When I did wake up, Allegra was sitting next to my bed. Wasn’t sure I liked this development, especially once I realized that I still didn’t have any pants on. At least I was under the covers. I pulled them up higher.
“I heard what happened,” she said. “Timothy said you saw Moonpearl.”
“Yeah, yeah, I did,” I replied, sitting up a bit. “The Deaton boys didn’t find her. She looked OK.”
“Mom said I should apologize to you for pushing you and being so mean yesterday.”
“OK.”
“OK,” she said. “Are you going to be able to come back and help at the clinic? We got three new boarders: a cat that lost all the skin and fur off his tail, a dog with a broken leg, and a chameleon with some weird eye disease.”
I knew we were cool then, even though it wasn’t much of an apology.
Steve popped in after she left to rag on me about having a girlfriend. He was stunk out that he missed all the excitement, although pleased at having something to lord over the Deaton brothers, especially Darren, who could be kind of a jerk.
Grandma was still in the hospital. Steve and Dad went to see her that evening, but she told them to make me rest. So I did.
Dad let me stay home from school the next day too, after making me swear not to go into the woods for the rest of the season. I promised, even though I was still worried about Moonpearl. I hoped the wampus cat was wrong, that Moonpearl wouldn’t die and that it was far away from Harper’s Woods by now.
My leg didn’t hurt much at first, so I was able to get up and fix myself a peanut butter and banana sandwich. I had a cane to help with walking, but I didn’t need it in the house. After lunch, I was tired of TV, so I decided to see if I could make the walk over to the clinic. I had to rest on the way by leaning against my treehouse tree, but it wasn’t too bad. The cane really helped with the rougher parts of the path, though I didn’t like to admit it.
Georgie let me in the kitchen door and swept me up in a great big hug.
“Oh, Eric, I’m so glad to hear you are all right. Timothy told us all about it,” she said. I was beginning to think Timothy was a blabbermouth. She set me up at the counter with a stool to keep the weight off my leg and had me chopping vegetables and washing dishes. She went up to the front to help Dr. B. It felt good to be back, even if I was in for a come-to-Jesus talk from Dr. B., too.
I was just fixing to go check on the squonk when Timothy came in.
“You need to come outside,” he said, then darted out the cat flap in the kitchen door.
I hopped down the back steps on my one good leg and looked around. I could hear a car coming up the drive, probably another patient. Timothy hissed at me, then disappeared around the corner of the barn. I followed. There was Timothy, sitting up straight and pretty, tail wrapped around his paws and his head tipped up. I’d left my cane behind in the kitchen, so I hobbled to the back of the barn and turned the corner to find out what he was looking at.
It was Moonpearl.
“You came back!” I cried. I hugged her neck. She nudged my arm and snorted a bit. She still had that same sweet smell, of roses and fresh-turned earth. That wonderful unicorn peace washed over me.
“I missed you so much,” I whispered. She nudged me again, a shiver going along her skin. I stepped back to get a good look at her. Her mane was all scraggly and full of twigs, and her legs were muddy.
“Let’s get you inside and cleaned up, OK?”
She nickered.
“She approves of that idea,” said Timothy.
“Let’s go in through the paddock. Less chance of being seen that way,” I said. I took her through the gate, then scouted for civilians. Dr. B. had installed a fence across the driveway to stop pet owners from driving to the back of the house, but sometimes they parked in front of the gate. The coast was clear.
When I opened the barn door for Moonpearl, Prissy started making a racket, honking a welcome. Moonpearl bent her head down and snorted, resting her nose on Prissy’s back. The goose honked once more, then settled down into her nest. Moonpearl was hidden from prying eyes and back where she belonged, with us.
“Timothy, go tell Dr. B. and Georgie that Moonpearl is back.”
“Do I look like a messenger?” Timothy said with a sniff. He leapt up onto the edge of the stall door and looked down his nose at me.
“No, but I want to feed her and get her cleaned up,” I said.
“Very well, that is something you can do better than I,” he admitted and left.
I hobbled over to the storage room and scooped some feed into a bucket. My leg throbbed a bit as I carried it back into the stall and filled her trough. Prissy got underfoot, searching for spilled bits of grain. Moonpearl huffed, then nudged my arm. I felt bad that I didn’t have an apple or a carrot for her, but I didn’t want to leave her, not even long enough to find her a treat.
I fetched the curry combs and a soft cloth to wipe off the worst of the mud. Moonpearl heaved a big sigh as I ran the brush over her withers. The dirt was deep into her winter coat, but as I worked, she was getting back her shine.
There were three long scratches, already scabbed over, on the right side of her chest. I cleaned them with a wet cloth. They didn’t look too bad, but I would have to tell Dr. B., so we could put some antibiotic ointment on them.
“Did the wampus cat do this?” I asked, tracing alongside the scratches. She gave a little snort and shifted her feet, so I figured I had guessed right about that.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” I said. “I’m sorry I left you. I should have helped you with the wampus cat and I should have looked until I found you that night. You could have gotten hurt by those knuckle-headed Deaton boys.” I got the cloth and ran it down her front legs, one after the other. Moonpearl kept shifting her weight, lifting a foot up a bit and putting it down.
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” I had never seen her this restless before. She wasn’t eating any of the feed either. Maybe she was thirsty. I left the stall to get her a bucket of water. She snorted a bit more and turned in a big circle, almost like a dog getting ready to lie down to sleep.
I got another comb and began untangling her mane, being careful not to pull too hard. “That’s better, isn’t it, pretty girl,” I said in a soft voice. Avoiding her horn, I combed out her fetlock. Several long hairs came loose and stuck in the comb. I gathered them up and put them in my shirt pocket to save for later.
With the softer brush, I smoothed down her coat, starting with her neck. As I brushed her side, her skin gave a strange shiver. Afraid I had scratched her too hard, I stepped back.
“Did I hurt you?”
Her sides heaved again. Then it hit me. She was in labor.
“Are your babies coming?” I whispered. Moonpearl tossed her head and then turned and looked me in the eye. I took that as a yes, and hobbled as fast as I could to get Dr. B.
Chapter Twenty
“WHERE’S DR. B.? MOONPEARL’S HAVING her babies!” I yelled as soon as I saw Georgie. She was loading a bunch of blankets and towels from the cages into the washer on the back porch.
“How wonderful!” she said. “Kris is in with a patient, but I’ll tell her as soon as she is free.”
“But Moonpearl needs her!” I said.
“Was she lying down yet? Could you see the foal?” Georgie asked.
“No.”
“Then we have some time. Mothers usually want some privacy. Why don’t you go to the barn, but watch from outside the stall. It could be several hours before the foal presents itself. If Moonpearl seems in distress, come back for the doctor.” Georgie waved me off the porch.
Moonpearl didn’t look at me when I peered into the stall. She was standing quietly, with her head lowered. Prissy the goose was fluffed out in her nest in the corner.
After about twenty minutes with nothing much changing, I heard the front door to the barn slide open and Dr. B. stepped in.
“How is she?” Dr. B. whispered as she came and st
ood next to me, looking at the unicorn.
“Fine, I guess,” I whispered in return.
Dr. B. stepped into the stall, moving real quiet and slow, motioning for me to stay put. She murmured something soft that I couldn’t quite catch, and Moonpearl shuffled her feet a bit. Dr. B. ran her hands down the unicorn’s side and moved to her rear. She lifted the unicorn’s tail, then slowly lowered it again and gave Moonpearl another little pat on the rump. She came back to stand next to me.
“You were right, she is in labor, but it could still be some time before the foals are born. Can you stay for a while? I still have patients waiting that I need to tend to,” she said.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Dr. B. got a lawn chair out of the storage area of the barn and set it up for me by the stall door. “Things will go better if she has some space and quiet. Come get me when she lies down or if she seems to be having trouble,” she said.
I watched Moonpearl for a while, but nothing much happened. It was cold in the barn, so I got a blanket and draped it over her back. I found a smaller one for me and settled in the chair to watch. Timothy jumped onto my lap and curled into a fuzzy ball.
I must have dozed off, because it was dark outside when Allegra came into the barn.
“I brought you something to eat. Georgie made it before she left. She called your dad and told him you’re spending the night here,” she whispered, handing me a sandwich and a mug of hot chocolate. I had never heard that girl whisper before.
“Georgie isn’t going to come watch the babies being born?” I asked. I couldn’t understand how anyone could miss this.
“She said someone needed to get a good night’s sleep,” Allegra said. She peered into the stall, then sat down next to me. Timothy decided he liked her lap better.
“Thanks,” I said. We sat there while I munched on my sandwich, Allegra still quiet for a change.
Moonpearl made a strange grunting noise. She stamped her feet, turning in circles. She chuffed at Prissy, turned some more, and moved to the far side of the stall. Then she knelt down, first her front legs, then her back, and slowly rolled over onto her side. There was a big wet spot on the hay next to her tail.
Allegra shot up, dumping Timothy off her lap. She ran into the stall, and I followed right behind her. Moonpearl didn’t even raise her head to look at us. Just below her tail, I could see a white sac, with something dark inside.
“They’re coming! I’ll go get Mom!” she said, still whispering, and left.
Moonpearl gave another grunt and the sac slid out farther. I could see legs inside. It was finally happening; she was having her babies. Moonpearl was breathing heavily. “You’re doing great, girl,” I said softly. I kept whispering to her, telling her everything would be all right. Timothy had disappeared.
The barn door opened and Dr. B. and Allegra came in. Dr. B. had her box of medical stuff and Allegra had an armful of towels. Prissy hissed at them.
Dr. B. knelt down next to Moonpearl. She put on a pair of rubber gloves and checked the sac. She took a bottle out of the box, poured some stuff onto a towel, and wiped around under Moonpearl’s tail. Prissy flapped her wings and began honking.
“She’s doing fine. Allegra, can you take Prissy and put her in the next stall?” she asked. I was glad Allegra was the one stuck with that job. Allegra swooped up the goose and clamped her hand around her beak. Prissy wriggled, but Allegra didn’t let go. They brushed past me. I retreated to the far side of the stall, out of the way.
Moonpearl made another grunt.
“Good girl, won’t be long now,” murmured Dr. B. I could see the shape of the foal’s head inside the white sac now. Moonpearl gave another big shiver all down her body. The foal was wiggling around, then a foot poked out. Dr. B. moved back a bit. The foal slid all the way out.
“There you are, you little beauty,” said Dr. B.
The baby wasn’t white; it was dark, almost black. It blinked its eyes at me. After checking over Moonpearl, Dr. B. gently removed the rest of the birth sac from the foal.
“It’s a girl,” she said softly. “Eric, bring some of the towels and wipe her down. She should be trying to stand up in about ten minutes or so. I need to make sure the second delivery goes well too.”
I crouched down next to Moonpearl, spreading out one of the towels. Dr. B. lifted up the foal and moved her onto the towel, so she would have more room to work. Using another towel, I began wiping the foal’s neck. She was so warm! She felt lots warmer than Moonpearl usually did. Her coat was wet and bits of the sac were still clinging to her back legs.
She raised her head, then rolled over with her chest down and her legs sprawled out. I wiped her body, very gently. Her head was really wobbly as she turned to look at me, and I realized she didn’t have a horn. Her eyes were big and dark, and she had really long eyelashes.
“Hey there, happy birthday,” I said softly.
Allegra sat down next to me and started rubbing down the foal’s back legs. “Isn’t she beautiful?” she whispered.
“Yeah, but is she really a unicorn? She doesn’t have a horn,” I pointed out.
“Cows aren’t born with horns, and deer aren’t born with antlers. Makes sense that unicorns would be the same,” said Dr. B. “Can you give us a bit more room?”
I scooted back as best I could, pulling the towel with the baby unicorn on it. Allegra shifted over with us. She took another towel and wiped down the foal’s tail, which was the same as her mother’s, sort of a lion tail with a tuft, but shorter.
“Eric, you need to give the baby room too. She needs to be able stand up on her own,” said Dr. B.
I pushed back farther and bumped into the side of the stall, which sent a pain shooting through my bad leg. I bit my lip to keep from making any noise that would upset Moonpearl.
The foal’s head was still bobbing around, but she started moving her legs. We watched as she scrabbled around with her front legs for a bit, then rested, then scrabbled some more. She tried to stand, first pushing up with her front legs, then with her back legs. She fell over a couple of times, but finally managed to stand up on her own.
I looked over at Moonpearl and Dr. B. Moonpearl was making lots of little grunts. I couldn’t see what Dr. B. was doing, but she looked worried.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“This foal was stuck, but I think I’ve got it now,” she said. She wrapped a towel around the foal’s legs and pulled, long and steady. Nothing moved for a few moments, then Moonpearl gave a big heave and the second baby came out. Dr. B. began cleaning up the baby. This foal was a lot smaller than the first one, but was white like Moonpearl.
Moonpearl rolled over and stood up. She turned around and saw her babies. She nudged the first one with her nose. The foal took a few steps, swaying on those long spidery legs. A few more steps and she began poking her nose around Moonpearl’s side, looking for milk.
“Allegra, I need more towels,” Dr. B. said. Allegra hopped up and ran out of the stall. Dr. B. pulled the rest of the white sac off the second foal. “This one is a boy,” she said.
He was very still and his eyes were closed.
“Is it OK?” I asked. I crawled over next to the foal.
“We need to get him to breathe,” Dr. B. said. She took off her gloves and put on a fresh pair. Allegra handed her a towel, and she cleaned off the foal’s head. She took a swab and cleared out its nostrils too. The foal still wasn’t moving. Dr. B. put her hand behind the foal’s front leg.
“His pulse is weak,” she said.
Dr. B. handed me a towel. “Rub him down, firmly, but gently,” she said. She began looking for something in her medicine box.
I rubbed the foal with the towel. He was just as warm as the first one, but so much smaller.
“Allegra, have you seen the mask and kit for intubation? It’s not here,” Dr. B. said.
“No, I thought you kept them in the box,” she said. “Mom, is the foal going to be OK?”
&
nbsp; Dr. B. knelt over the baby. “I hope so.” She held one nostril closed and then bent her head down and blew into the other nostril several times. The foal’s chest rose and fell as she did it. She stopped, and then the foal’s breathing stopped.
“Allegra, you make sure that the first foal is nursing and keep them calm and out of the way. Eric, come around to this side and press down on his ribs, and count, like this.” She put her hand on the baby’s rib cage, just behind the front leg, and pressed down and then quickly released the pressure. “One, two, three, four, staying alive, staying alive,” she said. “Now, your turn.”
I pressed and counted, up and down, up and down. I could feel the ribs give just a little under my hands. I kept counting. A couple of times I thought the foal was breathing, but I didn’t dare stop. Dr. B. blew into the foal’s nostril again, then began rubbing its legs and neck.
Moonpearl turned to watch us. The first baby, the filly, was nursing, her little tail switching back and forth. Timothy slipped back into the stall to inspect the situation.
“Timothy, tell Moonpearl to touch the baby with her horn,” I ordered, starting to feel panicky.
“Moonpearl might be too weak for that and she needs to take care of the other foal,” Dr. B. said. She blew into the white foal’s nose again and again.
“But it’s her baby! She must want to help him,” I insisted, still pressing and releasing. Moonpearl made a funny rumbling sound and tossed her head.
“She does want to help, but it won’t work,” said Timothy. “She says the power doesn’t work on other unicorns. They can’t heal each other.”
Moonpearl grunted and turned toward us, the little filly staggering a bit to try and turn with her. Moonpearl lowered her head and blew out her breath over the baby’s face, then lifted up and looked me in the eye. She wanted me to save him.
The Unicorn in the Barn Page 11
