Page 9 of Irish Thoroughbred
She spotted Tom in the far paddock and, cupping her hands, shouted, “Solomy’s time’s here. Get Travis—call the vet. Be quick!” Without waiting for an answer, she ran back inside to comfort the laboring horse.
She was murmuring and stroking the sweating hide when Travis and Paddy joined her. Soft words and gentle hands had calmed the mare, whose deep brown eyes were riveted on Adelia’s dark green ones.
Travis knelt beside her, his hands joining hers on the gleaming skin, and though Adelia spoke to him, her eyes never left the mare’s.
“The foal’s still the wrong way; it must be turned, and quickly. Where’s Dr. Loman?”
“He’s had an emergency—can’t be here for half an hour.” His voice was clipped, his own attention on Solomy.
She turned her head and captured his gaze. “Mr. Grant, I’m telling you she doesn’t have that long. The foal has to be turned now, or we’ll lose them both. I can do it; I’ve done it before. It’s God’s truth, Mr. Grant, she hasn’t much time.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, Adelia’s eyes wide and pleading, his narrowed and intense. Solomy let out an agonizing whinny as a new contraction began.
“There, my love.” Adelia switched her attention back to the mare, murmuring words of comfort.
“All right,” Travis agreed, a long breath escaping through his teeth. “But I’ll turn it. Paddy, call in some of the men to hold her down.”
“No!” Adelia’s protest caused the mare to start, and she spoke quietly again, using hands and voice to soothe. “You’ll not bring a bunch of bruisers in here forcing her down and frightening her.” Again she raised her eyes to Travis’s and spoke with calm assurance. “She’ll hold for me; I know how.”
“Travis,” Paddy intervened as he started to speak. “Dee knows what she’s about.” Nodding, Travis moved off to scrub his hands and arms.
“Have a care,” she warned as he prepared to begin. “The babe’s hooves will be sharp, and the womb can close on your hand quickly.” Taking a deep breath, she lay her cheek against the mare’s, hands circling the damp flesh in a steady rhythm as she began to croon in quiet Gaelic.
The mare shivered as Travis entered her, but remained still listening to Adelia’s comforting voice.
The air seemed to grow closer, heavy with Solomy’s breathing and the mystical beauty of the ancient tongue Adelia murmured. It brought a heavy warmth to the spring afternoon, isolating them from all but the struggle for life.
“I’ve got him,” Travis announced, sweat running unheeded down his face. His breath came quickly, and he muttered a steady stream of soft curses, but Adelia heard nothing, giving herself over to the mare. “It’s done.” He rested back on his heels, turning his attention to the woman at his side. She gave no sign to him, only continued her slow, rhythmic crooning, hands gently caressing, face buried in the mare’s neck.
“Here it comes,” Paddy cried, and she turned her head to watch the miracle of birth. When the foal finally emerged into the world, both woman and horse sighed and shuddered.
“It’s a fine, strong son you have, Solomy. Ah, sure, and there’s no more beautiful sight in the world than an innocent new life!”
She turned her glowing face to Travis and gave him a smile that rivaled the sun. Their eyes met, and the look deepened until it seemed to Adelia that time had stopped. She felt herself being drawn into fathoms of dark blue, unable to breathe or speak, as if some invisible shield had descended, insulating them from all but each other.
Can love come in an instant? her numbed brain demanded. Or has it been there forever? The answer was forestalled as Robert Loman arrived, shattering the magic that had held her suspended.
She stood up quickly as the vet began to question Travis on the colt’s delivery. A wave of giddiness washedover her as she rose, and she sank her teeth into her lower lip to combat the weakness. Keeping the mare calm had been an enormous strain, almost as if she had experienced each pang of labor, and the unexpected rush of emotion when Travis had held her eyes had left her drained and dizzy.
“What is it, Dee?” Paddy’s voice was full of concern as he took her arm.
“Nothing.” She placed her palm to her spinning head. “Just a bit of a headache.”
“Take her home,” Travis commanded, regarding her closely. Her eyes were bright and enormous against her pallor, and she appeared suddenly small and helpless. Rising, he moved toward her, and she stepped back, terrified he would touch her.
“There’s no need.” She kept her voice calm and even. “I’ll just go up and have a wash. I’m fine, Uncle Paddy.” She smiled into his frowning face, avoiding Travis’s at all costs. “Don’t you worry.” Stepping from the stall, she moved quickly from the building, filling her lungs with fresh, clean air.
That evening found Adelia quiet and pensive. She was unused to confusion and uncertainty, characteristically knowing what needed to be done and doing it. Her life had always been basic, the fundamental existence ofmeeting demands as they came. There had been no room for indecision or clouded reasoning in a world that was essentially black or white.
She lingered in the kitchen after dinner, reasoning with herself with firm common sense. The foaling had been difficult, the strain emptying her body of its strength, and the sight of the new colt had fogged her brain. These were the reasons she had reacted so strongly to Travis. She could hardly be in love with him; she barely knew him, and what she did know was not altogether to her taste. He was too big, too strong, too self-confident, and too arrogant. He reminded her of a feudal lord, and Adelia was too Irish to have any liking for landed gentry.
However, after her work was done and self-analysis complete, she remained oddly weary and disturbed. Sitting down on the floor at Paddy’s feet, she laid her head in his lap with a deep sigh.
“Little Dee,” he murmured, stroking the thick auburn curls. “You’re working too hard.”
“What nonsense,” she disagreed, snuggling deeper into the still newness of comfort. “I haven’t worked a full day since I arrived. The day would not nearly be over yet if I was back on the farm.”
“Was it hard for you, lass?” he asked, thinking she might now be ready to talk of it.
