Moon Shadow

by Chris Platt

  Moonbeam had been captured, and she was in big trouble.

  Five

  “Grab my bag, Callie!” Susan turned and signaled to the cowboys for help. “We’ve got a problem. That mare’s in labor and she’s not looking good.”

  Callie snatched up the vet’s bag and, without thinking, jumped over the fence. She ran toward Moonbeam, desperately wanting to help save the mare. She was halfway to the downed horse when the little mustang raised her head and snorted in fear. Then the horse bolted to her feet and trotted away in a lopsided gait. Callie could hear the veterinarian hollering at her from the gate, but she only had eyes for Moonbeam. The mare stood in the corner with her head lowered, wheezing and groaning.

  “Hold on there, Callie!” Sam shouted from the other end of the pen as he moved his horse toward the gate. “Get out of that pen before you start another stampede.”

  Callie turned to run, but froze in her tracks as a well-muscled bay stallion screamed in challenge and charged toward her. He stopped between Callie and the fence and boldly pawed at the ground, shaking his long, tangled mane and arching his neck.

  “Don’t move!” Justin called to Callie from atop his horse outside of the pen. “Any movement might make the stallion attack.”

  Callie gulped. Move? With her heart lodged somewhere in her throat and her blood roaring so loudly she could barely hear the young cowboy’s words, she doubted a team of mules could move her. Her feet felt as if they were rooted in the ground like the surrounding sagebrush. She stared into the angry stallion’s wild gaze. “Easy, boy…” the words slipped past her lips. “Whoa, son.”

  The mustang stopped his posturing and pricked his ears, listening intently to the gentle sound. His nostrils extended as he sucked in a giant breath, trying to get the scent of the human who stood before him. He blew hard through his nose, snorting a warning to his mares before lifting his tail over his back and charging in a wide circle around Callie.

  She felt a tinge of excitement along with the cold adrenaline rush of fear coursing through her veins. The bay stallion was magnificent! He wheeled around her in a wide arc, his rhythmic hoofbeats pounding a wild tattoo on the dirt floor of the corral. Callie spun in a circle, keeping her eyes focused on the mustang.

  “Yaw, yaw!” the cowboys yelled as Sam and Justin entered the pen and rode hard toward the bay stallion. The stud slid to a stop and turned to face the men on horseback, then quickly whirled on his haunches and galloped back to the herd.

  “Get back over that fence, young lady!” Sam ordered, then he turned his horse and herded the mustangs to the other end of the large pen. He returned to Callie and swiped his hat from his head, running his shirtsleeve across his sweaty forehead. “You could have been killed!”

  Callie bent over the fence, catching her breath. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to help.”

  The big cowboy softened his voice. “You’re a good vet’s helper, Callie. You care about the horses.” He leaned across the front of his saddle and looked down at her. “But you’re not made of steel. If that stallion had decided to charge, you’d be dead right now. If Susan wants a particular horse, she’ll call it out and we’ll go get it,” he said. “That’s what Justin and I are here for.”

  Callie brushed a tangle of hair away from her hot, sticky face as she glanced at Justin. The boy just shook his head and turned away. Great, Callie thought. I’ve made another good impression.

  Susan peeled her white knuckles from the fence rail and came over to Callie. “Are you okay?” she asked. When Callie nodded, the vet turned to the cowboys and pointed to the herd of mustangs. “I need that yellow mare in the corner. That run was probably too much for her. She’s about to foal, and after all that running, it may be turned. We don’t want to lose that foal.”

  Callie gasped. Not Moonbeam’s foal! It was bad enough that the mare had been captured and would be put up for adoption, but she couldn’t bear the thought of losing the foal, too! She watched as the cowboys closed in and lifted their lassos above their heads. Justin threw his loop first, but it landed on the back of the palomino mare. His father was a better shot. His rope slipped neatly over Moonbeam’s head. In the next moment, Justin recovered his lasso and tossed his own rope over the struggling mare’s proud head.

  Callie watched in horror as the men slowed their horses and tightened the rope around the mustang’s neck, effectively cutting off her wind supply. “Do they have to do it like that?” she asked Susan.

  The vet nodded. “I know it seems cruel, but it’s the quickest way to isolate the mare.” She pushed up her glasses. “Time is of the essence right now. Every minute counts when you’ve got a foal on the way.”

  The cowboys pulled the mare into an empty pen and waited for Susan’s instructions.

  “Let her go and let’s see what she does,” the vet said.

  The cowboys dropped their ropes and exited the corral. They all watched as the mare paced the far wall of the small pen, the two lariats dragging in the sand. Her beautiful head lowered to the ground as she walked. Every now and then she stopped to groan and nip at her sides.

  “Is she going to be all right?” Callie asked. She wrung her hands as she watched the little mare drop to the ground and roll, her sweaty coat picking up even more dirt than before. After a minute, the horse rose and began pacing again.

  “It’s hard to say.” Susan rifled through her medical bag and pulled out a bottle of tranquilizer and a syringe. “From the looks of her milk bag, I’d say she was probably a week or two away from being ready to foal before this roundup.”

  Callie bit her bottom lip, secretly wishing she had thrown a rock or two at that stupid helicopter. Moonbeam and her unborn foal had to be all right! She looked to Susan, afraid to voice the question for fear that her trembling words would give away how scared she was.

  The vet lifted the syringe to the waning light and flicked it with her thumb and forefinger, dispelling any air bubbles. She gave Callie an encouraging smile. “The mare should be okay, as long as there aren’t any complications.”

  “What’s going on here?” Harvey Smith shuffled up to the pen, moving as fast as his bowed legs and walking stick would carry him. “I could hear all the hollering going on from the office. What are you so excited about?”

  “Some new mustangs have been brought in,” Callie said. She peeked through the fence. Moonbeam’s knees buckled as she lowered herself to the ground and stretched fully onto her side. “This mare’s ready to foal, but Susan thinks it’s too soon.” Callie shook her head. “I’ve followed this mustang for a couple of years. She’s my favorite. If she makes it through this, I’d like to adopt her. I’ll need to find a way to earn some extra money, though, and then I’ll have to talk my parents into it.”

  The veterinarian smiled. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and you’ll have a two-in-one package.” She turned to the Sam and Justin. “Do you think we can get her into the squeeze chute to give her a tranquilizer?”

  Justin ducked through the fence. Moonbeam eyed him warily, but stayed where she was, her sides heaving as she quivered in pain. She moved to a more upright position with her legs tucked under and turned her head to nip at her flanks before lying back in the dirt again.

  “I don’t think that cayuse is going anywhere.” The gruff, nasally voice came from Ron Jeffers, the head man at the mustang pens. He walked up and stood beside Harvey and Callie, his thin frame towering over them. “If she doesn’t make it, get the tractor and haul her around back.” He flipped a knowing look to Susan. “You know the routine.” He gave them all a dismissing nod as he walked away.

  Callie frowned at the slang term Mr. Jeffers had used to refer to Moonbeam. Cayuse was the word people used to show how little they thought of mustangs. As far as she was concerned, this mustang was worth more than Mr. Jeffers.

  Harvey put a comforting arm around Callie’s shoulders. “Don’t pay him any mind,” he advised. “Right now we’ve got to think about that little mare out there, and how to hel
p her.”

  Sam got off his horse and walked toward the exhausted mare. “One of the other men and I can hold her head down while you get the needle into her neck,” he volunteered. He gestured to a large man who had helped bring in the herd. “No mustang’s going to die on my shift,” he muttered, casting an angry glare in the direction of the boss.

  Susan looked doubtful. “I guess it’s our only choice,” she said. “Callie, you run up to the house and get me two buckets of warm water. Put some Betadine in both and be quick about it.”

  Callie took one last look at the suffering mare, then turned and ran as fast as she could toward the ranch house. She knew it was only a matter of minutes, but it seemed like an eternity before the buckets were full and she was sloshing her way back to the pens. She set the pails down next to the vet. “How is she?”

  Susan shook her head. “It doesn’t look good. Her water broke, but we don’t have any front feet showing yet. It’s possible that the baby hasn’t turned completely, or was jostled into a bad position during the capture.”

  Callie set her jaw and stared at the waning sun. The calm beauty of the desert belied the struggle that was going on here at the corral.

  “Okay, here we go,” Susan said. Everyone gathered around the outside of the pen to watch. After what seemed like an extremely long wait, two tiny black hooves emerged from the mare.

  Callie smiled and breathed a little easier. Everything was going to be all right.

  They waited for the nose to appear on the next labored push from Moonbeam, but nothing happened. After several more attempts to expel the foal from her body, the mustang groaned and closed her eyes, breathing in quick, shallow grunts.

  “Something’s definitely wrong.” Susan pulled on her latex gloves. “Men, I need you to hold the mare again. I think the foal’s head is out of position. I’m going to have to go in and realign it.”

  Callie planted her hands on her knees and bent down to watch the vet work. The sight of blood made her woozy, but her fear for the mare and foal outweighed the dizziness and the tiny white dots that danced before her eyes. She held her breath and wondered if anyone could see how scared she was. She glanced up at Harvey, hoping for some sign of encouragement, but he looked nervous, too.

  Callie wiped at the sweat that covered her face despite the cool evening breeze. She felt old Harvey’s gnarled hand on her shoulder and smiled her thanks.

  The vet worked quickly, trying to reposition the foal. Moonbeam groaned and struggled against the men, but their body weight kept her head pinned to the ground. After another painful wheeze, the mare submitted to human help.

  “I’ve got it!” Susan manipulated the foal, carefully guiding it into position.

  Callie fought the wave of blackness that threatened to pull her into its depths. She breathed deeply, huffing along with Moonbeam as the mare groaned and stiffened her legs with the next contraction. Harvey braced one of his scarecrow-thin arms around Callie’s shoulders, and she leaned against the frail old man, hoping that her little bit of weight wouldn’t be enough to knock him over.

  “Here we go,” Susan said as Moonbeam gave a mighty push.

  Callie wanted to jump and shout when a tiny pink nose appeared between the small black hooves. She felt tears gathering in her eyes. With the next push, the foal’s neck and shoulders appeared. Moonbeam rested for a moment, then began the final push.

  “Come on, you can do it,” Callie whispered, sharing a small smile with Justin from across the pen. He seemed a lot nicer when he smiled, she thought.

  As they looked on, the little foal’s nostrils, which had been pinched closed for the birthing process, spasmed open, gathering a first breath even before the foal was completely free from its mother’s body.

  Callie forgot about fainting. She leaned closer, wanting to place an encouraging hand on Moonbeam’s coat, but she knew better than to touch the wild mare. For now she’d have to be content to lend moral support.

  The palomino grunted again and strained to relieve her body of the foal. The new baby slipped into the world, eyeing Callie and the veterinarian as it lay in the dirt, attempting to raise its delicate head.

  Goose bumps galloped up and down Callie’s arms. “He’s perfect,” she whispered in awe as she stared at the buckskin foal. The colt had the exact shade of pale yellow coat as Moonbeam, but its mane and tail were black like its sire’s.

  “She,” Susan corrected. “It’s a filly. Hand me the iodine, then grab a clean cloth. I’ll take care of the umbilical cord while you clean out her nostrils. We’ve got to work quickly. I want to have this filly checked out before her mama gets up.”

  Callie crouched in the dirt beside the still-wet foal. The metallic scent of blood mixed with amniotic fluid and the drying sweat of the exhausted mare assaulted her nose and caused her stomach to roll. She tried to ignore the waves of nausea and concentrated on the light perfume of desert peach that drifted on the evening air. “Shouldn’t she be standing and trying to nurse?”

  “Give her time,” the vet offered as she put a stethoscope to the newborn’s chest. “She’s a pretty weak little girl. She needs to gather all her energy first. If she hasn’t eaten in two hours, we can start to worry.”

  “She’s darned near perfect.” Old Harvey beamed.

  Justin stepped forward, handing Callie a towel from the vet’s bag. “Thanks,” she said.

  It was almost dark now, but there was enough light to work by. The sound of a night bird echoed down the mountain. It was soon answered by its mate. Callie smiled and folded the cloth around her index finger, moving her hand toward the foal’s nose. The filly lifted her head and made sucking noises, her little pink tongue curling upward in search of nourishment.

  “Look!” Callie exclaimed. “She’s ready to eat right now.”

  “We have a few things to get done first.” Susan rolled the foal onto its side and quickly doctored the navel cord. “I don’t like messing too much with a mustang foal, but night’s falling fast, and this filly isn’t as strong as she should be. We need to get her dried off. Take that towel and gently wipe her coat down.”

  Callie rubbed the fluffy towel over the trembling filly, marveling at her wispy black mane that contrasted so sharply with the rest of her light-colored body. “I think I’ll call her Moon Shadow.” Callie toweled the foal’s ears and laughed as the filly shook her finely chiseled head. “She’s pale as a moonbeam, like her mother, but she’s got this dark, shadowy mane and tail like her sire. Besides, look at that.” Callie pointed to the horizon.

  Darkness had fallen, and the soft light of the full moon crested over the black outline of the mountains. “She was born in the shadow of the moon,” Callie explained.

  Susan smiled. “It’s a good name. Let’s hope she gets a chance to use it. Climb back over the fence. We’ll leave the two of them alone for a while and see if nature takes its course.”

  Everyone stood outside the pen, waiting for the mare to get to her feet so she could encourage her foal to stand and nurse. When Moonbeam continued to lie on her side, one of the cowboys went in to rouse her. The mare staggered to her feet, swaying as her knees threatened to buckle again.

  The newborn foal whinnied in concern at the sudden movement, but she continued to lie in the soft dirt of the corral. The weakened mare nickered to her foal and pushed her gently with her muzzle, encouraging her to rise.

  Moon Shadow stretched her spindly legs in front of her and bounded to her feet, wobbling like a pinion pine in a strong wind. Another nudge from her dam sent the filly sprawling to the dirt, where she squealed and tried to rise again. After her third attempt, Moon Shadow rose and slowly shuffled to her mother in search of milk.

  “That’s a good sign,” Susan said. “I had my doubts about whether she was going to have the strength to do that. If she can nurse, she’ll get stronger with each passing meal.” The vet zipped her bag closed. “That’s it. Let’s pack it in. Thanks for the help, everyone. I’ll stop by in the morning to
see how things are going.”

  Callie didn’t want to leave the horses, but she knew her mother and father were waiting at home, holding up their dinner until she got there. With one last look at Moonbeam and her foal, Callie slipped over the fence and headed for Susan’s pickup. She and Susan had just buckled themselves in when the sound of boot heels on hard-packed dirt echoed up the driveway. It was Justin.

  “Doc, wait, don’t leave yet!” He pulled his Stetson from his head and nervously turned it over and over in his hands. “Something’s wrong with the palomino mare. She’s down in the dirt again, rolling from side to side. You’d better come quick!”

  Six

  Callie jumped out of the truck and flew toward the mustang pens. Moonbeam needed her! Callie was the first one over the fence, and her feet hit the dirt with such force that she almost tumbled to the ground. Luckily there were no other mustangs in the small pen to worry about. As she recovered her balance, the groans of the troubled mare reached her ears. Callie moved as close to the pale yellow mare as she dared.

  The foal she had named Moon Shadow teetered on shaky legs, nickering in alarm as her dam rolled to her other side, her legs beating a rhythm on the dusty earth. Moonbeam sensed she wasn’t alone and lifted her head, rolling her eyes in fear.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Callie asked Susan anxiously as the vet entered the pen, followed by Sam and Justin. She fought the urge to move closer to the mare. The way Moonbeam was thrashing about, anyone within three feet of her would risk a broken leg, or worse. She watched in horror as the newborn filly tried to get close to her mother, and was sent sprawling into the dirt as the mare renewed her struggles.