The Complete Oregon Series, page 73
With another groan, Nattie prepared to get up. “I’d better go and relieve Amy so she can get something to eat.”
“Where is she?” Amy hadn’t been at supper, and Rika had assumed she was checking on the colts they had gelded today.
“She’s staying with Dotty because she thinks the mare’s about to foal.”
“Oh.” A hot rush of excitement swirled through her at the thought of witnessing a foal’s birth and sharing the experience with Amy. “Want me to go? I can watch the mare until Amy has eaten.”
Nattie’s eyes shone. “That would be great. I can go and help Toby with Nugget, then. She might be close to foaling too. We’re keeping her at the other end of the barn so that each of the mares gets some peace and quiet. If you’re sure...”
Rika lifted the cat and set him on the divan. “I don’t mind. I wanted to say goodnight to Cinnamon anyway.”
“Oh, dear. I think you caught the horse fever.”
The thought made Rika smile. “I think the pot is calling the kettle black.”
Nattie laughed. “I’m a Hamilton. It’s in my blood.”
It might not be in Rika’s blood, but she had grown fond of Cinnamon and the other horses. She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and crossed the ranch yard. Her tired legs protested, but the thought of seeing a foal being born urged her on. A soft voice led her to the last stall in the stable.
“You just wait and see, Dotty,” Amy said inside the stall. “Before the week is over, you’re gonna have the prettiest foal anyone has ever seen. Oh, yes, the absolutely prettiest, just like its mother.”
Rika pressed her fingers against her lips to stop her laughter. The tough Amy Hamilton, whispering sweet nothings to a pregnant mare. She cleared her throat and peeked over the stall door.
When Amy saw her, she pretended to be checking the water in the mare’s trough.
A chuckle escaped Rika.
“What?” Amy asked.
“Nothing.”
Dotty stretched her neck over the stall door to check out the visitor, and Rika let her sniff her hand before she stroked the velvet nose.
“I see you’re not afraid of horses anymore,” Amy said.
“A few of them still scare me, but by now, I’ve learned which horses are real gentle and friendly, and I’m staying away from the rest.”
Amy combed her fingers through Dotty’s mane. “All our horses are gentle and friendly.”
True. Compared to some of the horses she had seen in Boston, the Hamilton horses were well behaved. But still, some were gentler than others. “Your mare is a little...” She hesitated.
“Yes?” Amy drawled.
Rika ducked her head. “She’s a tiny bit...bossy.”
“You’re calling my horse bossy?”
“Not in a bad way,” Rika rushed to say. “I mean, she needs to be, right? She’s the lead mare, after all.”
Amy laughed. “I’m just pulling your leg. Ruby is pretty bossy, yes. But she’s also very loyal once you show her who’s the boss.”
The gentle teasing on the Hamilton Ranch still took some getting used to, but Rika was beginning to enjoy it.
“Supper over already?” Amy asked when silence spread between them.
“Yes. If you want to go and eat, I could watch Dotty until you get back.”
Amy shook her head. “That’s all right. Hank will relieve me at midnight, and I’ll eat something...” A big yawn interrupted her. “...then.”
“You must be tired.” When Rika had gotten up at sunrise, Amy had already been preparing things in the corral. She worked harder than any of the ranch hands, constantly proving that she could rope a horse, handle a branding iron, and hold down a yearling better than any of them. Now most of the ranch hands had gone to bed, but Amy was still up, taking care of the horses.
“No. I’m not tired.” Amy’s nostrils quivered as she suppressed another yawn.
“Liar,” Rika said. Her hand flew to her mouth. Her father would have rewarded such frankness with a slap to her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that, but...you do look pretty tired.”
In the light of the kerosene lantern, Amy’s face seemed pale. “A little.”
“Why don’t you go eat something and then lie down for an hour or two?” Rika said. “I’ll stay with Dotty.”
Amy’s eyebrows formed a skeptical arch. “Have you ever helped with foaling?”
“No.” The thought of being alone with the mare during labor set Rika’s heart racing. She had helped her stepmother when her two youngest half siblings were born, but holding her hand and offering a cool rag wouldn’t help the mare. “I wouldn’t try to help her on my own. At the first sign of the foal coming, I’d hurry to the house and wake you.”
Amy rubbed her eyes. “All right.” She shook her index finger at Rika. “But you need to be quick about it. Mares aren’t in labor for twenty hours. Once it starts, things go quickly.”
“What do I need to watch for?”
“When Dotty becomes restless, paces around, or lies down and gets up again, you need to get me immediately. Think you can do that?”
A simple nod was answer enough.
Amy slid her hands over Dotty’s swollen belly before she moved to the stall door. “Thank you,” she said, stepping into the corridor and holding the door open.
Her trust settled over Rika like a warm blanket. She entered the stall and looked at Amy over the door. “You’re welcome.”
Rika yawned and watched Dotty curl back her upper lip in something that looked like the equine equivalent of an answering yawn. “You tired too, girl? I’m not keeping you awake, am I?”
In the last two hours, nothing had indicated that the foal was about to come. Maybe it wouldn’t be born tonight after all.
She watched Dotty chew on a mouthful of hay, then walk away. A minute later, the mare returned to the manger and got another bite before she moved away.
Was that what Amy meant by “restless,” or was her unfamiliar presence making the mare nervous? If she ran to the main house and woke Amy, only to discover that it was a false alarm, Amy would think she was no help at all.
Dotty crossed to the other end of the stall and settled her large body into the straw.
Is this it? Was the foal coming now, or had Dotty just settled down to sleep? Rika hesitated, one hand on the bolt that kept the stall door closed. She wasn’t even sure if horses lay down to sleep. In the corral, she had seen horses doze while standing up.
After a few moments, Dotty rolled to her feet. Sweat gleamed on her dark coat. No sound of pain interrupted the silence, but by now Rika sensed that something was wrong.
The foal is coming! She hurried out of the stall, stopping just long enough to close the door behind her.
Darkness greeted her in the main house. The screen door creaked as she closed it behind her, but otherwise, everything was silent. Moonlight filtered in through the windows, and Rika didn’t stop to search for matches to light a lamp. Holding on to the banister, she rushed up the stairs. She forced herself to slow down just enough to not wake the entire house. Her heart thumping against her ribcage, she tapped on Amy’s door. “Amy!” She knocked again and then opened the door.
Nothing moved in the darkness of the room. Amy had likely fallen into an exhausted sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
“Wake up, Amy!” Rika hurried across the room to shake her awake, but her foot collided with an unexpected obstacle. She stumbled and pitched forward.
The air was squeezed out of her lungs when she landed much sooner than expected—and much softer too.
The warm surface beneath her jerked and groaned. “What...?”
Stunned, Rika stared down into the gleaming white of Amy’s eyes.
“Rika?” Amy mumbled, her voice rough with sleep. Her hands slid up Rika’s back, as if to make sure she was really there.
Heat flowed through Rika at the touch, freeing her of her frozen state. She rolled off the bed and its inhabitant. “Sorry. I think the foal is coming,” she blurted.
Amy jumped out of bed. Apparently, she had gone to sleep fully dressed. Now she shoved her feet into the boots in front of the bed. “Hurry!” She grabbed Rika’s elbow and dragged her along.
In the stable, Dotty had lain down again.
“Her water already broke.” Amy pointed to the wet straw in the stall.
“What do we do?”
Amy took up position in front of the stall but didn’t enter. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” All of this excitement and now Amy did nothing? Rika watched as the mare’s neck arched, her legs stiffened, and Dotty let out a low grunt. She felt like a young father, forced to watch helplessly.
“Dotty has been through this before, and all her foals were born without a problem. We’re just here in case something goes wrong. If there are complications, every second counts.”
The thought sent a shiver through Rika, and she prayed that everything would go smoothly this time too.
Dotty got up, paced a few times, then went down again.
“Oh, no.” Amy’s brow furrowed.
“What? Is something wrong?”
“She’s lying too close to the wall. There’s no room for the foal to be born.” Amy waited a few minutes, but when the mare didn’t get up, she shoved back the bolt and opened the stall door.
Rika slipped into the stall behind her, plastering herself to Amy’s side. “What do we do?”
“We’ve got to get her up,” Amy said. “Help me. If I tell you to, push her from behind until she moves.”
Dotty didn’t look as if she wanted to move. Her legs tensed when another contraction started. Rika stared at the whitish bubble that appeared between the mare’s hind legs. The contours of little hooves stretched the white sac and then one tiny leg broke through. It slipped partway back when the contraction ebbed.
“Now!” Amy pushed against Dotty’s hip, causing the mare to lift her head to look at her.
With trembling hands, Rika pushed the horse from behind.
Dotty gave a snort of protest, then folded her legs beneath herself and got to her feet.
“Good girl.” Amy’s voice soothed both Rika and the mare. She weaved her fingers through Dotty’s mane and urged her over, more to the middle of the stall.
Rika’s knees wobbled when she detected that one little hoof was still sticking out of the mare when she lay down. For a moment, she was afraid that Dotty would crush the foal’s leg, but the mare made it down safely.
The second hoof broke through the white sac. A gush of fluid dribbled into the straw, and then a nose appeared.
Rika wanted to clap and shout, but she stood rooted to the spot.
With gentle hands, Amy pushed the membrane from the foal’s head.
A white mark sat in the middle of the otherwise dark forehead. Rika had learned that horse breeders called it a “star.”
Lord, I hope it’s a lucky star for the little one.
Dotty groaned and grunted, trying to push out the foal’s shoulders.
Rika realized her hands were clamped around Amy’s arm, and she let go. “Sorry.”
An understanding smile crossed Amy’s face. While she acted calm, her eyes reflected the same tense excitement Rika felt. Amy might have witnessed many foals being born, but she still felt the magic of the moment.
The foal slipped out of the mare little by little. With one final grunt from Dotty, the hips and hind legs slid into the straw.
Amy brushed the white sac away from the foal and wiped it down with a handful of straw, revealing a dark coat and a white blanket on the hip. “It’s a filly,” she said with the biggest grin Rika had ever seen on her. Then she stepped back, her arm brushing Rika’s.
They stood in silence, watching as Dotty turned and snuffled her daughter’s face. She nickered and began to clean the foal’s coat.
“Oh.” Rika exhaled carefully, as if a loud breath would interrupt the bonding between mother and foal. “She’s so beautiful.”
Amy turned toward her. Their gazes touched and held. “She is,” Amy said. “Very beautiful.”
Something trembled deep inside of Rika, but she couldn’t put a name to the unknown feeling. A part of her wanted to reach out and touch Amy, wanted to bond with her in the silent way the mare established contact with her foal.
Amy looked away, breaking their eye contact. “Papa will be so pleased. Black horses with such a nice, big blanket are rare. This little one will be an important part of our breeding program one day.”
Sudden sadness gripped Rika. She wouldn’t be there to see the foal grow up. Even if she could convince Phineas that she was his betrothed, they wouldn’t stay at the ranch for much longer. In his letters to Jo, Phineas had mentioned that he wanted to establish his own ranch soon.
“Everything all right?” Amy asked.
Rika kept her gaze fixed on the foal. “Yeah. Everything just happened so fast.”
“I told you mares don’t take twenty hours giving birth.”
“Yes.” She hadn’t meant just the foaling, though. Three months ago, her life had been so different. The routine of the noisy weave room and the bustling activity in the boarding house had formed the pattern of her days and left little room for anything else. Now she was playing midwife to a mare with Amy Hamilton by her side. In a way, it felt completely unreal and absolutely right at the same time.
“Look,” Amy whispered.
The filly struggled to get up, but her hind legs wouldn’t support her body yet. Dotty nudged her foal with a gentle muzzle, encouraging her to try again.
Finally, the filly stood on wobbly legs. Dotty got up too, breaking the umbilical cord. The filly nuzzled her mother’s flank, searching for her teat. Moments later, she started to suckle.
“Oh, dear Lord!” A voice interrupted the moment. When Rika turned, Nattie stood in front of the stall. “What a beautiful foal. Look at that nice blanket. Good girl, Dotty.”
“She did great,” Amy said and yawned.
A cloak of exhaustion settled on Rika too.
“Why don’t you two head off to bed?” Nattie said. “I don’t think Nugget will foal tonight, so I’ll keep an eye on Dotty and the little one for a while longer.”
Hesitantly, Rika directed her gaze away from the suckling filly.
Amy opened the door, and they walked out into the ranch yard. The drizzle had stopped, and the moon and hundreds of stars were shining down on them.
Rika smiled. So it was a lucky star for the filly.
Not saying a word, they walked to the cabin. Rika put one hand on the door and looked back at Amy. “Goodnight,” she said.
“Goodnight.”
She waited until Amy’s steps faded away before she let the door fall closed behind her.
Despite her exhaustion, Rika was up before sunrise. She hurried through the chores she had taken over from Nora. In her eagerness to go to the stable and see the filly, she nearly dropped the eggs she had collected from the henhouse.
“Slow down,” she told herself. Now that Nora taught school on most days, the Hamiltons needed her help more than ever, and she didn’t want to do a shabby job. Only after feeding the hens did she allow herself to wander to the stable.
The spot in front of the stall door was already occupied.
When Rika walked down the center aisle, Amy turned. Her red locks were mussed, but her green eyes sparkled as if she hadn’t been up half of the night.
Their gazes met, and they smiled at each other like two proud parents.
“How is the filly?” Rika asked.
Amy turned around to face the stall. “Hungry, it seems.” She chuckled.
Rika stepped next to her.
The black filly had her head bent beneath her mother’s belly and was suckling. Dotty stood patiently.
“I could watch all day,” Rika said.
“Me too, but I don’t think the ranch hands would like it. We need to check on the colts today.”
Steps announced the arrival of more visitors come to admire the foal, and soon Nora and Nattie were peeking over the stall door.
“Oh, what a beauty,” Nora said. “Luke will hate to have missed this year’s foals being born, especially this one. Is it a colt?”
Amy shook her head. “A filly.”
“Then I hope you found a good name for her,” Nora said. She glanced at Rika. “It’s an old family tradition. Nattie gets to name all the colts and Amy the fillies.”
“Poor little filly,” Nattie said to the foal. “Now you’ll get teased by the rest of the herd for having an odd name.”
A nudge from Nora silenced her. “So?” She looked at Amy. “Have you picked a name?”
“I thought I’d let Hendrika name her,” Amy said. Her gaze wandered to Rika, then veered away.
Rika’s breath caught. “Me?” She pressed both hands to her chest. “Name the filly? Oh, no, I couldn’t.”
“Sure you could. Can’t be any worse than the name my sister would pick,” Nattie said.
Nora said nothing. Her silence made the importance of Amy’s generous offer even clearer.
Rika looked at the filly, studying the graceful arc of her neck and the perfect dots on her white hindquarters. No name came to mind. “I can’t think of a name beautiful enough for her.”
“Don’t think,” Amy said. “Just feel and the right name will come to you.”
Rika closed her eyes and then looked at the filly and her mother again. Just feel. She tried to remember what she had felt when she had first seen the filly last night. “Lucky,” she whispered. “Lucky Star.”
Despite Jo’s death, maybe it had indeed been a lucky star that led her to Oregon and to this place, where she got to witness the birth of a foal. “Well,” she said, “with the big star on her forehead and Amy there to watch over her when she was born, Lucky Star just seems to fit.”
