The Damage Done by Linda Newbery

Author:Linda Newbery [Newbery, Linda]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Seaton House
Published: 2011-08-30T04:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Eleven

Kirsty woke with the early light, surprised to find that she’d slept through the night without waking once. It was a quarter to six. The cats were still with her, stretching luxuriantly as she stirred.. She reached up to part the curtains and look out of the window. It was a still, bright morning, the low sunlight touching the treetops along the lane into brilliant green and bronze, while the ground was in shadow.

Remembering Dally, and the surprising turn last night had taken, she got out of bed and dressed quickly, and ran downstairs followed by cats. Outside the back door, the air was as fresh as cool water, promising warmth to come.

The tack-room door was wide open. He's gone, she thought; he left me here on my own, after all. Then she saw him. He was inside Dorcas' stable, leaning against the half-door, with his back to it. As she approached, he turned and put a finger to his lips.

Kirsty crept up to the door and looked over; then she caught her breath. Dorcas was suckling a tiny chestnut foal which stood on splayed legs. Kirsty saw its short tail waggling while it drank, and the damp curls of its coat. The mare turned her head to touch the foal with her nose, nudging it.

“Oh! When did she - ”

“A few hours ago. It all happened quickly once she started.”

“And I missed it! Why didn't you come and tell me?”

“Couldn't, could I? The door was locked.”

“But you could have – oh, I don't believe it! After all this waiting.”

Kirsty tried to remember all the things Jay had told her to check. Dally had already switched on the heat lamp, which was wired up to the tack room; Dorcas had plenty of hay, and the bedding was clean; a wheelbarrow stood nearby, filled with soiled straw and the bloody mess of afterbirth. The foal's dark chestnut coat had been dried by the mare's licking. It was a colt, Kirsty could see.

“You've done everything right!” she told Dally in surprise.

He shrugged. “She didn't need any help. She knew what to do. Instinct. All I did was watch.”

“And did he suckle all by himself?”

“I went in a helped a bit, guiding him. She didn’t mind.”

The foal finished drinking and gave a spluttery sneeze, then turned uncertainly and raised his head to stare at them. He had a crooked white blaze down his face, from domed forehead to whiskered muzzle, and a short dark mane that curled up in tufts. He had a compact body in which the bone structure was prominent, and an alert little head.

“Oh, he's gorgeous - perfect!” Kirsty whispered. “I must phone Sheila - she'll be so pleased! But I feel awful, leaving it all to you. I’d better get the vet to come, just to check.” She tried to remember what Jay and Sheila had told her. “The cord must have broken by itself. There’s some stuff in the tack-room to dress the stump, to stop it getting infected.

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