The Unicorn in the Barn

by Jacqueline Ogburn

  She took a firmer grip on the hoof, resting it on her leg, then with a flick, she cut along the inside. Greenish-yellow goo oozed out and dripped onto her blue jeans. A sour stink hit my nose and the unicorn’s too, because a shiver ran across her neck. The vet wiped the hoof with some gauze that Allegra handed her, then with another pad that came away with streaks of red mixed in with the green and yellow. She squeezed on the hoof some more and the unicorn gave a little grunt.

  “Tweezers,” she said, holding out her hand toward Allegra.

  Allegra wiped a pair of tweezers with a cloth that stank of disinfectant. The vet gently probed the cut with them. Another shiver skittered across the unicorn’s skin. I couldn’t see very well because the doctor was leaning so close over the hoof.

  “Got it,” she said. Sitting back on her heels, she raised up the tweezers. Gripped in the tips was a tiny piece of metal. “Looks like a bit of old barbed wire, don’t you think?”

  Allegra leaned in to see. “It looks rusty. It probably does have iron and that’s why it got infected.” The unicorn bent her head to peer at it, too, and seemed to nod in agreement.

  “What does iron have to do with it?” I asked. “Most animals get infections when they step on a rusty nail. People too, for that matter.”

  “Many supernatural creatures are allergic to iron. Some can tolerate it, but for some it’s like poison and can be deadly,” Dr. Brancusi explained. “Unicorns have magical healing powers, so I suppose they rarely get sick. The iron probably suppressed her healing ability. I’ve never had the chance to treat a unicorn before, so I’m not entirely sure.” She picked up the hoof again. “Hand me the Animalintex and some Melolin.”

  Allegra gave her little packages of stuff that her mother spread on the hoof. Then she packed more gauze on it. I could see how well they worked together, each doing her tasks and not getting in the other’s way. Allegra pulled out a roll of some stretchy material, which her mother wrapped around the foot. Then Allegra snipped off a length of duct tape and that was the top layer of wrapping. Dr. Brancusi was careful to cover only the hoof, and not catch any of the hair or skin under the sticky tape. Dad always says you can fix anything with duct tape, but I don’t think this is what he had in mind.

  The unicorn held her leg so the front of the hoof rested on the ground. Dr. Brancusi stood, then stroked the unicorn’s neck. She swept her hands across her back, making little soothing sounds. “I should give you a shot now. Some antibiotics for the infection and a tetanus shot. But you look pregnant, and I don’t want to give you a treatment that might hurt your baby.” She said this looking straight at the unicorn, who again nodded her head in agreement.

  “The good news is, this won’t hurt at all,” she said, taking a stethoscope out of the box. “It might feel cold.” She rubbed her hand on the end of the little disk, then stuck the tips in her ears. Hunkering down on her heels next to the unicorn’s side, she placed the disk on the rib cage. She listened for a moment, slid the scope lower, and then moved it again. Even I could now see that the unicorn’s belly stuck out more on the sides than her ribs and that it hung down low.

  “You have a nice strong heartbeat. Now I’m trying to hear the baby.” She moved the disk again, more under the belly, then frowned a bit.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Allegra.

  “Hush.” Still frowning, Dr. Brancusi moved the disk to a new place, then back, then to a third place and back again. She sat back on her heels, petting the unicorn’s belly.

  “Well, honey, I’m going to hold off on the shots for a while,” she said to the unicorn. “You’re definitely expecting, and I think it’s twins!”

  “Twins!” Allegra cried. “Are you sure?”

  “There are two rapid heartbeats coming from the belly.”

  “That’s so cool!” I said.

  “You want to hear them?” Dr. Brancusi asked me. Allegra glared. I could tell she thought she should go first. Her mother motioned me over and when I crouched down, she hooked the stethoscope around my neck. I slid the earbuds in. She put the disk back on the unicorn’s ribs.

  “You should be able to hear the mother’s heartbeat now.” And I could hear it, big da-dum, da-dum, da-dum sounds. The smell of earth and roses was real strong, and I could feel a big old grin spread across my face. The vet moved the disk lower down on the unicorn’s belly, which had more pink showing through the white of her coat. “Now one of the babies,” she said.

  It took a moment; then I could hear a fainter but faster beat, da-da, da-da, da-da-dum. She moved the disk farther underneath.

  “Do you hear the second one?”

  Leaning in, I closed my eyes so I could focus on just my ears. Da-da, da-da, da-da; then, faint like a second voice in the choir, I could hear a second heartbeat behind the first, da-de-da, da-de-dum. I put my hand, real gentle, close to the disk. The unicorn’s skin was warm and firm, like muscle, and didn’t have a lot of give, like my belly. I couldn’t feel anything moving.

  “Wow,” I said softly. Dr. Brancusi smiled at me.

  “My turn,” snarled Allegra, poking me in the side with her knee. I let her take my place and stood next to the unicorn’s head. I could tell when Allegra heard the babies. She smiled, and her face was soft-looking, almost pretty.

  “It is twins,” she said. Then her eyes got big and worried. “But aren’t twins dangerous for horses?”

  Dr. Brancusi nodded, then explained to me, “Horses don’t have enough room in their bodies to carry twins successfully, so usually one is aborted or dies. But with unicorns, who knows?” She ran her hands along the unicorn’s side. “She’s built a little different from a horse. Her chest is broader, and the rib cage seems larger. The pelvis is different, more like a goat. There might be room in there for two.”

  The vet moved up to her head and scratched the unicorn just behind the ears. “All done for now. You’ll need to stay here for a while. The dressing needs to be changed twice a day for seven days. I also want to watch for signs that the infection isn’t clearing up. If not, we’ll have to give you shots anyway, so it won’t spread through your system. Understand?”

  The unicorn made what sounded like a sigh and nodded her head to show that she understood. The vet unhooked the ropes and took the halter off the unicorn’s head.

  “I also want to see you frequently while you are carrying these twins. I’ll help you in any way I can, and your babies too.” The unicorn nuzzled Dr. Brancusi on the arm.

  The vet was giving me a hard look, like she was making up her mind about something. “She’s going to need to be kept hidden here in the barn, maybe for months. Allegra, you know I depend on you, but I think we could use some extra help.”

  “Mom,” Allegra said, tugging on her mother’s arm. “You can’t mean that. We can manage just fine; we don’t need him.”

  “Sweetie, I think we do. We haven’t had a large animal to board before. She’s going to need a lot of care.” Dr. Brancusi drew herself up. I’d been so focused on the unicorn, I hadn’t noticed how big she was, almost as tall as my dad. With a stern expression that would have done a Sunday school teacher proud, she said, “Eric, you did well tonight. We can use your help, but this part of my practice must be kept secret. You can’t tell anyone, not even your parents. These creatures come to me for healing, not to be tormented or turned into a freak show. Can we trust you?” Allegra didn’t look too happy, but didn’t say anything.

  The unicorn turned her head and gazed at me with a big acorn-colored eye. She wanted me to agree, I could tell.

  “I swear, I won’t tell a soul,” I said. “I’ll do anything you say, whatever she needs.” The unicorn rubbed my shoulder with her nose, being careful not to poke me with her horn.

  I stuck out my hand and Dr. Brancusi shook it.

  “Great. You’re hired,” she said.

  Chapter Three

  OF COURSE, IT WASN’T THAT SIMPLE. I was only in the fifth grade, so this meant I was hired the way kids are who work as b
abysitters or lawn mowers. Dad had to be in on it. He just didn’t have to know about the more unusual parts of the job.

  Dad was asleep on the couch when I got home that night. Keeping real quiet, I made myself a peanut butter and banana sandwich, then cleaned up the kitchen. I heard Steve come in later. I could hardly sleep, thinking about the unicorn—​how she looked, how soft her nose was, that amazing smell she had.

  Bacon was sizzling when I woke up in the morning. My room is closest to the kitchen, a considerable benefit to my mind, as I get all the cooking smells first. Dad was curled over a cup of coffee and Steve was frying eggs when I bopped into the kitchen. Steve had been fixing breakfast a lot since he started working at the Chinaberry Diner. Sunlight came shining in big blocks through the window over the sink. It was Saturday and I was going to see the unicorn again.

  I scooped up three slices of bacon and caught the toast as it popped up. Lifting the plate through the air like a fancy waiter, I swooped to the table. “Your breakfast is served, mis-sewer,” I said. Dad quirked his lips in a little smile as he lifted his coffee cup.

  I poured juice and got out the butter and jelly while Steve finished two more eggs.

  “I’ve got a job!” I said.

  “Now what kind of fool would give a job to an eleven-year-old?” Steve snorted.

  “Dr. Brancusi wants me to help out with her veterinary practice, just easy stuff, like getting water and food for the animals, maybe doing some yard work,” I told them. “It’s only a couple of hours a day. I can do it after school and on weekends. She said she’d pay me.”

  Dad clunked down his coffee mug. “Dr. Who?”

  “Dr. Brancusi—​you know, the lady who bought the farmhouse?”

  “That’s what I thought you said.” Dad leaned back in his chair, giving me a hard look. “You want to work for that woman?”

  Dad’s lips were in a tight line. Maybe I should’ve waited until after breakfast to bring this up. I was suddenly scared that he might say no.

  “She’s got a daughter about my age who already helps her out,” I said. “She’s got a treatment room in the house with all sorts of cool stuff and sick animals and everything.”

  “Bad enough we had to sell the farmhouse, and now this lady is passing out jobs to kids. Who does she think she is, anyway?” Dad growled.

  I looked at Steve, but he was pretending to still be very busy with the eggs he had already finished cooking.

  “She’s going to pay me,” I said. “Only a few bucks an hour, but I don’t care. I just want to be around the animals.” I was careful not to say what kind of animals. I looked up at Dad, thinking, Please don’t say no, please don’t say no.

  Dad didn’t say anything for a full minute, just sat there looking red in the face.

  “I started helping Poppaw chop tobacco when I was eight,” Steve said. I shot him a grateful look. “I didn’t want to, but he said a little hard work never hurt anybody. Even knucklehead here can’t screw up cleaning out a cage or filling a water dish.”

  “Humph. Guess you’re right about that,” Dad said. “You really want to do this?”

  “Yes, sir, I really do.” I nodded and gave him my best good-boy face. Dad leaned back and shook his head, looking at Steve, not me.

  “All right, then, after you finish the dishes, we’ll go talk to this lady vet of yours.”

  I could have hugged him, but Harper men aren’t big on hugs. We are big on breakfast, so we went back to eating. Maybe I’d take a treat for the unicorn. Since she resembled a horse, she’d probably like apples or carrots, like horses do. I’d heard of feeding horses lumps of sugar, but we didn’t buy sugar cubes, just bags. I could get some cubes when I got paid.

  I mopped up the egg yolk with the last bit of toast, then carried my dishes to the sink. That’s one of my main chores, washing dishes, ever since the dishwasher broke and flooded the kitchen.

  It felt weird to go to the front door of the farmhouse. We always used to go through the kitchen door in the back.

  Some of Grandma’s rosebushes had been moved to the far side of the steps to make room for a new ramp going up to the porch. Some of the roses still had blooms—​big red, pink, and white ones and two little peachy-yellow ones. Roses were her favorite flower, so I was glad to see they were still there. There was a bench under the living room window and a big sign next to the door that said BRANCUSI ANIMAL CLINIC. OFFICE HOURS 10 A.M.–4 P.M. Dad lingered a bit at the door, checking out the new paint job and the pots of flowers hanging all around. The door swung open to the sound of a jangling bell. A lady staggered out carrying a fat cocker spaniel with a plastic cone around its head, like some weird sort of shield against outer-space death rays. The dog’s rump was shaved and looked coated with brown stain. We shuffled back to give them some room.

  “Whoops!” cried the lady. “Excuse us, got to get my baby back home.” The dog wagged its stumpy little tail and squirmed to get down. Dad held the screen door until they were safely past, then motioned for me to go on in.

  The living room sure had changed. The carpets were gone and now the floors were just bare wood. Instead of easy chairs and a couch, there were plastic chairs and two wooden benches to sit on. A birdcage holding a rumpled parakeet rested on one of the benches next to an old man. The house smelled funny, too, like wet dogs and Clorox.

  We sat on the other bench in front of the window. Dad pulled a Salem out of his shirt pocket. He flipped out his lighter, holding the flame to the end of the cigarette and drawing in the smoke. A flick of his wrist flipped the top back on the lighter; then he tucked it into his pocket. It was a Zippo that had belonged to Poppaw. The old man with the bird gave us a mean look.

  “Dad,” I whispered. “I don’t think you’re supposed to smoke in here.”

  “I don’t see any No Smoking sign,” he said.

  “I don’t see any ashtrays, either,” I pointed out. “Besides, those things are bad for you.” He gave me one of those looks, so I shut up. We waited for a while, Dad cupping the cigarette in his left hand, like a big wind might come along and blow it out. The old man kept giving us the evil eye, but Dad ignored him and kept smoking.

  Chinaberry Creek is a small town and never had a vet before. Most folks had to go over to Concord or Charlotte to get their animals treated. I wondered how much work there would really be for me to do.

  Allegra came busting in through the dining room door, yelling, “No smoking in the clinic!” She thrust a trash can in Dad’s face, then caught sight of me. “Oh, it’s you,” she said. “I’m sorry, but you can’t smoke in here. It’s bad for the patients.”

  Dad studied her for a second, then tossed the cigarette into the can. He crossed his arms and waited. Allegra looked flustered.

  I jumped in to explain. “Dad, this is Allegra Brancusi, the girl I told you about.” This was not off to a good start.

  Dr. Brancusi walked up. “You must be Eric’s father,” she said, smiling and holding out her hand.

  Dad stood up and said, “Yes, ma’am.” He didn’t shake her hand though. She looked a bit flustered too, and I could see how Allegra favored her.

  “Come back into the kitchen and we’ll talk. Allegra, why don’t you take Eric out to the barn?” Dad shot me his “you better behave yourself if you know what’s good for you” look. I gave him my best smile and followed Allegra outside.

  “Hey, wait up,” I called. She had already rounded the side of the house before I got off the porch. There was a new fence with a gate across the driveway and a sign that said PRIVATE, DO NOT ENTER. The Brancusis sure were fond of signs. I hopped over the fence and caught up to Allegra at the barn door. “How’s the unicorn doing?”

  “Shhh!” Allegra hissed. “Don’t talk about her outside; someone might hear you.”

  “Who, the squirrels?” I snorted. She slid the door open and jerked me inside. There was a big pile of wood shavings in the first stall. It was taller than my head. The other stalls were empty—​no unicorn.
/>
  “Here.” Allegra tossed a shovel at me. “You can start by mucking out the stall. Put it in the wheelbarrow and then dump it on the manure pile at the far side of the paddock.”

  “What?” I said.

  “Muck out the stall. You know, scoop up the dirty bedding,” she said, forcing the shovel into my hand. “Like cleaning a cat’s box.”

  Suddenly, I got the picture. It wasn’t pretty.

  “You want me to pick up unicorn poop?” I asked, just to make sure.

  “Well, duh,” she said. She rolled a wheelbarrow out of a corner and parked it in front of the middle stall. “The stall has to be cleaned twice a day. Basic hygiene is the foundation of the practice of medicine,” she went on. “Just wait until we have to sterilize a space.”

  When I had watched Allegra help her mother doctor the unicorn, I thought maybe she wasn’t so bad after all. Wrong.

  I trudged over to the unicorn’s stall. Next to the wall was a big pile of dark brown lumps and a little farther back a wet clump of wood shavings. A sour stink came from the bedding, nothing like the flowery unicorn smell from the night before. That’s all there was to see, a smelly bunch of unicorn poop.

  “Where is she?” I demanded. My throat tightened with disappointment. I felt tricked, like the time Larry Aycock switched lunch bags and stuck me with his nasty old livermush sandwich. They didn’t need my help; they just wanted a pooper-scooper.

  “Probably down by the creek,” Allegra replied. “She can bear some weight on that hoof now that the iron’s been removed. The exercise will be good for her.”

  “But you said she needed to be watched,” I cried. “Maybe she got worse, maybe she’s in trouble. How do you know she’ll come back?”

  “Because she promised,” said a rumbly voice from around my ankles. Something brushed along my leg, like a cat does when it wants to be fed. I looked down. It was a cat. Its little white head rubbed across my shins, while its long white tail stood up with the tip flopped over, making a little flag shape in the air. The face tilted up to catch my eyes.