Two of the jurors in the box turned to each other, to exchange a look. Then one of them crossed her arms on her chest.
That meant something, definitely. But what?
CHAPTER
76
STONE FAMILY FARM BULLOCK COUNTY, ALABAMA
It was dusk when I pulled into the drive. I hit the brakes when Nellie ran out of the barn, waving both arms.
Made no sense for my sister to be hanging out in the barn. She’d come to the farm that day to await the delivery of my new living quarters. And it had arrived: A single-wide mobile home with skirting and temporary stairs was already set up between the barn and the bands of yellow police tape that surrounded the burned-out shell of my ancestral home.
I’d be living in a trailer for the time being. Despite the protests I’d received from friends and family, who believed I should be bunking with them in town. Because, as I repeatedly explained to those who tried to argue with me, I had a farm to run.
A farm that was dragging me down. I had to admit it: I felt weary, burnt out by my family farm obligations. It felt like I was carrying the world on my shoulders. Can’t do that forever. Howmuch longer could I manage the physical labor required in the daily grind of farm life? My back and my joints were bothering me already.
I rolled down the window as Nellie reached the car. She was all worked up and breathing hard.
“It’s Tornado! She’s having that foal.”
I was out of the car, fast as my battered body permitted. “Are you certain?”
She made that face—the one that warns a person not to cross her. “I saw a tiny hoof poke out of her vulva. What do you suppose that signifies?”
With that report, I took off for the barn. Inside, I saw Tornado pacing in her stall. Her coat was drenched with sweat.
Nellie came up behind me. “When I saw how she was behaving, I got things ready. Mucked the stall and sprayed it with vinegar mix. Put down fresh straw.”
I was grateful for Nellie’s help. It wasn’t my first time witnessing the foaling process, but it was Nellie’s first. I was nervous as hell.
“The hoof, when did it poke out?”
“I don’t know. Ten minutes ago?”
Ten minutes was a mite too long. It worried me. “Was it a front hoof? It should be a front hoof.”
“Damn it, Mary, I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting to see anything. Didn’t you tell me she had another week to go?”
I thought she did. Maybe I’d missed the signs, too caught up in the Gaines trial to pay close attention.
I pulled out my cell phone, found the vet in my contacts. It was a relief to have him pick up on the first few rings. But when he answered, I could barely hear him. I bumped up the volume.
“Troy! It’s Mary Stone. Tornado is foaling, I need you over here!”
There was background noise on the other end of the call. Laughter, loud talk, dinging sounds. I thought I heard him say: “Can’t get there!”
“What?” I was shouting into the phone, determined to make him hear my end of the conversation. “Did you say you’re unavailable? We need you, Troy. She’s having that foal right now.”
His voice was clearer.
“It’s going to be okay, Mary. The mare knows what to do.”
I looked down at Tornado. She had dropped to the floor of the stall and was lying on her side. I could see that she was straining, trying to push.
“You can assist her, Mary, if she needs it. Go to the house and scrub up your arms. Then rub some lubricant all the way up your arms. You got K-Y Jelly in the house?”
Invoking the image of the smoking remains of my family’s home made my throat tighten. I coughed to clear it. “I don’t have a house. Got water and soap out here by the barn, though.”
