easily access both. The goats bleated, sticking their tongues way out and stretching their necks around like they didn’t know what was going on back there.

  Jameson couldn’t handle the fact that they were in pain and he couldn’t do anything about it. He paced back and forth, occasionally stopping to rub Josie’s and Pearl’s head. It’s not like he knew these animals well, but they had been bunk mates for the past few nights. For some reason though, he felt pulled to them.

  The storm picked up outside, the rain battering down on the metal roof making it almost too loud to hear the goats’ grunts. Guardian lifted his head as if to make sure the sound still came from the storm, then he rolled over on his side with a huff. Even he acted like nothing was happening.

  “It’s going to be awhile. You might as well relax.” Sydney sat in the far corner, leaned her head against the wall, and closed her eyes.

  “R
elax?” The whole thing seemed absurd. Who could relax while Josie and Pearl continued to labor and bleat?

  Wind blasted outside, sending rain splattering against the walls of the barn. The storm grew in force. He looked up towards the risers, wondering if the old barn would hold. The metal roof created so much racket, he wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway.

  After several more minutes of pacing, the goats lay down and panted. He walked over to each one to see if anything had changed. Then, finally, he gave in and sat across from Sydney.

  “Why do goats usually birth during storms?” he asked, unable to distract himself from the anxious bubbling inside of him.

  “It’s called kidding.”

  “Kidding?”

  “Yeah, and they kid during storms because it is safer.”

  “How is giving birth, or kidding, safer in such violent, cold, wet weather?”

  “It takes the scent away on the wind. Predators can’t smell them.”

  “Huh, well, that actually makes sense.” Jameson sat back and pondered. In the animal kingdom, it was all about survival. Were they that much different though? Hadn’t he stopped here for just that reason? He eyes swept to the woman across from him. Somehow he felt there was more than just survival going on here. Maybe fate, or a higher power, had more of a hand in his life than he thought.

  The next few hours they rested fitfully, taking naps, and then checking on the goats. Josie started to grunt and reaching back as if to check herself. Her stomach heaved and she panted, occasionally letting out a grunting bleat.

  “Syd,” Jameson said as he squatted by the laboring animal. “Syd, I think something’s happening.”

  Sydney rubbed her eyes and then moved to squat beside him. She smelled fresh and clean, and he had to stop himself from nuzzling his head into her neck to breathe the scent in deeper. The urge surprised him, and he pulled himself back to the task at hand.

  When Sydney lifted Josie’s tail all other thoughts stopped. A massive glob that looked like a giant bubble of mucus extended from under her tail. Jameson stood up quickly and took a step back.

  “That’s the kid.” Sydney stood next to him, searching his eyes. “You going to be able to handle this?”

  The tease in her voice egged him on. No way would he let himself show weakness. If this small slip of a woman could birth, or rather kid, goats, then he could too. “Of course,” he said, doing his best to smile despite the queasiness churning in him. He was beginning to think the gal was tougher than he thought he was.

  “Well, it’s about to get intense now. Grab a towel and some gloves.” She donned on a pair of gloves that stretched up to her elbows.

  A flash of memory hit him of snapping on gloves. An image of a dead body popped up in his mind, and he leaned a hand on the railing. He saw his hand checking for a pulse on the grey body, and then he lifted wet, blond hair away from a face. He shook his head and gasped for breath.

  What in the world was that?

  “You okay?”

  Jameson blinked a few times before focusing on multi-colored eyes belonging to Syd. The goats. The image wasn’t real. Or at least it wasn’t where he was right now.

  “You look like you saw a ghost.”

  “Was close.” His voice came out gruff, but she didn’t step back. Instead, she put a hand on his arm.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  He shook his head. He would rather forget about it altogether.

  Josie saved him from the memory as she struggled to get to her feet with a loud, groaning bleat.

  “Here we go,” Sydney said with one last look at him.

  “Just tell me what to do.”

  “We mostly watch. They know what to do. We’re only here to help if needed.”

  He nodded, watching the goat turn back again and lick her side. Her stomach contracted and the bubble of goo protruded a little further. With each surge, Josie grunted a little more. He couldn’t help it, he took her head and petted her, whispering soothing words.

  Sydney watched him. He felt her eyes burning into him, but he couldn’t just let the goat struggle without some support.

  “Look, Jameson,” Sydney whispered. The awe in her voice caused him to give Josie’s head one more scratch before he looked around her.

  The bubble now had form, and beneath the membrane he could make out the tiny muzzle of a baby goat. His heart clenched. Truly birth was a miracle.

  Josie gave a few more heaving pushes and the baby hung from her, the back legs still inside. It looked awkward as the kid swung side to side with Josie’s efforts.

  “Shouldn’t we...I mean that can’t be comfortable.” He squeezed his hands together in effort to not reach out to give the goat a helping hand.

  “It’s all part of the process. Hanging like that is important.” She swiped at the membrane around the kid’s face. “We can take this off though. Here you go little one.”

  The kid gave a squeal not much different than a human baby. Again, Jameson was thrown back into a memory. He doubled over, holding tight to his knees. An infant cried as someone handed him the baby, he reached out lovingly and brought the bundle close against him. It’s alright, Uncle Jameson has you. Shh, we’re going to be great pals. The memory faded as fast as it came on, leaving him weak-kneed.

  He landed forward on his knees just as the kid burst forth in a surge of liquid, falling to the straw beneath it. Sydney hastily pulled the membrane off of the goat as Josie turned and licked the wet kid. Its eyes opened and wet ears twitched. Jameson couldn’t help the smile that crept across his face.

  Sydney kept taking glances at him as she watched the kid get its first bath. The smile on her lips held warmth, but her eyes as they met his shone with empathy.

  “You had another one,” she stated.

  “Yeah, a good one. I think I have a nephew, or a niece. I couldn’t tell.”

  “That is a good one,” she said before turning her attention to the kid.

  Jameson followed her gaze and watched as the tiny goat struggled to move and use its legs. It mewed, a sound that tugged on Jameson’s heart, allowing flashes of a baby in his arms.

  “I think the memories are triggered by sound.” He rubbed his face. So much was happening right now. He should be focused on the kidding, not his past, but excitement filtered through him with the flashes of memory.

  “That’s good to know, right? Maybe we need to subject you to a whole bunch of different sounds and get those memories flowing.”

  “Might not be a bad idea.” He smiled at the woman who seemed to understand exactly what he needed.

  Pearl let out a painful bleat as she rocked to her knees. A tale-tell blob extended from her now.

  “Right now though, I think we have our hands full.” Jameson watched Sydney as she took two quick steps to the other mama goat. She moved with confidence and poise, her eyes lit with excitement. Even with the memories flowing in, he found himself enjoying this experience, feeling as if he belonged here in this moment with her.

  ~7~

  Sydney rested back against the splintered wood of the barn wall, waves of exhaustion and elation rushing through her. The storm had eased. Only a light pattering of rain bounced off the metal roof. A rooster crowed from near the coop. To the bird, a sunrise was a sunrise whether he could see the sun or not.

  Jameson settled himself beside her. She reached over and patted his leg. The touch shot tingles through her, igniting what energy she had left.

  “You did great.” Pulling her hand off his leg felt like disengaging two powerful magnets.

  “Thank you,” he said, his voice sounding more excited than tired. “That was quite the experience!”

  “Yeah,” she said, watching the four kids guzzle milk from their mamas. “Little miracles.”

  “I wasn’t sure little Brownie over there was going to make it.”

  “Brownie, huh?” she asked, peeking over at him.

  “Well, yeah, she looks like a chocolate brownie.” He
shrugged, a content smile making his eyes wrinkle.

  A warm tingling started in her chest and spread throughout her. She tried to stop it, but the feeling wasn’t under her control. It felt too good having him here with her, kidding the goats and enjoying the aftermath together. They had made a great team too.

  She shook her head and closed her eyes. Don’t go there, Sydney. It would hurt too much when he left. Yet what if he stayed? The idea danced around inside of her, making her pulse quicken. She let the dream play for a bit, but then sobered.

  “Do you think you’re married?” she blurted out, heat rising to her cheeks.

  “No,” he answered immediately.

  She sat up and looked at him. His green eyes still held the glow from experiencing the births. His lips tilted up to the right in a satisfied smile.

  “How would you know?” she asked.

  “So far, those spontaneous, immediate answers seem to be accurate.” His eyes took on an intense stare. “Besides, it just doesn’t seem right. Those memory flashes are coming more frequently. Certain things set them off, like emotions, or sounds, like the snapping of the gloves or the kid mewing. They set off fleeting flashes of remembrances.”

  “I’m happy for you, Jameson.”

  “Like that. My name has familiar tug to it.” He held up his left hand, a massive palm and thick fingers. “Besides, no evidence of a ring.”

  “Some men don’t wear them,” she countered.

  “Well, I didn’t have any tugs when you mentioned it. It just doesn’t seem to fit.”

  Sydney sat back against the wall, a slow smile spreading. “Maybe you’re not into women.”

  A chuckle rolled from out of Jameson before he sat up and turned towards her. “I assure you that is not the case.”

  Her heart quickened and try as she might, she couldn’t take her eyes away from his encompassing gaze. “How can you be sure?”

  His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he leaned forward, just slightly, but enough she could feel the heat radiating off his body. “I wouldn’t have the urge to do this.”

  That warm tingling turned into an all-out fire. Yearning spread throughout her. Her heart raced, tummy clenched, and she couldn’t convince her body to stop moving forward towards those now moist, kissable lips. His warm breath smelled of coffee and desire.