High Hurdles (70 page)

“You and I will be flying. We have an early flight on Friday out of San Francisco, so how about if I pick you up Thursday evening about six or six-thirty? Traffic should have let up by then.”

DJ felt a shiver run up her back. She was finally going to see what a top-level dressage show was like! “ ’Kay. I’ll be ready. See ya.”

When the phone rang again, it was Robert. DJ expected the call to be for her mother, but he said he wanted to speak with her first.

“What’s up?” DJ leaned against the counter, one elbow propped on the top.

“How about you and I go out to dinner tomorrow night and then by the house? I have some questions about how you want your room done.”

“Done?”

“You know—colors, carpet, things like that. We can put in bookshelves, too, so you have storage space for your art supplies.”

“Oh.”

“That okay?”

“Ah . . . sure. What time?”
But what do I know about decorating a room?
It would help if she didn’t sound like a yo-yo brain when they talked.

They finished making their plans with Robert saying he’d set it up with her mother.

DJ snagged a can of soda from the fridge, dug in the drawer for an apple, bumped the door shut with her foot, then wandered upstairs to her room. She stared at the posters of horses on her walls—horses jumping, playing, racing; mares and foals in the field; horses in stalls. A large picture of Major held the place of honor. Her own drawings took up lots of space, too. But it was the intertwined Olympic rings over the head of a bay horse, front feet tucked close to his chest as he cleared a brick wall, that brought her to a stop. Only on television had she seen horses and riders of this caliber. Maybe one day Brad would take her to one of the big jumping shows. She might see one of
her
heroes there.

Visions of her jumping with a horse that looked surprisingly like Lord Byron sent her off to sleep.

“So where would you like to go for dinner?” Robert asked once they were in the car.

DJ started to say, “I don’t know,” then stopped herself. “What would
you
like?”

“Not pizza.”

DJ agreed. That was the Bs’ favorite meal in all the world, besides fried chicken and hamburgers. “You want ribs?”

“Not tonight. Chinese?”

DJ thought a moment. She always liked Chinese food. “Honey-walnut prawns?”

“You’ve got it. You want to choose which restaurant?”

“The one down on Contra Costa, across from Taco Bell.” DJ fastened her seat belt. “We haven’t been there in a long time.”

While they were waiting for their dinner to be served, Robert opened a folder and laid some fabric, paint, and carpet samples on the table. “Have you been thinking of what you’d like in your room?”

“Honest, I’m clueless.”

“Okay, I’ll ask questions, and you answer.” At her nod, he began. “Entertainment center?”

“For what?”

“Don’t you have a television or stereo? What about a VCR?” When she shook her head at all of the above, he stared at her. “I thought all teenagers had those things.”

“Not this one. I have a small boom box, but it’s broken. I use the one downstairs.”

At his puzzled look, she drew in a breath. “I know I’m strange, but I like it quiet when I study and even more so when I draw. I get so lost in what I’m doing, I don’t need noise.”

“Well, you’ve relieved my mind on one account, that’s for sure.” He grinned at her questioning look. “I was afraid my hearing would go due to loud music.”

“Not mine.”

“Do you have any books?”

“Mostly on horses and drawing, but I do have some novels, too.”

“Computer?”

“I wish.”

Their food came, but Robert kept on asking questions while they ate. “What about storage for your art supplies and a drafting table?”

“Really?”

“Sure. We’ll include shelves and drawers for a computer in your work area, too, since I think you should have one.”

“Have you talked with Mom about all this?”

“No. Why?” He stopped with a prawn halfway to his mouth. “It’s your room.”

When she just stared at him, he set down his chopsticks. “What? Do I have some sauce on my chin?”

She shook her head. “I think I better pinch myself to see if I’m dreaming.”

“I thought maybe we should tile the area around the drafting table so you can put an easel there if you’d like, too. Gran suggested that. She said that someday you might do more than pencil drawings. You’ll have a place to work at her home, as well, because she’s going to add studio space when they rebuild the garage.”

“She is?” DJ got the feeling they’d been doing a lot of talking without her knowledge.

“Yes, they’ll be adding a potter’s wheel and kiln then, too. Gran thought that would be something all the grandchildren could enjoy.” He smiled again. “You want that last prawn?”

When DJ shook her head, he popped it in his mouth, along with the last walnut. “They can box the leftovers.”

“What leftovers?” DJ teased.

Once at the new house, DJ and Robert made their way upstairs to the original master bedroom, which was slotted to become DJ’s new room.

“I thought maybe we’d add a window over here—floor length, if you like—and this area would work for your art supplies and desk. What do you think?”

Walking in front of her, he pointed to the closet. “We’ll put all the space-saving goodies in there—you know, shelves, drawers, and that kind of thing, And then,” he indicated an entire wall, “this would look great done in floor-to-ceiling shelves for books and art and trophies.”

Dazed, DJ followed Robert into the large bathroom. “We can do both a shower and a tub in here, if you want. I thought maybe you’d like a tub with jets to help work out your sore muscles. Lindy says the hot tub outside will be enough but—”

“Whoa, Robert!” DJ held up a hand. “If we were talking about a barn, I would have good ideas about what to do, but this . . . this is kinda much. I like everything you’ve suggested. How can I choose?”

“DJ.” He turned and rested a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to choose one thing over another unless you want to. The basic structure is what’s important right now, like the new window or adding more closet space. The new tub would have to go in now, too, of course. Gran said she’d help you pick out colors, but we could ask a decorator to pitch in if you’d rather.” He stood back, waiting.

DJ sucked in a deep breath. “I’d love to have big windows, but the closet is fine. I’ll leave it to you to decide on the tub. I’m a shower person unless my muscles are really yelling. Everything else sounds wonderful.” She paused to sort through it all.

“I’m not sure what colors offhand.” She thought hard. “Maybe different shades of blue, with sand and—”

“I get the picture. If we could find wood in a deep, blood bay shade, how would that be?”

“Perfect.” She glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye. “I’ve always liked gray, too—as in dappled. And Lippizaner white can’t be beat.”

Robert clasped an arm around her shoulders. “You’ve got your head on straight, DJ, that’s for sure. And when we get to building the barn, you can help draw up the blueprints.”

DJ took one last look at the room before turning out the light.
Wait till Amy hears about this!

They were nearly back to her house when Robert said, “You know, I have a favor to ask.”

“What?”

“Can you be extra patient with your mother in the next week or so? She’s pretty uptight about the wedding and all.”

“Who isn’t?” The words just slipped out. “Sorry.”

“I know, we all are. There’s just so much to be done yet.” He clicked on his turn signal. “I want all of us to be relaxed and ready to enjoy the wedding—no fights, no tempers. Maybe I’m dreaming, but I’m giving everyone this speech, including me. If we all cut each other some slack, we’ll do all right.”

“I’ll try.” DJ shook her head. “Cancel that. I’ll do it.”

Robert parked the car in the driveway and turned off the lights. “I know you will.”

When they got out, they had to run to the house to keep from getting wet. The rain had returned.

Chapter
•
12

“Thanks, Lindy, for letting DJ come with us. I’ll have her home early Sunday night.”

“I appreciate that.” Lindy turned to DJ. “Now, you call if there’s any change of plans.”

DJ nodded and gave her mother a hug. “See you.” She tried to act nonchalant, but keeping the excitement down was like trying to stop the rain. She’d be flying to a big-time horse show in the morning!

Brad picked up her duffel bag and held the door open for her. Feeling like the queen bee herself, DJ headed for the Land Rover. The rain had changed from a light mist to a sheeting blanket.

The drive to the farm passed with the kind of conversation two people have who are devoted to the same pastime. Neither one could ever talk horses too much. The heavy rain made it impossible to see the water-covered lowlands of the Napa Valley, the Sonoma Valley, and then the Petaluma, but Brad told her about them all.

When they stepped out of the car, DJ could hear the river that flowed between the levees at the low end of the fields.

“Let’s take your things in and get some rain gear, then I need to check that mare. You can come if you want.”

“Sure I do. Do you think she’ll foal tonight?”

“I hope not—but then I thought she would foal last week some time. You never can tell for sure.”

Brad unlocked the door and motioned DJ inside. “I have a lantern down at the barn. I hate to turn on all the lights and wake the horses up.” He carried her bag to her room. “There’s plenty of rain gear by the door, so you needn’t unpack yours. Jackie called today and said it’s really nice down south. Wish some of that sun would make its way back up here.”

DJ draped her wet Windbreaker over the chair and followed her father back down the hall. Thanks to the drumming rain, even the house felt damp. She rubbed her arms. Good thing she had a sweater on.

The rain sounded even louder on the roof of the horse barn. Brad flicked the switch on a battery-operated lantern hanging right inside the doorway, and a soft glow spread a circle around them. The lights from the Land Rover automatically shut off as Brad slid the barn door closed.

A horse nickered from somewhere in the dimness. Straw rustled under restless hooves. Both foaling stalls were occupied. In one the mare stood placidly in the corner, opening her eyes just enough to acknowledge the two humans before going back to dozing. In the other, the heavy-sided mare paced and rocked from one foot to another.

“Uh-oh.” Brad handed DJ the lantern. He opened the stall door and motioned her to step inside with him.

From the books she’d read, DJ knew that restlessness could be an indication of beginning or first-stage labor in a mare.

The mare’s tail twitched, and she reached past her shoulder to nip at her ribs, a sign of pain. She paced and shifted, then paced and shifted again.

“I’ll be right back, old girl.” Brad patted the mare one more time and left the stall. “You ever wrapped a horse’s tail?”

“For shows.”

“This isn’t much different—just not as fancy.” Brad went to the tack room and returned with a roll of white wrap. “Here, I’ll start and then you can do it. Set the lantern on the shelf there.”

He wrapped the first couple of rounds, starting at the top of the tail, then handed DJ the roll. “Go most of the way down with this. It keeps her tail from tangling in the birth sac.”

DJ tested the tightness and continued wrapping. “How many foals has she had?”

“Ten or so, I think. She’s an old hand at it, anyway, so I don’t expect any trouble.” He repositioned the camera monitor in the corner so it could view the entire stall. “This way I can check on her without coming down to the barn. Stupid thing is, I let Ramone have the night off because he’ll be here full time when we’re down at the show.” He stroked the mare’s sweaty neck, talking to her in a soothing voice.

Watching him, DJ knew where she got her horse sense.

“Did you always love horses like this?” she asked softly.

“I’ve always liked them, but I think the love grew as I got older. My hope of owning a horse-breeding and showing ranch was just a dream for many years. I had to become established as an attorney first. Then I met Jackie at a horse show, and we put our dreams together.” As he spoke, he walked around the mare, keeping a gentle hand on her at all times. He checked her udder. “Couldn’t you wait a couple more days, old girl?”

She snorted, then bent her front legs and collapsed with a grunt on her side.

“Good. If you’re going to do this, let’s get it over with.” Brad knelt beside her, continuing to stroke her neck.

The mare surged to her feet and began the rocking and pacing motion again. But within a few minutes, she quieted down, relaxed, and began to doze.

“Now what?”

“The contractions have stopped for who knows how long. Could be an hour, could be twenty-four. Some mares refuse to have their foal while a human is anywhere around, but I’ve been with Soda here for the last four, so I know that’s not the case.”

“I read once that wild horses could stop the birthing if danger threatened.”

“Not just wild ones. That’s why we set up the monitoring system. A thermostat keeps it the perfect temperature in here, too. Neither too cold nor too hot is good for the foal.”

“I didn’t know it could be so complicated.”

“Yeah, well, when foals are worth thousands of dollars, you can’t be too careful.” Brad checked his watch. “It’s nearly nine. Morning is going to come awfully early, so maybe you should hit the sack.”

“And miss this?”

“No, you won’t miss anything. I’ll keep checking her, and if she goes into stage-two labor, I’ll wake you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“If it comes on fast, I may miss it.” DJ glanced over her shoulder at the mare, who now looked as if nothing had happened. She opened her eyes and exhaled a heavy breath as they left the large, loose box stall, but even her ears didn’t twitch.

“You want anything to eat or drink?” Brad asked when they reached the kitchen. He pointed to the TV in the corner, which showed the mare sound asleep in her stall. “I’m having hot chocolate.”

“That sounds good.” DJ pulled out a bar stool and turned so she could watch the screen.

“I have another screen in my bedroom. I can set it to wake me however often I want so I can check on her. Of course, it would be better to have a man down there at the barn, but I think we still have a couple of hours or more to go.”

After finishing the cocoa, DJ headed for bed, certain she’d never go to sleep. She was not only going to a horse show in the morning, she was going to watch a foal come into the world! She whispered her thank-yous and blessings into the stillness of the dark room. Without streetlights like at home, the dark here was really dark, even with the blinds left wide open. “And please, God, take care of Soda and her baby.”

A tree branch brushed against the window, startling DJ from the doze she was sure would never come. She took in a deep breath and pulled the covers up over her ears. Why had a dumb tree branch startled her?

“DJ,” Brad’s voice floated out of the darkness sometime later, “it looks like we’re going to have a foal tonight.” Her father touched her shoulder.

“Okay.”

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” He left the room.

“Okay.”

DJ blinked hard, trying to get her eyes to stay open as she hopped from the bed and into her clothes. She added a long-sleeved turtleneck under the sweat shirt and heavy socks to keep her feet warm inside her boots. Slicking her hair back and wrapping a scrunchie around it as she walked, she got to the kitchen as Brad hung up the phone.

“Ramone is on his way. He said the river is rising fast. Apparently, there was more rain to the north of us than we had here. They’re sandbagging the levee upriver.” He shook his head. “If the water overflows, we could be in a world of trouble.”

“You think it could?”

“I doubt it, but stranger things have happened. For now, first things first. Soda doesn’t look like she’s waiting on us.”

DJ glanced at the monitor screen. The mare was rising to her feet again.

The roar of the river was muted by the barn walls. Soda had lain down again but heaved herself back up when they entered the stall.

“Move very slowly around her from now on,” Brad cautioned. “The calmer we are, the easier it will be for her.” He circled the mare. “No sign of the sac yet. It might still be a while.”

DJ stroked Soda’s neck and smoothed her cheek. The mare seemed to accept her there, though her restlessness continued.

When the water broke, Brad breathed a sigh of relief. “Soon now.”

Fifteen minutes passed.

To DJ, it seemed like two days. She listened as her father softly explained all that was happening with the mare and unborn foal.

“You want to interfere as little as possible,” he said. “God set this process in motion, and it works better when you leave it alone—unless you’re sure there’s trouble. And I’m thinking more and more that’s what we’re in here.”

“Are you going to call the vet?”

“Not yet, but it’s a real possibility.”

She and Brad both sat in a corner of the stall. Another ten minutes dragged by. The mare was down, then up, back down on one side, then the other.

“Something is definitely wrong. Now that she’s up, I’m going to check to see if the foal is in the right position.” He took off his jacket and pulled a long, sterile rubber glove from the bucket he’d brought from the tack room. “Hold her head for me, please.”

DJ watched as he carefully inserted his hand into the birth canal. The mare flinched but stood still. “What is it?”

“I can’t find the other foot.” He reached farther. “It’s bent back at the knee.” A contraction clamped around his arm, making him wince.

“You okay?”

“Better than this baby here.” He gritted his teeth. “I’ve got to get that leg straightened out. That’s what’s slowing her down.” He closed his eyes as another contraction squeezed off the circulation all the way to his shoulder. “Okay, girl, now as you relax, let me find that hoof.”

Please, God, help him
. DJ kept on stroking the horse and pleading for help at the same time.

“Got it.” He grunted again. “You have to be careful that you don’t injure either the foal or the sac it’s in. The mare, either, for that matter.” Brad sighed with relief. “There.”

DJ sent a thank-you heavenward as her father withdrew his hand. Pulling the glove off, he came to stand beside her. The mare groaned and lay back down.

“She’s on the right side now. And that little one is ready to join us.”

They both hunkered down at the rear of the mare. The protruding sac had grown in size.

“You should see the front hooves any minute now.” He kept a steady hand on the mare’s haunches. “Come on, girl, I don’t want to have to pull it.”

DJ bit her lip in delight. Two tiny hooves, still covered by the white sac, inched out. Another contraction, and she could see the knees. On the next, the foal’s head, nose pressed to the legs, appeared.

“Okay, girl, keep it coming. Right now, DJ, is a crucial moment. Too long at this point, and the baby could have breathing problems because its cord is being pinched.”

While his voice was soft and even, DJ could hear the concern. Never had she realized how many things could go wrong.

With a mighty contraction on the mare’s part, the foal, still totally covered by the white sac, slipped out onto the straw.

And didn’t move.

Brad knelt beside the still form, ripped the sack away from the foal’s head, and with a clump of straw, wiped out the tiny nostrils. Still no movement.

“It’s not breathing. DJ, call the vet.” He motioned to the cell phone in a holder in the corner. He gave her the number to punch in, then pinched the foal’s lower nostril closed and blew into the upper nostril.

DJ’s fingers were shaking so hard, she could hardly dial. She watched her father breathe in and blow out in a steady rhythm. He stopped to compress the foal’s ribs.

The phone rang in her ear.
Please, God, please
. An answering machine kicked on. “Dr. Benton is out on a call right now. Please leave your number, and as soon as he can, he will check for messages and return your call.”