Page 115 of A Home Among the Snow Gums
‘And walking is okay? This far into it?’
‘Walking is good. Out in the wild, a mare will get up and down and walk around during labour; it helps position the foal. Buttercup’s been stabled indoors a lot with this poor weather; it may have contributed to the foal not getting itself in the right position. Usually mares foal in spring. Buttercup’s just a little out of season and a little out of sorts, aren’t you, darling?’ Hannah slapped the mare on the rump and gave Tom a look as the mare began to scrabble her hind legs in the hay. ‘Now, Tom. Urge her up.’
The huge mare lumbered to her feet and Tom led her in a circle around the stall. ‘There’s my girl,’ he muttered.
‘Okay, let’s do this.’ Hannah had peeled off down to her singlet before the first examination, but she had hay stuck to her arms so she sluiced it off with antiseptic. ‘Head her into a corner so she can’t move away from me. I’ll come up behind her and then you stand behind me. When I say, you lean in against me, okay?’
Tom did as she asked, crowding Buttercup towards the wooden wall. Hannah slipped in behind, felt the loosened muscles below the horse’s tail.
‘When the foal’s turned, it’s going to be real quick. We’ve got to be alert, okay? Ready for anything. You ready?’
His eyes met hers and he looked worried and deathly pale. The professional mask she’d been forcing herself to wear slipped for a second. Then she shoved her concern for him away, hoping it would land in a pile of manure, where it belonged. She was here for Buttercup and her foal, not for Tom.
‘I’m ready,’ he said.
She turned her back on him and began the long plunge into the birth canal of the horse. ‘Up against me now,’ she said as her cheek brushed the stiff coat of the horse’s rump. Tom moved in behind her, a solid mass bracing her from thigh to shoulder.
‘I’ve got my hand on the foal’s rump, I can feel the tail. I’m breaking the sac now, then I’m going to try to roll the foal.’ Man, this was tough. She’d rolled foals before, but on stockhorses, never on such a huge and pampered beast like Buttercup. Her hand found a hoof, and she shoved it forward, wincing when it jabbed back and kicked her.
‘Foal’s alive,’ she said.
Tom’s breath was hot against her neck.
‘Lift me a little, can you?’ she grunted. ‘I can’t quite …’
Her shoulder was screaming as she rotated her arm within the horse’s cervical canal and she heard a muttered curse behind her as Tom hefted her so she was wedged beneath Buttercup’s tail. A rush of hot fluid gushed about her arm and she felt a great, sucking whoosh as the foal began to tumble.
‘My god,’ she breathed. ‘I think we’ve done it.’
She eased her way free of the horse, ignoring the mess of amniotic fluid dripping down her front. ‘Walk her, Tom, just around in a slow little circle. With a bit of luck it’ll jiggle the foal into the right position. If she wants to lie down, let—’
Hannah broke off as Buttercup dropped to her knees and rolled in the hay. The mare’s sides gave a great heave and a tiny hoof slithered free from beneath her tail.
She laughed. ‘Spoke too soon.’
She squatted next to the mare, content to let nature take its proper course. Another hoof, a soft nose, and then a small, perfect horse, the colour of autumn leaves on a bright sunny day, plopped onto the hay beside her.
‘Well, hello to you too, my sweet,’ she murmured. She glanced up at Tom, who stood braced against the wall. ‘I think you can break out the cigars.’
He let out a breath. ‘Yeah. How’s the foal?’
The foal was snuffling in the hay and Hannah eased a hand beneath it until it had see-sawed its way to its feet. ‘Just fine. Perfect, in fact. Let’s see if Buttercup wants to stand up and check out her new daughter.’
‘A girl.’ Tom’s voice was quiet.
‘Mmm.’ It was hard to remember how much she disliked him in a moment so profound. She gave Buttercup a gentle slap to the rump. ‘Up you get, lovely.’
The horse rose to her feet. When Buttercup’s muzzle reached down and whickered softly over the ears of her new foal, Hannah felt tears choke her throat. She had the best job in the world and this was one of the moments that proved that.
She slipped Buttercup a sugar lump from the pile she kept in her kit bag and laughed as the foal nuzzled her fingers. ‘Not for you, little princess. You’re on a milk-only diet for a few days yet.’
‘Sugarplum,’ said Tom behind her.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Her name. Sugarplum.’
She stroked her hand over the foal’s soft ears. ‘A pretty name for a pretty girl.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Right. I’ll make sure the placenta’s out in one piece then I’ll be on my way. You’ll need to check on them every couple of hours during the night, make sure Buttercup’s okay. Any sign of excessive bleeding or fever, call the clinic. Josh will be out first thing tomorrow to check on them.’
