Gift Horse (14 page)

For the next couple of days M and Catman kept Gracie and me company during the day. Nights I slept on a cot in Nickers' stall. I could peek through the slats without disturbing Gracie.

The second night, as I piled every available blanket onto the cot, Pat Haven dropped by. I hadn't seen her since the life-science final. I hadn't even been to Pat's Pets. On top of everything else, I'd been feeling like I'd lost Pat. Maybe even Pat Haven had had it with
you and your kind.

“Hey, Winnie!” Pat called, her boots clomping on the barn floor. “Been thinking 'bout you.”

“I really messed up that final, didn't I?” I asked, brushing hay off my pillow.

“It wasn't one of your shining moments,” Pat admitted. She stomped snow off her cowboy boots. “Catman's been keeping me up on Gracie's news, though. He said you slept out here all night.” She was carrying a garbage bag, which she tossed to me in Nickers' stall.

I caught it, opened it, and saw a giant blanket.

“Down comforter,” Pat explained. “Thought you could use it out here. Better than a heater. Call it a Christmas gift. It's been stored away in the attic since my husband passed. Oh, and I put some baby bottles in that sack—the good kind, with the lambs' nipples.”

I couldn't believe she was bringing me a gift after the way I'd been lately. “Pat, I don't have any money to buy you anything, and I wanted to get you a great cowboy hat. And now I can't even buy that terrarium for Lizzy, and I've stuck you with it. Plus, I'm so far behind in the horse e-mails—”

“Gracious, Winnie! You're talking faster than Lizzy. I can't keep up! I reckon I can't think of a thing I need for Christmas any-who. And Lizzy's terrarium will keep. As for horse e-mails, they'll keep too. Barker and I have been checking them for emergencies. Not that many e-mails, what with Christmas and all.”

I could feel my neck muscles unknot. “Thanks, Pat.” She was still my friend, even though I'd let her down on every count.

“Well, don't be so quick to thank me until after you get your semester grade. Hey, but you got next semester to bring your grade back up, right? Life science runs the whole year. You can't get rid of me that easy!”

I liked that, that Pat was one of the people I couldn't get rid of—like Lizzy. Like
my kind
. “Pat, the other day Summer said something that kind of got to me.”

Pat nodded for me to go on.

“She said our class was raising money for . . . for ‘you and your kind.'”

Pat grinned and looked at me sideways. “Honey, don't you listen to talk like that. There's always going to be some pack of wolves—no offense to the wolves—ready to attack and hurt.
That's
the
kind
you don't want to be!”

I set the comforter on the cot and went out in the stallway to hug her. She felt soft and smelled like lilacs.

“You go on now,” she said, her voice raspy. “Take care of that mare. We're going to have us a merry Christmas, and that's that!” She turned to go.

“Pat!” I called before she reached the barn door. “Do you think Gracie will have her foal all right?” I wanted her to say yes, to promise.

“I sure hope so, Winnie.”

“But what if you hope and it doesn't come true?” I had to swallow to keep tears down.

Pat smiled at me. “Well, then you've at least hoped. And that's never a bad thing.”

It wasn't good enough. Nobody could hope harder than I had. People hope for all kinds of things that never happen. And they hope for things not to happen, and they do anyway. “But it
is
a bad thing, Pat! I'm hoping like crazy Gracie and her foal will be all right. And if they're not . . .” I couldn't finish it.

“Then God will help all of us get through it.” Pat fiddled with her boots, then smiled at me. “In the meantime, you go on and hope! ‘Hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts.' You can take that verse to the bank!”

Two days before Christmas, a blizzard hit. The wind whistled through the barn and house. Lizzy turned up the heat in the lizard lair Dad had invented for Larry and the other lizards in my sister's Ohio collection. I stayed toasty warm all night under Pat's down comforter.

The day before Christmas I was beginning to wonder if Gracie would ever have her foal. I'd gone in the house to clean up, change clothes, and get something to eat, when Madeline and Mason dropped by.

Dad let them in and took Madeline's coat. “Don't forget about the Christmas Eve service at church tonight,” he said.

“I told you we'd be there, Jack.” I could have been wrong, but I thought she sounded peeved with him.

“If you want me to drive over and pick you guys up, just say the word,” Dad offered.

Mason had gone straight to our little Christmas tree and was touching the tips of the pine needles.

“Want to come to the barn with me, Mason?” I asked. I turned to Madeline. “If it's okay with your mom.”

Madeline sighed. “All right. Put your gloves back on, Mason.”

I carried Mason on my shoulders through calf-deep snow to the barn. He giggled the whole time, tilting back his head and sticking out his tongue to catch snowflakes. “Giddyap, horsey!” Mason shouted when I jogged the last stretch to the barn.

He was so happy around the horses. I didn't want him to end up sad. I knew that's what Madeline and Dad were worried about. I tried to remember Pat's verse about hope not disappointing us, but I couldn't.

There's something about being around Mason, like being around Nickers, that makes me feel closer to God. Maybe that's why I found myself praying.
I know tomorrow is Jesus' birthday, but I just don't feel like celebrating. Don't get me wrong—I'm really glad you came down here. I'm just too worried about Gracie. I know you're busy, this being your biggest time of the year and all. But could you please help Gracie have a healthy, happy foal?

Gracie stopped pacing when I put Mason down and we joined her in the stall. “I love you, horsey,” Mason said, hugging Gracie's foreleg.

I picked him up so he wouldn't get stepped on by accident. “She loves you too, Mason,” I said.

“But she's sick?” he asked.

“She's sick,” I answered.

“Where did she live before?” he asked, squirming out of my arms so he could offer Gracie a handful of hay.

“I don't know, Mason.” I hadn't thought about the owner or
Topsy-Turvy
for days. Part of me was still angry. The other part of me was glad they'd left her. I wondered if I'd ever know who sent the gift horse.

Madeline came for Mason, and they went home to finish Christmas preparations.

In the afternoon Catman and M came over, already dressed for church. Catman's paisley shirt collar poked out of his army jacket, and he'd traded in his sandals for moccasins. M, of course, wore all black, which looked speckled with hay dust and horsehair after the first 10 minutes in the barn.

Lizzy appeared late in the day. She looked great, wearing a bright red sweater she'd picked up at Goodwill. “Everything okay out here?” she asked.

I didn't like the way Gracie had been pacing in the stall. And her eyes seemed glazed over. I shrugged. M and Catman didn't venture an answer either.

“You need to go change for church, Winnie.” Lizzy turned to M and Catman as I headed out. “You two can ride with us . . . or the Barkers. Whatever you want. Barkers are coming by at seven. I hope you're really hungry. You should see what I made for the Christmas Eve potluck dinner. I hope we get to eat first and have the service after. I don't want to miss a word, and I can't keep my stomach from growling. On the other hand, if I get my solo out of the way, my stomach won't have butterflies and—”

Her voice faded as I crossed the lawn. Inside my room I changed into my long, black velvet skirt and the green blouse Lizzy had bought weeks ago at Experienced Clothes, which means secondhand. I ran a brush through my hair and hurried back to the barn.

“Winnie!” Lizzy screamed. “Come here! Fast!”

Heart pounding, I raced past my sister to Gracie's stall. M and Catman were hovered next to the mare. Catman's eyes bugged. “Winnie, something's wrong, man. Something's way wrong.”

I almost knocked M down getting to Gracie. She was pawing the ground, her eyes wide. Sweat dripped from her chest and behind her elbows.

“She's roasting,” Catman said, pressing his palm to her forehead.

Gracie craned her head around toward her flank. Then she bit her belly.

“She's trying to hurt herself!” M cried.

“Out!” I shoved both of them out of the stall. “We can't all be here. You're making her crazy.”

Gracie lifted her tail. She snatched a mouthful of hay, then pivoted and started pacing again. I kept out of her way. Suddenly she dropped to the hay. Then she stood up again.

My insides were trembling. “She's in the first stage of delivery!” I announced, trying to keep my voice down. “Gracie's getting ready to have her foal!”

“Far out!” Catman shouted.

I shot him a look to shut him up. Catman of all people! We couldn't risk disturbing the mare.

“Man!” Catman shouted it again, then slapped his hands over his mouth.

I sneaked out of her stall just as Gracie kicked at her abdomen.

“Neat-o!” Catman cried. “Sorry, man,” he whispered, but even his whisper was too loud. Half a dozen barn cats had tiptoed up to him, as if to make sure
he
was all right.

I crossed the barn to where everybody was huddled. “Lizzy, take the bags of colostrum out of the freezer and put them in the sink so they can defrost. You're going to have to tell Dad that I can't go to Christmas Eve service.”

“Is she really and truly having the baby?” Lizzy whispered. “This is so perfect! Christmas Eve and—”

“Lizzy!” I stopped her. If she really got going talking, the foal would be a yearling before she finished. “Go!”