Laurie Salzer - A Kiss Before Dawn

by Laurie Salzer

  Chris leaned back to meet Mary Jo’s gaze. “Really?”

  “When I was working on my undergrad, I met a woman whose mother is Native American,” Mary Jo said. “She knows how to braid horsehair, so I sent it to her, and she made this for you.”

  “I am entirely overwhelmed by this gift.” Chris went quiet for a moment, thinking about what she wanted to say. “You can’t even imagine how much I love you.”

  Mary Jo cradled Chris’s face between her hands and kissed her hard. “Do you know that there’s nowhere on this earth I would rather be at this moment than right here? I love you, too.”

  Chris rewarded Mary Jo with a passionate kiss and a tight embrace, feeling breathless when their lips broke apart. She rested her forehead against Mary Jo’s. Being in love with this beautiful and remarkable woman was beyond breathtaking and exciting. She couldn’t remember a time in her life she’d felt this happy and fulfilled. “Too bad you have to go to work,” she murmured.

  “I’ll be back later.”

  “You want your gift now? Or when you come home?”

  Mary Jo snorted. “Well, right now, Martel, of course.”

  “Follow me.” Chris led her down to Ruby’s stall. Mary Jo peered inside, and Ruby greeted them with a nicker through a mouthful of hay. Mary Jo looked at Chris, clearly confused.

  “Well?” Chris prodded.

  “Well, what?”

  “Ruby’s foal.”

  “What about it?”

  Chris laughed as recognition dawned on Mary Jo’s face. Nodding, she said, “It’s yours.”

  “Ruby’s foal? Is mine?”

  “Only if you want it. Or I suppose I could get you something else.”

  Mary Jo flung herself into Chris’s arms. “Oh, my God! Chris! Oh, my God! Really? It’s been years since I’ve had a horse of my own. I never had a foal to watch grow into an adult.”

  Chris groaned as Mary Jo squeezed the breath out of her. “Jesus, Cav, you’re squishing me.”

  Mary Jo released her abruptly and went into Ruby’s stall to give the Paint a hug around the neck. “You make sure it’s an extra special baby, big girl,” she whispered, her gaze meeting Chris’s through the bars of the stall. “Thank you, Chris,” she added softly.

  Indifferent to the fuss, Ruby snorted and returned to her hay. Her belly was big and pendulous, her movements sluggish. She was due to foal in March, but the colt was already kicking regularly, keeping his dam tired.

  When the foals started dropping, the mares weren’t the only ones on the farm who would feel the exhaustion, Chris thought wryly.

  * * *

  Later that morning, Chris was in the barn leading Stetson in the direction of the three Thoroughbred mares. She had exposed them to eighteen hours of simulated daylight every day for the past two months with timers programmed to turn the two-hundred-fifty-watt bulbs on and off. The mares were finally showing signs of going into heat.

  Because horses have an eleven-month gestation, Chris wanted to get the mares bred by early February so they would foal next January. According to the Jockey Club, all Thoroughbreds were technically one year older on January first. Getting the mares to foal as close as possible to the first of the year ensured the foals would be near physical maturity when they entered training as two year-olds.

  Stetson began his “stud talk” the closer he got to the mares. He nickered low and pranced next to Chris, who could see all three mares pacing back and forth in their stalls as they whinnied their greetings. When she and Stetson drew closer, each of the mares had their tails raised in the “come-hither” position.

  “Yup, you three stooges are ready, aren’t you?” Chris took care to keep Stetson away from the stall walls. She let him sniff each mare briefly through the bars before she turned him away and led him back to his own stall.

  While she walked from Stetson’s stall toward the office, Chris fingered the bracelet on her wrist. She had been so moved the moment she saw the bracelet—so much thought, so much love had been woven into the horsehair.

  When Mary Jo had said she loved her, those three little words melted away all her fears and insecurities. Chris smiled contentedly as she recalled Mary Jo’s joyful reaction when she realized Ruby’s foal would be hers. Watching the two of them together was going to be so much fun.

  The farm phone rang when Chris opened the door to the office. She reached over the desk and grabbed the receiver. “Hello, Went Farm.” She waited a moment and repeated her greeting. Silence was the only answer.

  The caller hung up. “Huh, must have been a wrong number.” Shrugging her tired shoulders, she replaced the receiver and went around the desk to sit down.

  Piles of papers sat on her desk. She closed her eyes and sighed. When she had gotten out of bed and washed her face earlier, she saw dark circles shadowing her eyes. Uninterrupted sleep was a luxury she hadn’t enjoyed lately. There was too much to do, think about, and remember right now.

  From today until May, Chris would be kept busy with breeding and foaling. She’d already moved five mares to the big, straw-filled foaling stalls. Sierra was one of those mares, due to foal within the next day or so. She glanced up at the activated surveillance monitors and back to the mountain of paperwork on her desk: breeding certificates, Jockey Club reports, stallion reports, registrations, and more, organized into piles. All of them required her undivided attention.

  The fax machine rang, whirred to life, and interrupted her thoughts. Chris had been expecting the fax. She had notified the owners of the Thoroughbreds that their horses would be ready to ship to the breeding farm within the week. She leaned back in her chair, reached behind her, and pulled the sheets of paper from the machine.

  The owners of the three mares were close friends and had chosen the same stallion to breed their Thoroughbreds. The documents she now received were signed contracts allowing her to choose the shipper, releases of liability should any injuries occur during transport, and updated insurance policies.

  Satisfied everything was in order, she placed the call to Finger Lakes Horse Transport to make arrangements for the mares to leave the following day. When mares were ready to be bred, time was of the essence. Fortunately, these horses were traveling within New York state lines. The current health certificates from their original arrival would suffice for the trip to Claremont Farm, in the Catskill Mountains. Since the breeding farm was rather close, Chris’s plan was for the mares to leave early in the morning, be exposed to the stallion, and return to her farm late that same night.

  Although the day would be long for the mares, she was certain the trip would be accomplished in complete and utter comfort. Finger Lakes Horse Transport’s mode of transportation was a large tractor-trailer modified for shipping horses. A rubber-coated ramp led up to six large, thickly padded stalls knee deep in straw. The roof and walls were white with regularly spaced, adjustable windows. The horses would get the maximum amount of light possible, helping them feel at ease while traveling in a big box on wheels. When traveling at night, dim overhead lights lit the interior of the trailer and were left on for the duration of the trip.

  Chris got up to make a cup of coffee before tackling the paperwork. Her gaze migrated to the dogs stretched out on the cot. Without conscious volition, she recalled the first time she and Mary Jo had made love and felt familiar stirrings deep in her belly.

  She heaved a sigh. It had been almost a week since she and Mary Jo were able to sleep together, let alone have sex.

  Things had gotten very busy for Mary Jo. Not only was she running all over the countryside at all hours, but Doc had come down with a bad case of the flu, leaving him bed-ridden for the past ten days. Mary Jo had told her Donna wouldn’t let him out of the house until he was one hundred percent well again. That meant Mary Jo had to play solo vet until Donna deemed Doc well enough to work.

  Under those circumstances, it had been difficult for the two of them to spend much time together. Chris found she missed Mary Jo terribly, which surprised he
r, so she had convinced Mary Jo to stay at the house so they’d see each other in passing, albeit briefly, as they went about their individual work.

  If she and Mary Jo slept in the same bed, sleep would be the last thing on their minds. Fortunately, a solution was at hand. Because there were mares in the foaling stalls, Chris had moved into the office where she’d spend most days and all her nights until the last mare dropped her foal.

  The rich aroma of coffee reached Chris’s nostrils and drew her attention back to the present. After filling a large travel mug, she returned to her desk.

  Before sitting, she glanced at the monitors to assess the mares then reached over and turned up the volume. Sierra looked uncomfortable and seemed a bit restless.

  After she’d finished the morning chores, Chris had used an extremely accurate test kit to check a few drops of Sierra’s milk, hoping to get an idea about when the mare might foal. In all likelihood, she thought Sierra would foal tonight or early tomorrow morning. Familiar with the foaling habits of most of the mares under her care, and familiar with the signs, she would know for sure if Sierra refused her evening feed.

  Several hours later, Chris clicked the final save on the updated records in her computer. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and ran her fingers through her rumpled hair, happy to have gotten rid of three entire piles of paper. She stood up and stretched muscles gone stiff from sitting too long and groaned as she worked the kinks out of her back.

  “Come on beasties, let’s go for a quick walk before we start chores.” She took a last look at the monitors.

  The dogs woke, and were out the door in instant, turning circles in excitement. While they were free to come and go as they pleased, the dogs always enjoyed having the leader of their pack join them.

  Chris drew fresh air deep into her lungs as she left the barn. Other than dumping the manure earlier, she hadn’t been outside all day.

  The remaining sunlight streaked across the high clouds and turned them bright red.

  “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight,” she whispered. The night would be cold. She reminded herself to turn on the heat lamp in Sierra’s stall.

  Two nights ago, a four-inch blast from the north had left snow that still lingered on the ground. Other than tracks from the dogs and browsing deer, the white powder was smooth and uninterrupted. Chris and the dogs made their way down the trail to the pond.

  The pine tree branches, still heavily laden and bent low with snow, made it impossible for her to see very far ahead. The absence of wind above the trees and the muffling effect of the snow turned her walk with the dogs somewhat surreal.

  When she emerged from the woods, a subtle indent in the snow with wing impressions on either side signaled that the Red-Tailed hawk had found breakfast. The dogs descended on it, no doubt scenting infinitesimal drops of blood from an ill-fated mouse. In a moment, all signs of hunter and hunted were obliterated by the dogs’ stomping and impatient pawing.

  She and the dogs circled the pond once and headed back the way they’d come. She hoped to see Mary Jo’s truck in the drive, but it was probably too early. Lately, Mary Jo’s days hadn’t ended until hours after dark.

  Halfway back to the house, Chris was delighted to see a bundled figure walking their way.

  When the dogs caught sight of Mary Jo, they took off at a dead run to greet her. A broad grin stretched across Chris’s face when she heard squeals of laughter from Mary Jo and watched the dogs’ friendly assault. She quickened her pace. Within a few minutes, she was embracing her lover in a bear hug.

  “I’m glad you’re home,” Chris said after kissing Mary Jo. “How’d you get done so early?”

  “Ah, babe, I’m not done just yet. I still have to go to the Anderson farm down the road, but I thought I’d steal a few minutes to see what my girlie was up to.” Arching an eyebrow, she teased, “Obviously slacking off.” She pressed her cold lips to Chris’s mouth.

  “Yeah. Slacking off, that’s it. I was actually taking a short break before chores, and then I’m on foal watch.”

  “You look so tired. Have you eaten anything today?”

  “You look a little like a raccoon yourself. I had a granola bar and coffee.”

  “Jesus, what am I going to do with you?” Mary Jo glanced at her watch. “Okay. Barring any complications, I could be done with this last call in about an hour. How about I make us dinner?”

  Chris cupped Mary Jo’s face between her hands and gave her a gentle kiss. “That’d be wonderful. Can you bring it out to the barn? I think Sierra’s going to foal tonight.”

  “Of course. I’d like to sit with you this evening. I could use some sleep, but what I really need is some Chris time.” Mary Jo threaded her arm through Chris’s and walked side by side with her as they ambled back to the truck.

  “That would be nice,” Chris said. “You can nap on the cot for a while if you want. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

  “Stop looking at me like that.”

  “Like what?” Chris innocently batted her eyelashes.

  “You know how. I think about you all the time as it is, and when you start flirting, I can’t think about anything else.”

  “You poor thing.”

  Mary Jo bumped Chris’s shoulder. “I know our time together has been limited lately. But I want you to know that it’s thoughts of you that get me through my day.”

  Chris returned the bump, put her arm around Mary Jo’s waist, and pulled her close. “I’m a big girl. I can handle it,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. She wouldn’t tell Mary Jo how much she missed her during the day or how worried she was that her lover would fall ill like Doc. Like she’d done in the past, she kept those feelings to herself and offered the support and love that Mary Jo needed to make it through her busy days. In silence, she escorted Mary Jo to the truck.

  To Chris’s delight, Mary Jo returned to the farm in just over an hour. True to her word, Mary Jo managed to pull together a delicious meal of salad and tortellini with meatballs and tomato sauce. For dessert, she found a chocolate cake mix in the pantry, which she stirred together and baked while preparing the rest of the meal.

  Afterward, Chris sat in the office on the cot, leaning against the wall and reading a horse magazine. Mary Jo lay on her side, head in Chris’s lap, eyes closed.

  Chris idly ran her fingers through Mary Jo’s hair and felt her relax. She glanced at Cedar and Cagney curled up on either side of her legs. They made it impossible to move, especially since Sadie was snuggled in tight against Mary Jo’s chest.

  The office was warm, the company cozy. Soon Mary Jo drifted into a deep sleep.

  A little later, Chris woke from a light doze herself, instantly alert when she heard the sound of rustling straw from the monitor. On the screen, she watched Sierra circle the stall, nibble at a few strands of hay, and move restlessly around. It could be as much as a few hours before Sierra foaled. She let herself relax and looked down at the woman sound asleep in her lap.

  Mary Jo brought a contentment and peace to Chris’s heart that she’d never felt before. Every minute she spent with her lover was a cherished gift. Careful not to wake her, she replaced her leg with a pillow and laid Mary Jo’s head down as she got up from the cot.

  The dogs lifted their heads expectantly. With an outstretched palm, Chris gave them a silent command to stay. She left the office and closed the door behind her without making a sound.

  The barn’s lights were muted, and the building was quiet except for the heavy sighs of sleeping horses. Chris walked down the aisle to the foaling stalls and hesitated briefly to look into each one. Sierra’s stall was at the far end.

  Sierra perked her ears and nickered low when she saw Chris.

  “Hey, big girl, are you working on popping that baby out tonight?” Chris slid the stall door open and walked to Sierra’s head.

  Hugely pregnant, the bay mare was obviously uncomfortable. Although she was showing some early signs of labor, Sierra affectionately
rubbed her head on Chris’s chest. Suddenly, her eyes grew distant and she kicked half-heartedly at her belly.

  Chris ran her hands along the horse’s side and bent over to look underneath. Sierra’s udder was hard and swollen with little wax caps on the tips of the nipples. She continued to the rear of the horse to ensure the vet wrap she’d applied the length of Sierra’s tailbone was still snug and correctly positioned, as it would keep hair and other debris from entering her vulva when she foaled.

  Sierra kicked at her belly again and then circled the stall, clearly searching for a place to lie down. Chris moved to the side, slid out of the stall, and returned to the office

  Mary Jo hadn’t moved at all while she was gone. Chris stood in the doorway, struggling to decide whether to wake her or not. Although completely relaxed, Mary Jo’s face was gaunt and lined with fatigue. She had been going full bore since the beginning of the year.

  Deciding Mary Jo needed sleep more than she needed to watch another horse foal, Chris left and quietly closed the door behind her.

  She neared Sierra’s stall just in time to hear the horse groan from a contraction. She moved soundlessly to the door and leaned a shoulder against the wall, watching. Sierra struggled to her feet and circled the stall before lying down again. The mare’s tail stayed aloft as the foal entered the birth canal and pushed outward, the bulge of the birth sac now visible. The mare flopped over on her side, her breathing labored. Sweat formed on her neck and flanks. She strained once, and there was a loud whoosh as her water broke and part of the opaque sack emerged.

  Chris felt it wouldn’t be long.

  Sierra got up again, and her eyes glazed as the foal worked to escape the confines of her body. Without warning, her legs folded. She dropped heavily to the floor. As the contractions racked her body, she rolled over on her side, and with a deep groan, began to push. The foal’s presentation was perfect. Chris could see two tiny hooves followed by a nose. With each contraction, more of the foal came out. A final push and the newborn colt finally lay in the straw.