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Wiri’s palm coasted over the mare’s flank as he dipped to look under her tail. He brushed away loose hair from the grass and she obliged by flicking it aside. A hoof protruded from her swollen birth canal, but the heel faced upwards instead of towards the ground. The amniotic sac bulged from around it, dangling towards the scrubby grass like a white latex bag hanging from a peg. “I’m gonna help you.” Wiri stroked her flank, communicating his position through touch. He rose onto his knees and wiped his hands on his jeans, giving him a moment to mentally prepare. Then he wrapped the fingers of both hands around the hoof and waited, ensuring he worked with the mare and didn’t rush her.
Her head rose again as she strained. Wiri pulled gently at first as he found the rhythm of her contractions. “Come on, girl,” he called to her. “I don’t want to hurt your baby.” His muscles flexed, but he avoided the temptation to yank too hard and damage both the mare and the foal. “It’s the wrong way around,” he said with a tut. “And I can’t see the other hoof.”
The ground rumbled as the horses made another pass. Dust rose in a choking haze, and Wiri coughed and dipped his head to wipe his eyes on the sleeve of his tee shirt. He didn’t let go of the hoof, maintaining the pressure and glancing across at the mare. “I don’t even know your name,” he told her. “Come on, girl. We can do this.”
Thrilled with himself, the gelding drove the group back towards him and Wiri shouted at it, his cussing drowned out by the drumming of their combined hooves. The dust fell again like sheet rain over his head. The mare closed her eyes as the contraction ended, but her brow rested against the fence rail. She lacked the energy to move it forward a fraction and drop her muzzle to the ground.
Unnamed fears whizzed through Wiri’s mind as he fretted about Phoenix facing down the curious mob of cows alone. The gelding made another pass with the group, enjoying their frenzied kicks of protest. Devilment glinted in his eyes as he shook his mane and preened himself. Tail high and his gait stiff, he carried his front hooves in a high trot of pure enjoyment. As he drew close to Wiri, he bucked. Hooves arced like missiles, metres away but moving the air waves as though just missing his head. He could do nothing to change his situation. The gelding had tasted leadership and become drunk on the herd’s acceptance. It tested its dominance with every beat of its hooves, straying closer to the man tending the stricken mare.
Wiri clung to the motionless hoof as each contraction pushed it mere centimetres from the mare’s body. But with each droop of her exhausted head, it slipped back inside and Wiri struggled to hold on to it.
The hooves pounded behind him and he stopped looking, feeling the air shift alongside the thunderous vibration of their impact. He decided it was best he couldn’t see how close they came. Logan always told him horses didn’t intend to cause injury. They’d jump if they could and he kept the faith of the statement, choosing to believe it in that moment.
The mare groaned from deep in her chest and her ears twitched as she lifted her head away from the fence rail. Wiri strengthened his grip on the hoof and leaned into the motion, pulling to bolster her efforts like a tug-of-war team.
The herd of horses rebelled behind him. One tired mare decided she no longer wanted to run in the direction of a gelding acting above his station. She kicked out at him, dividing the group in Wiri’s peripheral vision and releasing a high, antagonised squeal which echoed off the mountain’s craggy ridge. It made the situation worse.
Like children in a playground, the others went along with the rebel, squabbling and kicking. Steam rose from their bodies, foaming white sweat collecting in the grooves between their chest muscles and along their necks. They milled around Wiri, close enough to send tingles of anticipation snaking along his spine. His shoulders stiffened, expecting an accidental kick to knock him into oblivion. They circled, shedding and isolating the gelding and turning their flanks and threatening hooves in his direction.
As the mare collapsed with exhaustion, Wiri popped his head up and tried to see Phoenix between the rails of the fence. He realised he hadn’t heard the whip crack in the last few minutes. His heart set up an increased throbbing in his chest. “We’re all good!” he called to the mare, hearing the exhaustion in his voice. “We can do this. Ignore these idiots.”
A tail swished against his face. The whipping action caught his right eye, setting up a blaze of burning, which made him blink. He couldn’t release the foal’s hoof and wipe it, too afraid of losing the battle. His eye streamed, tears coursing through the dust on his cheek and soaking his tee shirt with streaks of watery grey filth. “Go away! Get on with you!” he shouted at the milling herd. He turned his head, squinting and blind in his weeping eye. They reacted as one, jerking aside, but not far enough for his comfort.
Wiri turned back towards the mare, lifting to peer over her rounded belly. Her tongue lolled through the side of her open mouth, touching the dust beneath her. “Phoenix!” Wiri lifted his voice and bellowed for her, panic ticking in the back of his skull. “Phoenix?”
“I’m here.” Her gentle confidence swept over him like cool water. “The cows are in that empty paddock next to them. Sorry if you were keeping the grass for winter.” He glanced up to see her wipe her nose across her jacket sleeve. Dirt streaked her cheeks, and she grinned down at him. “One stroppy bugger decided to take me on, but I left him next door. If he comes back through here, I’ll muster him with the horses.” She frowned at the sight of him hanging onto the hoof and her lips parted as she studied his face. “What happened to your eye?” She dropped to her haunches.
“Tail.” He blew out a tired breath and gave a long blink. “This foal is stuck. Vaughan isn’t answering his phone. I can’t see the other hoof and the foal is meant to come out with its spine aligned with hers.”
“Okay.” Phoenix squeezed his left shoulder with a dirty hand. “You’re sure it’s not breach?”
“No.” Wiri shook his head. “I’m sure.”
Phoenix glanced around at the gathered horses. “I’ll get these through the gate. Then I’ll come back and we’ll get her standing. Even a second might turn the baby.”
“Okay.” Sweat ran down Wiri’s temples and joined with the tears from his eye. “Don’t use the whip. Not near me, anyway.”
“Yes, sir!” Phoenix gave a mock salute and rose. She spun in the dirt and sent up another cloying cloud of dust. “Sorry,” she murmured, already moving towards the horses.
In the end, it proved as simple as catching the gelding. She stroked his muzzle and gripped the hard bone at the bottom of his nostrils between her finger and thumb. He followed her with such placid obedience, Wiri shook his head in disbelief. The gentle plod of his hooves vibrated through the ground into Wiri’s knees as Phoenix led him towards the gate. She kept the whip curled around the fingers of her left hand.
After a moment’s hesitation, the other horses followed. Their heads drooped, and the air rang with the sound of their heavy breaths blowing out loose grass seed and condensation. They followed Phoenix and the gelding without question, resembling riding school ponies in an arena.
The gate clanged and Phoenix jogged back to him, careful to slow and greet the mare on arrival. “Hey girlie,” she said, her tone bright. She stroked the wide cheek and pushed the matted forelock back through her twitching ears. “Let’s get you up, shall we? This is taking too long already. Your baby needs to hurry and meet the world.” She took a step back and walked around behind Wiri, brushing her fingers across his shoulders. “Keep a gentle grip on the hoof and see if it turns. If another one appears, grab it. Getting her upright will make everything start moving again.” She observed the mare from behind. “Pity she doesn’t have a head collar,” she remarked. “I could have used it to make her stand.”
Wiri exhaled. The protruding amniotic membrane had lost its fluid and become sticky. It welded to his fingers and wrists like glue. “Okay,” he said, his words puffing from his lips. “Go.”
Phoenix set to work rousing the mare. She pushed on her neck from behind, speaking to her and projecting urgency into the tired, equine brain. “Up you get!” she called, her tone level and confident. “Come on girl. Get on with you!” She pushed and cajoled, patted and persuaded. The mare’s ears twitched and her front legs straightened.
Wiri closed his eyes and let his head fall back on his shoulders. The stream of tears from his right eye ceased as though a well ran dry, leaving a sting in their wake. He hung onto the tiny hoof as though his life depended on it. But a steady hum of dread began deep in his chest. “I wish Logan was here,” he admitted, his voice louder than he intended. The words emerged as a cry of defeat, as hope for the foal and the mare ebbed into the cracked ground like a futile drizzle in a long drought.
“You don’t need him!” Heaving breaths punctuated her ragged sentence as Phoenix shoved against the mare’s shoulder. Dust raked up beneath the toes of her boots as she heaved, forming a dense cloud around her head. She dropped onto her knees and forced her fingers beneath the stricken horse’s head. “You have me instead!” she yelled. “Up! Up! Your baby needs you to stand!”
The mare lifted her head. She rocked once and then twice, attempting to gain momentum. Then her head hit the fence again and her eyes closed.
