I didn’t faint, but I came close. Dad made me sit in the stallway until my head cleared. The Barkers left quietly, while Lizzy and Dad sat next to me.
Dad squeezed my hand.
“The foal needs colostrum!” I struggled to get to my feet. “She should get most of it in the first hour!”
“I’ll get it!” Lizzy jumped up. “You wait right there!”
“Gracie—” I felt sick inside. And I knew I’d always carry that picture of her as she strained to see the foal she’d sacrificed her life for.
“Tell M and Catman to move the foal in with Nickers,” I said.
Dad got up. And in seconds, M came out, carrying a perky, beautiful foal with bright eyes, curly black hair, four white stockings, and a blaze down the middle of the cutest face I’d ever seen. He carried her in to Nickers, who walked right to the foal and began sniffing her and nickering.
I slipped back in with Gracie. I had to see her one more time, to tell her good-bye. She looked beautiful and peaceful. “Thanks, Gracie,” I whispered. Her dapple-gray coat looked almost white. I knelt down and scratched her chest.
Dr. Stutzman came into the stall. “Why don’t you let me do my job, Winnie? I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I didn’t get here sooner.” He took my elbow and guided me out of the stall. “But I couldn’t have done anything for that mare you didn’t do. I’m going to take care of her now, though, and take her away for you. It’s the least I can do. I’ll go make arrangements now. If you need any help feeding that colostrum, I’ll be right back.”
Dad walked Doc to his truck, and Lizzy came back with a thawed bag of colostrum. Catman poured six ounces into one of the bottles.
“Foals can only absorb the antibodies in this stuff for about 12 hours,” I explained, taking the bottle. I was going to fight for this foal as hard as Gracie had. “Most of the antibodies get absorbed in the first hour or two. We better get on it.”
The foal was half lying, half sitting, her long legs tucked under her, and her neck held high. She was gorgeous. And so was Nickers, who licked the foal’s ears and cheek, acting like a mother. I was so proud of her.
I knelt beside the foal, shook drops of the milk on my fingers, and put my fingers to her mouth. She licked the milk. Her raspy tongue made me shiver. I shook out more milk and let her lick that too. Then I put my arm around her neck and held the bottle with the nipple facing my wrist, higher than her nose. The foal stretched her neck like she would have for an udder. She took the nipple and drank.
“Far out!” Catman whispered.
“Ditto,” M said.
The foal’s mouth slipped off the nipple, and she looked around, taking in Nickers, the stall, the two strange guys watching her every move. Then she turned back to me. After three or four start-and-stops, she’d finished half of the colostrum in the bottle.
I let her take a break, and I went over to Catman and M.
“Totally keen,” Catman said.
I could almost see a wave of sadness pass over M’s face. “Gracie did it,” he said, his voice soft. “She gave up her life for her foal.” He looked right at me, and I knew he was saying a lot more, understanding a lot more.
It was past midnight. And there we were, in a stable, watching a miracle. “Merry Christmas,” I whispered.
Dad and Lizzy watched with us as the foal tried to stand up. First she stuck out her long legs and sat like a dog. Nickers walked circles around her. The foal lunged forward, then fell back.
Lizzy burst into giggles.
Again the foal lunged forward, off her back legs, until she stood, wobbly, legs spread wide, nose to the ground.
“Good for you!” Dad cheered.
She moved one stockinged leg forward, then another, then sprawled down again.
Watching the foal made me think of Dad and me, of God and me. I’d fallen down a lot lately. But nobody was giving up on me. And thinking about how everybody had pulled together tonight—well, there wasn’t anybody I’d rather be with than me and my kind.
Nickers walked beside the foal, her head lowered over the foal’s back.
“It’s not so bad being an orphan,” M said quietly. “Not when great people adopt you.”
I knew M was adopted. I’d met his parents. He was right.
I fed the foal the rest of the bottle. Then Dad convinced me to go in the house and get warmed up before the next feeding. Catman and M stayed in the barn, and Lizzy, Dad, and I traipsed through the snow under the bright North Star and a sliver of a moon.
Mason was sitting on the floor, staring at the Christmas tree when we walked inside.
Madeline brought us hot chocolate after we shed our coats. “Mason and I decided nobody would be getting any sleep tonight.” She glanced at her watch. “Make that this morning. So we vote that we all celebrate right now.”
“Sweet!” Lizzy cried, dashing to her bedroom and coming out with an armload of gifts.
We laughed through the whole gift exchange. Catman had left presents for all of us under the tree. And every present was a roll of wrapping paper.
Madeline passed out self-opening gifts, her invention. “You just pull the ribbon, and the paper automatically comes off. Then the box flops open!” Mason and I got body sleds. They looked like snow pants with wide skis sewn inside.
“My latest invention!” Madeline exclaimed. “You can’t lose them like you could a sled.”
Dad got Madeline a “neck saddle.” He fastened it onto her shoulders and hoisted Mason up. “See? Fun for Mason, and easier on your back!”
Lizzy passed out painted rocks to all of us, each rock a creation. “Most of them have verses,” she said, putting one wrapped rock back under the tree. “Except Catman’s. I painted the peace sign on one side. The other side says I won’t take you for granite! Won’t Mr. Coolidge love it!”
I opened my rock from Lizzy and read what she’d written in tiny, neat white letters: Thank God for his Son—a gift too wonderful for words! —2 Corinthians 9:15.
“Thanks, Lizzy. I love it!” I wished I could have pulled out the terrarium, complete with the greatest iguana in the world for her.
Finally I opened the gift from Hawk. “It’s a horse-angel pin,” I whispered. It might have been one of those flying Pegasus horses. But all I saw was a horse angel. I pinned it on and phoned Hawk. She was glad to hear from me, even though I woke her up.
“You haven’t opened the present from me yet, Winnie,” Dad said when I came back out to the living room. He handed me a box wrapped in Sunday comics.
I opened it. Inside was a beautiful blue halter, perfect for a perfect colt. I couldn’t believe my dad had bought it. “But . . . but you kept saying . . .”
Dad sat down on the couch with me. “I know. I went overboard, didn’t I? I just didn’t want to see you get hurt again.” I knew he was thinking about Mom like I was. “But I was hoping too, Winnie.”
“I feel so bad,” I said. “You all got me great gifts, and I didn’t get you anything.”
Mason was sitting on the floor, staring at his Lizzy rock. Lizzy and Madeline stopped what they were doing and walked over to us.
“Are you kidding, Winnie?” Lizzy cried. “What you did out there in that barn, that cute little colt getting born! That was the best gift I’ve ever seen!”
“Lizzy’s right,” Madeline said, smoothing Mason’s hair. “I’m not sure how Mason will handle all of this when he understands more . . . about Gracie. But I wouldn’t have missed that birth for all the patents in D.C.! Right, Mason?”
Mason was still staring at the rock. He acted as if he hadn’t heard her.
I wondered if he understood, if he knew he’d never see Gracie again. He seemed to be slipping into that secret place of his. I pictured him hugging Gracie’s leg, staring at her dappled hair, touching her belly where the baby horse was sleeping. And in that instant I knew what I needed to do.
“Would everybody come out in the barn with me?” I asked.
“Now?” Madeline
said.
I filled another bottle with colostrum. Then everybody followed me back to the barn. M, Catman, and Nickers were faithfully watching over the foal.
“M!” Lizzy cried. “What did you do?”
The foal was wearing M’s black sweatshirt, which was a great idea and a great fit.
“Thought she looked cold,” he said.
Mason wandered to Gracie’s stall and stared in. The stall was empty now. Dr. Stutzman had taken care of that. But Mason looked like he still felt the absence of another horse he’d loved and lost.
Madeline tried to pull him away, but he shook her off.
I went over to him. “Mason,” I said, “I want you to meet somebody who needs your help.”
He turned his blank face to me.
I glanced up at Madeline. “He’ll be okay.”
I carried Mason into Nickers’ stall and felt his body surge with energy and life again the second he caught sight of the foal.
“Baby horse!” he cried, squirming out of my arms and stumbling to the foal.
I showed him how to hold the bottle and feed her. He giggled, but held on to the bottle with both hands.
“Jack,” I heard Madeline say to Dad, “I don’t know if I want him to go through this all over again.”
I stood up beside Mason, my heart pounding and calming at the same time. I glanced at M, and his eyes told me we were thinking the same thing. He knew what I had to do.
“It’s okay, Madeline. You don’t have to worry. The foal isn’t going anywhere.” I turned to Mason. “She’s yours, Mason. The baby horse belongs to you.”
Somebody gasped.
Mason squealed and hugged the foal.
I turned to Madeline. “We’ll keep her for you free. And I’ll train her and do all the work.” I knelt and put one arm around the foal and the other around Mason. “But this foal is yours to keep, Mason.”
It should have been about the hardest thing I’d ever done. I’d loved Gracie, and I loved her foal every bit as much. But somehow, loving the foal and loving Mason . . . the only thing left to do was give them to each other. “Merry Christmas, Mason.”
We were still hugging and crying and laughing when Barker walked into the barn, carrying a bleating, white goat. Behind him came Mr. Barker, with Mark and Matthew, each carrying two puppies.
“Merry Christmas!” Mr. Barker shouted.
“Eddy Barker!” Lizzy exclaimed. “Where did you get that?”
“Granny. She had it brought up from her farm. Granny claims goats’ milk is the closest thing to horses’ milk. She thought this nanny might come in handy.”
“Your granny is amazing, Barker!” I cried. And she was right about the milk. Once the foal got enough colostrum, I could get her to nurse from the goat. “Tell her thanks, Barker.”
Barker struggled with the goat and fought to keep his balance. Catman, trailed by a swarm of cats, came to the rescue. The two of them carried the goat into an empty stall and shut the door.
M met Mark and Matthew in the stallway, and Matthew handed him the two black puppies he was carrying. The puppies licked M’s face and wagged their tails. Then Mark handed him one of the two dogs he was carrying.
“Hope your parents like their Christmas gifts,” Mark said, clinging to the remaining dog in his arms. “I liked your idea of giving yourself a puppy. So I gave me Zorro.”
“It was our compromise,” Mr. Barker added. “Mark gets to keep the runt of the litter, and he’ll still be able to visit M’s three dogs.”
The whole time Mason had held his ground with the foal, making sure that she kept coming back to the bottle.
Snow fell lightly as dawn glowed through the barn windows. We could have all been sealed inside one of those snow globes. I thought about Mary and Joseph and Jesus as a baby. We had Nickers, a foal, a goat, puppies, and cats instead of a donkey, sheep, and camels. But Jesus, not the baby, was in our barn too. And as I watched Mason holding that bottle while the foal tugged life from it, I could almost hear angels sing.
We’d all seen the miracle, how something so humble in a stable could suffer to bring us a gift—free and priceless grace. Gracie had been a gift horse.
Horses communicate with one another . . . and with us, if we learn to read their cues. Here are some of the main ways a horse talks:
Whinny—A loud, long horse call that can be heard from a half mile away. Horses often whinny back and forth.
Possible translations: Is that you over there? Hello! I’m over here! See me? I heard you! What’s going on?
Neigh—To most horse people, a neigh is the same as a whinny. Some people call any vocalization from a horse a neigh.
Nicker—The friendliest horse greeting in the world. A nicker is a low sound made in the throat, sometimes rumbling. Horses use it as a warm greeting for another horse or a trusted person. A horse owner might hear a nicker at feeding time.
Possible translations: Welcome back! Good to see you. I missed you. Hey there! Come on over. Got anything good to eat?
Snort—This sounds like your snort, only much louder and more fluttering. It’s a hard exhale, with the air being forced out through the nostrils.
Possible translations: Look out! Something’s wrong out there! Yikes! What’s that?
Blow—Usually one huge exhale, like a snort, but in a large burst of wind.
Possible translations: What’s going on? Things aren’t so bad. Such is life.
Squeal—This high-pitched cry that sounds a bit like a scream can be heard a hundred yards away.
Possible translations: Don’t you dare! Stop it! I’m warning you! I’ve had it—I mean it! That hurts!
Grunts, groans, sighs, sniffs—Horses make a variety of sounds. Some grunts and groans mean nothing more than boredom. Others are natural outgrowths of exercise.
Horses also communicate without making a sound. You’ll need to observe each horse and tune in to the individual translations, but here are some possible versions of nonverbal horse talk:
EARS
Flat back ears—When a horse pins back its ears, pay attention and beware! If the ears go back slightly, the horse may just be irritated. The closer the ears are pressed back to the skull, the angrier the horse.
Possible translations: I don’t like that buzzing fly. You’re making me mad! I’m warning you! You try that, and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t!
Pricked forward, stiff ears—Ears stiffly forward usually mean a horse is on the alert. Something ahead has captured its attention.
Possible translations: What’s that? Did you hear that? I want to know what that is! Forward ears may also say, I’m cool and proud of it!
Relaxed, loosely forward ears—When a horse is content, listening to sounds all around, ears relax, tilting loosely forward.
Possible translations: It’s a fine day, not too bad at all. Nothin’ new out here.
Uneven ears—When a horse swivels one ear up and one ear back, it’s just paying attention to the surroundings.
Possible translations: Sigh. So, anything interesting going on yet?
Stiff, twitching ears—If a horse twitches stiff ears, flicking them fast (in combination with overall body tension), be on guard! This horse may be terrified and ready to bolt.
Possible translations: Yikes! I’m outta here! Run for the hills!
Airplane ears—Ears lopped to the sides usually means the horse is bored or tired.
Possible translations: Nothing ever happens around here. So, what’s next already? Bor-ing.
Droopy ears—When a horse’s ears sag and droop to the sides, it may just be sleepy, or it might be in pain.
Possible translations: Yawn . . . I am so sleepy. I could sure use some shut-eye. I don’t feel so good. It really hurts.
TAIL
Tail switches hard and fast—An intensely angry horse will switch its tail hard enough to hurt anyone foolhardy enough to stand within striking distance. The tail flies side to side and maybe up and down as well.
&n
bsp; Possible translations: I’ve had it, I tell you! Enough is enough! Stand back and get out of my way!
Tail held high—A horse who holds its tail high may be proud to be a horse!
Possible translations: Get a load of me! Hey! Look how gorgeous I am! I’m so amazing that I just may hightail it out of here!
Clamped-down tail—Fear can make a horse clamp its tail to its rump.
Possible translations: I don’t like this; it’s scary. What are they going to do to me? Can’t somebody help me?
Pointed tail swat—One sharp, well-aimed swat of the tail could mean something hurts there.
Possible translations: Ouch! That hurts! Got that pesky fly.
OTHER SIGNALS
Pay attention to other body language. Stamping a hoof may mean impatience or eagerness to get going. A rear hoof raised slightly off the ground might be a sign of irritation. The same hoof raised, but relaxed, may signal sleepiness. When a horse is angry, the muscles tense, back stiffens, and the eyes flash, showing extra white of the eyeballs. One anxious horse may balk, standing stone still and stiff legged. Another horse just as anxious may dance sideways or paw the ground. A horse in pain might swing its head backward toward the pain, toss its head, shiver, or try to rub or nibble the sore spot. Sick horses tend to lower their heads and look dull, listless, and unresponsive.
As you attempt to communicate with your horse and understand what he or she is saying, remember that different horses may use the same sound or signal, but mean different things. One horse may flatten her ears in anger, while another horse lays back his ears to listen to a rider. Each horse has his or her own language, and it’s up to you to understand.
American Saddlebred (or American Saddle Horse)—A showy breed of horse with five gaits (walk, trot, canter, and two extras). They are usually high-spirited, often high-strung; mainly seen in horse shows.
Appaloosa—Horse with mottled skin and a pattern of spots, such as a solid white or brown with oblong, dark spots behind the withers. They’re usually good all- around horses.
Gift Horse Page 10
