the horses are fed and watered, I check and pick their hooves before turning them out into the pasture for a little sunshine and exercise.
As I head to the house for lunch, I see a Range Rover coming down the drive. I stop and wait for it to arrive. It halts, and Brandt Haralson—our new vet in Poplar Falls—emerges. He walks over to help his mother, Miss Elaine, out of the passenger side.
“Hi, Bellamy.” Miss Elaine waves as she makes her way to me.
“Hi yourself,” I greet.
“I decided to ride out with Brandt and visit with your mother while he tends to the birth,” she explains.
“She’ll love that. In fact, you have perfect timing. She and I are about to have lunch out on the porch. Pop and the boys should be back at any time. You two, come join us until they get here,” I invite.
“We don’t mean to impose on your lunch,” she starts.
“Oh, please. Momma cooks enough for an army. She’ll be tickled pink you guys are here,” I say, brushing off her apology.
We reach the steps just as Momma comes out of the door with a tablecloth in hand.
“Elaine, how wonderful. You’re just in time for my Brunswick stew and corn bread.” She beams.
“See, I told you,” I whisper as I nudge her side.
She joins Momma and I wait for Brandt to make it to us.
“Hiya, handsome. Come to make me an auntie again this week, I see,” I say as he approaches.
He smiles, and his green eyes twinkle in the sunlight.
“Yes, ma’am. How are Dallas and the baby doing, by the way?” he inquires.
“Wonderful. Little Faith is perfect, and Dallas is a natural at this mommy gig,” I praise.
“I had no doubt she would be after knowing Beau,” he agrees.
“Yeah, he’s pretty special. Are you hungry?” I ask.
“Not at all, but thank you for inviting Mom. If you point me in the direction of the mare, I’ll go ahead and check on her progress.”
“Just follow me, and I’ll show you,” I say as I gesture toward the barn.
I call up to tell Momma I’ll be back for lunch, and I usher Brandt to the foaling stall.
“So, how are you liking Poplar Falls?” I make small talk as we walk.
Brandt moved here from Oregon to take over the practice from the town’s previous vet last year. Dr. Sherrill had been tending to all the critters in Poplar Falls since before I was born and finally decided to retire at seventy.
“It’s a good town, full of good people. Mom has made some great friends and seems happy here,” he says in answer.
I don’t miss how he fails to mention if he is happy.
“And you?” I push.
A patient smile forms, and he looks straight ahead as he speaks, “I’m content.”
Hmm, content. Not exactly happy, but not unhappy.
I know that he and Elle went out on several dates before she and Walker started their relationship. Perhaps he had hoped that would pan out in the future, but their engagement news squashed that.
“Well, you never know, Doc. That contentment might turn in to flat-out happiness before you realize it’s happening,” I encourage.
He cuts his eyes to me. “Maybe,” he says.
I can’t read him. He’s closed off tighter than a duck’s ass. Which intrigues me, so I keep digging.
“What’s your story, Doc?”
“My story?” he asks, confused.
“Your story. I know you have one. It’s written all over you. Maybe if you get it off your chest, you’ll feel better. I’m no counselor or anything, but I was raised by a bunch of nosy women who always found a way to make me talk. It worked at helping my friends and me with all our teen drama, so I figure there must be something to it,” I explain.
“Teen drama,” he repeats.
“Frivolous, I know, but doesn’t discount the benefit of getting things off your chest,” I defend.
He nods thoughtfully. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He humors me as we approach the barn, and it becomes clear from the sound the mare is making that it’s in distress.
“She was fine a few minutes ago,” I tell him as we take off at a hurried pace, our conversation lost in the urgency.
We make it to the barn, and he follows me to the large stall in the back.
“Stay here,” he commands as he opens the door and enters cautiously.
“Is she okay?” I ask as I peek over the door.
The mare is on her side, and she is rolling on the floor of the stall in agony.
“She’s in