Page 33 of Summer Redemption

She trusts me when it comes to the horses, but not in other ways? In other areas of our lives?

I swallow down the questions and doubt because now is not the time for that. Our focus needs to be on Sierra.

Sunshine is all business as she steps into the pen and does a quick exam. Her voice is low and soothing the entire time as she keeps up a running commentary of what she’s doing. Even though she’s not talking to me, the cadence of her voice soothes my frayed nerves just as much as it does for Sierra.

When she’s done, she walks out of her stall and looks at me, the look on her face neutral and professional. “She does seem to be uncomfortable and is sweating more than I would like her to be,” she tells me. “I’m not sure if she needs help or not, and I won’t really know if anything is wrong with the position of the foal until her water breaks and she starts giving birth.”

I nod slowly, my eyes racing between Sunshine and Sierra. I run a hand along my jaw and sigh, “Hopefully I’m just being overly cautious.”

“Being cautious isn’t a bad thing,” she reminds me. “You love these horses.”

We settle in to watch Sierra closely. The quiet between us isn’t as comfortable as I would like it to be, but I’m not sure whether I’m imagining it or not. It’s been a few days since we’ve been able to see each other, between her work and my focus on the horses since they’re all due to give birth soon.

Still, I’ve done my best to talk to her every day and text when I can’t call. I would have much rather been spending time with her.

Sunshine doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who gets bent out of shape when the reality of life requires attention. But maybe I’m wrong?

“She’s lactating quite a bit, which is a good sign and makes me believe it won’t be long until her water breaks and we’ll have a foal to meet,” her voice is light, and it helps to put me at ease.

Still, there’s something nagging at the back of my mind and it has nothing to do with Sierra and her birth. Now isn’t the time to get into it, though.

Time passes far too slowly and the air between us is tense when it’s the last thing I want or need when it comes to Sunshine. I just don’t have the brain power to deal with it right now. Maybe after the foal arrives and I can stop worrying.

“Oh,” Sunshine exclaims, her voice soft when Sierra’s water breaks and she turns before laying down.

My anxiety shoots through the roof as I watch Sierra start to give birth and I keep glancing at my watch like it’ll make time, and this whole delivery, move faster. It won’t.

The moment the hooves are out, I breathe a sigh of relief because they’re pointed downward. I’m not alone as Sunshine heaves out a relieved sigh.

“That’s good,” she murmurs, “the foal is in the right position to give birth. Hopefully, she won’t need us to intervene, but I’m glad I’m here just in case.”

I would love to say that the whole process is a beautiful representation of the circle of life, but it’s messy, wet, and a little gross. So many fluids.

The moment the foal slides completely free, which is not an effortless process from the way Sierra moves and rolls slightlyback and forth before getting up only to lay back down again, it becomes clear why she seemed a little off while in labor.

“Wow,” Sunshine exclaims, amusement in her voice.

When she looks at me, we’re both grinning and whatever awkwardness between us disappears, if only for a moment. I’ll fucking take it.

“That is a big foal,” she comments and she’s not fucking wrong. They’re much bigger than the last foal Sierra gave birth to and I can’t help but nod and wince a little. “If I had to guess, it’s a colt and will grow up to be sturdy like their sire.”

As if he’s able to understand us, Thunder makes a grunting sound from the other end of the barn since I moved Sierra into a more private and larger pen today when I noticed she was in labor. Sunshine giggles and I swear Sierra rolls her eyes.

We stay as the mom and the newest member of the family bond, and the placenta is birthed without issue. I’m not sure I could tear myself away even if I wanted to.

There is something beautiful about witnessing something so pure and natural, even if I was worried not long ago. It feels like a lifetime ago now that I’m on the other side.

Sunshine works quietly to assess both mom and foal, verifying that we do have a new colt on the ranch, to make sure both are healthy and thriving. The first 24 hours are crucial for the newest addition to the family.

Watching the foal struggle to stand is adorable and nerve wracking. It’s a crucial step in ensuring their health and ability to thrive. Internally, I’m cheering him on, my lips forming words of encouragement I don’t give voice to.

And then they’re up, all wobbly legs and knobby knees. At first, they’re not steady and look ridiculous, but they get the hang of things eventually.

Once the colt is nursing and we’re sure Sierra has passed all of the placenta, Sunshine turns her tired eyes toward me. There’s a wariness about her which I don’t like one bit.

With my worry over the birth gone, all I can do is focus on how it feels like there is a distance between us. A distance I don’t understand, don’t like, and refuse to accept.

“I’m going to let the little guy nurse for a while, but I will need to take some blood for testing to make sure he’s gotten enough colostrum to build his immune system.”

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