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‘Right.’
Jim fidgeted, pulling at the waistband of his grubby jeans. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Your mare’s not progressing as quickly as I’d like now that her waters have broken,’ said Caitlin calmly. ‘Did you have any scans done on her through the pregnancy?’
‘Nope. She didn’t need ’em.’
So, no clues as to what the problem might be. Caitlin prayed it was a straightforward abnormal presentation. Anything more complex could be hard to deal with under these circumstances. And with Nicky there, too.
‘Have you got any clean cloths in your truck, Mr Neilson?’
The cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth bobbed as he thought about it. ‘There’s a bunch of towels the missus forgot to take out yesterday.’
They’d do. ‘Could you get them for me, please?’
Jim nodded, casting the mare a worried look as he headed to his vehicle.
Matt was back with his bag and a bottle of clear gel.
She stripped off her ribbed jumper, looked for somewhere to put it. Matt was one step ahead of her. ‘Grab Caitlin’s top for her, please, Nicky.’
‘Thank you.’ She smiled at Nicky as he held out his hands.
He clutched the jumper. She could feel his eyes following her every move as she squeezed out a generous handful of gel and rubbed her arm from fingertips to shoulder.
‘Are you going to take the foal out now?’
Without stopping her preparation, she sent him a gentle smile. ‘I’m going to feel how he’s lying inside his mother, Nicky. I think the wee fellow might not be in quite the right position and that’s making it hard for him to be born.’
‘Will it hurt?’
‘The mare? It might make her a bit uncomfortable but we need to help her so she can push her baby out.’
‘What can I do?’ asked Matt softly, as she dosed one of his gauze pads with the alcohol solution.
‘I’ll get you to hold her tail away for me.’ She knelt at the mare’s straining haunches and Matt crouched beside her. Frosty dampness from the grass seeped through the denim of her jeans, chilling her skin as she waited for a contraction to pass.
With one hand braced on the mare’s rump, she threaded her other hand beneath the spindly front legs as the foal’s nose slipped back. She felt the knobbly knees, the bones of the mare’s pelvis and then…the problem. Another pair of hooves. The hind legs were engaged. They needed to be manoeuvred back down the birth canal before the forequarters could slip free.
A long contraction gripped her arm in a punishing hot vice. Caitlin closed her eyes and breathed through the pain. As soon as the muscles released she pushed the tiny feet with all her strength. No movement.
Another contraction. She couldn’t suppress a tiny gasp as the powerful muscles clamped around her flesh. She felt a hand on her shoulder, opened her eyes to find Matt looking straight at her.
‘You’re doing great,’ he murmured. His green gaze drilled into her eyes, as though he could transfer his strength to her. Unexpectedly, she realised she did feel a lightening, an ebbing of tension.
She nodded once, felt the contraction ease. ‘This time.’ She pushed. The feet moved. A tiny bit at first, before slipping back under the foal’s stomach.
‘That should do it.’ She slid her arm out and sat back on her heels. The ache in her muscles slowly subsided. Out of the corner of her eye, Caitlin saw Nicky’s runners tiptoe to a halt beside Matt’s knees.
The mare gathered herself for another huge push and the foal slid onto the ground. Steam rose from the ominously still little body.
‘Is it okay?’ whispered Nicky.
‘Yes.’ Caitlin knew the declaration was reckless. But she felt compelled to make it. And there was no way she was going to let the foal be anything else. Later she might be able to analyse her need to shield this child she’d only just met.
For now she had work to do.
A promise to keep.
CHAPTER THREE
CAITLIN leaned forward to strip remnants of birth sac from the foal’s perfectly formed face and clear the small nostrils. She placed her hand on the chest just behind the sharp little elbow. The fine ribs felt impossibly fragile as she felt for a heartbeat. Relief surged as a pulse fluttered against her palm.
‘Matt, can I get you to raise her hindquarters, like this?’ She flipped a towel around the haunches and lifted.
‘Sure.’ He moved to take her place. Back at the foal’s head, she blocked one of the delicate nostrils and blew a breath into the other, watching as the chest inflated.
Come on, little one. You can do it.
After the ribs lowered, a second breath. Her mind willed life into the filly.
A moment later, she was rewarded with a quiver of movement. A tiny snort.
Caitlin sat back on her heels and took a deep breath, hoping the others wouldn’t see the tears that were perilously close to the surface.
‘Let’s move back and give them a little space,’ she said, taking refuge in practical details. ‘If the mare’s comfortable she’ll stay down for a little longer. The less intervention, the better she’ll bond with her bairn.’
‘That was awesome, Caitlin,’ said Nicky shyly, as they moved back a short distance. ‘You gave it mouth to mouth just like we learned at swimming…only different.’
‘Clever boy, Nicky.’ She smiled at him. ‘It is different. Horses can’t breathe through their mouths like we can. So the filly needed mouth-to-nostril resuscitation.’
The foal sat up, the small head lifted unsteadily, looking comically lop-eared.
Now that the emergency was over, Caitlin began to notice the cold air on her bare arms.
‘Here.’ Matt held out his windcheater. ‘Put this on before you get a chill.’
‘Oh, no. Please, it’s not necessary.’ She turned away quickly to reach for the jumper Nicky was still holding. The thought of wearing something of Matt’s was more than she could cope with. Too much like an embrace from the man himself, all that warmth and the delicious smell from his body would surround her. He was disturbing enough just standing beside her. ‘Thanks, but this will do. It’s only, um, an old top.’
Matt shrugged back into his windcheater. A sharp sting of rejection at her sudden withdrawal was uncomfortable.
‘Look, Dad. She’s trying to stand up.’
Sure enough, the foal’s long legs scrambled at the ground. It seemed to be a signal to the mare as she heaved herself to her feet. She turned to lick the coat of her newborn, intently checking her baby over.
Matt smiled, his heart squeezing. In an oblique way the scene reminded him of Nicky’s birth. The precious moment when his son had been placed in his arms, tiny hands waving as the infant had yelled his displeasure.
The mare became more insistent, with nudges to the miniature haunches. Spurred on by the encouragement, the foal manoeuvred awkward limbs, pushing up with her hindquarters until she stood, albeit unsteadily. She looked all leg and large bony joints. A few staggering steps took her to the mare’s flank where she nuzzled determinedly until she latched onto the teat.
‘Congratulations, Mr Neilson,’ said Caitlin softly. ‘You’ve a grand little filly.’
‘With a little help,’ said Matt, determined that Jim should give Caitlin her due.
Jim cleared his throat. ‘I’d have managed.’
Matt opened his mouth but Caitlin was there before him with a sweet smile for the cranky old man. ‘Of course you would have, Mr Neilson.’
Matt had the satisfaction of seeing the older man’s double take.
‘Ah. Yes. Well, anyway, er, thanks. Just as well to have a vet here.’ Jim’s mouth snapped shut as though he was surprised by the words he’d just said.
‘My pleasure.’
Matt stifled an abrupt urge to laugh. She’d handled Jim beautifully, better than he would have, wringing reluctant gratitude from the man with nothing more than a smile.
‘She’ll expel the placenta over the next couple of hours now her bairn’s nursing. You’ll know to leave that well enough alone, of course.’
‘Of course.’ Jim shuffled.
Caitlin was obviously unconvinced because she went on smoothly with her warning. ‘Any pulling could lead to infection or prolapse of your mare’s uterus. If the placenta hasn’t cleared in a few hours, you need to call your vet.’
Bloodstains marred the sleeves of her pink top. The knees of her jeans were dark with dampness and there was dirt on the toes of her boots. Matt had never seen a woman look more beautiful than she was right now. She was marvellous. That willingness to get in and get her hands dirty, literally, without worrying about her appearance. No complaints. A practical woman.
She hitched a shoulder to rub her cheek. Matt suddenly realised her hands were still wet and grubby.
‘I’ve got soap and water in the car, if you’d like to clean up.’
She hesitated and for a moment he thought she was going to refuse. ‘I would, yes. Thank you. Goodbye, Mr Neilson. I wish you well with your mare and foal.’
‘Yeah.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Like I said, ah, thanks.’
Matt walked silently back to the car listening to Nicky chatter to Caitlin about how he was going to tell his class about the birth. Now that the excitement was over, Matt had time to wonder more about her. Who was she and why was she here? If she was a tourist, perhaps he could convince her that Garrangay was a good place to use as a base for seeing Western Victoria. What were her plans?
Not that it was any of his business…but for some reason he wanted to know.
At the station wagon, he got out the water bottle and liquid soap.
‘Did you want to wash…?’ He indicated her arm.
‘No. No, just my hands. Thanks. I can have a shower later.’
He tipped liquid into her cupped hands, watching while she lathered her slender fingers.
‘Have you got far to travel?’ He congratulated himself on striking just the right note of casual interest.
‘I haven’t, no.’ She was going to be staying locally? Anticipation tightened his gut.
‘What brings you out this way?’ There was an odd suspended second when her movements seemed to falter. ‘Holiday? Work?’
She’d resumed scrubbing vigorously and Matt wondered if he’d imagined the moment.
‘Secret mission?’ he joked, when she didn’t answer.
Wide, startled eyes, dark with some suppressed emotion, flicked up to his and away. Was it guilt? Surely not.
‘Could I have some more water, please?’
Silently, he rinsed away the suds and handed her a cloth.
‘I’m between jobs,’ she said, finally. ‘I thought…. It seemed like a good opportunity to see something of Victoria.’
The answer was reasonable. But her reaction told him it wasn’t the entire story.
‘Are you staying locally? I can recommend somewhere that makes a good base for sightseeing.’
‘Thank you, but…no. I—I have…plans.’
The change from competent, compassionate professional to tongue-tied uncertainty seemed odd. The frown pleating her forehead, the tight line of her mouth, the agitated way she dried her hands all screamed, No trespassing. Had he unwittingly touched on something personal…painful?
His gaze drifted over the rapidly clearing mist in the paddock as he mentally replayed the conversation. Nothing he’d said seemed unforgivably insensitive.
She was about to disappear from his life. Bemused by the compulsion, he nevertheless wanted to say something to tempt her to stay. But he’d already stumbled in a way he didn’t understand. Regret tugged at him, leaving him off balance. Perhaps it was just as well she was moving on.
A kookaburra began to laugh, the great whooping chuckles echoing into the air. Abruptly, the sound stopped, leaving a profound silence in its wake.
He forced his mouth into a smile. ‘If you’re ever out this way again, look us up. We’d like that, wouldn’t we, Nicky?’
‘Yes!’
‘You’re very kind.’ She smiled gently at his son.
By the time her grey eyes transferred their gaze up to his, there was no trace of warmth left. She handed him back the cloth. ‘Perhaps you could invite your wife. We could make it a family outing.’
No puzzle about his misstep here. ‘Ex.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Ex-wife. I’m divorced.’
‘Oh. I’m sorry.’ Pink spots flared in Caitlin’s cheeks, her eyes shadowed with vexation. ‘I didn’t mean…’
‘Don’t be.’ Matt said, wanting to make sure she understood. ‘It’s old history.’
Caitlin’s mouth opened, then closed, her teeth biting her full bottom lip.
‘Mum lives in Melbourne,’ said Nicky, with a complete lack of awareness of the undercurrents in the conversation. ‘She hardly ever visits.’
‘I…see. Well, I—I should be going.’ She looked towards the paddock. ‘Please, be sure to tell Mr Neilson he shouldn’t trailer the mare and foal for at least a week.’
