A Feather in the Rain (28 page)

Holly stood at the mare's head cupping her cheek and wiping her face with a cold cloth. Jesse described the mare as very distressed, shocky, pulse speeding, eyes rolling, gums white. He listened to Dr. John tell him it sounded like she ruptured the artery that feeds the uterus and would bleed to death very quickly. The foal would suffocate. Mamacita shifted her weight, drawing her hind legs under and squatted as if to sit. It was a brief pose before she moved again, dropping her weight weakly to one hind leg and then the other in search of relief. She dropped a shoulder, tentatively, then tightened in spasm as her uterus contracted in a great expulsive effort. Jesse said, “She's fixin' to lie down.” Then he listened to the doctor and covered the mouthpiece to tell Holly, “If she wants to lie
down, let her.”

The mare lowered her shoulder to the ground and flopped on her side with a heavy groan and troubled breathing. Holly went down next to her, murmuring sounds of comfort with a hand against the horse's cheek. Jesse said, “Okay, I got it. Get here quick as you can.” He folded the phone.

The mare wasn't down but seconds before she thrashed her legs and struggled in pain to regain her feet. Jesse had added a bottle of glycerin to the bucket of hot water. He put his folded arm to the shoulder in the bucket, dabbed a gob of Vaseline on his fingers and over the back of his hand and watched it disappear under the mare's tail. At shoulder deep, the pressure threatened to paralyze his arm and render fingers useless. Sweat-beads showed on his brow and cheeks. His face twisted shut as he groped to try to discover what was wrong. The mare spasmed again. Jesse bit his lip. “It's wrong. It's all wrong. The head is turned completely back. I can't feel the front legs, they must be folded underneath.” He pulled his arm out and plunged it in the bucket working circulation back to his hands. “I'm gonna try to get a hold of the nostrils, see if I can't pull the head around.”

He pushed in again while Holly held her head, whispering. The mare tried to contract again but her strength was gone. She sighed in resignation. Jesse found the nostrils. With his thumb and middle finger hooked, he pulled as hard as he could. His shoulder muscles bunched, his neck corded, eyes squeezed shut, he placed his left hand against her rump and pushed as he pulled with his right. His grip slipped free of the foal's nose. The head stayed. “Shit. I can't move it. I might be able to get a wire around the jaw and pull it around and maybe get it out. No matter what, it's the end of the foal. This mare's going fast. We're gonna lose 'em both.” His eyes held a long questioning look at Holly. Then as if he found an answer, he turned and ran to the house and back in under a minute.

Holly's eyes were wide, staring as he stepped into the stall. How could eleven months of anticipation come to this? “There's no other
way, Holly. They're both gonna die. I'm gonna try to save the foal.” Holly's eyes would not leave his hand. “Why don't you go outside. We've got to do this quick.” He glanced at the mare. “There's no more time.”

“No. I'll stay. I want to be with her.”

“I don't think you should.”

“I'm going to stay, Jesse.” She moved to the mare's side and slowly stroked her bulging ribs. She draped her arm across the mare's back and squeezed her eyes shut as Jesse moved to the head. Tears ran in streams down her cheeks, her chin trembled as she spoke softly to Mamacita.

“She's gonna drop, Holly. You've got to step back. Be careful she doesn't fall on you.” Jesse placed the muzzle of the Smith and Wesson to the hollow above Mamacita's left eye angled toward her right ear. He glanced once to see that Holly was safe and closed his finger on the trigger. The explosion echoing in the stirred-up barn, San Mamacita blew a noisy gust and collapsed into the straw. A small movement occurred in each leg at once, then she was still. The other horses pranced, snorting in their stalls. Jesse had his big pocketknife in his hand as he knelt to the swollen belly. He grabbed a handhold of skin and pushed in the serrated blade, sawing the full length of the belly exposing the warm still living viscera. Holly covered her mouth and nose and turned her head but only for a moment. Then with resolve, turned back to watch. She wiped away her tears and held her shirttail over her nose.

The clack of iron-shod hooves drumming the walls of neighbor stalls and squeals of annoyance came to their ears. He put the knife aside and squinching up his face, dug through the hot tangle of entrails. He clutched and tugged until he freed a shining white sac, like the soft skin of a monstrous egg. He took up his blade and punctured the thick membrane, then tore the opening wide with his hands. Holly had moved to his side. A dark little head with wet pointed ears appeared. Jesse's hand cleared away the viscous fluid from its nose and mouth. A gasping breath was heard, followed by
another…and another. Jesse pulled away the sac and held the filly in his arms, covering his chest with blood. He looked up at Holly and said, “It's a girl.”

D
r. John was a thoughtful, studious man, big and kind. He explained to Holly that there was nothing else that could have been done. “He did exactly what I would've done. He even collected the first milk. Very important. He knows how much you loved the mare and he wanted to be sure that you understood that there was no other choice. I'm sorry…” He touched the back of her fragile hand. She nodded silently, then smiled a sad smile and said, “Thank you, John.”

They named the filly Buenacita, and took to calling her Cita. They started with a handheld nippled bottle until she became adroit and graduated to a hung bucket with a nipple at the bottom. Abbie called her Beebee for Bucket Baby. Holly fussed over her like a child with a favorite doll. But she was not the same Holly who was waiting for the birth. She grew silent and withdrawn.

She continued her commitments to the therapeutic riding program. But underneath her practiced facade, darkness brewed. In the
evenings before Jesse got home, she'd have her rocker time alone to read, relax, or meditate. But now, the pictures flowing into her mind uninvited were of death. They came in battalions without mercy, to occupy and leave no room for hope and joy. Her brother's murder, the beloved Grandmama, Jesse's son, her twenty-six-year-old valiant cousin, tortured, killed by cancer, Buckshot…and now the beautiful Mamacita who gave her life so the baby might live.

All death seemed to have but one faceless presence, a gray oppressive force that sucked away her spirit, leaving her defeated, lost in a thorny wood, unable to find the open air.

Jesse's attempts to cheer her went for naught. A wan smile was the best his efforts would yield. Even the relentless fervor of Abbie fell before the wall of Holly's depression. Jesse spoke to the vampire obstetrician who assured him her health was fine but to bring her in. “Will you call her, Doctor? She's got kind of a hair trigger lately and I don't want to set her off. She seems to be about an inch away from crying most of the time.”

She was already in the bed, staring at the wall in the almost dark, when he came in and asked her if she'd like a massage. “No. Thank you.” He could see that her face held the tight grimace of a child preparing for tears.

He sat on the bed and touched her arm. “What is it Holly? What can I do? Please tell me. I need you to talk to me.”

“I don't know. I'm sad.”

“Why? Everything is perfect. We should be happy.”

“The happier I am, the sadder I become. I miss my brother so much.” The chin trembled, she bit her lip. “He should be here to see this.” The tears gushed and she cried in earnest. Loud sobbing gulps. He held her in his arms and rocked her, whispering, “I know, I know…”

He felt her stiffen in his arms as she clenched her fists and pounded the bed, an instantaneous flare of red-faced anger. “I want him back.”

Jesse was stung with a feeling of impotence. “He's not coming
back. But I'm here. I'm here. I love you and I'm trying to fix it. All I do is try to please you and you're making me feel like I don't exist.” He felt badly and stupid for getting angry so he attacked her even more. It grew to a fury, until they were on their feet at opposite sides of the bed, Holly screaming at him, till she ran out of fuel and stood exhausted, tears running down her face, arms limp at her sides, a waif. He went to her, wrapped her in his arms and held her close. She whimpered, “I want my mommy,” and then laughed a weak, little laugh. He put his hands to her wet cheeks and kissed her tear-drenched lips. He said, “I want my mommy, too. I can get you yours a lot easier than you can get me mine.” They laughed.

R
uby, always the brightest of lights with her ready smile, and eagerness to please, was more than welcome at the Lazy JB.

Cita was a red sorrel like her mother, with a narrow white strip down her face. Jesse had imprinted the foal from her first breath. People were a magnet for her. Ruby said she was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen and would not leave off wrapping her arms around the filly and petting her from head to tail.

They had a couple of hours before a Miracles Unlimited session was to begin. Jesse had his arm around Ruby as Abbie arrived leading the huge Clydesdale, Mr. Bud, and said, “Your steed, madam.”

Ruby bit her lip and turned her head as if to find a way out. “Jesse, are you sure I need to do this?”

“Of course you do. He's a baby-sitter.”

Holly was twenty paces away leaning on the top rail of the arena, watching. She whined in mockery, “C'mon, hurry up, let's go. Get on the horse. I wanna see you ride. You're such a
fraidy-cat, mommy.”

Her face made an abrupt change of expression as she felt a twist in her guts. It was sudden, intense. Shocked, she gripped the rail, fearing she'd go to the ground.

Abbie saw it on her face gone white as an aspirin. “Holly, you all right?” She called. Jesse and Ruby turned to see. Jesse came on the run and put his arm around her. “What is it?”

“I think…it's starting…” She squeezed it out in a clenched whisper as he took her weight in his arm. Ruby was at her other side.

“Can you make it to the house?” Jesse asked.

“If I can't, you can put me in a wheelbarrow.” She started to walk, Jesse holding her on one side, Ruby on the other. She turned to her mom and, referring to Mr. Bud, said, “Looks like you lucked out…for the moment.”

Abbie gave Mr. Bud to Ricardo and caught up with them. “What can I do?”

“Get the Mustang and pull it up in front of the house.” He felt Holly tense in his arm and stop. She bent at the waist, winced, and let loose a sharp, one-note, high-pitched cry.

It was only yesterday, she had told Carley, “I feel like I've got a balloon inside me filled with fifty gallons of water and one big fish. And it's about to burst at any second.”

And just then, it did.

Ten feet from the porch, she felt the quick tear and a gush of fluid course down her leg and splash at her feet. She cried, “Ohhhh…” and looked down half expecting to see the fish.

Labor began in earnest as they pulled out of the ranch. Ruby, in the backseat, leaned forward to work her fingers in Holly's shoulders and stroke the back of her neck.

“I sure am glad to have you here, Ruby.” Jesse said. She reached and touched his shoulder. He handed her the cell phone and said, “Why don't you call Bear. We've got about a twenty-minute drive.” He looked over at Holly and took her hand.

An obstetrics resident, an elegant woman with glossy raven hair,
soft black eyes, and the lyrical inflections of India, examined Holly and assured her all was well. She said she would call Doctor Adashek and give him her report. “As you get closer to delivery, he will be here. I think you will be a few hours. Your husband and your mother can be with you.”

Holly said, “Oh, yes, that would be good.”

Dr. Elliot Adashek walked into the room, an incongruous smile on his cement-colored face, and performed a quick examination. He informed Jesse and Ruby that everything was progressing normally and that they were about to take her to the delivery room. “Jesse, the nurse will fix you up with a gown.”

“Thank you.”

“Sorry, mom. They limit it to daddy only.”

Ruby nodded, gave Jesse a hug, and as soon as he followed the nurse, she went to the phone and called her husband again. He had booked a flight and was getting ready to leave.

J
esse had wrapped her hand in his and matched her squeeze for squeeze as he stroked her head and whispered words of love. She'd been laboring for almost four hours. As he looked at her struggling, red, squinched-up face, he loved her more than ever and thought she was never more beautiful. Something she would not have believed. One thought kept hammering into his mind. Please God let this child be whole. Let these doctors be correct. Don't let anything go wrong, please. There came a point when he could think of nothing else.

The nurses in their familiarity with this everyday event bantered lightly. “So what are you hoping for? A boy, right? Cowboys all want boys.”

“I like girls…” he managed to get said.

“You got names picked out?” The voices came anonymously from masked faces.

“Harley, if it's a boy. Alexandra, if it's a girl.”

Just then, Holly howled, perspiration popped in beads across her face. A faceless chorus chanted the word “push.” Jesse stood by her head, mopping her face as she sucked air in and blew it out on a shattering scream, nearly crushing his hand. He heard the sounds in a blur of movement and turned to see the doctor holding their baby and swabbing it clean. The nurse held a pair of scissors out to Jesse and he cut the cord.

And then she handed him his son. How fragile, his tiny fuzzy head cradled in his palm and how insistent in his effort to rise up and turn to see the world. The sweet, newborn smell of him was that of life itself. The scent of a miracle. All his parts seemed where they belonged. Jesse brought him gently to his chest and felt complete…then he carried him to Holly and presented their son to her outstretched arms. Once in her possession, she scanned him like a laser. Satisfied, she mouthed, “He's a smoogie, Harley.” She then took him to her bosom and closed her eyes.