All God's Creatures

by Carolyn McSparren

  The only other person who wore a skirt was Nathan's Lisa, who had put on a long tartan wool skirt with a white ruffled blouse.

  The rest of us all wore dressy pants and fancy sweaters.

  "The house looks great," Susan said to me. "Look at all those presents under the tree."

  "My mother used to say that everybody should get three presents for Christmas-one good present, one funny present, and one sentimental present. It's not what's in the boxes that counts, it's having plenty to open."

  "Maggie, the stuffed cow you sent Meg is wonderful," Heather said as she handed Meg to me. "I already use it to prop her up."

  "And she's sleeping through the night, Thank the good Lord," Rick said. He carried in the bag of stuff that accompanied Meg everywhere she went.

  Susan rolled over to me and took my arm. "Miss Patsy brought Mariah home from Mississippi State yesterday," she said.

  "So soon? I thought they'd at least keep her through Christmas weekend."

  "They said she was healing fine, but Miss Patsy is still worried about her." She turned her head to take in the crowd and saw Sarah. "Can I go tell her about Mariah?"

  I started to say no, then nodded.

  Pumpkin ignored Bear, Teezy and Bok Choy, who retired to the top of the refrigerator. When Eli arrived with Sugar Pie, the two dogs investigated one another 's smells, then settled down amicably by the fire. They were old friends.

  I sent Nathan down to the far end to Morgan's place. "You'll have to carve the roast," I said.

  He looked startled.

  "That is the nature of things, my dear. One day your son will take over from you." He leaned over and kissed me. I had made up my mind that under no circumstances would I cry or wax maudlin. After we were seated, I gave the usual Episcopal prayer, "For what we are about to receive, the Lord make us truly thankful." Then I lifted my glass. "To Morgan."

  They echoed my toast.

  "Now, Nathan, how about some roast beast?"

  After we had all been served and had begun to eat, Lanier asked Evan, "Are you being indoctrinated to our Southern customs?"

  "Is this where I get hazed?"

  "You have to eat hog jowl and black eyed peas on New Year's Day for good luck," Susan said.

  "Jowl? As in cheek?"

  "You got it," Lanier said.

  "Thank God we'll be back in California before New Years."

  As I passed the gravy boat, I said, "I found out today Evan's a farm boy.

  "Absolutely." Evan smiled at Sarah. "We've got a big Amish com munity in our area. My audition film for USC was a documentary about the Amish way of farming with draft horses."

  "You, too?" Sarah said.

  "Sarah, aren't you ever around animals at work?" Susan asked.

  "No way. I go hunting for locations-houses, office suites, sometimes cabins or forests-searching for the perfect venue for a scene." She shrugged. "Sometimes the scene only last six seconds, but the director still has kittens if it's not right."

  "Sometimes it winds up on the cutting room floor," Evan said.

  "But the search can be gratifying. Evan and I met at the hotel bar in a little town in northern Thailand. He was shooting the jungle and I was hunting for the perfect grungy office suite." She smiled at Evan.

  Nathan cleared his throat and stood up. "Listen up, everybody, I have an announcement to make." He stood. "Mother, thank you for not running off to London. Christmas would really be screwed up otherwise."

  A chorus of 'hear, hears' answered him.

  "I know that you've been talking about retiring. Everybody is against that, as I'm sure my Dad would have been under the circumstances. But you do need a vacation. So does Eli. Somethingyou would really like to do."

  "Damn right," Shep said. "She ought to marry me and run away to Hawaii."

  "In your dreams," Eli said.

  "So, if I may continue," Nathan interrupted, "I am presenting you two with an early Christmas present, one that you have to make use of during the coming year. I've even set up tentative reservations for you, and asked Vickie to stand in for you while you're gone." He reached behind him, and picked up an envelope from the seat of his chair. "It's a tad warm from my rear end, but open it anyway."

  "Nathan, what have you done?"

  "Open it."

  I glanced at Eli, who shrugged. I tore open the envelope and read the contents. I laughed and handed the letter to Eli.

  "A wagon train?" Eli said. "You've booked us on a wagon train?"

  "Absolutely. This is only eight days-nice and short fora start. You spend four days learning to drive a team of draft horses, then you and the rest of the group including chefs and outriders, drive the Oregon trail for four days."

  "Nathan, this must have cost a fortune," I said.

  "Actually, it didn't, but that's not the point. The point is that you and Eli, not you and some bunch of strangers, are going to get away this summer to do something that you will actually enjoy, and you can't cancel for any reason other than four broken legs, two apiece. You have to swear before this august company here assembled." He glared at me. "I mean it. You and Eli. Swear."

  I grinned at Eli. "Okay, we swear."

  "We swear," Eli said.

  The table broke into applause. All except for Sarah.

  I stood and clinked my glass. It was now or never. "Okay, I know you didn't believe me when I started talking about retirement. I'm not sure I believed myself. Now I do. I'm quitting."

  I closed my eyes against the din. The chorus of no's and don't be stupid and no, you're not's echoed around the table. Then I heard Sarah's voice override the others. "Mothers right. It's time she retired."

  "Are you nuts?" Nathan said to his sister.

  "Shut up, Nathan. If she doesn't quit now, she could be badly hurt." She glanced at me.

  I shook my head and tried to telegraph, Don't tell them about Big Jake. "She could teach at one of the vet schools," Sarah concluded.

  "Maggie," Eli sounded grim. "Don't do this to me. Not tonight."

  "Eli, we've talked about it all year. I won't walk out until we're set, but I'm definitely leaving. I want to go out on top, not when I'm doddering. Now, let's have some dessert."

  I should write a book on how to kill a party in one sentence. From festive, the atmosphere went to grim. Except for Sarah, whose chin practically hit the ceiling every time she glanced at her brother. Conversation died.

  Susan had two helpings of trifle, although Lanier raised her eyebrows. "Susan, there's rum in that trifle."

  "Not enough to matter." She giggled.

  "Oh, I don't know about that," Rick said. "I'll need a couple of cups of Maggie 's coffee before I dare drive home."

  "We all will," Vickie said. "I for one may never eat again." They were trying to regain the atmosphere. It wasn't working. I should have felt good about my announcement. Instead I felt glummer than I did when I lost a patient.

  I poured coffee and Nathan handed the cups around.

  "How come you didn't eat any trifle, Aunt Maggie?" Susan asked.

  "Too many calories. Besides, if I drink alcohol, I turn purple and foam at the mouth."

  "No, you don't."

  "Well, I definitely won't get out of bed before noon tomorrow."

  "On Christmas morning? That's crazy. Pumpkin and I get up real early. "

  Lanier groaned.

  Then the telephone rang.

  "Mother," Sarah grasped my arm, "Let the damned thing ring for once. They can call somebody else."

  After three rings, the answering machine in the kitchen kicked in.

  "Maggie, please be there. Please, please, answer, this is Patsy."

  I bolted for the kitchen.

  "Patsy? Patsy, honey, what's wrong?" I asked.

  "I know it's Christmas. I wouldn't call, but I think she's going to die."

  "Mariah? But Susan said Mississippi State cleared her to come home with you."

  "She was doing great. Now all of a sudden, she's down in her stall
and rolling around again. Maggie, for the love of God, Mississippi State's closed for the holiday. You're my only hope. You and Eli have to open her up again, find out what's wrong. Please, Maggie."

  I took a deep breath. "Get her in the trailer. We'll be ready by the time you get here." I dropped the phone back into its cradle and shoved the kitchen door open. "Patsy's mare's colicked again. She's on her way. We'll have to operate."

  Susan gasped. "Oh, no, please, not Mariah."

  "I've had wine and trifle. Give me that coffee," Eli said as she shoved into her coat. "I ought to be okay to do the anesthesia."

  "What do you want us to do, Maggie?" Vickie asked.

  I glanced at Susan's terrified face and kept myvoice calm. "People, we are going to need some help getting that mare onto the operating table and prepped for surgery."

  Everyone stood but Sarah.

  "Sarah, get off your butt, get your coat and come on," I snapped. "Evan, you too."

  Sarah blinked and opened her mouth, then shut it again. Evan pulled her up. "Come on, my love, time we went to work."

  I headed for the front door. "Rick, sorry to kick you out, but you and Heather get Meg and go home."

  "We'll stay," Rick said.

  "She's right, Rick," Heather said. "She's got plenty of help. She doesn't need to be worrying about us."

  "Maggie, you sure?"

  "Absolutely. Merry Christmas." I turned to the front door. "Come on, we've got less than twenty minutes to prep and scrub."

  Chapter 52

  In which Maggie sees the truth

  In the paddock parking lot behind the clinic, Nathan, Evan, Shep, and Dan Dalrymple, Patsy's husband, unloaded the mare from Patsy's trailer. Watching the horse inch backward down the ramp was painful. She could barely walk and was dripping sweat despite the winter chill. I immediately gave her a shot to lessen the pain as we walked her into our operating theater.

  The surgical table stood upright in the center of the room under a bank of bright lights. The men walked the mare up to the side of the table, and Vickie and Lanier strapped her tightly to it. Then Eli gave her the shot that would put her out.

  As she began to slide down in her restraints, Eli hit the motor to rotate the table so that Mariah lay on her back with her belly up. Nathan and Dan tied her legs up to winches, then I raised the table.

  At the head of the table, Eli pulled down the three separate hoses, one for oxygen, one for xylozine, and one for Ketamine. She checked the gauges to make certain there was plenty of each, inserted a long needle into the mare's neck, and put a mask for anesthesia over her nose and mouth.

  "We'll have to go in through the original incision and see what's happening," I said. "There's no time to call Wanda Jean in. Vickie, are you sober enough to assist?"

  "Hey, I didn't have time to eat more than three bites of trifle," Vickie said.

  "How about I help you set up, Mom?" Nathan asked.

  "You haven't assisted me in surgery since you went off to college, Nathan."

  "I can do it," Lanier said. "I'll set up the heart and blood pressure monitors."

  "Nathan, son, you can shave her belly. Not much hair has grown in since the last surgery, but we ought to get it off." Nathan nodded, turned on the heavy duty electric trimmers and worked his way carefully over the mare's belly.

  I pulled on scrubs, tossed a set to Vickie and Lanier and started scrubbing at the sink in the comer.

  "She'll have to be scrubbed with antiseptic after Nathan shaves her," Eli said.

  "I can do that," Evan said.

  "It's Okay, Evan, I can handle it," Nathan said.

  "All non-essential personnel out," I said.

  Dan practically pushed Patsy through the door into the hall.

  "Vickie, you about ready?" I asked.

  "One minute."

  "Instrument trays set up?"

  "Gotcha covered," Vickie said. "More coming when you need them."

  "Vitals? Lanier?"

  "Strong."

  "Eli?"

  "We're all set."

  "You go, girl," Vickie said and took her place beside me at the side of the table.

  "Let's do it." I slipped my mask up over my nose and mouth and picked up a scalpel. "Okay, folks, let's see what we've got here."

  "This is one hell of a mess," I said. I dropped my bloody scalpel on the table already piled with used instruments.

  "It's all stuck together in there," Lanier said. "I've never seen anything like that before."

  "Happens sometimes," Eli said. "Even after the most successful colic surgery, everything inside gets gummed up twenty-four hours later."

  "Irrigate," I said. "Did you add the Heparin to the solution? We don't want blood clots on top of everything else."

  "Absolutely," Vickie answered.

  Blood spurted up onto my chest. "Damn!"

  Vickie clamped off the bleeder before I even had time to ask her.

  "We'll have to resection the bowel," I said. "There's been some more necrosis."

  "Aye, aye, captain," Vickie said. I glanced at her. This was definitely a large animal and Vickie was certainly enjoying herself. Damn, I thought, so am I.

  But I'm probably going to lose this one, too.

  Vickie leaned over and wiped my sweaty forehead.

  I glanced up. Through the window in the surgery door I caught a glimpse of Patsy Dalrymple. "Lanier, go talk to her."

  Without a word, Lanier went out, but left the surgery door half open so that she could hear me if I hollered for her.

  "Is there any hope at all?" Patsy asked. She was trying to see around Lanier. Lanier tried to block her.

  "If there is," Lanier whispered, "Maggie will find it. She's a great cutter."

  "But what caused this? Did Mississippi State do something wrong?"

  Lanier shook her head. "Keep your voice down, Patsy." She moved Patsy farther down the hall toward the back of the clinic so that Susan couldn't hear. She continued whispering. "They did a great job. As a matter of fact, if they hadn't done such a good job the first time, Maggie wouldn't have any chance at all of saving Mariah. She's not a youngster, but she's strong. No way to predict this. That's why we have to go back a second time so often."

  "Usually the horse dies, doesn't it?"

  "I'm afraid so. Maggie's doing everything she can, but it may not be enough."

  "How can I tell Susan?"

  Lanier closed her eyes. "Don't tell her anything yet. If the time comes, I'll talk to her."

  "I know you'll all do your best, and if nothing works, do what's best then too. Tell Maggie to use her own judgment."

  "Go home, Patsy. We'll call you."

  "Dan and I are staying. Period." Patsy squared her shoulders. "Someone has to look after Susan."

  I heard the whir of Susan's wheelchair in the hall behind Patsy.

  "I'll stay here with her." Sarah's voice. I looked up to see Sarah at the door behind Susan in her wheelchair. Evan stood at her shoulder.

  "Maggie," Vickie called me back to my job. I cut into the bowel and prayed.

  "Don't close the door," Susan said to her mother. "I want to see."

  "Susan, honey," Sarah said, "Come away. You don't really want to look..."

  "Leave me alone! She's my horse! "

  I heard Lanier gasp and looked up. Susan had pushed herself up out of her chair. She stood in front of the open surgery door. She began to collapse, but Sarah and Evan grabbed her and held her upright.

  Sarah was sobbing. My Sarah. Susan's face was tight with effort and despair.

  "Lanier," I whispered. "For the love of God shut that door."

  I had no idea how long we'd been at this. My hands had taken on a life of their own. They no longer needed my conscious brain to function.

  I lifted my head to try to catch my breath through the surgical mask and saw the faces of Susan and Sarah staring in the small window from surgery to hall. They shouldn't be watching this-this charnel house. This wreck of a horse I was probably
going to lose on the table.

  I felt Vickie slap another scalpel into my hand.

  Animals seemed to accept dying as a part of life. For me, death was the enemy. I hated that instantaneous transformation from living body to dead carcass. Why else is spirit called 'anima?' Because it animates every creature in life and deserts us all at the moment of death.

  I felt personal failure every time I lost an animal or put one out of its suffering. If I were better, smarter, cleverer with my hands, faster, stronger...

  I never had the chance to fight Death for Morgan. It was my greatest defeat, but I'd never even entered the battle. Ever since Morgan's death, ever since I'd found that scrapbook, I'd felt like a failure. I was so tired of battling an enemy who would ultimately defeat me. The best I could hope for was victory in some minor skirmishes.

  "Okay," Vickie said. "Now how do we keep everything from gumming up again? Mariah won't survive a third operation."

  "Lanier?" I asked.

  "Vitals are good, all things considered. She's a fighter, I'll say that for her."

  I looked down at the veins along Mariah's intestines. Still throbbing. The diaphragm. Still pulsing. She was a fighter, all right.

  With Morgan behind me, I'd been a fighter too. He'd had the faith, the hope, the strength to risk everything on me when I'd hung back. Now I had to trust myself, take the risk.

  And I damned well would. I'd battle Death for Mariah and the people who loved her. I would not give up.

  I took a deep breath and turned to Lanier. "We're going to try the longest possible shot. Otherwise, Mariah is definitely going to die."

  "Go for it," Eli said.

  "Bring me a fresh gallon of K-Y Jelly," I said.

  Lanier ran to the storeroom next door to the operating theater and returned with a gallon bucket. She pried open the jar and set it on the surgical table next to me.

  "We use this stuff to lubricate everything from vaginal specula to thermometers," I said. "How about we see if it'll lubricate innards?"

  I dipped both hands into the jelly, picked up a glob, reached into the horse's abdomen and sloshed it in and around every organ. I slid my hands over liver, intestines, and caecum, replenishing my supply from time to time.