Page 53 of Keep You Safe
“A malposition of some kind or another complication, yeah.” My intuition was seldom wrong, and my neck had prickled as soon as Kat said Fern seemed to be in labor. I’d held off on summoning Jude, but my feeling of unease had only grown over the course of the day.
“I hope she does okay.” Adler gave the horse and me sympathetic looks. No surprise that the softest heart I knew was moved by Fern’s predicament. “I also stopped by and saw to the dogs before bringing you the food.”
“Thanks. Gonna be a long night.” I exhaled hard before gesturing toward the barn doors. No sense in Adler being exhausted as well. “You don’t need to stick around if you’re bored. Likely a lot more waiting before anything happens.”
“I don’t mind keeping you company.” Adler leaned against the stall door, shoulders brushing mine. “And I’ve never seen anything born. My younger siblings were all delivered at the hospital and presented to us a few days later, red-faced little bundles of trouble.”
I chuckled at his description. “I was ten or eleven for the first horse I saw foal. My dad woke me up to come see because I’d been asking after this one horse, Molly. Pretty paint mare. Mom bundled me up, pajamas and all, with a thermos of hot chocolate.” My voice turned thick, and I had to swallow hard. “Good memory.”
“Do you ever talk to your mom?” Adler wasn’t one to miss the emotion underlying my story.
“Rarely. She made her choices.” I pursed my lips, looking away from Adler in favor of studying Fern. My mother was the sorest of subjects, but as usual, Adler didn’t shy away from dangerous topics. “She wasn’t happy when I made my choice to stay with Dad rather than follow her back to Chicago. She texted during the holidays a few weeks ago. I texted back, but that’s about it.”
“I bet she misses you,” Adler said softly. He might be whispering, but there was no mistaking the longing in his voice. Not for the first time, I wanted five minutes alone with his family. Adler deserved to be missed. Lord knew I’d likely spend the rest of my own life pining for him.
“You always gotta go looking for the good that may not be there in folks.” I made my voice stern, not that it would save him from heartache.
“Optimism is a hard habit to break.” Adler offered me a crooked grin. “And I know all about hollow texting.”
I grunted, thinking about more ways to knock sense into his siblings. Fern made a distressed whinny, and I slipped into the stall for a closer look.
“Easy there, mama.” I placed a cautious hand on her heaving flank. There was a fine line between startling and reassuring, especially with a first-time horse mom. Speaking in a low voice, I gestured back at the ledge where I’d left my dinner containers. “Can you check my phone for an ETA from Kat? Think Fern’s water’s about to break.”
“That means delivery is close?”
“Ideally.” My voice was terse. Fern pawed again at the straw like she was considering whether lying down was in her best interests. “Once her water breaks, we’ve only got a fifteen- to thirty-minute window for delivery.”
“Oh.” Adler made a concerned noise as he looked down at my phone. “No message. What can I do to help you while we wait?”
“I grabbed gloves earlier in case she needs help.” I pointed to the corner of the stall where I’d stashed supplies. “Most of the time, the mares do all the work, and we stay hands-off, but I try to stay ready.”
Adler handed me the thick black rubber gloves, which covered part of my sleeves, that we used for deliveries right as Fern’s water indeed did break. I quickly slipped on the gloves and moved to examine the horse more closely.
“Yup. Here we go,” I said to Adler, who hung back near the stall door. “Keep an eye on the clock for me.”
The request was more to occupy him as I had a damn good sense of horse time, but Adler nodded like I’d handed out a military order.
“I’m on it. And I also texted Kat that Fern’s water just broke.”
“Good.” I kept all my attention on Fern, offering quiet reassurance as she finally went to lie in the straw. “Easy does it, Mama.” Her membranes were pinker than I liked, not the red of a true emergency, but not white either. We needed a fast delivery, but Fern’s contractions seemed to be slowing. The front legs of the foal started to emerge, a good sign, but then they retreated. Dystocia. I’d seen this before. “Hell. I’m gonna have to help. Sticky shoulders.”
Moving quickly, I tuned out Adler’s gasp and every other detail other than doing what needed to be done to ease the foal’s head and shoulders out. I’d been right about malpresentation, but one more contraction and the rest of the foal’s body emerged. Too much of the birth sac was over the foal’s head, so I worked to clear the airway. Horses were nose-breathers, and a clogged nose could be deadly.
“Okay, baby’s out. Hand me that tube. Got a fair bit of mucus here.” I summoned Adler to hand me the suction device we keptin the birth kit for events like this when the vet couldn’t make it. I gently extended the foal’s neck to aid respiration as I cleared the mucus from its nose. She was the prettiest of fillies, a delicate chestnut shade, and while I could feel her heartbeat under my palm, her pulse wasn’t as strong as it could be. “Come on, girl. Give us some good breaths.”
“Come on, girl,” Adler echoed me. I was about to summon the mask and pump for ventilation when the filly gave a mighty cough. Then another.
“Yes!” Adler and I exclaimed in unison. Putting my hands on my knees, I struggled to catch my own breath as relief washed over me.
“Oh, that’s a good sign, right?” Adler asked softly as beside me the filly stirred, testing her legs, first knees, then up on two, then all four.
“Yup.” I moved so Fern could examine her baby, nosing her in clear pride at the foal’s shaky attempt at standing. “That’s a better one.”
“Look at that.” The wonder in Adler’s voice had me turning toward him, not the horses. I’d seen hundreds of horse births, but only one Adler, eyes wide, cheeks pink, hands spread wide like receiving a blessing.
“Indeed.” I was so riveted by Adler that I almost missed the arrival of Jude and Kat, who brought a bitterly cold gust in with them.
“We made…” Kat trailed off as she took a look inside the stall. “Oh. Baby’s here.”
