High Hurdles (71 page)

“I got an answering machine.”

“Leave our number. He’ll call from his mobile phone as soon as he’s back in his truck.”

DJ did as she was told. At that moment, the foal’s ribs rose and fell—the most beautiful sight DJ had seen in her whole life. The baby was breathing! It would live now. She set the phone down.

The foal pulled back against Brad’s grip and began thrashing its feet.

Brad cleaned the remainder of the sack away and stepped back. “Thank God for His mercies.”

“I did . . . I do.” DJ could feel tears burning behind her eyes.
Don’t cry now
, she scolded herself.

“Pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Brad draped an arm across her shoulders and squeezed her to him. “Nearly makes me cry every time I see it.”

DJ sniffed. “Good, then I don’t feel like such an idiot.”

“Seeing a miracle in action should make anyone cry. We’re not out of the woods with this one yet, but at least we’re on the right path.”

Brad took a thick towel out of the bucket. “You want to rub her down?”

“The mare?”

“No, the foal. Soda will be on her feet in a while to start pushing this one to get up and begin nursing.”

Brad collected the sac when the afterbirth came and put them both in a plastic bag.

“Why do you keep those?”

“If there’s a problem, much can be learned from this. For instance, if there’s an infection, it could tell us what kind and if all the afterbirth is out—if it isn’t, the mare could get an infection, too. Also, it tells us if there was any problem for the foal before birth, such as a rip in the membranes or poor circulation.”

“Oh.”

The phone beeped, and Brad answered it. “We have a filly here, but she’s weak because she was a long time coming. I had to go in and straighten a front leg, and she couldn’t start breathing without help. Yes, I think we’ll be okay. I’ll let you know if things change.”

But while the baby tried, an hour later she still didn’t have her feet under her. Even DJ could tell the foal was getting tired.

Soda whuffled to her foal, licking her and pushing sometimes with her nose. But the foal lay quietly after another major effort to stand.

“Look, Soda is dripping milk.”

“She’s losing her colostrum. We might have to tube-feed this one, so I’d better see if we can save some of that.” Brad brought a plastic jar back from the tack room. “I have some frozen from another mare if we need it.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that DJ nearly missed the point. The filly might not be able to nurse—and if it didn’t eat, it would die. Her stomach clenched as though someone had tied a rope around it and jerked.

The sound of an automobile outside the barn captured their attention.

“Good, Ramone is here. He’s a better milker than I am.”

“Sorry I took so long. One road was flooded, so I had to go back around.” Ramone took in the situation at a glance. “Trouble, eh?”

“Could you do the honors?” Brad handed him the jar. “Don’t take too much in case she makes it up on her own and can nurse.”

Brad took a clipboard off a nail and checked his watch, where he’d clicked the Stop button when the foal fully emerged. “Born at 3:15, needed assistance with . . .” he mumbled as he wrote, then looked down at DJ, who sat in the corner watching the mare and foal. “Keep praying.”

“I am.”

He clicked another button on his watch. “Uh-oh. We should be leaving for the airport right about now.”

Ramone broke in. “Like I said, the main road’s closed. You should have left earlier.” He capped the jar and set it on the shelf. “Sorry I got here so late.”

“It wouldn’t have made any difference. I wouldn’t have left. We’ll just have to take a later flight.”

Relief made DJ’s shoulders slump. She didn’t want to leave the foal right now, no matter how much she wanted to see Jackie compete.

By daylight, even with help, the foal had neither stood on her own nor been able to nurse. Brad called the vet again.

Chapter
•
13

“How about if I trailer a load of the horses up to the Carsons?”

Brad looked up at his foreman. “Something telling you that’s what we should be doing?”

Ramone nodded. “Juan and I can do that. I really think we should get them all out of here.” He took off his hat and scrubbed his dark hair smooth before putting it back on. “I’ve never seen the river so high—not since they built the levee. You always say it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“It would take a Noah-type flood to reach the house.”

“Sure, but the barns aren’t up that high.”

DJ watched the conversation ping-pong back and forth. Brad had insisted they come up to the house to eat. While she was hungry enough to devour the scrambled eggs he made, all she could think of was the foal. She had to stand and suck to nurse. Nothing major, unless she was too weak already.

A thought made her catch her breath. She choked on the toast in her mouth.

“You all right?” Brad leaned toward her.

DJ waved him away, then coughed, choked, and coughed again. A glass of water appeared in front of her. She took a clear breath, swallowed a couple of gulps, and breathed deeply.

“I’m fine. Guess it went down the wrong spout.” She could feel the heat in her face from both the coughing fit and embarrassment. She looked at her father. “You don’t think something is wrong with the foal’s lungs or anything, do you?”

“The thought’s crossed my mind. This one seems to have had a couple of strikes against her before she even got here.” He folded his arms on the table and leaned toward her. “DJ, sometimes these things happen. Maybe her lungs didn’t develop quite right, or her heart. If that’s the case, then the biggest favor we can do for her is put her down. We can’t let her suffer.”

DJ could feel the tears welling as fast as Brad was talking.
Put her down before she even has a chance to live? That’s not fair! You’ve got to give her a chance
. She didn’t dare say a word because then her tears would stream like the rain on the windows.

A car horn honked.

“Benton’s here,” Ramone said, checking out the window by the front door.

Brad looked over at DJ. “We’ll know more after the vet examines her. Then we’ll feed her using a stomach tube to see if that helps get her on her feet. I’ll give her every chance, Deej. She’s worth the time and effort.”

The new nickname made DJ smile as she slid her arms into the brown jacket her father had loaned her.
Deej, huh?

Back in the barn, nothing had changed. The mare hadn’t given up on encouraging her foal, but the little one still lay flat out in the straw. DJ took a moment to thank God the foal was still breathing as she watched the vet, who, after donning a coverall and boots that had been rinsed in disinfectant, knelt beside the foal. He listened to her heart and lungs, belly sounds, then looked up the nostrils and in her mouth, eyes, and ears.

“Everything sounds normal,” he said, rising to his feet. “She’s just weak. Let’s get some milk in her via the tube and see if that doesn’t help. We should get her nursing on a false teat until she can stand on her own.”

“False teat?” DJ looked to her father.

“A special nipple on a bottle that acts more like the real thing. Could you halter the mare and tie her to that bar, please?”

DJ did as he asked. In the meantime, Brad retrieved the milk from the refrigerator in the tack room and, after warming it in the microwave, returned to the stall.

By then, Dr. Benton had worked the rubber tubing up through the foal’s nose and down its throat. Ramone held her while Brad slowly poured the colostrum into the cupped end of the tube.

“I’m going to take a blood sample to see if we’re fighting any infections,” the vet said as he located a vein in the foal’s neck and pulled a syringe full of dark fluid. “Let her be for a while, then assist her once she struggles to her feet.” He smiled at DJ. “Brad knows all of this, but repeating it never hurts, and I knew you’d want to know what’s going on.”

“Thanks.” DJ left off stroking the mare and sank down behind the foal. She smoothed the fuzzy mane and brushed straw from the now dry coat. The foal raised her head and tried gathering her legs under her to be more upright. DJ inched closer to let the foal use her knees as a brace. With her legs folded under her, the baby rested her nose on the straw, still breathing heavily from the exertion.

Brad untied the mare but held the end of the rope. “She doesn’t seem to mind you at all.” The mare sniffed DJ’s hair, then nudged her baby.

“Give her a minute, girl,” DJ whispered.

“I’ve got another call to make,” Dr. Benton said. “Call me if there’s any change for the worse. Keep up the good work, DJ. I can tell you get along with horses like your dad does.”

But an hour later, no matter how much DJ and the mare coaxed the foal, she could not get to her feet. DJ could hear the men loading horses into the long trailer outside. Matadorian was the first, followed by the better blooded show horses, until they had ten loaded. She heard the truck drive off, and Brad returned to the stall.

“DJ, I’ve set our tickets for the six o’clock flight. That means we need to leave here by three.”

“You mean leave her like this?”

“Juan will take care of her. He’s great with the foals.”

“But . . . but I can’t just leave her.”

The mare nickered at the rise in DJ’s voice and shifted from one foot to another.

DJ tried to calm down and forced her voice to a lower note. “Please.”

“You’ve been up most of the night. Will you want to shower before we go?” Brad shrugged at the pleading look on her face. “What can I say, Deej? Jackie needs me with her, and the farm needs me here. The reality is sometimes I have to be gone—that’s why I hire extremely capable people.”

Ramone slid open the door and, trying to keep his voice low, stammered, “Bad news. The levee broke less than a mile upriver. Water is pouring into our side of the valley.”

“I see. Well, there go our lower fields, but the water shouldn’t pose a problem up this far. The house and barns will be fine.”

“But if you don’t leave right now, the road will be closed.”

“I can’t leave with something like this going on. Besides, that would leave you all alone. Juan won’t be able to return with the truck.” He turned back to the foaling stall. “Well, DJ, you got your wish. We aren’t going anywhere.” He closed his eyes. “Oh no. I better get you out of here. Your mother will have that proverbial cow for certain if she hears you’re caught in a flood.”

“No way—I’m not leaving.” DJ got to her feet, nearly collapsing on the foot that had gone to sleep.

The mare laid her ears back. The foal struggled to rise, too, her thin legs scrambling but refusing to work together. She collapsed again, flat out, flanks heaving.

“Sorry to pull rank, but you have to go. And it has to be
now
, so I can get back.”

“Where will you take her?” Ramone asked.

“To . . . ah, to the Lodesly place. I’ll call them now. Her mother can pick her up there.” He dialed but when the answering machine came on, he hit the cancel button. Another call had the same result.

DJ stood with her arms crossed, trying to keep the fury inside. He needed her here and instead he was trying to find someone else to keep her. He was right that Mom would be mad, but it wasn’t as if they had planned this. “Mom will understand this was an emergency.”

Brad handed her the phone. “The others have probably either left or are outside trying to salvage things from the flood. Their homes are on hills like this one, so their houses should be safe. At this point, it looks like we have no choice but for you to stay.”

“Do you want me to call my mother?”

“Oh.” Brad reached for the phone. “I’ll do it.” But when he dialed, the answering machine clicked on there, too. As he left a message, DJ shook her head.

“She’s at work. Why not wait and tell her later when I can talk with her?”

“Too late, I’ve left the message.” Brad pressed the Off button again.

Suddenly, the barn turned dark as the dim barn lights flickered out. Rain-streaked windows let in what little outdoor light remained.

“We’ve got to keep it warm enough for the foal in here, so let’s get the generator going. Ramone, you start that, and I’ll go up to the house and turn off the switches. DJ, why don’t you call your grandmother so she doesn’t worry.”

“Okay.”

This time when the phone rang, there was someone to pick it up.

“DJ, are you all right?” Gran’s voice carried the love of years through the wire.

“We’re fine, Gran, but we haven’t left for Los Angeles yet—or rather now we won’t.”

“What’s happening?”

“Well, the mare foaled during the night, and the baby has some problems, so we’ve been working with her. And we just got word that the levee broke and . . . no, Gran, we’ll be okay. Brad says the house and barns are high enough on the hill that we’re in no danger—we’re just stuck here. No, by the time you could get here, the roads will be flooded. Don’t worry, I’m safe.” She almost mentioned them relocating some of the horses, but she thought the better of it.

“Oh, and, Gran, please pray for this filly. She just hasn’t got the strength to stand, and if she can’t stand, she can’t nurse. I’ll be feeding her from the bottle.”

After promising to keep them posted and saying good-bye, DJ set the phone back in its cradle. Now if only she could get the foal to stand.

One of the Bible verses Gran had given DJ when she wanted to quit chewing her fingernails came floating through her mind.
Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the Lord
. She hummed the tune it was set to as she approached the stall again.

The mare turned from pulling hay out of the sling and pricked her ears. DJ heard a chugging sound, and the lights flickered and came back on.

“See, that’s what God means about His Spirit,” she confided to the mare. “With His Spirit, there is light and heat. God’s power is stronger than even that crazy river.” The more DJ said the words, the more she believed them herself. They were safe from the flood, but what about the weak foal? Surely God meant for His Spirit to take care of all His living creatures.

DJ let herself back into the stall and eased next to the mare, stroking her neck and watching the foal sleep. “God, you’ve brought us this far. Thanks for that. Now please give this filly the strength to stand and nurse so she can grow right and healthy. She is so little and weak.” DJ sniffed and wished she had a handkerchief. “Please help us again.”

She leaned against the mare, inhaling the scent of horse. She could hear the mare in the next stall, groaning as she lay down. Was she going into labor, too? Down the aisle, the remaining horses ate or dozed, the contented sounds of a normal barn. From outside, she could hear the river.

The door squeaked open, and Ramone entered, followed by Brad.

“You can see the river,” Ramone was saying.

“I know, but it won’t climb this high.” Brad leaned over the stall and handed DJ a zipped plastic bag. “You might want to wash your hands first, but I figured if you were as hungry as I am, your stomach rumbling might scare the old girl here.” He nodded toward the mare.

“Thanks.” DJ grinned and slumped down the stall wall, crossing her legs to sit more comfortably. Rubbing her hands mostly clean on her thighs, she pulled half the sandwich from the bag and attacked.

“We could go sit on the chairs in my office—I have the coffee machine on, and I know there are sodas in the refrigerator.”

“I’m fine. How long before we feed her again?”

“Any time Ramone wants to milk the mare. I have powdered substitute to mix, too, but the more colostrum we can get in her, the better.”

“Did you check on the fields?” DJ looked up to see Ramone standing beside her father.

“I did. I just hope there’s plenty of good fertilizer in that mud because it will be a while before our grass can push up through it.”

“It’s only mud?” DJ asked around a bite of ham and cheese.

“Nope, there’s a lot of water, too. You can actually watch it rising up the slope. I sure am glad I didn’t put the buildings down on the flat when we built. Was tempted to at the time.”