.
Before she thought twice about it, Jo was off Tempest's back and searching for a place to secure her. Every instinct in her body told her to go help the mare on the ground, but her father had drilled his instructions into her mind almost before she could walk, long before she could ride.
Look after your horse. Always, always look after your horse.
After what felt like an hour but was more likely just a few minutes, she found a derelict section of fencing that was still standing beyond the chestnut tree. James was right behind her, but he hesitated before tethering Gunner.
"She looks like she's having a bad time. We should run find her owner. He likely lives in that little town across the road and down the valley."
Jo was already moving, brushing past James with the expertise born of literal years of her life spent in stables.
"You can do that if you want. I want to be here."
She was focused on the mare, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw James hesitate and then dismount and tether his gelding next to Tempest before he hurried after her.
"Do you have experience with foaling?"
"Some. I watched Tempest's birth, and I helped with several others. Mostly though, horses have been taking care of this on their own for quite some time. All we likely need to do is watch and to make sure that she doesn't get into any kind of trouble."
However, after carefully approaching the mare and calming her, it was clear to see that she was definitely in trouble. A long line was attached to her halter that ended in a frayed break, meaning she had likely escaped from whatever holding pen her owners had kept her in. More than that, however, she was still, when in most of the foalings Jo had attended, the mare would always be restless.
"She's meant to be up and pacing, getting up and lying down. Why isn't she?"
James shrugged, but she hadn't really expected him to have an answer for her. When she inspected the mare, however, she figured it out very quickly.
The foal had started to make its entrance into the world; two small hooves were visible, but Jo realized with a lurch that instead of being pointed up, they were skewed sideways.
"Damn it all to perdition. It's not a breech, thank God, but that's still not good. The foal is trying to emerge crooked. She must have been pushing for some time, poor thing, and now is too tired to move."
"What are you going to do?"
Jo bit her lip. If there was a farrier in town, he would hardly be more knowledgeable than she was, but he would have the tools necessary to cut the foal from its mother's body if worse came to worst. It had happened a few times, and her father always said the foal's chances of surviving once its mother was dead were hideously low. She glanced down at the mare, who was looking up at her with nearly human eyes of anguish. She abruptly made her decision.
"I'm going to help her, and James, I am afraid you are going to need to help me."
"Tell me what to do."
She nodded, grateful beyond words for his calm acceptance.
"In her position, even if she can push, the foal won't come out easily. We need to shift her at least a little, perhaps a lot."
Jo stripped off her jacket and her cap, throwing both aside so she could see and work more effectively. She showed James where they could push, and together, with some shouting and direction, they shifted the groaning mare to her side. She took a few snaps at both of them, but she was clearly too exhausted to do more, something for which Jo was profoundly grateful.
"All right, beautiful, don't worry, don't worry, we'll take good care of you. James, stay close to her head, and if you need to hold on to her to keep her down, do so. She may not like what I'm about to do next, and the last thing I need is for her to turn around and think I need a good biting."
"What are you… Oh. Oh, yes. For the love of God, be careful, Jo."
"I always am. Now let me work."
Kneeling behind the mare and rolling up her sleeves, wishing she had her father's expertise, or his skill or his understanding, she took a deep breath. She didn't have any of those things, and she was on her own. Carefully, she reached down, and when a gentle tug on the protruding hooves did not miraculously dislodge the foal, she reached in, feeling desperately in the blood and muscle for the give the mare so desperately needed.
By the end, her knees were sore, her back ached like fire, and her shoulder was wrenched, but something she did worked. With a movement that was nearly liquid in its ease, the foal slid free, landing on the ground with a thump. At the same time, Jo cried out to James to let the mare go, and she lurched back herself. She was filthy, exhausted, and sore, but she couldn't take her eyes off the foal on the ground. James came to help her up, and together, they retreated back to the chestnut tree.
"What happens now?"
James’ voice was hushed, almost awed.
Jo smiled.
"Now we hope that the long labor didn't tire her out too badly. We can step in, but it is far better if the mother handles it."
The foal, as pale as a bolt of unbleached silk, all legs and unwieldy head, broke through the thin white membrane that covered it, drawing its first breath and making Jo nearly faint with gratitude. Some foals couldn't stand the pressure of a long birth, and all of that work would only end in one small death. This one, however, seemed strong and curious, and as the mare licked hard at its fur, it staggered to its feet with the wavering grace of all things newborn.
"Come on, honey, come on, just a little more..."
As Jo watched, barely aware of James’ arm around her shoulders, the foal took its first wavering steps and then found its mother's udders. After a few tries, it was suckling.
Jo sagged with relief back against James.
"Oh, thank Heaven."
"Is that it?"
"Yes. My father always said that no matter how disastrous the birth is, no matter what goes wrong or what happened, if the foal is standing and nursing and the mother calm, everything else is going to be fine."
"Well, that's certainly—"
Jo would very much have liked to hear what he was going to say next, but she was distracted by the fact that the sky seemed to be going dark and everything seemed as if it was coming from very far away. She heard James call her name, each time repeating it with more panic and fear.
She started to reassure him that she was fine, that she only needed a few minutes to rest after all, but then the darkness took her, and she knew no more.
The first thing that Jo felt when she woke up was a sense of confusion. Why did she smell lavender? Why was she in bed?
She lurched up with a start, looking around for help, but a young woman sitting by her bed reached out to touch her hand.
“It's all right. You're safe. You're among friends, I promise.”
The girl sitting by her bed looked perhaps a year or two older than Jo was herself, with dark honey-blond hair and eyes that were an almost unsettling shade of violet. She was the sort of slight and fairy-like creature who made Jo feel immediately rather large and clomping, and for a moment, she had trouble stuttering out anything at all.
“I was in the field with the mare, and James—”
“It's all right. Your companion brought you here after you fainted, and he and my head groom told me how you helped Bella.”
“Bell—the mare? Are she and the foal well?”
“Yes, and they are being looked after by a very remorseful groom. It was a freak accident that she escaped, and once she had, we feared she might have gone down to the river. We didn't even think of the north paddock. I must offer you my thanks for that timely rescue.”
“You're of course welcome, but... who are you?”
The girl smiled a little, and Jo was struck by her sadness as well as her beauty. “I'm Clarine Waters. I suppose I should say Lady Clarine now, shouldn't I? No matter. Call me Clarine, and that was my mother's horse you saved. Thank you, I cannot thank you enough.”
“It was nothing. I couldn't have done otherwise... but please, tell me why I'm here. The last thing I remember was being in the paddock with—”
“Oh, your husband. He brought you here and explained everything. I'm sorry you've had such a terrible misfortune on the road, but rest assured that I will help you.”
Jo started to ask Clarine exactly what she meant by all that, but then there was a gentle knock on the door before it opened to reveal James standing there.
“Darling, you're awake. Thank God!”
James came to sit on the other side of the narrow bed, taking Jo's hand as if they had known each other all their lives. She smiled uneasily at him, but there was nothing in his face except the concern of a loving husband for his ailing wife.
“Lady Waters, I cannot thank you enough for the help you have given to me and my wife. After everything that happened to us, finding someone who is willing to be the least little bit kind is incredible.”
“Such a terrible time you have had of it, and I can only thank heaven that it was not worse. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll see to having something a bit more fortifying than soup sent up, and perhaps I can see about finding you some clothes as well, poor dear.”
When the door closed softly behind Clarine, Jo turned fully to James. “I certainly hope that you have an explanation for this?”
In response, James opened his jacket and withdrew a crumpled broadsheet, offering it to her wordlessly.
“What in the world—”
It was a wanted poster, offering a full five pounds sterling for information regarding the capture of a young man who was a West Riding horse thief. There was some text about crimes committed, but more alarming by far was the ink sketch of her face below, cap hiding her hair just as it did in real life.