‘You’re doing great,’ he murmured. His green gaze drilled into her eyes, as though he could transfer his strength to her. Unexpectedly, she realised she did feel a lightening, an ebbing of tension.
She nodded once, felt the contraction ease. ‘This time.’ She pushed. The feet moved. A tiny bit at first, before slipping back under the foal’s stomach.
‘That should do it.’ She slid her arm out and sat back on her heels. The ache in her muscles slowly subsided. Out of the corner of her eye, Caitlin saw Nicky’s runners tiptoe to a halt beside Matt’s knees.
The mare gathered herself for another huge push and the foal slid onto the ground. Steam rose from the ominously still little body.
‘Is it okay?’ whispered Nicky.
‘Yes.’ Caitlin knew the declaration was reckless. But she felt compelled to make it. And there was no way she was going to let the foal be anything else. Later she might be able to analyse her need to shield this child she’d only just met.
For now she had work to do.
A promise to keep.
CHAPTER THREE
CAITLIN leaned forward to strip remnants of birth sac from the foal’s perfectly formed face and clear the small nostrils. She placed her hand on the chest just behind the sharp little elbow. The fine ribs felt impossibly fragile as she felt for a heartbeat. Relief surged as a pulse fluttered against her palm.
‘Matt, can I get you to raise her hindquarters, like this?’ She flipped a towel around the haunches and lifted.
‘Sure.’ He moved to take her place. Back at the foal’s head, she blocked one of the delicate nostrils and blew a breath into the other, watching as the chest inflated.
Come on, little one. You can do it.
After the ribs lowered, a second breath. Her mind willed life into the filly.
A moment later, she was rewarded with a quiver of movement. A tiny snort.
Caitlin sat back on her heels and took a deep breath, hoping the others wouldn’t see the tears that were perilously close to the surface.
‘Let’s move back and give them a little space,’ she said, taking refuge in practical details. ‘If the mare’s comfortable she’ll stay down for a little longer. The less intervention, the better she’ll bond with her bairn.’
‘That was awesome, Caitlin,’ said Nicky shyly, as they moved back a short distance. ‘You gave it mouth to mouth just like we learned at swimming…only different.’
‘Clever boy, Nicky.’ She smiled at him. ‘It is different. Horses can’t breathe through their mouths like we can. So the filly needed mouth-to-nostril resuscitation.’
The foal sat up, the small head lifted unsteadily, looking comically lop-eared.
Now that the emergency was over, Caitlin began to notice the cold air on her bare arms.
‘Here.’ Matt held out his windcheater. ‘Put this on before you get a chill.’
‘Oh, no. Please, it’s not necessary.’ She turned away quickly to reach for the jumper Nicky was still holding. The thought of wearing something of Matt’s was more than she could cope with. Too much like an embrace from the man himself, all that warmth and the delicious smell from his body would surround her. He was disturbing enough just standing beside her. ‘Thanks, but this will do. It’s only, um, an old top.’
Matt shrugged back into his windcheater. A sharp sting of rejection at her sudden withdrawal was uncomfortable.
‘Look, Dad. She’s trying to stand up.’
Sure enough, the foal’s long legs scrambled at the ground. It seemed to be a signal to the mare as she heaved herself to her feet. She turned to lick the coat of her newborn, intently checking her baby over.
Matt smiled, his heart squeezing. In an oblique way the scene reminded him of Nicky’s birth. The precious moment when his son had been placed in his arms, tiny hands waving as the infant had yelled his displeasure.
The mare became more insistent, with nudges to the miniature haunches. Spurred on by the encouragement, the foal manoeuvred awkward limbs, pushing up with her hindquarters until she stood, albeit unsteadily. She looked all leg and large bony joints. A few staggering steps took her to the mare’s flank where she nuzzled determinedly until she latched onto the teat.
‘Congratulations, Mr Neilson,’ said Caitlin softly. ‘You’ve a grand little filly.’
‘With a little help,’ said Matt, determined that Jim should give Caitlin her due.
Jim cleared his throat. ‘I’d have managed.’
Matt opened his mouth but Caitlin was there before him with a sweet smile for the cranky old man. ‘Of course you would have, Mr Neilson.’
Matt had the satisfaction of seeing the older man’s double take.
‘Ah. Yes. Well, anyway, er, thanks. Just as well to have a vet here.’ Jim’s mouth snapped shut as though he was surprised by the words he’d just said.
‘My pleasure.’
Matt stifled an abrupt urge to laugh. She’d handled Jim beautifully, better than he would have, wringing reluctant gratitude from the man with nothing more than a smile.
‘She’ll expel the placenta over the next couple of hours now her bairn’s nursing. You’ll know to leave that well enough alone, of course.’
‘Of course.’ Jim shuffled.
Caitlin was obviously unconvinced because she went on smoothly with her warning. ‘Any pulling could lead to infection or prolapse of your mare’s uterus. If the placenta hasn’t cleared in a few hours, you need to call your vet.’
Bloodstains marred the sleeves of her pink top. The knees of her jeans were dark with dampness and there was dirt on the toes of her boots. Matt had never seen a woman look more beautiful than she was right now. She was marvellous. That willingness to get in and get her hands dirty, literally, without worrying about her appearance. No complaints. A practical woman.
She hitched a shoulder to rub her cheek. Matt suddenly realised her hands were still wet and grubby.
‘I’ve got soap and water in the car, if you’d like to clean up.’
She hesitated and for a moment he thought she was going to refuse. ‘I would, yes. Thank you. Goodbye, Mr Neilson. I wish you well with your mare and foal.’
‘Yeah.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Like I said, ah, thanks.’
Matt walked silently back to the car listening to Nicky chatter to Caitlin about how he was going to tell his class about the birth. Now that the excitement was over, Matt had time to wonder more about her. Who was she and why was she here? If she was a tourist, perhaps he could convince her that Garrangay was a good place to use as a base for seeing Western Victoria. What were her plans?
Not that it was any of his business…but for some reason he wanted to know.
At the station wagon, he got out the water bottle and liquid soap.
‘Did you want to wash…?’ He indicated her arm.
‘No. No, just my hands. Thanks. I can have a shower later.’
He tipped liquid into her cupped hands, watching while she lathered her slender fingers.
‘Have you got far to travel?’ He congratulated himself on striking just the right note of casual interest.
‘I haven’t, no.’ She was going to be staying locally? Anticipation tightened his gut.
‘What brings you out this way?’ There was