“Isabelle?” Brant asked, moving toward me. His jeans were dark with rain, his shirt mostly dry, but I saw two coats hanging from a hook, dripping water onto the wooden floor. “Is it my dad?”
“What?” I shook my head. “Oh, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I heard about Mona Lisa and Starshine.” Just then, I heard braying from the stall nearest the wall, and I turned on my heel, rushing to where Mona Lisa was standing at the door of her stall, nickering and moving from foot to foot in place. My heart squeezed tightly in my chest, and the panic I’d felt in the kitchen rose in my throat. I reached out to pet Mona Lisa’s face. “It’s okay, girl. It’s okay. We’re going to find your baby girl. Don’t worry, okay?” My voice almost broke and desperation clawed at my bones. I opened her stall and began leading her out. Her saddle was removed and she’d obviously just been brushed.
“Belle, what are you doing? We just got her settled.”
“Her baby is out there,” I said, sucking in a small breath. “You can’t get her settled without her baby. Do you know anything about mothers?”
Brant’s expression was a study in uncertainty as his eyes moved over my face. “Starshine will be fine. She’ll survive without her mother for one night. It’s the safest thing to do. You weren’t out with us, Belle. The pastures are flooded and the stream has overflowed. Starshine will find a dry spot under a tree and we’ll go out in the morning when there’s light to see by and bring her home.”
Behind me, Mona Lisa nickered softly again. “No.” I moved past him, heading toward the saddles.
“Belle—”
I whirled on him. “I don’t need your permission to go out there and bring this mother to her baby, Brant. I’m going with or without your approval. It’s still light. Once we find Starshine, if it’s not safe to come back, we’ll find shelter and wait until the sun rises. But I am not leaving her out there alone.” I was shaking slightly now and my hands trembled as I grabbed the equipment and began saddling Mona Lisa.
After a minute, strong hands lifted the saddle out of my hands. My head turned swiftly, ready to rip into Brant again, but he simply lifted the saddle and placed it on Mona Lisa. He looked at me, his mouth a grim line but his eyes full of something that looked . . . tender. Empathetic. “Then I’ll go with you.”
**********
The squelching sound of water-saturated earth met our ears as we led the horses carefully through the pasture. I wanted to pick up the pace, but knew it wasn’t safe under these conditions. The last thing I’d want to do is risk injury to Mona Lisa or Newton, the horse Brant was riding. The rain was still falling and seemed to pick up as we made it to the stream, swelling over the bank and pouring into the fields. We left a wide berth knowing that where the ground was soft, the horses risked stumbling.
I couldn’t risk Mona Lisa. Starshine was out there, and she needed her mama.
She needed her mama. That clawing desperation increased and I choked back a sob, tilting my head to the sky and letting the rain mix with the tears I didn’t want Brant to know I was crying. Oh God. I was making this about me—about my desperate longing—yet I couldn’t contain it, refused to suppress it until I reunited mother and foal. Safe. Unharmed. Together.
We rode on, Brant taking the lead, glancing back at me now and again, the concern on his face clear. He had to think I was crazy, irrational, but I couldn’t care about that now.
The sun set, and the sky grew dim above us as we searched, weaving through groupings of trees, the rain drumming insistently on the ground. I whistled for Starshine but knew the sound wouldn’t carry very far over the pelting rain. Mona Lisa was whinnying as if she too was calling for her baby, and the awful sound made me want to weep, to fall to my knees, to scream a million whys toward the sky.
Get it together, Isabelle. Get it together.
“Over there,” I heard Brant call, his deep voice cutting through the thundering weather. I swiveled my head and cried out when I spotted the foal standing on the opposite side of the stream, whinnying for help. My heart stuttered as I let out a sound of both relief and despair. We’d have to ride away from her to go around the swirling water before we came back again. “Come on,” Brant said again, moving forward. “I think we can cross if we go up here a little ways. It’s a lot narrower right over that slope.” I didn’t know how he knew that but I followed him anyway, trusting. Wait, he knew that because he’d grown up here. He must know every tree, every fence line and boulder that was a part of this land.
And thank God he remembered. Thank God.
The sky dimmed further, a sliver of moon appearing overhead. Not much to see by, but it was something. I followed Brant’s dark form and when he stopped, I stopped with him, looking at the place he’d chosen to cross. The water was a dark, foamy swirl in front of us, and I hesitated. It was narrower here, but we still couldn’t see what was beneath the surface. We’d have to move very, very slowly, allowing the horses to test every step.
Brant led the way again, Newton putting up some resistance, but ultimately trusting Brant’s lead and moving through the dark water. It wasn’t deep, but the water churned, so Brant allowed the horse to move at
his own pace. I led Mona Lisa into the water, moving as carefully as Brant, letting her choose her steps without guiding or nudging. We were across in a matter of minutes and I let out a sigh of relief.
Brant turned immediately toward the place we’d seen Starshine. The lump in my chest moved into my throat as we drew closer. I heard her before I saw her, whinnying pitifully from beneath a tree at the edge of the stream, and even though I’d meant to walk slowly, I couldn’t help nudging Mona Lisa forward, letting her trot to her baby who moved toward her as well. They came together just as a loud crack of thunder sounded above, Starshine letting out a startled whinny, her trembling body moving beneath that of her mother, finding her milk-swollen udder and latching on. I slid from Mona Lisa, my hot tears mixing with the rain. Something broke inside me to see mother and daughter reunited, the baby nursing sloppily—desperately—as Mona Lisa reached her neck around, nuzzling with her nose, her breath coming out in soft snuffing sounds.
Every harrowing, searing emotion I’d kept mostly contained since that moment in the basement came rushing to the surface and I leaned in to Mona Lisa, pressing my face into her coarse hair and crying. Your baby is safe. I could feel my shoulders shaking with my sobs, and knew Brant must know. But I couldn’t seem to stop as the terror, the grief—the unfathomable heartache—rose from inside me, spilling uncontrollably beneath a dark, rainy sky. I wrapped my arms around Mona Lisa’s neck, turning my face to the side and expelling a tearful breath. “There you go. You’re together now. There you go. There you go.” My voice sounded soggy, choked with pain.
After a moment, or maybe hours, I felt Brant’s hand on my shoulder and turned my face to his. Whatever was in my expression caused sorrow to fill his eyes. “Come on. The old distillery buildings are about ten minutes that way,” he gestured his head over his shoulder. “We’ll get the horses warm and dry and us too, okay?”
I barely registered his words, but I nodded, so filled with gratitude that he had come with me, that he was taking charge where I could not.
I didn’t resist when he pulled me up on Newton, cradling my body in front of him and cresting the ridge. He held Mona Lisa’s reins in his hand, and Starshine followed her mother, staying as close as she possibly could. I glanced back at them every minute or so to make sure they were okay and each time I did, Brant leaned slightly to the side, allowing me to see.
Knowing I needed to see.
My body relaxed into his, finding comfort in the rain-drenched male scent of him, in the solid surety of his chest, in the way he’d readily taken the lead . . . but also given me what I needed so desperately.
There was goodness in this man. I felt it in every fiber of my grief-filled being.
The old distillery buildings that I’d only glimpsed from afar as they were at the edge of the property, came into view, two dark, hulking shadows. We moved toward them, the knowledge that we’d be out of the rain in a minute or two bolstering my strength and breaking the daze I’d been in.