23. Julius
— ? —
Julius
I don’t know how either. I hold Ramona’s hand beside the stall door because it’s the only help she’ll accept from me while June is lying beyond our reach.
“How far out is she?” I ask Blake.
“Five minutes. She said to call again if anything changes.”
June shifts in the bedding. Ramona straightens, but she stays beside me.
“She knows we’re here.” Her fingers tighten around mine. “I hate that I’m not touching her.”
“Keep talking to her.”
I don’t tell her to be calm. She’s keeping her voice steady for June, and I can feel what that costs in her grip.
The vet’s headlights sweep the passage before the five minutes are up. She comes in with her bag, stops at the doorway, and watches June breathe before she asks anybody to move.
“Who saw her go down?”
“Nobody did.” Blake stays by the wall. “I found her like this.”
She asks a few quick questions and then goes in alone, staying clear of June’s legs. She listens to her chest for a long time. Ramona stands beside me with both hands wrapped around the doorframe.
“She ate before I left the barn.” Her voice catches. “Is it her stomach?”
“I’m concerned about her heart.” The vet looks up at us. “The rhythm isn’t normal, and she’s struggling to breathe. I’m going to start helping her while I work out what’s happening.”
Ramona looks at me, then straight back at June.
“You didn’t hear that when you came before.”
“I didn’t. It’s different tonight.” The vet meets her eyes. “I’m going to give her medicine to help her breathe and settle her heart. Then we see how she does.”
“Keep clear if she tries to get up.” She reaches into her bag. “Don’t try to hold her down.”
My wife nods and keeps talking to June while the vet works.
Nothing changes fast enough for Ramona. I watch her watching the vet’s face between breaths, looking for an answer that hasn’t come.
Don’t promise what you don’t know. Find out what helps.
“Is there somebody who knows more about this?” I ask.
“There’s a horse heart specialist in Colorado. I’ve worked with him before.” She checks June’s breathing again. “I’ll call him.”
I take out my phone.
“If he needs to come here, I can get him here.”
Ramona catches my wrist.
“Ask whether coming here would help June. Not just whether we can get him onto a plane.”
I lower the phone.
“We’ll ask.”
“Let me talk to him first.” The vet is already dialing.
***
June’s breathing eases enough that Ramona stops moving every time her chest rises.
The vet has talked to the specialist. She shows us his reply before going back into the stall.
“The specialist agrees she shouldn’t travel yet.” She holds the phone where Ramona can read it. “He can come here if we can arrange the flight.”
I look at Ramona before answering. She reads the message twice, then lifts her face toward mine.
“You’d have to send the plane to get him.” She rubs her thumb against my wrist.
“I can do that.” I keep my voice steady. “Do you want me to?”
“She’s older, Julius.” Her grip tightens. “I don’t want somebody doing more and more to her because we can pay for it.”
“Then we tell him that.” I turn toward the vet. “We want to know whether he can help her be comfortable. We aren’t asking him to put her through treatment she can’t cope with.”
“That’s a reasonable place to start.” She waits while Ramona looks back into the stall.
June’s ears turn toward her when she speaks.
“I want him to come.” Ramona wipes her cheek with her sleeve. “I want to know what we can do.”
I send the instructions while she watches. The pilot’s reply arrives before I put the phone away. The jet is available, and he’ll coordinate the trip with the hospital.
I show her the message, and she nods, then goes back to June.
***
It’s past noon before I bring the specialist from the airstrip to the barn. Our vet stays with June the whole time.
He asks how June’s breathing has been since the vet last called him, and I answer what I know and leave the rest for Ramona.
She stands when we enter, her hands held tightly together.
“I’ve written down what she’s been doing lately.” She offers him her notebook. “The things I thought were her being jumpy.”
He takes it and reads the first page before asking her to show him June.
I stay close enough to help while they work. When Ramona needs a towel, I put it into her hand. When she reaches for the notebook, I find the page she’s asking for instead of handing her the whole thing.
The specialist asks her to step out while they reposition the equipment. She does, but stays beside the stall door until I bring a bench from the tack room.
“You can sit and still see her.” I set it where she has an unobstructed view.
“I don’t want to miss it if she tries to get up.” She keeps her hand on the door.
“I’ll be looking, too.” I wait beside the bench until she sits.
Her knees touch mine when I settle beside her. She doesn’t move away, so I leave my shoulder against hers.
“I had to feed her through the night when she was little.” Ramona looks at the notebook in her lap. “Dad kept telling me to go inside and sleep. I thought she’d stop breathing if I left.”
“You told me about that in my truck.” I keep my voice low. “After we helped with the calf.”
“I talked too much.” She drags her sleeve beneath her nose, still watching the stall.
“I asked questions.” I turn toward her. “I wanted you to keep going.”
She looks at me then. Her eyes are swollen, and there’s bedding caught in her sleeve where she leaned against the stall door. She picks at it while she waits for the specialist to finish reading.
“You remembered that part?” She picks at the shavings without managing to remove them.
“I remember you deciding whether I was worth talking to.” I pull the bedding free carefully. “It took some work.”
Her mouth moves before she looks back at June.
“You kept listening.” She rests her hand beside mine. “That helped.”
I turn my palm upward and let her decide whether to take it, and she does.
***
The specialist spends a long time examining June and going over what our vet found. I stay beside Ramona while she watches the stall door.
When he comes out with our vet beside him, Ramona is on her feet before either of them speaks, and I stand with her.
“She’s doing better.” He stops in front of us. “Her breathing has eased, and her heart has settled some.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Ramona keeps hold of my hand.
“She has a serious heart problem.” He waits while Ramona looks toward June. “The treatment is helping, but we need to see whether we can keep her comfortable.”
Ramona looks from him to June.
“Is she going to live?”
“She’s better tonight than she was. That matters.” He doesn’t look away from her. “But I can’t promise you how long. Some horses do well on medicine for a good while. Some don’t.”
Ramona presses her lips together. I stay beside her while she takes another breath.
“Could she go back to what she was doing?”
He shakes his head.
“I wouldn’t consider her safe to ride again. She could get weak or collapse under a rider.”
Ramona looks toward June’s saddle outside the tack room. Her hand goes slack in mine.
“I don’t need her to carry me.” She turns back to him. “I need to know whether she can be comfortable.”
“That’s what we work toward. Medicine, quiet, and somebody watching her every day. If she can be comfortable, she gets to be an old horse in a field. If she can’t, we tell you the truth instead of piling on treatment because we can.”
She nods once, then again.
“Tell me what comfortable looks like. And what I need to call you about.”
He explains while I take notes. Ramona interrupts to ask about each part she doesn’t understand, and he answers without rushing her.
When he finishes, I look toward the yard.
“There’s a small pasture near the cottage.” I turn to Ramona before continuing. “We could make it ready once they say she can move.”
She watches me for a moment.
“You’d have to change the gate.” She looks down at our joined hands. “She needs to get in without turning sharply.”
“I’ll have somebody look at it with you.” I squeeze her hand. “You can show them what she needs.”
Her chin trembles before she nods.
The specialist checks the time, then puts his watch beneath his sleeve again.
“I’d like to stay until she’s been settled longer.” He looks toward the stall. “The next assessment will tell us more.”
“There’s a room at the house if you need to rest.” I gesture toward the yard. “The plane will take you back when you’re ready.”
Ramona squeezes my hand before letting go.
“Thank you for coming.” She turns toward him fully. “I know this wasn’t how you expected to spend the night.”
He takes her offered hand.
“I’m glad we could help.” He releases it and goes back into the stall.
***
June gets to her feet with the vet watching and all of us standing clear.
Ramona makes a sound beside me when the mare steadies. I put my hand at her back, but she’s already asking whether she can go to her.
Once the vet agrees, she approaches slowly and lets June sniff her fingers.
“There you are.” She strokes the mare’s face, crying openly now. “You frightened me.”
I stay near the door until she looks over.
“You can come in.” She keeps her hand against June’s cheek. “She knows you.”
I move beside her, giving June room to turn her head. When I touch her neck, she lifts her damp muzzle toward my shirt.
“Go ahead. It was clean once.” I look down at the wet mark spreading near my collar.
Ramona laughs through a breath, then wipes her face against her sleeve.
“She’s checking whether you’ve brought food.” She smooths June’s forelock. “You usually do.”
“I’d offer her my pocket, but I don’t think the vet would approve.” I stay still while the mare investigates.
“Definitely don’t.” Ramona catches the edge of my shirt before June can get her teeth around it.
Her hand stays against my chest after the fabric is safe. I look at her, and she lets me see how badly she’s shaking, and I put my arm around her shoulders.
“I’m here.” I hold her gently while she leans into me. “You don’t have to stay upright by yourself.”