"Craig, your mare's hemorrhaging!" The alarm sounded from the barn before Mr. Harris could answer or Craig could object.
Action exploded around her. Tamera hesitated but a moment before joining in. Jumping off the porch, she grabbed her keys, fumbled with them, threw open the trunk of her car and pulled out her veterinarian bag. Fueled by adrenaline she pushed her way through the mob of frantic cowboys. Shoving them aside, she knelt beside the mare and began examining her.
Panic seized the animal. She struggled to stand. Tamera knew she would have one heck of a fight on her hands if the mare succeeded. Her sharp whistle brought quiet to the chaos around her.
"Let's not panic, gentlemen," she cautioned with quiet authority. Craig, get her head." She didn't wait to see if he would obey, just issued orders. "Shorty, is it?" At his nod, she continued. "Get this foal out of the way. You," she nodded at a young man in the crowd. "I need warm water, lots of warm water. And towels."
Without question they jumped to do her bidding as she continued with her examination. Silence hung in the air: Thick. Tense. Anxious. The only sounds penetrating it were the labored breathing of the mare and the senseless, soothing words of the woman beside her.
She's not hemorrhaging," Tamera muttered, reaching for her bag. She's in labor."
"What?" Craig exclaimed, shock and surprise evident in his tone. "But that foal's only a few hours old. That's impossible. Veterinarian my ass," he snorted. "You don't know what you're talking about. Get away from my mare!" He ordered through clenched teeth.
Tamera moved, but not to do his bidding. "It happens, Craig," she informed him, continuing her preparations to deliver the foal despite his order to the contrary. "Twins. Sometimes one develops more rapidly. The other either catches up or doesn't make it through delivery. How old is that colt?"
He shrugged. "Three, maybe four hours."
She sighed, fighting back bitter tears, his attitude grating on her already raw nerves. Now was not the time to lose control. "Chances are this one will be stillborn or deformed. Either way, it's got to be born. You'll lose your mare otherwise," she told him with grave certainty.
Given the alternative, Craig nodded.
It was all she needed. Giving the mare a shot to help with the contractions, Tamera prepared for the delivery. Snapping on gloves that covered her from fingertip to armpit, she was ready when the next spasm hit the mare. Reaching in the birth canal, she grabbed the unborn foal and gently pulled, stopping when the contraction ceased, but maintaining her grip on the foal. She allowed his direction when Craig barked orders for someone to get the calf puller should it prove necessary in delivering the foal, then questioned him as to the overall health of the mare, length of term, and condition of this pregnancy. He answered readily, holding and stroking the mare's head, neither of them fully aware that they were working in tandem and enjoying it. In less than an hour, the tiny foal made it's entrance into the world. Washing it, Tamera examined the newborn filly.
"Breathe," she whispered. "Come on, baby, breathe," she urged, clearing the filly's airway passages and stimulating her heart. The filly uttered a small nicker. "That's it, baby," Tamera soothed. "Come on now, keep breathing."
Completing her examination, Tamera pulled the filly into her arms, stroking the tiny head and slender neck. "She seems to be normal. She's weak and tiny, but other than that..." She choked on a sob, but couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks when she realized that she held a living, breathing miracle in her arms. "Thank you God," she whispered, knowing she'd prayed more in the last hour than she had in weeks.
"What now?" Craig's voice penetrated her thoughts. The mare struggled to get up. He held her still, waiting for Tamera's consent.
Surprised at the tenderness in his tone, Tamera nodded, raising triumphant sapphire eyes to his. "Let her up. It's the best thing for her. Walk her to keep the blood flowing for a while. Make sure she passes the afterbirth, all of it. But watch her for signs of excessive bleeding or extreme weakness.
I'll need a bigger stall; clean, dry, and disinfected, with plenty of fresh hay. And heat lamps. The next few hours, maybe even days will be the most critical for her, for all of them really. They'll need constant supervision. She may not be able to nurse them, and even if she does, he'll probably get more than his share. This little one, though, we'll probably have to bottle-feed. Or you will, if I'm not here to help."
Unspoken question hung in the air; Craig heard it, now perfectly aware of her competence.