Colored race, he was again humbled that he’d even considered their reporting to be truthful.
As he followed the two men to the barn to see the mare, Prescott’s home came into view and its grand beauty took his breath away. Built with timber, boulders, and more glass than Garrett had ever seen employed on a residence before, he wanted to immediately quiz Prescott about its construction and design. However, his curiosity wasn’t the point of the visit and he didn’t know the man well enough to pump him with questions. Maybe sometime in the future he would.
“She’s still grieving,” Ed said as he and Garrett watched Lee examine the black-maned chestnut mare named Maribelle. Ed added, “She wouldn’t let me remove the foal’s body until last night, and she won’t leave the stall.”
Garrett had never known horses grieved.
Lee asked about Maribelle’s bodily functions and appetite since the stillbirth, and Prescott supplied the answers. After a few more questions and further examination, Lee stepped back and put his instruments away. “Physically, I’d say she’s okay. You know to keep her away from the stallions for the time being. See if you can get her out into the fresh air. Might help with the grieving.”
“Will do.” Prescott walked over, gave the mare a long hug, spoke softly to her, and they all left the barn.
Prescott asked Garrett, “How long are you going to be with us?”
“Just a few more days.”
“Nice meeting you.”
“Same here.”
Lee climbed into the buggy and Garrett mounted his gelding. “Where to now?”
“Hog farmer Sol Boyer’s place. One of his sow’s impacted.”
Garrett was confused. “How do you treat that?”
“Usually with an enema.”
Garrett’s eyes widened. He’d never heard of such a thing. “Is this something I want to see?”
Lee chuckled. “Probably not,” he said, and set the buggy in motion.
He was right. The sight and stench tied to the pig’s relief played such havoc with Garrett’s own insides, he quickly sought cover behind a nearby tree and lost his breakfast.
Later, after the visit ended, he and Lee walked to the waiting buggy and gelding. “Are you okay?” Lee asked.
Still woozy, Garrett replied, “Honestly? No.”
Garrett smiled and lightly clapped him on the back. “You’ll be fine. Welcome to the world of the country doctor.”
“Where to next?” Garrett asked.
“Back to town. We’re done for the day.”
Filled with relief, Garrett mounted up.
Chapter Nine
Spring spent the morning mucking out the stable. Her horses were out in the grassy pasture enjoying the partially sunny day and the sunshine. The air was humid, and she wondered if rain might be on the way later. Not worrying over it, she finished the work, put away the pitchfork and shovel, and walked outside. Paint, her two-year-old brown-and-white palomino, came racing to her side and nuzzled the pocket of her jacket.
“You just ate, remember?” she said, rubbing his neck affectionately. “No treats, and there’ll be no carrots until I plant.”
Paint kept up the nuzzling, which soon turned into playful bumping. Spring laughed as she tried to set her feet and not fall over. “Stop, silly!” Set on his fun, he kept it up. “Stop!” she scolded, laughing. “If you put me on my butt, you’ll never get carrots again for as long as you live.” The mares Lady and Sunrise watched silently. Stallion Cheyenne viewed the scene with kinglike disinterest from across the yard and she called to him, “Come and get your little brother.”
The stallion of course ignored her and instead, lowered his head to drink from the water in the trough. Paint bumped her a few more times, almost succeeding in putting her on the ground, then raced away.
Shaking her head at his antics, she called out to Lady, who would help her with the next item on the day’s list of chores. Cheyenne refused to be hitched to a wagon. It was as if he found such toil beneath his station as ruler. Lady on the other hand didn’t seem to mind. She was a beautiful red-coated bay with a shiny black mane and tail, and strong black legs and matching hooves. Once Spring had her hitched, she called to Cheyenne. “I’ll be back in a little while. Going to put Paint in the stable so he doesn’t eat the cabin while I’m gone.”
Cheyenne glanced over at Paint, who made a point of avoiding his gaze. Paint spent the first year of his life taking bites out of everything he came in contact with, from the wood on the cabin and the fences, to everything in Spring’s