But if Kate didn’t call a vet and something went wrong, Kate would never forgive herself. According to the internet, which she’d been obsessively searching for the last twenty minutes, mares were usually in labor for around eight hours, but it could be much shorter or longer. If Marigold had been in labor before dinner when Kate first noticed her restlessness,the horse might have the foal any time now.And the vet was a half-hour drive away.
Kate thought about calling Landon to ask for advice, but it was late and he had to get up early. Besides, she ought to be able to handle this on her own. She was supposed to be capable of making decisions like figuring out when to contact a vet. She watched Marigold tread across her straw for a few more moments, then placed a call to the vet’s afterhours service. She told them her horse might be in labor. She would parcel out the other details as needed.
“Our doctors are out on other calls right now,” the receptionist reported. “But I’ll let them know.”
“They’re out?” Kate hadn’t even considered that possibility. “Both of them? Will they be finished soon?”
“Can’t say. With animals, it could be three minutes or three hours. Would you like a call when someone’s available?”
“Yes,” Kate said weakly. Now that she knew a vet might not come in time, she felt completely unprepared.
After she hung up, she paced the barn herself. Horses laid down before they began to push. Marigold was still on her feet. Maybe this was a false alarm. Horses probably got indigestion sometimes, especially when left out in the cold.
Fifteen minutes later, Marigold plopped down on the straw. Okay, that probably meant she was going to start pushing soon. With an apology already on her lips, she called Landon.
He didn’t say hello when he picked up. He said, “What’s wrong?”
“Sorry to bother you, but I think Marigold might be about to give birth, and the vet can’t come, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” On the YouTube videos, she’d seen people holding on to the foal’s legs while the mare pushed. “I’m afraid if I start grabbing parts of Marigold’s baby, she’ll kick me. At least, that’s what I would do if the roles were reversed.” Kate was babbling. She put her hand over her mouth to stop herself.
“I’m on my way,” he said. “Is Marigold lying down?”
“Yes.”
“Is she near a wall or anything that would obstruct the foal?”
“No.”
“Good. I’ll stay on the phone. Tell me what’s happening.”
There wasn’t much to tell since Marigold was just lying there, looking at Kate reproachfully. So Kate told him how she’d forgotten the horse in the pasture, relating the experience as though she was in a confessional and Landon could absolve her sins. “I left the poor thing out in the cold when she was in labor.” Or maybe leaving her out in the cold had brought on her labor. Either way, it seemed so thoughtless.
“We all make mistakes,” Landon said.
“If this horse dies, Grandpa will never forgive me.” Kate said the words without thinking, and when she realized what she’d said, she got too choked up to speak for several moments.
Since she’d moved onto the ranch, her grandfather’s presence had overshadowed everything. He seemed to still be here, just around the corner, like he’d always been—confident and sturdy. Now with one uttered sentence, Kate realized how real his absence was. And she missed him.
A few minutes later when Landon reached the barn, Kate was staring at Marigold and psychoanalyzing herself. Was she still trying to win her grandfather’s approval? For so long, she’d told herself that she hadn’t cared what he thought. But the truth was, she didn’t want to disappoint him, not about the horse, and not about the ranch.
Landon gave Kate a quick hug, then examined Marigold. A whitish balloon seemed to be growing on her backside. Kate hoped that was normal.
“Everything’s fine,” Landon assured her. “Marigold doesn’t seem any worse for her stint outside. How are you holding up?”
“I should have talked to him,” Kate mumbled.
Landon pulled a bottle of betadine and a towel from a bag he’d brought with him. “Are we talking about a horse?”
“No, my grandfather.” She took a deep breath. “Why couldn’t he have loved me regardless of what he thought I’d done?”
“He did.” Landon hung the towel over the pen’s door. “Cal just wasn’t good at saying things like that.”
“After he yelled at me, that was the end of our relationship. He never tried to talk to me again. Not really. He never apologized.”
Landon held his hands out to his sides, gesturing to everything around him. “He left you the ranch. Thatwashis apology. Don’t you see that?”
Emotion caught in Kate’s throat making ittight. She’d waited years for her grandfather to reach out to her, to show that he loved her. Had he done it with his will, and she hadn’t even recognized the gesture for what it was?
“Cal gave you everything he’d loved and worked for,” Landon went on. “He gave you the wide-open skies, calves every spring, and the best neighbors imaginable. You probably shouldn’t overlook that part.”