by John Saul
"But I wanted to help Janet with the house," Laura murmured. She settled herself in and sighed.
Buck smiled sourly, and his voice took on a sarcastic edge. "You're just like your mother—if you don't do it yourself, you don't think it'll be done right." He pushed his papers aside. "It never ceases to amaze me that there's a town here at all, considering you weren't even born 'til thirty-one years ago."
"It amazes me, too," Laura said, with careful placidity, determined not to rise to her husband's bait. She reached over to pick up the TV Guide, and felt a sudden twinge of pain in her abdomen. Frowning in spite of herself, she waited for the pain to pass, then completed the motion. .
"Something wrong?" Buck asked.
"Don't be silly. What could be wrong?" With studied nonchalance, Laura opened the little magazine and began examining the listings. Another pain seized her, and this time she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. Now Buck rose to his feet, the hardness in his eyes dissolving into concern.
"Something is wrong."
"It's nothing," Laura insisted. "It's just something I ate. I've just got a little cramp, that's all."
"Cramp, or contraction?"
"I—I'm sure it's just a—" She jerked spasmodically as another pain shot through her, then, as it eased, she felt a spreading dampness on the chair beneath her. "Damn," she whispered. She looked up at Buck, her expression a mixture of sorrow, pain, and fear. "I'm sorry. I guess I really did overdo it today. You'd better call Dr. Potter." She began to lift herself out of the chair, but another sharp contraction forced her back.
"Ryan? Ryan!" Buck called, the urgency in his voice bringing his son out of the kitchen immediately. "Call Doc Potter, and tell him to get over here right away. The baby's coming."
"But it's not supposed to be—"
"Damn it!" Buck snapped. "Do as I say. Call the Doc while I get your mother upstairs." He slid his large hands under Laura's arms and eased her to her feet. "Can you make it, or shall I carry you?"
Laura took a tentative step, leaning heavily on Buck's arm. "I can make it," she assured him. "But if the baby's going to come tonight, don't you think I ought to go to the hospital?"
Buck ignored the question. "Let's get you upstairs."
"But—"
"Don't argue with me, Laura," Buck told her. "We know what's best for you."
Laura opened her mouth, then closed it again. He was right—argument would be useless; he was just like her father. "All right," she finally whispered. "Just stay with me." She began moving slowly toward the stairs, pausing only to reach out and touch Ryan's hand as she passed him. "Call Dr. Potter, sweetheart. And don't worry. I'm going to be all right, and so is the baby." As Ryan finally started toward the phone, she began climbing the stairs, with Buck beside her.
Three minutes later, she lowered herself gratefully onto the bed, then allowed herself a groan. Another contraction gripped her, and she had to fight not to allow the groan to turn into a scream. She lay still, waited for it to pass, then looked up at Buck, for the first time letting the fear she was feeling show in her eyes.
Ryan appeared at the door, his face pale and his eyes frightened. "Doc'll be here in a few minutes. He said not to worry, that everything's going to be fine."
"Of course everything's going to be fine," Buck said. "You go on back downstairs and wait for Doc. Okay?"
Ryan nodded uncertainly, then opened his mouth to say something, but apparently thought better of it. Laura smiled weakly at him. "What is it?"
"Is—is the baby going to be all right this time?" he asked.
Laura nodded and made herself smile at her son. "This time there isn't going to be any problem at all." But as Ryan left the room, her eyes drifted toward her husband. "There won't, will there? This one will be all right, won't it?" Then, before Buck could answer, another violent contraction seized Laura. This time, she was unable to stifle her scream.
Eric Simpson looked worriedly up at his father.
"Is it time?" he asked. "Is she gonna foal tonight?"
Leif Simpson eyed the mare critically, then nodded. "Looks like it," he said. "Maybe another hour, maybe two. And I bet this one doesn't take all night."
"Should I call the vet?" Eric was standing next to the mare, stroking her head gently. She whinnied softly and pawed at the floor of the stall. "Easy, Magic. Everything's gonna be okay. We'll take care of you."
"You and I can handle this one," Leif told his son. "But if your friends want to watch, you'd better tell them to get on over here." As Eric hesitated, Leif stepped into the stall, gently easing the boy away from the horse. "Go on. You won't miss anything. She's hardly even started to dilate yet."
Moments later, breathless from running from the barn to the house, Eric was on the phone, dialing Ryan Shields's phone number. He listened impatiently as the connection went through, then grumbled to himself as he heard a busy signal. He waited a few seconds, then dialed again. Again, the busy signal.
"Shit," he said softly, but distinctly enough so that Ione Shields, coming through the dining room door, heard him quite clearly.
"Eric!"
"I'm sorry, Ma," Eric automatically apologized. "I gotta call Ryan and Michael, and Ryan's line is busy."
"Then call Michael," lone suggested.
"I don't know their number."
"Look it up."
"Aw, Ma, I don't have time to do that. Magic's dropping her foal, and I gotta get back out to the barn." As he spoke, he dialed the Shieldses' number for the third time. Still busy. Eric gave his mother an appealing look, one that he was well aware she couldn't resist. "Could you call for me? Please? All you have to do is tell them Magic's foaling, and if they want to watch, they better get out here."
As he was sure she would, his mother nodded. "Run along," she told him. Then, as her son dashed out the kitchen door, she picked up the phone and dialed Anna Hall's number. It, too, was busy.
After four tries, alternating between the Shieldses and the Halls, she finally got through to the latter. The phone rang six times before it was finally picked up.
"Anna? It's Ione. What on earth is going on? Have you been talking to Laura? I've been trying to call them, too, and both your lines have been tied up."
There was a moment's hesitation, then Anna's voice came over the line. "It's Laura," she explained. "It seems as if the baby's decided to come tonight." Ione paused, the smile fading from her face. "Oh, dear," she said finally. "Poor Laura. Do you think I should go over there?"
This time there was no hesitation from the older woman. "I'm sure if Laura needs any help, Dr. Potter can provide it." Ione felt a twinge of annoyance at Anna's brusqueness. In truth, she was more than a little hurt. In Prairie Bend, when someone was having a baby, the neighbors gathered around, just as they did when there was illness, or trouble of some sort. It had been that way for as long as Ione could remember—except for the Halls. For some reason Ione had never understood, the Halls tended to keep to themselves.
Oh, they'd accept helping hands to get the crops in, Ione thought, or to fix up that old house for Janet and her son. Ione herself had willingly helped out with that and hadn't begrudged the effort for a minute. But when it came to themselves and their children, the Halls had always been standoffish. Tonight, obviously, was going to be no exception. It occurred to Ione that even with the doctor present, Laura might be able to use the nursing skills Ione had acquired years earlier, before she'd married Leif. But Anna had already made it quite clear that Ione wasn't wanted.
"I see," she said stiffly, making no attempt to mask her feelings. "Well, then, I don't suppose there's much chance of Michael coming over here tonight, is there? Magic's foaling, and Eric promised him he could watch." She paused. "I suppose that'll be out of the question now."
Again there was no hesitation in Anna's reply. "I don't see why. Let me call him," she said.
As she crossed the yard a few minutes later, Ione Simpson paused halfway to the barn to gaze at the newly painted l
ittle house that was silhouetted in the distance against the setting sun. In this light, it looked no different from the way it had ever looked, and for a moment Ione wondered if Janet Hall hadn't made a horrible mistake in deciding to move onto the long-abandoned farm. There had been so many stories over the years, so much speculation…
In the end, though, she decided that what Janet Hall did was her own business.
And yet, she knew that wasn't quite true. In Prairie Bend, everything that happened to anyone affected everyone else. And something, she knew, had happened in that house that Janet Hall was moving into…
Twenty minutes later, Michael skidded his borrowed bicycle to a halt in front of the Shieldses', sure that Ryan would be waiting for him. With Shadow at his heels, he started across the yard to the front door, but suddenly stopped as he noticed his grandfather's big Oldsmobile parked in the driveway behind his Uncle Buck's car. He gazed at the Olds for a moment, trying to figure out what was going on. His grandfather had said he was going to a grange meeting when he'd left the house a half hour earlier.
Now, as Michael thought about it, something seemed odd. Wasn't the grange just for farmers? And if it was, why would it be at the Shieldses' house? Uncle Buck wasn't a farmer. And come to think of it, why hadn't his grandfather said anything about a meeting earlier? In fact, he'd been watching television when the phone rang, and then he'd just left, saying something about the grange as he went out the door. But if he was coming over to the Shieldses, why hadn't he suggested that everyone come along? As Michael turned the matter over in his mind, a pair of headlights glowed from around the bend. Instinctively, he grabbed his bike and eased himself behind the hedge that separated the house from the lot next door.
The car pulled up, and a moment later Dr. Potter got out, carrying his black bag, and hurried across the lawn and up the porch steps. The door opened almost immediately, and Michael saw his grandfather take Dr. Potter by the arm and pull him inside.
For a moment, Michael was tempted to walk across the lawn, climb the steps, and knock on the door. But then, as he stood in the gathering gloom of the evening, his mind was changed. It was almost as if there were a voice inside his head, whispering to him, telling him to leave the house. From beside him, a low growl rumbled from Shadow's throat, and Michael laid a hand on the dog to calm him.
Almost against his will, he wheeled the bicycle out from behind the hedge, mounted it, and started pedaling away, Shadow trotting along behind. Once, Michael glanced back over his shoulder, but from the outside nothing at the Shieldses' seemed amiss. It was just a house, with some kind of a meeting going on inside.
Except the voice in his head told him there was something else. Something he didn't understand yet, but soon would…
As Michael Hall rode away from the house, Laura Shields gazed up at Dr. Potter, her eyes pleading.
"Can't I go to the hospital? Please, can't you take me to the hospital?"
Potter took her hand in his own, stroking it gently. "It's too late, Laura. The baby could come any time, and the hospital is forty miles away."
"I can make it," Laura whispered, even though she knew she couldn't. Another cramp wracked her body, and she felt the tiny form inside her shift its position. "If I'm in the hospital, I know the baby will be all right. I know it."
"Hush," Potter soothed. "Hush, Laura. We're all here, and we're all going to take care of you. You'll be fine. In a few hours, it'll all be over, and you'll be fine." He released her hand, then rummaged in his bag. A moment later he handed Laura a small white pill and held a glass of water for her. "Take this," he commanded. "Take this, and try to get some sleep."
"But the baby," Laura moaned. "What about the baby? I have to be awake when my baby comes."
"You will be," Potter promised. "But right now, you mustn't worry about the baby, Laura. You mustn't even think about it. Not yet."
Not think about it? Laura wondered as she felt the pill begin its swift work. How can I not think about my baby?
And then, as Potter sat gently wiping her sweating brow with a cool washcloth, she began drifting into a fitful sleep. But just before she slipped into unconsciousness, she spoke once again.
"He can't have this one," she whispered. "It's not for him. It's not for Nathaniel… it's for me…"
CHAPTER TEN
"Easy, Magic, take it easy."
It had been going on for nearly two hours, and Michael was beginning to wonder if anything was ever going to happen. He was perched on the partition between Magic's stall and the one next to it, while Eric stood at the mare's head, a steady stream of soothing words flowing from his mouth into her ear. His hands roamed over the horse's head and neck, gripping her halter whenever she tried to pull away, but never jerking at the leather straps. "How long does it take?" Michael asked, but if Eric heard his words, he ignored them. It was Leif Simpson who replied.
"Won't know for a little while yet. So far, everything looks all right, and if she can do it herself, we might have a foal in another hour. But if things are twisted around, it could take a lot longer."
"Twisted around? Twisted how?"
"If the colt's in the wrong position," Leif explained. "If it comes out head first, we're home free. But sometimes they don't, and you have to lend a hand."
"How?"
Eric's father grinned at him, his eyes twinkling. "You have to climb right in after the colt. Grab it by the legs, or anything else you can get hold of, and start working it out."
Michael wasn't at all sure he believed the man, and the doubt in his eyes was reflected in his words. "But what about wild horses? What happens to them?"
"Wild horses are a different breed of cat, so to speak," Leif told him, "different from domesticated ones. We breed farm animals for traits we want, but sometimes when we breed things in, we breed other things out. So wild horses don't have problems foaling, but on the other hand, they're not as big, and not as strong as old Magic here. Understand?"
As Michael nodded, Magic whinnied loudly, shook herself, and pawed at the floor with her forelegs. "Hang on to her, son," Leif warned unnecessarily, for Eric had a firm grip on the worried mare.
"It's like she doesn't know what's happening," Michael observed.
"Oh, she knows, all right," Leif Simpson replied. "She's been shoving hay around her stall for a couple of days now, getting things ready." He glanced up at Michael. "Sure you don't want to come down here? You can see better."
Michael shook his head. Though he wanted to watch the birth, he also wanted to be safely out of the way if something went wrong. Though he wasn't about to admit it, he had not yet taken on the casual attitude toward horses that the kids in Prairie Bend all seemed to have been born with.
As Michael watched, Leif Simpson frowned, looked closely at the horse, then smiled. "Hang on, Eric," he said quietly. "Here it comes." And as Michael watched, the head of the foal slowly emerged from the mare's womb. "Come on," Leif Simpson urged. "Come on, baby, you're almost there. Easy. Easy… eeeeeasy!"
Suddenly the emerging form stopped moving, and Leif Simpson cursed softly. He reached out and began working his hand around the foal, gently pressing with his fingers, feeling his way into the cervical opening.
"What is it, Pa?" Eric asked. Though his hands remained firm on the nervous mare's halter, his anxious eyes were on his father.
"It's a foreleg," Leif replied. "It's not bad. Just got to ease it around so the hoof is loose, and it can slip right out."
Without thinking, Michael slid off the partition and moved closer, staring in fascination at the tiny form that hung suspended, only partially born, its coat matted and damp with the wetness of birth. And then, as he watched, Leif Simpson pulled his hand gently away, exposing a tiny hoof. Almost immediately, the birthing process resumed, and a few moments later the foal dropped from the womb, Leif easing it to the floor of the stall.
"Let her go," he told his son, and Eric released his hold on the mare's halter. Magic, freed, immediately strained her he
ad and neck back, and began licking at the tiny colt. It shivered under its mother's tongue, then struggled uncertainly to its feet, teetered for a few seconds, and dropped back to the floor. It rested; then, once more, it rose to its feet. Instinctively, as Magic still licked at it, it found a teat and began suckling.
"Wow," Michael breathed.
"Neat, isn't it?" Eric asked as proudly as if he himself were the father of the colt. "This one was easier than the last one. Last time, she breeched, and it took most of the night."
"Can I touch it?" Michael asked.
"Not yet," Leif cautioned him. "We want it to get a good fix on Magic. If we start handling it too soon, it could imprint on one of us, and wind up thinking we're its mother. You want to spend the next few months with a colt following you around, trying to get milk?"
Michael cocked his head, gazing in wonder at the tiny form. Unborn only a few minutes ago, the foal was already beginning to take care of itself. "If it were that colt," he eventually said, "I might not mind at all."
"Well, maybe you wouldn't," Leif Simpson replied. "But Magic would be mighty upset." He glanced around the stall, then pointed to the mops and brooms that leaned against one of its walls. "The sooner you two get this mess cleaned up, the sooner you can get back to admiring that little family."
The two boys began working on the stall, cleaning up and disposing of the placenta, removing the soiled straw and replacing it with fresh. But as they worked Michael's eyes kept drifting to the colt.
He wished the colt were his.
Laura Shields woke up, her body wracked with pain. The contractions were coming rapidly now, only a few seconds apart. Dimly, she was aware of people around her: Dr. Potter, standing near the foot of the bed; Buck, next to her, holding her hand. In the far corner, near the door, her father stood, watching her intently. Laura lay still for a moment, waiting for a respite from the pain before she finally spoke, and when it came, her voice sounded distant to her, as if she were far away from herself.
