Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
The space between her eyes crinkled. “How can they do that?”
“People will do anything you let them get away with. If they really had rights, they would have sued you. You would have been served, not sent a certified letter, not that they sent one.”
She pointed to the other pile I held. “But that…”
“This is something different entirely. If you hadn’t been getting harassing letters from those two, you might have opened and read these. It’s about your father’s estate.”
“What?” she said, taking the other pile I handed her.
“Your father’s lawyer has been trying to contact you.”
“My father had a lawyer?”
An expensive one with an embossed gold-foiled return address label. I kept that to myself. “The man who came to the house was there about your father. You should call him.”
“Come quick,” Dad called from downstairs. “It’s the mustang.”
Then we were racing outside.
TWENTY-SIX
Sunshine
My heart was galloping toward a stop if I didn’t find out what was wrong with the mustang. I found the mare keening in distress. Her gaze was on mine as if she were pleading for me to ease her suffering. My heart was breaking then.
“What can I do?” I cried.
James said, “She’s in labor. If it was straightforward, I could assist. But the foal isn’t in the right position. My hands and arms aren’t what they used to be to help.”
“Labor?” I cried. “She’s pregnant, and I rode her?”
Mitchell already had his phone in his hand. “I know who to call.” He dialed a number. “Levi,” he said, then chuckled. “No, I’m back in town, but I’m not in the ranch business.” The mustang whinnied. “Yeah, you heard right. We have a problem. We have a mustang in labor. Dad said the foal isn’t positioned right. I don’t know what vet to call.” There was a pause and then he said, “Thanks, man.”
He ended the call and looked at me. “Levi and I went to school together. We weren’t best of friends, but not enemies. Call it a friendly ranchers’ competition. Anyway, he’s great with horses and is on his way.”
“Did I do this?” I asked as despair filled me.
Mitchell came over and put his hands on my shoulders. “Don’t blame yourself.”
“I didn’t see it. She didn’t look pregnant,” I said.
“It’s possible she’s a smaller horse and pregnancy made her look a healthier weight or—”
“Or it’s too soon for her to be in labor,” I finished, guilt consuming me.
“We don’t know that.” He moved to inspect the mare’s situation with his father. “Try to calm her,” Mitchell said.
She wouldn’t sit still with the pain she was in. They knew horses more than I did. Yet the connection between the mustang and me was unmistakable. So I spoke words I’d heard Mom say to me when I was sick. A lot of it was more sounds, like a song, than words as I’d remembered it in my sick state. I rubbed the bridge of her nose, and when I got closer, I stroked her mane. She calmed some. I was grateful when I heard a truck nearing.
Mitchell moved out of the stall. Since the stalls were unlocked, the mustang had chosen to be here. I kept up a steady stream of Cherokee words until Levi appeared with a bag of gear.
“I called the vet we used. He’s forty or so minutes out,” Levi said when he entered. The mustang neighed. “I would stop and introduce myself, but I’m all cleaned up and need to be that way for the horse’s safety.”
His arms were covered up to his shoulders with plastic gloves as they went in, and the mare whinnied. I went back to soothe with words.
“It’s a good thing she’s up. She’s not going to like what I do next. Mitchell, James, I need you to keep her steady.” They nodded, and I was glad I couldn’t see what was going on. He seemed to do a fair share of pushing before pulling. “I think I got it.” He pulled as the mare neighed in pain. “Mitch, hurry and glove up. We need to act quickly. We’ve got feet first.”
Mitchell darted out and went to Levi’s bag and put on a pair of gloves. Then the two were tugging hard as James and I tried to keep the mare still.
Legs emerged first and everything happened really fast after that. Mitchell was pulling and then he crouched to catch the foal as it emerged. Levi was there, removing mucus from the foal’s nose. Then we were all holding our breath until the foal scrambled out of Mitchell’s lap to find his footing.
The foal was beautiful. He was full black except for a spotted patch covering much of the right side of his face.
“Looks like you have a bouncing baby boy,” Levi said.
I let out a sigh of relief. “He’s okay?”