Back in the Saddle (Diamond Firetail Farm)

Chapter 3

3

Ciaron

R achel and I stood by the gate. Dior was fifty metres away, laying on the ground kicking her belly and rolling. She looked like she was colicking. Or maybe the foal was sitting in the wrong spot, making her uncomfortable.

“I’ll get the kit out of my car,” I said to Rachel.

I hurried to the car and grabbed my first aid box. We’d need to check her respiration, heartbeat and temperature. That would give us some indication of what we were dealing with. The best outcome would be the foal making her uncomfortable and Dior moving it back into a better spot. Colic could be complicated, especially at her stage of pregnancy.

Rachel and I approached the mare slowly. We didn’t want to startle her or stress her out. Before we reached her, she stood up and pawed at something on the ground. My heart sank as an unmoving foal, encased in a white bag, came into view. Dior stood over it, her head down, nudging it with her nose.

We stood next to her and stared down at the deceased foal. We couldn’t see the aborted foal clearly through the translucent white bag. It was brown like Dior. Quite large, probably 30 kilograms, which would be normal at this stage of her pregnancy. I crouched to get a better look. The foal appeared to be fully formed. There was a head and four legs, and it didn’t look abnormal.

A car stopped outside the paddock. I stood and turned as Taylor approached the gate and looked at me expectantly.

I shook my head. “Stay there. She’s aborted.”

Her shoulders sagged. “I’ll call the vet.” She walked back up to the road, her head hanging low, to make the call.

I took a deep breath and turned to Rachel. She’d been on the farm a few years now, but even so, an aborted foal could still be traumatic. It was for me.

“Are you OK?” I asked.

She nodded. “There’s nothing we could have done. Mares abort for a reason.”

Her pragmatism reminded me of Taylor.

“I know, but I feel sad for her,” I said.

“Me too.”

I gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“Ciaron,” Taylor called. She dropped two body bags inside the gate for the foetus. It would need to be double bagged to prevent leakage before it went to the vet for a necropsy. “Dan is on his way.”

When I reached her side, I said, “From what I can see, the foetus is fully formed.”

“Anything could have caused it. Placentitis, equine herpesvirus, some sort of deformity.”

EHV was an infectious and notifiable disease. Precautions needed to be taken; we couldn’t have it spreading.

I glanced at the other horses in the paddock. “We need to isolate the paddock. Can you remind everyone of the protocol at the afternoon meeting?”

“Yes. Salty is coming with the truck, so you can take Dior to the isolation yard for the vet.”

I nodded. Moving her by truck would prevent spread. Dan would scan her and flush her to make sure she hadn’t retained any placenta. He’d take bloods to test for EHV, progesterone and other important stats. For two weeks, while we waited for the necropsy results, she would need to stay isolated and would probably be on antibiotics.

We kept to the facts of the situation while my insides were reeling. Dior standing over her foal and mourning it was hard enough. But the fact that we’d lost a valuable foal was a big hit to the farm. Taylor would know it too. This was a bad situation in the best of years, but during a drought, it was ten times worse.

The afternoon would be busy for me, which was good; I’d need distracting. Helping the vet, disinfecting the truck from top to bottom, showering and washing my clothes. Later, it would really hit; then, I’d miss my family the most. Their presence alone would have helped soothe my melancholy. And talking it through with Taylor would have helped ease the worry. Instead, I’d be facing it alone.

I put my freshly washed clothes in the dryer and turned to go inside as the kids pulled into the driveway. Surely Taylor had got my hint about having dinner with them.

Isabelle got out and came over to me. “Mum told us to come and get you for dinner.”

“I’m good. I’ve got leftovers.”

“She’s not going to take no for an answer.”

I glanced at Callum in the car. He was watching us intently. I returned my focus to Isabelle. “Is that why she sent both of you?’’

Isabelle nodded. “She told us about Dior.”

“OK.” There was no point arguing. The kids wouldn’t leave unless I went with them.

They waited for me while I turned the lights off and then we headed home. Their home. Not mine anymore. Yet Taylor had still invited me in. She knew I’d be feeling down about the loss of the foal. Dior was probably over it by now and here I was still feeling sad. Horses are not like humans. I’d seen horses abort foals and simply walk away.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants before I walked into the house. I glanced around. Everything was still the same, except now the hooks were empty of my hat and coats.

Taylor’s brown eyes met mine as I stepped into the living room. A small smile turned her lips up. My steps faltered. The smile may have been small, but it conveyed so much— understanding, acceptance, love. What was wrong with me? It didn’t say any of that at all. It was a smile, nothing more, nothing less. Maybe she felt guilty about blaming me for her failures or this morning, where apparently everything was my fault.

Maybe it wasn’t even her idea that I come over for dinner. I needed to stop wishing, hoping, for us to get back together because it wasn’t going to happen. And making shit up in my head wasn’t helping.

“I thought since you love my spag bol so much, you should join us for dinner,” Taylor said as she served out the spaghetti and topped it with Bolognese sauce.

My heart stuttered. So, it was her idea, after all.

“No better way to have it than with good company,” I said. Was that too much? Geez, why was I overthinking everything?

The day I’d first seen her, there had been no overthinking involved. All I wanted to do was keep the beauty with wistful brown eyes in my sights.

I crossed over the Grattan Bridge. It was early afternoon, so the traffic on the road beside me wasn’t hectic. Usually, I’d be rushing to get home before my brothers finished school, but Mam told me this morning that she’d be home. So, when my boss asked me to make a delivery across the river it was no problem. It was a nice change not having to hurry from my shift at the pub.

Voices drifted up from the Liffey River below. I looked over the railing. Some kayakers were approaching, drifting on the water as a guide pointed out buildings. One lass, with an olive woollen hat pulled over her ears, was a short distance away from the main group. Long brown hair flowed down her back. While the others smiled and laughed at the guide, her face was impassive as she gazed out to the old brown, red, and cream brick buildings four to five storeys high.

She drifted towards the bridge, closer and closer. My stomach felt like it was floating. I couldn’t drag my eyes away. She was stunning. Her skin was tanned and small freckles splattered across her nose and cheeks. Thick eyelashes encircled her brown eyes.

The kayaks disappeared beneath me. I rushed across the bridge and made my way to the boardwalk, keeping the kayaks in sight as I strode across the wooden walkway in the direction they were heading.

People were sitting and drinking coffee in the sunshine, just colours as I dashed past them to get to the next bridge. I needed to see her again. I wanted to memorise every part of her, take a catalogue of all her beautiful features.

I was fortunate that not much paddling was going on from the kayakers. I was able to catch up and made it to the Millennium Bridge before they passed. I sent a silent mantra out, look up, look up, begging for her to look up and see me, to meet my gaze, to smile only for me. Her gazed wandered everywhere but in my direction.

They drifted past again towards the Ha’ Penny Bridge and I repeated the exercise. My fingers grazed the love locks attached to the railings as I held onto the balustrade, studying her. This time, I noticed her full lips and how soft they looked. Her cheeks were red, probably from the cold. She wore no makeup, and she was perfect. Her eyes were what captured me the most, so soulful.

The group set off again, and I followed like a cat in the shadows chasing a mouse. The kayaks made their way to the boardwalk. I dashed to the spot, not wanting her to disembark and disappear. No way in hell that was happening.

I shook the memory away as I glanced at Taylor, who was as beautiful and poignant as that first day I’d laid eyes on her. One look at her and I had been hypnotised. I’d never in my life looked at a woman like I’d looked at her, studied a woman like I’d studied her. I never would again.

“How’s Dior?” Taylor asked.

“The vet didn’t think there were any physical concerns. I think she’s more worried about being separated from the herd than losing her foal.”

“Depending on the results of the necropsy, we can send her back to the stallion when she’s ready.”

We wouldn’t have to pay the stud fee again because we had a live foal guarantee. But that didn’t help us right now. That foal would have been worth a lot of money and would have been future income for us when we sold it. It could have helped us boost the bank balance and help pay the bills.

Isabelle brought the bowls to the table. Callum poured some wine for Taylor and me. Taylor’s favourite—a sparkling rosé from Hollydene. She must have found it stored away in the cupboard. A reminder of drought free years gone by. We sat down to eat. I tapped my foot in the silence. I didn’t want to talk about work or the farm. But what else was there to talk about these days? I couldn’t remember the last time we had an actual conversation. The kids were the most common ground.

“Callum and Isabelle have their parent-teacher interviews tomorrow,” I said.

Taylor’s brown eyes widened. “Did I miss the email?”

“It came out a couple of weeks ago.” But obviously she’d been too busy to read it. I trapped my tongue behind my clenched teeth.

“We brought a note home,” Isabelle said, sarcasm layered in her voice.

Taylor swallowed.

“The first one is at 5pm if you want to join us,” I said. I didn’t think she would. The school stuff was usually left up to me. It had been a year or so since she’d been to a parent teacher interview.

“Yes, I’d like to come.”

What? Really? I gulped some wine. And another.

Callum and Isabelle glanced at each other, unable to hide their surprise.

“Excellent. I’ll pick you all up at 4:30.”

I could have told her we’d meet her there but that felt weird. I’m sure we would be fine going as a family unit, even if we weren’t exactly a family anymore. And it’s not like we argued…much. To argue, we would actually have to speak to each other. And we hadn’t really done that since my big blow up. Most of the time she gave me the silent treatment, like I wasn’t even worth the effort of arguing with.

Either she’d be quiet at the parent-teacher interviews or she’d be polite and agreeable. Both options would suit me fine.