Free The Reluctant Cowgirl by Christine Lynxwiler Page B

service.”
    He frowned at her jeans, designer unless he missed his guess, and her stylish white button-down shirt. Had he sounded that panicked on the phone? “I could have waited for you to change clothes.”
    She grimaced. “I did. My wardrobe is a little limited these days.” She squatted down and touched the cow’s swollen belly.
    “You look great. I just hate to see expensive clothes get ruined.”
    “I gave twenty dollars for the pants, but you’re right, they were two hundred originally. Don’t worry, I shop in thrift stores.” She winked. “I’m an expert at good deals.” She rubbed her hand gently across the cow’s abdomen.
    He grinned. “Smart woman. Does your expertise extend to birthing calves?”
    Before she could answer, the cow bellowed loudly. They both jumped back as she struggled to her feet.
    “Good for you,” Crystal murmured, patting her flank. “You’re a fighter, aren’t you, gal?”
    He nodded toward the brown duffel bag sitting on the ground. “What’s in there?”
    “You’re looking at the official McCord calf-birthing kit. Handed down through the generations.” Her blue eyes danced.
    “You’re kidding.”
    “Yeah, I am. I just stuck some stuff in here when you called.” She opened the satchel, took out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and poured it on her hands, working it up to her elbows. “But the lighter we can keep things, the more relaxed we’ll be. And the more relaxed we are, the more relaxed she’ll be.” She handed him the bottle.
    He glanced over at her as he washed his own hands. “You learn that from your sister? Assuming cows and dogs have the same rules?”
    For a moment, he was struck again by the absurdity of this pint-sized beautiful blond taking the whole situation in stride. Her hair looked like she’d just stepped out of an upscale salon. Her face was flawless, but there was a determined set to her chin he’d never noticed before.
    “No, I learned that from Daddy. And Elyse would tell you, cows and dogs definitely don’t have the same rules.” She retrieved a package from the bag, ripped it open, and handed him a pair of rubber gloves.
    His eyebrows shot up, but he took them. “I’m guessing you were a girl scout?”
    “Nope.” She slid her own gloves on with a snap. “Farm girl.”
    He nodded slowly. He was right. There was definitely more to Crystal McCord than met the eye.
    “Which end do you want?” she asked.
    “You’re doing a good job of keeping her calm. If you’ll keep doing that, I’ll see what I can do to help her.”
    She nodded.
    “C’mon, Bess,” he whispered to the cow. “You can do it.”
    “Bess? Seriously?”
    He glanced around the cow toward Crystal. “What’s wrong with that?”
    She had her back to him, but her shoulders lifted. “My granny’s name was Bess. She always said it showed lack of imagination that every man in the country had to call a cow by her name.”
    “Excuse me.” He patted the cow again. “C’mon, Anastasia. Let’s get this baby out.”
    Crystal had her back to him, but he was pretty sure the muffled sound he heard was a snicker.
    Twenty minutes later, with hardly any progress, all mirth was gone.
    “What do you think?” Crystal murmured.
    “I think you’re as good with cows as your sister is with dogs. At least she’s staying calm. Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Jeremy tensed his shoulder muscles and released them then flexed his neck. Sweat trickled down between his shoulder blades. “The calf seems to be caught. I’m doing what I can, but if it doesn’t come soon, we’re going to have to try pulling it. So pray.”
    “Let me know if I need to get the ropes from the truck.” He couldn’t see her face, but her voice sounded strained.
    Since he’d started ranching, he’d seen his share of death, but this little life they were fighting to save had become intensely important to him in the last hour. Maybe after the heartache of the past several months, he just