Six months later
Elizabeth dropped to her knees as soon as the foal was free of the mare, and began cleaning its nose gently with one of the cloths she’d brought, wiping the blood and mess from its nostrils so that it could breathe. This particular mare had borne many foals, and knew what to do with them, but Elizabeth had found that having a person there to help, and take care of the small details, led to a better survival rate for the foals.
Right now, for instance, the dam was still laying down, her sides heaving with the effort of having given birth. She would care for the baby, but not until she was somewhat recovered from the ordeal.
“And what a handsome little thing you are, at that,” she murmured gently. A boy, and his coloring would be… “Bay, I think,” she said, glancing back at his coat. He looked gray and spotted now, but that would fade, and there was a wide, white star on his forehead. Yes, he would be a beauty. One of her best mares, bred with her best stallion. With luck, this foal would be as talented as his father. He might even become a stud himself, and further her breeding efforts.
“Or perhaps you’ll be a racer, hm?” she asked, running a fresh cloth over the foal’s eyes and ears. “As quick as your older brother? Perhaps another one for my lively daughter, what do you think?” She laughed gently as the foal blinked sleepily at her.
He would need to feed soon, she thought, to get the blood running through his body, and ensure that his mind woke up. Babies who didn’t feed quickly enough tended to get a slow start in life, and often they didn’t recover, mentally. Sometimes they didn’t survive.
At the thought she turned to urge the mare to her feet, then turned back and lifted the baby to his own. He wobbled for a moment on the long stilts he would call legs for the next year, and then found his way slowly toward his mother. Lifting his nose instinctively, he reached for her udders and began suckling noisily, his body telling him what to do for nourishment.
A quiet set of footsteps entered the birthing stall, and Jorge dropped down to his knees next to her. “Señora,” he said, “I just came back from the Vargas Ranch, from visiting my cousin. They are putting together a large fiesta to celebrate the birthday of Martin Vargas. They will be having a Mariachi band and games, and they are inviting people from ranchos all over the area.”
“We will go,” she said firmly. “There are many people here who will want to celebrate his long life.”
Instead of leave, though, Jorge remained, and Elizabeth glanced at him confused.
“Is there something else?” she asked, the corner of her mouth turning up in a smile. Some of her hands had trouble with the idea that a woman was in charge, and had even more trouble coming to her with questions and comments. Most of them were getting over it, but Jorge still seemed … reticent, at times.
He paused for a moment, then returned her smile. “They will also be holding a horse race,” he said quickly, under his breath, still looking at the ground and drawing small circles in the sand with his right index finger.
Elizabeth didn’t say anything. If he wanted to ask for something, he would have to ask it himself. She wasn’t going to do him any favors. And she had a feeling she already knew the purpose of this particular statement.
“A race to test the fastest horses from many different ranches,” he continued finally. “They have been doing this for a while on their own ranch, with their own horses, and I have watched several of them. Their horses are very fast and very smart, and the riders are outstanding. Now they want to test their horses against other horses on other ranches.”
“You didn’t tell them about Pilar racing her horse here on our ranch, did you?” she asked quietly.
“No, no, Señora! I would never do that,” he answered, as if he was shocked by the very thought. “But…” And he held his breath for a moment before continuing. “…From what I have seen, Pilar can beat many of these riders. She is very good, and Prince is very fast.”
Elizabeth exhaled. “Dam! I wish you hadn’t told me that, Jorge.”
He turned away, ashamed, and she smiled at the back of his head.
“You haven’t told any of this to Pilar, have you?”
“No, no, Señora. I came right here after I got back from visiting my cousin.”
“Good. Let’s keep this between the two of us.”
“Esta bien, Señora. Esta bien.”
“Thank you, Jorge.” She turned back to the new foal, dismissing him, her mind racing over the possibilities here.
She heard Jorge stand and move toward the main barn, but he paused at the door. “Oh, Señora, I forgot one thing.”
“What is that, Jorge?” she asked without turning around.
“First prize is a box of gold coins, and the winner gets to take home their choice of horses on the ranch. Buenos Noches!” And with that, he turned and stepped out of the stall.
She turned to watch him go, her mouth open in shock. A box of gold coins and their choice of horses on the ranch? The gold would certainly ease her own ranch’s debts, and fresh blood in the breeding program…
But then she shook her head. She was exhausted, and what Jorge said was unbelievable. Surely she’d heard him wrong.
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