Heir of Earth (Forgotten Gods) (10 page)

“Well, you’re about to learn. She’s not going to like what I’m going to have to do to get this baby out of her. You’ve got to keep her as calm as possible. Understand?” He was talking quickly and loudly. I nodded in automatic agreement.

Dayne took out a towel and wet it with the warm water Phin had laid out. He carefully cleaned Hannah with a gentleness that amazed me. He put a clean glove on his arm and got into position by her tail. He had one hand on her hip and spoke in a voice so low I couldn’t make out what he was saying. His eyes were closed, and I wondered if he was talking to Hannah or praying. Hannah’s body tensed and she groaned against a contraction. “Now,” Dayne said, looking at me and nodding.

I wrapped my arms around Hannah’s head and neck. I made long strokes along her tensed neck muscles. I spoke soothingly into her ear while I mustered every ounce of peace and calm within me and hoped and prayed that it passed into her.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on creating quietness within me. As I ran my hand along her great neck, I focused on pushing that quiet out into her, of calming her body as I had just calmed mine. After a few passes of my hand, the muscles of her neck began to relax. I slowly opened my eyes, amazed to feel it working. I looked down the length of Hannah’s body and when my eyes came to Dayne, he was staring right at me. I blushed instantly, realizing what a fool I must have looked like, and pulled my hands away from Hannah. She immediately convulsed when my hands left her neck.

“No, no. Keep doing whatever it is you are doing. It’s working. She’s relaxing, and that’s the only way we can get this baby out,” Dayne encouraged. The front of his shirt was stained red with Hannah’s blood. I swallowed hard, closed my eyes and repeated my calming technique again. I calmed myself and then passed it into her with every bit of concentration I had. I spoke to her in my mind. I calmed her and soothed her, and once again, she responded to my touch.

Hannah let out a groan, signaling the beginning of her contraction, but she did not fight against it. She was still calmed by my touch. I could tell she was beginning to fade. Her body began to sway with the strain it was under.

“Sorry, girl,” I heard Dayne say. Hannah let out a heartbreaking moan of pain. A wet snapping sound came from somewhere behind her and then Dayne held a new born foal in his arms, jet black like Hannah but with four white socks and a wide blaze painted down his face. Another sloppy sliding sound came from her body as the rest of the placenta hit the straw behind Hannah. She crumpled to the floor and did not move. I crumpled to the floor beside her. My muscles quivered with exhaustion and I knew her body must have been feeling much worse. Relief washed over me to see that the foal was safe, but something in the pit of my stomach told me this was far from over for Hannah. I put my hand on her again and could feel the muscles tensed in her neck, obviously trying to distract the pain that must have been radiating through her body. There was a lot of fresh blood with the placenta. The blank stare on Dayne’s face when he saw the blood told me it wasn’t a good thing.

Dayne put the foal down and raced to Hannah’s side. He was sitting right beside me, checking her pupils and breathing. I couldn’t help it. I began to cry. Big fat tears rolled down my cheeks and fell to the fresh straw. I was shaking with the effort of controlling my sobs, not wanting Dayne to see. His arm brushed against mine when I reached out to stroke Hannah’s ears. He jerked away like he had been electrocuted and stared straight at me.

“Why are you crying?” He asked, not really interested in me at the moment.

“Is she going to be okay?” I forced out between sobs.

“Hard to say. She doesn’t look good.” It was obvious he was just as concerned for Hannah as I was. He gently stroked the enormous head I had wiggled into my lap. I watched as he drew a needle full of medicine from a bottle and injected it into her neck. The tears kept rolling down my face, landing on the silky black hair of Hannah’s cheek. It wasn’t fair for this beautiful horse to die after giving birth to her baby. It just wasn’t fair.

“No!” Phin groaned in the doorway. I turned to look at him. He was shocked when he saw my red face and the tears that streamed down my cheeks. Beside him stood a short little man, with thick black framed glasses and the weathered face of a true Irishman.  In his hand he held a vet's bag, almost as large as he was.  His expert eyes assessed the situation in seconds, and the big bag hit the floor as he rushed to Hannah's side. 

Without saying a word, I turned back to Hannah, unable to think about anything but her. I tried my soothing technique again. I didn’t get any response this time.  Her body was already limp, but I kept trying anyway. It was helping to calm me.

Dayne stood up and walked out into the aisle to talk with Phin as the vet began to pull items from his bag and work on Hannah in a fevered way.  The conversation in the aisleway was so soft I couldn’t understand what they were saying.  Not that I really cared anyway.

In the stall, the vet was rubbing his forehead, mumbling to himself and checking every vital sign he could before he finally retrieved a huge needle and a glass vial of medicine from his bag.  Hannah didn't even flinch when he stuck the needle deep into a large artery tracing down the length of her neck.  After pushing two syringes of medicine into the port he had created, he hung an IV bag on an old nail and started the drip into her vein.  Wiping his hands in a frustrated way, he turned to stall door.

"I'm sorry, Mr. DeLaney.  I've done all that I can.  If we could get her back to Shannon I could do more, but we can't move her in this condition.  I can't promise anything on this one."  He jerked a thumb toward Hannah and shook his head.

"Her name's Hannah," I said shortly, suddenly seething with the easy way he dismissed her.  The stall went quiet for a second and I could feel their eyes on me, shocked to hear such a harsh reprimand in my voice.  

"Done all I can for
Hannah
," he corrected with an apologetic nod.  I took my scowl away from him and refocused on the head in my lap without another word.  "The little colt seems perfectly healthy.  But you'll need to be sure to start feeding him right away if you want him to stay that way.  I'll leave some formula for you and check back in the morning."  The little man finished, gathering all his tools and placing them back in his bag.  "I'm so sorry I wasn't here sooner.  Seems like a really nice mare."

“No, I understand.  It happens in this business.  Come on, I'll give you a lift back to Shannon," Dayne's deep voice burned in my ears and when I looked up from Hannah for the briefest of seconds his eyes were on me instead of the man he was talking to.  I gasped, and quickly looked back at my lap. 

"Phin? Call me if anything changes?” Dayne asked, walking over to Hannah and stroking her belly one last time.  All the while, he kept his eyes on me, watching my every move as I tried to pretend he wasn't there. 

"Of course," Phin answered and tossed a set of keys toward Dayne.  He caught them in mid air and turned to leave.  Seconds later a truck engine roared to life, and I knew it was the big rig that was attached to the horse trailer parked in the paddock.

Phin kneeled by my side. “It was a rough delivery, poor girl.” Phin stroked Hannah’s cheek. “I know it’s hard, Faye, but there is nothing more we can do for Hannah tonight. That colt needs us. Someone’s going to have to nurse her baby before he gets sick, too.” Phin was talking to me with a tenderness I had never heard in his voice before.

I nodded my head and wiped my cheeks. The little black colt lay curled up in the straw where Dayne had deposited him. He turned his wobbly head and looked in my direction, not having enough control over the muscles yet to hold it steady. I instantly loved that little guy like he was my own. Phin returned carrying a bottle filled with a milky liquid mixture.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“It’s the best we can do to imitate Hannah’s milk. He can’t nurse until Hannah stands up.  We’re going to have to feed him until she can stand or…” he didn’t finish the sentence.

“Or what?” I demanded, leaning protectively over Hannah’s limp body.

“Until Dayne can get back from Shannon with a surrogate,” Phin said, not looking at me.

“Oh.” My eyes fell to the big head in my lap. I knew what he meant. Hannah was dying. Her eyes were closed, the enormous rib cage barely rising and falling with ragged breaths. Fresh tears sprang up in my eyes where the old ones had dried.

Phin couldn’t get the baby to take the nipple of the bottle he offered. “Can I try?” I asked, looking at the black colt and feeling a sudden motherly instinct take over.

Phin handed me the bottle. I was able to get him to take hold on the first try.

“Must take a woman’s touch.” Phin shook his head.

“Just dumb luck,” I said.

“He’ll nurse every hour until he builds his strength. The truck is parked out front; why don’t you head back home and I’ll call you when there’s some change,” Phin encouraged.

“I’d like to stay, if that’s all right. Can you show me how to mix this formula for him? I just don’t want to leave Hannah. I feel like she needs me.” Phin shook his head in protest. He really didn’t like the idea of me staying in the barn all by myself. But I was stubborn, and in the end I talked him into it.

As the taillights of his truck disappeared
around the bend in the road I realized how alone I really was. Sounds from the forest at night echoed in the dark. Shaking off the creepy feeling that crawled up my neck, I looked up to the big house where several lights burned through the windows. That little old lady was up there if I really needed anything. I wrapped Phin’s jacket close around me and returned to Hannah’s stall.

Hannah’s condition had not changed at all. The formula had given her colt enough energy to begin to try out his legs. It was quite entertaining to watch him struggle and fall countless times, but never get deterred from his goal. I admired his determination.

After about 45 minutes of struggling, he finally managed to get all four legs locked under him. When he realized what he had done, he looked at me with a shocked expression, not knowing what to do next. I held out the bottle to him, trying to coax him forward. He saw the bottle and made a beeline for it. He took two steps successfully and then crashed into a pile in my lap.

He suckled the contents of the bottle and then decided to have another go at walking. He was getting much better. The game went on for several hours. He would discover something new he could do with the long spindly legs under him and then come and finish off the bottle before starting out again on his new legs.

He finally crashed into a pile beside Hannah and stretched out his legs in front of him. Snuggling into her warmth, he relaxed to sleep. It broke my heart to see Hannah unable to care for her baby.

I was hit with a wave of exhaustion myself. Looking around me, I found a bale of hay Lucas had left in the corner. An old horse blanket would make a bed of hay bearable enough for one night. After I found one and spread it over the loosened bale, I grabbed Phin’s jacket and stretched out. The hay was scratchy against my face. I pulled my hair down from its bun and spread it over the bale, creating my own pillowcase. My eyes felt the weight of the night, and as I snuggled into the makeshift bed my body relaxed into the deepest of sleeps.

Somewhere in the night, between the restful waves of exhausted sleep, the sound of Hannah’s stall door rolling open tugged at part of my brain. It didn’t register at first as the weary voice inside my head tried to soothe me back to dreaming. But when the rustle of hay under foot and the jingle of keys broke through the silence of the sleeping barn I awoke with a measured start, like quarry hoping to keep it’s cover.

My eyes flew opened and I caught a gasp high in my throat before it had time to make a sound. The heavy mist of dreaming still clouded my vision and I blinked furiously to chase the fog away. In the dull light filtering down from a single camp lantern Phin had hung on a nail, I saw him.

Hannah’s blood was cleaned from his shirt. Soft light caressed the strong curves of his face, framed with chocolate waves of hair. I moved ever so slightly in the darkened corner of the stall, sitting up and quietly raising a shoulder to brush the hair from in front of my eyes.

He hadn’t seen me hiding in the shadows, turning instead to the giant black body sprawled in the hay at his feet. The foal’s wobbly head popped up, startled by Dayne’s arrival, but Hannah remained motionless, and I craned my neck forward to be sure her belly still swelled with breath. Was she alive or was she dead?

Nothing about her moved and Dayne’s hand went to her chest, searching for a pulse. Another minute passed before his head fell into his hands and a tortured groan seeped into the stillness of the stall.

Hannah was gone.

I sucked my lips over my teeth, biting down hard as I struggled to still my quivering chin. A hot tear spilled down the side of my nose and the top of my throat tightened with sobs lurching up from my gut.

I started to go to her, to hold her lifeless body in my arms and praise her selfless mother’s sacrifice. But I didn’t. Dayne’s shoulders slumped over her limp body, his bowed head shaking back and forth in his hands as he knelt before her. His voice was low and fervent as he spoke to himself, to her, or maybe to God.

It wasn’t a moment I could interrupt, and I suddenly felt guilty sitting there, spying on a man’s private grief. Without making a sound, I pulled Phin’s jacket up until it was even with my lower lashes and leaned back further into the shadows. My own quiet tears soaked the collar of Phin’s jacket and the recycled air beneath it grew hot and hard to breathe.