Storm's Refuge Read online

  “I’m going to change into something dry, and I’ll find you something of George’s to wear.” Michelle almost ran from the room.

  “Who’s George?” Cale’s voice followed her out into the hall.

  Michelle didn’t bother to answer him and took the stairs two at a time. She reached the safety of her bedroom and leaned against the closed door. Her breath still came fast, and her heart skipped in her chest. Quickly, she stripped her wet clothes off and changed into jeans and a thick sweater. The wind whipped against the house, cold fingers of air curling through the window frames of the old house. The upper hall was freezing when she crossed it and entered George’s room. Michelle scrounged around until she found some jeans and a flannel shirt in his chest of drawers.

  Hugging the clothes to her like a shield, Michelle padded down the stairs, her thick socks making no sound as she reached the front hall and continued into the kitchen. She stopped inside the door just as Cale rose from where he was kneeling by the black dog. He gave her a brilliant, heart stopping smile as he caught sight of her.

  “Those for me?” Cale eyed the armful of clothes with a hopeful expression.

  “You can change in the other bathroom.” Michelle pointed to a door beside the wood stove.

  He crossed the room and took the bundle of clothes from her arms, managing to let his fingers trail down her forearm as he stepped away.

  “You never told me who George is,” Cale said casually, his eyes intent on her face.

  “My brother.” Michelle was irritated at the breathless catch in her voice.

  “Oh, well, good then.” Cale grinned and headed for the bathroom door.

  Michelle told herself not to watch as the vet’s cute behind sashayed across her kitchen, but then she gave up and just enjoyed the sight. She turned back to the table and picked up the monitor. The mare and foal seemed happy and content. The colt had his head stuck under his mother’s flank slurping up a second dinner. The foal finished eating, and the mare turned to pick at her hay. The afterbirth was still tied to her tail and swung heavily against her hocks. Michelle checked the clock and mentally calculated the time since the mare foaled. With a sigh she acknowledged the mare should have passed the afterbirth by now. She grimaced at the wet snow stuck to the kitchen window and the sound of the wind howling in the eaves. She picked up the heavy sweater from the back of the chair and pulled it over her head. Winding a scarf over her head, she tucked the ends into the front of the sweater.

  “You’re not going out again in this?” Cale’s voice startled her as he came out of the bathroom.

  Michelle swung around quickly and then burst out laughing. George’s jeans were a size too small, and the sleeves of the flannel shirt ended above Cale’s wrist bones. For a split second, Michelle wondered when wrist bones had gotten to be so sexy before she pulled her mind back to the matters at hand.

  “The mare hasn’t passed the placenta yet, and it’s way past time.” Michelle moved into the mud room as she spoke.

  “Good thing the local vet is here,” Cale joked while reaching for his own jacket.

  “You don’t have to come out,” Michelle began.

  “I went to school so you horse people could pay me the big bucks. C’mon, Michelle, don’t stand in the way of my road to riches.” Cale’s eyes twinkled with suppressed laughter.

  Michelle’s face turned beet red, and she made a production out of pulling her boots on. Damn, the man! He must have been in the UFA the other day… That’s exactly what I said about him to Gary. Michelle was acutely aware of the vet’s presence behind her as she stepped out into the force of the blizzard.

  Cale followed her, his treatment bag bumping the back of her thigh. He reached out and caught Michelle’s arm with his free hand.

  “Hang on to me, so we don’t get separated in this. You know your way around this place like the back of your hand, but I don’t,” Cale shouted over the wind.

  Michelle nodded and placed her mittened hand in Cale’s larger one. A strange warmth ran through her, and she didn’t stop to think about why she felt so safe, she just enjoyed the sensation of her hand firmly engulfed in his.

  The wind and snow buffeted them, and Michelle was happy to have the larger body of the vet to shield her from the worst of the storm. It took both of them to get the barn door open with the snow drifted up against it.

  Michelle flicked the switch by the door, and light flooded the interior of the barn. Pulling off her snow encrusted mittens she stuffed them in the big pockets of her coat. The buckskin mare whickered softly at the sound of voices. She held out her hand and smiled as the big lips searched her palm for a treat. Cale came to lean on the door beside her.

  “Nice little fellow.” He smiled at the spindly legged foal who blinked up at him through long curly lashes.

  The buckskin mare turned her large liquid eyes on him and snuffled the collar of his shirt as she inspected him. Deciding the stranger was no threat she dropped her head and lipped some hay from the floor of the stall.

  Cale set his bag on the floor and opened it. Michelle watched as he filled a syringe from the small bottle of oxytocin he selected from his bag. He straightened and smiled at Michelle. She returned the smile before she remembered she didn’t like the fancy city boy vet. She stood back and let Cale hook the halter from the front of the stall in his large hand and open the door to the stall. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the buckskin mare’s reaction to a stranger near her newborn foal. A smile played about her mouth as she remembered Doc vaulting over the stall door after Hot Shot’s first foal was born, with the mare in hot pursuit, her teeth bared.

  Good thing Doc was still pretty spry six years ago. Michelle chuckled silently at the memory.

  Cale walked confidently up to the mare’s shoulder, and she lowered her head for him to slip the halter over her ears. Michelle grudgingly scored one for the vet. The mare rolled her eye toward the foal but followed him over to the door.

  “Hold her head will you?” Cale said without looking at Michelle.

  She took the cotton shank from his hand being careful not to let her fingers touch his. Cale located the vein in the groove of the mare’s neck and slid the needle through the skin. He pulled back on the plunger of the syringe, and Michelle heard his small grunt of approval as bright red blood bloomed in the colorless liquid. Michelle scored him another point for being careful and making sure the needle was set correctly in the vein. She watched as he administered the drug, stopping halfway through to pull back on the plunger again and ensure the needle was still seated in the vein. He removed the needle with an easy practiced skill and capped it before placing it in the sharps container in his bag. Michelle removed the halter from the mare and searched the straw for signs of the colt’s manure. Locating the small heap of dark dung, she smiled in relief and followed Cale out of the stall.

  She leaned on the door and watched the horse while Cale closed his bag. Sweat darkened the golden coat as the oxytocin took effect. The large muscles in the mare’s abdomen clenched in the drug induced contractions. Her concentration on the mare was so complete she didn’t take notice of the increasing force of the storm as it hit the barn.

  Ten minutes passed before, with a final heave, the mare expelled the afterbirth into the deep straw. Michelle quickly slipped in and wrestled the heavy, slippery membrane out into the aisle in front of the stall. Quickly, she spread the large membranes out on the floor and was relieved to see both the horns were there and intact, nothing was left inside the mare.

  “Cale,” she began and then stopped. The aisle behind her was empty, and she frowned. Where in God’s name did he go? She left the membrane on the floor and headed for the tack and feed room. Michelle pulled the door open and was relieved to see Cale talking on the wall phone. Michelle rarely used the thing, it was only for emergencies, or when her cell phone couldn’t get a signal. She turned and left the room without speaking and returned to the birth caul in the aisle.

  She gathered the
edge of the membrane and rolled it toward the centre. It was cold and sticky, and before long her fingers were numb. Stubbornly, Michelle persevered until it was a somewhat manageable bundle. She squatted over it and began to put it into a large black garbage bag. The placenta resisted her. As quickly as she poked part of it into the bag, another part slipped back out. Her cold hands wouldn’t co-operate, and the heavy bundle slipped away from her. Michelle lost her balance and sat down hard on the aisle of the barn.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Michelle muttered in exasperation. “Where the hell are you George, when I need you?”

  Michelle blinked back tears of frustration. Her butt hurt, she was cold and tired, and there was still the damn dog in the kitchen to tend to. Cale’s hand entered her blurred vision, and she placed her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

  “Afterbirth won, did it?” His smile warmed his eyes and his voice.

  “You could say that, Einstein.” Michelle refused to be cajoled.

  “C’mon, Michelle, I didn’t laugh.” Cale’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Well not out loud anyway,” he amended. “For a pretty girl you sure can cuss. Mary didn’t warn me about that.” A mischievous grin creased his face.

  Embarrassment crept its crimson way up her neck and flushed her cheeks. Michelle changed the subject quickly.

  “Who were you calling?” she asked tersely. “Have to cancel a hot date with a big city girl?”

  “Actually, I was talking to my mom. She worries when it storms, and she knows I’m out in it. No confidence in me at all; assumes I’m shiny side down in a ditch somewhere.” Cale shook his head at the folly of mothers everywhere.

  “Your mom,” Michelle said incredulously. “Is it storming in Calgary, too?”

  “My parents ranch south of here, near Nanton.” Puzzlement coloured his voice. “I told you that in the house. What made you think they lived in Calgary?”

  “I don’t know where I heard that.” Michelle refused to meet his eyes. There was no way she was going to admit to listening and participating in the speculative gossip in town.

  Cale scooped up the messy afterbirth and dumped it into the empty wheelbarrow outside the tack room. She sighed and decided to leave dealing with it til the morning. Michelle trailed along behind him chewing furiously on her lower lip. Damn the rat bastard, not one bit of gossip mentioned he was actually from a ranching family. All she had heard was he was some hotshot horse vet who pandered to the rich and elite show jumping and dressage world. Lost in her thoughts Michelle walked smack into Cale’s chest as he stepped out of the tack room after washing the sticky blood and amniotic fluid off his hands. His arms came up and held her steady while she regained her balance. Michelle braced her hands on the front of his jacket and involuntarily raised her eyes to meet his. Her breath caught in her throat and fire spread through her. Cale gazed into her face for a moment and then set her firmly on her feet away from him.

  “I’m going to check on that mare, and then we should get back to the house while we still can.” Cale left Michelle standing mutely by the tack room and strode to the buckskin mare’s stall.

  “Get a grip, woman,” Michelle muttered under her breath.

  She followed Cale to the mare’s stall and was relieved to see all was well. She picked up five flakes of hay from the bale outside the stall door and tossed them into the manger. Michelle checked to make sure the waterer wasn’t frozen and double checked the latch on the door.

  “That should do her ‘til tomorrow, even if the storm gets worse overnight.” Michelle allowed herself a small smile.

  “Back into the storm, then?” Cale buttoned his coat as he spoke.

  Michelle nodded and flicked off the aisle lights as Cale wrestled the door open in the biting wind. She ducked under his arm, waiting while he closed the door and secured it against the wind and snow. Michelle didn’t protest when Cale took her hand and set off toward the house. Checking her bearings, she was happy to note Cale was indeed headed in the right direction. They paused to catch their breath in the lee of the garage and then plunged the last few metres to the steps of the porch.

  Two feet of snow had drifted on to the porch while they were in the barn. Michelle was happy enough to let Cale plow a path through it and walked in his footsteps. Her legs were like lead, and her teeth were beginning to chatter. Once inside out of the wind, Michelle leaned her back against the door and unwound the snow encrusted scarf from her head. She set her wet gloves on the washing machine lid to dry and shook the worst of the snow from her coat. Running cold fingers through her wet hair, she led the way into the bright warmth of the kitchen.

  The black dog still slept by the woodstove. Michelle knelt down and ran a gentle hand over the dog’s rough coat. The electric lights flickered and died as she stood up.

  “Is there a flashlight anywhere?” Cale’s voice came disembodied out of the sudden darkness.

  “There’s one right here.” Michelle found the right drawer by instinct and flicked on the flashlight. “I’ll light the oil lamp in a second.”

  She followed the pool of light spilling from the flashlight in her hand and located the matches where she set them on the table earlier. The sharp smell of sulphur stung her nose as the match flared into life, and she held the small flame to the wick of the oil lamp. A soft yellow glow filled the kitchen with intimate shadows and gave it an insulated, homey feel. Michelle took the flashlight and collected another oil lamp and some afghans and pillows from the living room. She paused for a long moment and studied the large space cleared for the Christmas tree she still had to drag into the house. She dismissed the thought with a sigh and headed back to the kitchen to take care of the matters at hand.

  “Looks like you’re spending the night,” Michelle said a little too brightly as she entered the kitchen.

  “I can make it home. It’s only across the coulee.” Cale reached for his coat. “The truck has plenty of road clearance. I should be able to plow through the drifts.”

  “You go then, cowboy.” Michelle pointed her chin towards the door. “I bet you don’t get out the laneway.”

  “You’re on, lady.” Cale took up the challenge. “The mighty Dodge hasn’t let me down yet.”

  Michelle didn’t bother to respond but set the afghans and pillows on a big stuffed chair by the woodstove. She crossed the room to peer out the window through the driving snow. A small smile played on her lips. The drifts were enormous and, unless she missed her guess, Cale’s truck wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry. The wind whipped the ends of the man’s scarf wildly around his head as he entered Michelle’s line of sight. The storm buffeted him backward a step for every two he took forward. She allowed herself a snort of laughter when Cale pointed his key fob in the direction he assumed his truck was and pressed the auto start. The lights of the truck were barely visible under the huge mound of snow engulfing it, the throaty roar of the diesel lost in the storm. Michelle giggled again, while Cale stopped and inspected the four feet of hard packed snow separating him from the truck door. Michelle scurried back to the table and poured the last of the lukewarm coffee into two mugs. A cold draft and a smattering of snow swirled across the floor when Cale came through the door from the mud room.

  “Looks like I’m spending the night.” He pointed his remote fob out the window and hit the kill button.

  “The mighty Dodge, not so mighty.” Michelle teased, forgetting she didn’t like him, not one bit.

  “The mighty Dodge is being held captive by a monster snow bank.” Cale grinned at her.

  “Snow banks are like that sometimes,” Michelle agreed.

  The dog whimpered in her sleep. Michelle went to her and stroked her head. The animal’s eyes flickered open, and she curled her upper lip back from her teeth in a half-hearted snarl. Michelle spoke softly to her, muttering nonsense, knowing it was the sound and intonation of her voice that mattered more than the actual words. The dog heaved a sigh which pulled her scruffy coat taut over her bones
, each rib stood out in sharp relief in the lamp light. The mutt closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep, apparently deciding it was too much effort to bite Michelle’s caressing hand.

  “She’s had a rough go, poor thing.” Cale sat on his heels next to Michelle. “What are you going to do with her once the snow stops?”

  “I’m not sure. I didn’t plan on getting another dog until spring. It’s so much easier to house train a puppy when the snow is gone.” Michelle rose to her feet and looked down at the sleeping dog.

  “I don’t think she’ll fare very well at the SPCA. She’s not socialized, and she’s in really poor shape. With that broken leg, they’ll probably put her down. The fact she’s ready to whelp isn’t in her favour either.” Cale looked up at Michelle through his thick lashes.

  She ran her fingers through her hair and frowned. “I’ll worry about the puppies when the time comes, I guess. She isn’t going anywhere for a few days, except to Doc’s for x-rays.” In her heart, there was no question she would keep the dog. The poor thing needed a home, and besides, she still hadn’t gotten around to replacing Rex.

  The lamp lit kitchen was much too cozy for Michelle’s liking. She was acutely aware of the man kneeling at her side. She turned away and picked up the bedding she left on the chair earlier. With quick efficiency, she made up two beds on the linoleum near the warmth of the stove. Sleeping anywhere other than the room with the woodstove was out of the question with the power out. A cold draft of air swept across the floor; Michelle looked up in time to see the vet’s cute backend disappearing into the chilly mudroom. Her pulse quickened at the sight and a flood of heat coursed up her stomach, over her breasts, and into her face.

  “Get a grip, girl,” Michelle muttered. “This is the fancy horse vet. He’s way out of your league.”

  Cale returned to the kitchen with some wood and put it in the wood box by the stove. He dusted his hands off on his jeans and sank down onto the empty pallet beside Michelle’s. Stretching out his long frame on the afghan he heaved a sigh of relief and relaxed.