Ripples Through Time

by Lincoln Cole

  “What about Maribeth’s Dream?”

  “What about her?”

  “Well she’s fit to burst with that foal inside her.”

  “It’ll keep ‘til morning,” Frankie said. “And if she has it tonight what of it? Mares were birthing foals long before we got involved.”

  Calvin shrugged. “I suppose,” he said, not convinced. It was his job to make sure the birth went alright, and he didn’t want to make Butch Munro mad at him. “I think I’ll stick around though, just in case.”

  “Suit yourself,” Frankie said, and that was that. Frankie turned and ran back to the barn, hollering at the other guys in the back of the truck. Nine of them were piled on, laughing and slapping each other. Truth was, Calvin wanted to go out with them. Go out to town and have fun.

  But he was worried about Maribeth’s Dream even if Frankie wasn’t. And not just because it was his job. The last foal she birthed was breach and it nearly killed her, and his uncle claimed that if a mare did that once she’d probably do it again.

  He didn’t know if that was true, but it might be. And if nothing else it sounded convincing. So he was stuck here taking care of a pregnant mare while his friends were out having fun.

  Calvin spotted Mikey heading back to the barn. Mikey was only eight years old, but wild and clever as half the adults around here. Calvin had taken a liking to the little kid and they’d become fast friends over the last few months, since he’d started working for Butch’s farm. For his part Mikey treated Calvin like his older brother.

  Mikey looked low. Calvin guessed it was because the older kids had gone into town and left him here on his own. They didn’t want to babysit. Calvin usually took Mikey with him when he went to town, but that’s because he knew better. Mikey didn’t need a babysitter, just a cohort. His uncle wouldn’t let him go alone, and the last time Mikey snuck out without permission he hadn’t been able to sit right for a week.

  They had promised to play baseball tonight. Frankie must have forgotten, so not only did the kid get skipped on his favorite game, he got left too.

  “Hey bean!” Calvin called. The kid looked up and waved.

  “Hey. You aren’t fading out with the rest of them?”

  “Nah. I’m still in charge of Maribeth’s Dream. I think the foal is coming tonight.”

  “Oh,” Mikey replied.

  “Want to throw around a baseball?”

  Mikey grinned. “Do I?”

  ***

  “It’s happening!”

  Calvin came-to groggily. He’d been asleep in his bedroom—a small corner room he rented with a straw mattress and window near the barn—and it had been a good dream. He shook his head, trying to clear cobwebs.

  “…what?”

  “Hurry. She’s already on the ground!”

  Someone was pushing against his arm, cranked and worried. Mikey. And he was worried. Calvin yawned.

  “What? Yeah, alright.”

  He knew he wasn’t easy to wake up and Mikey was the only one who would break into his room and do it. He blinked his eyes and forced the sleep away. Mikey disappeared out the door, where there was already a commotion. Calvin stood on unsteady legs and stretched out his back. He hadn’t been planning to fall asleep, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

  Calvin followed them out of the house and to the barn in a rush, struggling to keep up; the excitement in the air was palpable. There was a crowd of people out there, four kids the same age as Mikey and three girls about Calvin’s age. He only recognized Mary Munro, Butch’s daughter. The other two were her friends, one slender and pretty and the other chunky.

  They were all looking at him expectantly as Mikey led him over, and he gulped. This was his show, but he hadn’t been expecting an audience. They might help, they might not, but they were definitely going to watch.

  He pushed away his nervousness and focused on the task at hand. Beads of sweat ran down his neck and he brushed a few flies away, determined not to miss anything or screw up. He hurried into the barn to the third stall on the left. Maribeth’s Dream was already on the ground, moaning and whinnying in pain. He knelt down next to her.

  She was wild-eyed and breathing shallow breaths, and somehow she’d managed to wedge her rear end up against the back of the stall when she’d lain down. He doubted that he could have done much better than her in such a situation, but it was still frustrating.

  “We have to move her away from the wall so the foal has enough room,” Calvin said, working his way alongside the hips of the large animal. Maribeth’s Dream didn’t struggle, and the look in her eyes seemed to be a mix of anticipation. And fear.

  Though not as much fear as Calvin would have expected. She wasn’t panicking, which was good, but that might have been because she simply didn’t have the energy.

  “We have to move fast,” Calvin reiterated to Mikey. He wanted to take a look at her. Make sure everything was in proper order, but he couldn’t do it alone.

  Still nothing happened.

  He glanced up. The crowd stared at him, mute and fascinated and utterly useless.

  “Where’s Mikey?”

  “He, uh…” Mary said, glancing around. “He left.”

  Calvin sighed. “Great, just great.”

  “Want me to go find him?”

  “No. There won’t be time. Hold her head and I’ll rotate her back end.”

  Mary’s eyes went blank with fear. “Me?” she whispered.

  “Anyone,” Calvin replied. “She’s heavy but I can lift her, I just need someone to keep the head down.”

  No one moved.

  “Mary? I need help here.”

  “Uh…”

  Calvin bit back a few angry sentiments and fought to control his rising anger. These were Butch’s horses, so it always surprised him that Butch’s daughter was so scared around them. She was a very timid girl. Friendly and brilliant with a big nose and brown eyes, but entirely too timid.

  But it wasn’t her fault. He turned to the girl next to her. The chubby one.

  “You? Can you help me?”

  The girl looked away, biting her lip.

  “Anyone?”

  Everyone found something else to stare at, refusing to meet his eyes.

  Everyone except one girl. The slim friend with black hair. Calvin had seen her around the barn a few times and always thought she was cute. She nodded firmly at him and stepped forward, putting her hands on the mare’s head.

  “Thank you,” he said, nodding back at her. There was a little fear in her eyes, but even more steel.

  She smiled at Calvin, and it was a comely smile. He found his breath catching in his throat. Her eyes were stunning and green and they reflected the dim light. She had a thin face and dimples. Right now that face was pale. Scared as hell, but willing to help. Calvin was grateful.

  “Push down harder, and use your knee to keep her down. If she gets her head up she might try to roll or stand. I can’t afford that.”

  The girl gingerly pushed her knee against the horse’s neck. Calvin grabbed the mare’s hips. She was heavy, especially with the foal, but he managed to adjust her back end inside the cramped stall.

  The horse moaned softly, pushing her head up against the girl, but she kept the mare’s head down with a firm push. The horse let out a shuddering breath and whinnied.

  “It’s okay girl, relax,” Calvin said softly to the horse.

  The next few minutes were a terrifying blur for Calvin. He managed to get ahold of the foal and gently guided it out. It wasn’t breach, Thank God, but it was turned on its side. It came easier than he could have hoped once he’d changed her positioning in the stall, and the entire time the girl helping him kept the mare calm with soothing words. She spoke too low for Calvin to make the words out.

  She had a pretty voice, and Calvin found himself stealing glances at her. He couldn’t help himself, and he was glad that she was here.

  For her part, Maribeth’s Dream was miserable through it all. With
good reason.

  Finally it was over. The foal lay on the ground beside him. It was whinnying and gasping, but not moving much.

  “A towel,” he said, and this time Mary ran off to grab one. She handed it to Calvin, and he offered it to the girl helping him.

  “Would you mind cleaning her off? I’ll take care of the mare,” Calvin said, gesturing at the foal.

  “Clean…clean her off?” the girl echoed.

  “Yeah,” Calvin said.

  “I won’t hurt her, will I? She looks so fragile.”

  Calvin laughed. “Believe me, if you try to hurt her, Maribeth’s Dream here will have something to say about it.”

  The girl knelt down and began gently wiping the foal off with the towel. “Her feet look…is she okay? Is this normal?”

  It was true the feet looked wrong, but the foal was just fine. Small, white tendrils poked out of the bottom where the hooves would eventually be. Calvin had seen it so many times he barely noticed, but he knew it would seem strange to someone uninitiated. They looked like little squid tentacles coming out of its legs.

  “All foals look like that when they are born. Having hoofs and trying to come out a birth cavity would not be ideal, so they grow in within a few hours. By tomorrow she’ll look normal. I’ll put some iodine on them to make sure she doesn’t get infected.”

  The girl nodded and returned to her work. Calvin watched as she ran the towel across the foal’s body. She was so gentle, so loving, that he spent more time watching her than the baby.

  That was almost disastrous. The baby was struggling to breathe, but Calvin didn’t see the foal’s chest moving.

  Damn it, her air is clogged: “She isn’t breathing right.”

  “What?” the girl said, stumbling away from the baby. “I didn’t…”

  “It’s fine,” Calvin said gently, coming over and kneeling. It was whinnying, but the sound was muffled and distant. “Nothing you did. She just has mucus in his throat. Here, I’ll hold her mouth open but I need you to use your fingers to scoop whatever is blocking her airway.”

  The girl didn’t reply for a long moment. “Hurry,” Calvin said. “She needs to get air.”

  Slowly, the girl reached forward and began using her fingers to clear the throat. The foal’s eyes were wild and terrified, and the tongue kept flicking out to push the hand away. Calvin used his knee to hold the baby down and held the mouth open.

  The look on the girl’s face of mild terror and focused determination was endearing, Calvin decided. She looked on the verge of passing out, but her iron will kept her hands moving in quick precise motions. Calvin found his eyes wandering, studying the concave of her throat and the soft skin of her neck. Her full lips were quivering in concentration. She really was quite beautiful, even in a situation like this.

  No, especially in a situation like this.

  “Okay,” she said after good twenty seconds. Calvin let go. “I think it’s clear.”

  The foal began whinnying louder, kicking her legs and sucking in air. Calvin breathed a sigh of relief. The mare and foal would both be okay now.

  “Perfect,” he said.

  The girl beamed a smile at him. He was suddenly very glad he’d decided not to go out tonight.

  “Well done,” Calvin said, standing up. “And thank you so much for helping me. I’ll have to clean the stall and give the mare a bath. They’ll both be just fine.”

  The girl nodded, looking down at her clothes. Her expression changed to one of resigned disgust. Calvin stifled a laugh, and she was too distracted by her clothing to notice. She was covered in birthing fluids from the foal, devastated by it but trying hard not to show how much it bothered her. It was endearing.

  He didn’t want to embarrass her by drawing attention to her discomfort, and he was impressed as hell with her. Not many people he knew could have done what she did without batting an eyelash. She was easily allowed a little discomfort.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “There’s a pump over on the west end of the barn you can use to wash your clothes off. I’ve got it from here. Thanks again.”

  She nodded and stood up, walking gingerly to try and keep from smearing the blood into her clothes. It wouldn’t do any good, he knew, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. The best he could do was to warn her to wear cheap clothes next time.

  The crowd parted around the mare and slowly dispersed. Only a few children, he saw, had stuck around through the entire birthing process, and Mary was still waiting for her friend to be finished helping Calvin. As the girl rejoined Mary, still covered in blood, they engaged in a hushed conversation. Gradually, they moved away from the stall, and Calvin couldn’t hear what was said.

  Calvin wiped the foal down and spent the next fifteen minutes making sure the mare had no punctures that could get infected. The vet would be by in the morning to check them both out, but he didn’t want to leave her overnight without making sure she would be alright.

  Mikey crept back up while he was working, a sheepish look on his face. The kid was pale, hardly breathing. He didn’t have the most resolute of stomachs.

  “How’d it go?”

  “It went fine,” Calvin said, “no thanks to you.”

  “I was waking up Butch,” Mikey protested. “He told me to get him as she went into labor. Anytime of night.”

  “And let me guess,” Calvin added, wiping his hands on his jeans and standing up. “He’ll be here in the morning?”

  Mikey nodded. “He also wasn’t quite so happy about the ‘anytime of night’ thing. I sort of added that myself.”

  Calvin chuckled. “I checked them both out. Mother and foal are both healthy and safe. They’ll keep until morning. Want to get a coke?”

  “Sure. But I don’t have any money…”

  “I’ll buy. After I change.” He started toward the stall door and hesitated: “Hey, and ask that girl who was in here helping if she wants a coke. I’ll buy her one too, she was a lot of help. You know, just now…with the foal.”

  He couldn’t help himself. He felt an intense need to explain.

  “Who? The one with blood on her clothes? She left.”

  “Oh,” he said. His voice betrayed him, sounding considerably more let down than he’d expected.

  Mikey didn’t seem to notice. “She’s one of Mary’s friends. I could ask Mary—“

  “No, no, that’s alright. Just thought I’d see if she was still here,” Calvin said, heading out the stall. “I’ll meet you at Willy’s once I get changed. Order us both a coke.”

  ***

  The restaurant was empty when Calvin arrived. Except for Mikey. The place had fifteen tables and four ceiling fans just barely above Calvin’s head. A juke box sat in the corner, but it only played seven songs.

  The eight year old had a bottle of coke on the counter flanked by his elbows and was sipping through a straw. His eyes shot up when Calvin entered but he didn’t stop drinking. His legs were kicking the air beneath his stool a full two feet above the ground.

  There was another bottle next to him. Ice cold. Calvin popped the top off and took a sip. “Where’s Willy?” It didn’t feel right, drinking in Willy’s dine-in restaurant without the fat old man there with them.

  “Sleeping,” Mikey said, after a suitable ‘ah’ and belch.

  “You woke him up too?”

  Mikey shrugged. “He said to leave the money on the counter.”

  Calvin sighed and fished a bill out of his pocket. “I don’t have change. I was hoping to get a plate of fries too. I’m starving.”

  “The freezer’s unlocked,” Mikey said. Calvin narrowed his eyes. “What? He gave me his keys!”

  “He did?”

  Mikey looked away. A sure sign he was lying. “I have his keys.”

  Willy Parson was Mikey’s uncle. After Mikey’s dad didn’t return from the war Willy had taken the kid in. But at arm’s length. Calvin couldn’t think of a time when Willy wasn’t angry with Mikey, and he showed how grateful
he was taking care of him with near constant beatings.

  Which meant most of the time Mikey stayed away.

  “Alright,” Calvin said. “You already stole the keys so we might as well make the best of it.”

  Calvin worked around the counter and grabbed a box of matches. The oil would take a good twenty minutes to heat up, but he didn’t mind. The longer he waited the better the fries would taste.

  He dug in his pockets and found another bill. Maybe he’d cook himself a burger too. Willy always cooked them too long anyway. He could make it better himself.

  “When’s the next race?” Mikey asked.

  “Thursday,” Calvin replied.

  “Dig. That’s tomorrow,” Mikey said after a moment. Calvin glanced at the clock. Just after one in the morning.

  “Yeah, I guess it is now,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

  Mikey ignored that. “Do you have any horses in the race?”

  “I don’t have any horses.”

  “I mean the ones you train.”

  “I’m an assistant trainer.”

  “Geez, I was just asking a question.”

  Calvin sighed and grabbed a handful of beef from the ice chest. Willy was running low. He would probably take Mikey on a run to the butcher tomorrow.

  “I know you were. Sorry. I’m just tired,” Calvin said, flattening out the beef into two patties and setting them aside.

  But that was only partly true. He was also, he knew, distracted. He couldn’t get the girl’s face out of his mind. He hadn’t been introduced to her before, but he’d seen her around. Where did she come from? Did she even live around here?

  He didn’t bring that up to Mikey, though. No sense trying to explain that to the little kid.

  He ignited the grill and then leaned against the counter, waiting for it to heat up. “Faraway Bay is racing. I think he’s the only one I train that’s in a stakes race this month.”

  Mikey nodded. His coke was empty and he dragged the straw across the bottom, slurping up all the little droplets. Calvin idly straightened some silverware and took another swig of his own drink.

  “Can I get another?”

  “You can get water,” Calvin said. Mikey shrugged and went to the sink to pour himself a glass.