The question was about Jo, not Shadow.
“Better than expected. The before was harder than the after. I’m at peace. It was time and had to be done. I’m moving on.” It was Molly’s standard answer to the many similar questions.
“And how’s Shadow?”
“She’s due in two weeks. I’d like to see how many pups we’re dealing with and if they’re healthy.”
Molly had Shadow lie still while the ultrasound tech moved the prod gently against Shadow’s stomach. Molly and Vivian moved close to the screen, studying the images. When Vivian had an image she liked, she clicked a still photo. They toggled through from one end of Shadow’s insides to the other.
“Well, the good news is that all the pups are moving. That tells us they’re alive and implies they’re healthy. We won’t know that for sure until the birth. But all that appears positive.”
Molly said, “It looks like a big litter.”
“Well, let’s try to get a count. Counting is easier from the stills.”
They studied the stills to identify individual pups.
At the end of the exercise, Vivian said, “It’s not an exact science, but if I had to guess, it would be eleven. What did you see?”
“I agree. At least ten, and I think there’s an eleventh hiding behind the tenth.”
“Who’s the father?”
“Bear is well-documented. Bear’s father has impressive credentials. So the litter has value.”
“Sweet. How’s Shadow doing?”
“Fine. I’m giving protein supplements, and I have a birthing room all set up. Any other recommendations?”
“You know the drill. Let her do the work and don’t rush the process. Sometimes it happens fast and sometimes it just takes time. You might give me a call when the process starts so I can be on standby. Otherwise, you’ve done this many times. I’m sure you won’t have any problems. Shadow looks healthy and the pups look active.”
Molly gave Shadow a biscuit and a scruff.
“Good girl. You’re about to become a mother.”
Chapter 14
Molly wasn’t sure what was causing more anxiety: the birth of Shadow’s pups or Bart’s arrival. They’d hopefully be happening at the same time. As the date approached, Molly’s anxiety increased.
She continued her rotation in the exercise program. The horses were different, but Molly enjoyed working with each. She looked forward to it all day, often arriving early, and riding for more than an hour. That had her spending more time at the stables, talking with Silas, Willy, Buck, and the other stable workers. Everyone was working there out of a love for horses. So she was with her people, and she was now there as an expert rider, not as the resort owner, and she liked that.
Molly monitored Shadow’s progress daily. She wasn’t showing signs of premature birthing. That was good. She was slowing down and spending more time in her whelping pen, a nesting box designed to protect the puppies during birth by keeping them contained, protected from the cold, and safe from accidently being crushed or smothered. Molly was familiar with the commercial offerings and had selected the best one available: easy to clean and sanitize, flexible yet tough, with a plastic bottom to protect her wood floor, and easily moveable.Molly had custom pads that made it comfortable for Shadow and the pups, and could be regularly changed out.
Shadow seemed happy with her set up, but Molly fretted about it every day. She guessed she was over-prepared.
But that was her nature. She liked being prepared.
This time she checked with Silas for the days Bart had reserved a stall for Beryl. She’d told Bart Shadow was due on July 1. She was pleased to learn that he’d reserved a stall for Beryl on June 30, a day before. That suggested he might be staying three nights, the three nights that were most likely Shadow’s birth dates. Then he’d be gone when the fireworks started.
Because of livestock in the stables, fireworks were not allowed at the resort. The loud, unexpected explosions were upsetting to horses, mules, and wildlife. Shadow and other domestic pets didn’t like them. But Molly could ban them all she wanted; it never stopped them from happening. People set off fireworks from lakefront cabins, and the sound reflected off the lake. It was a fact of life. Fireworks were going to happen.
Molly rearranged her day on June 30. Bart was expected, but she wanted to get her daily riding assignment in. She now lived for the exercise ride, and if she didn’t take her rotation, one of the guys would have to do two that day. She took seriously being on a team helping that part of the business.
Thinking that Bart would be arriving midafternoon, she left the office after lunch, changed into her riding outfit, and started working with Rebel at 1:00. Rebel was a big, powerful, unrulytwo year old uncut stallion. The owner’s plan was to start breeding him at age three. The owner had been working for two years to get Rebel under control, and the wild stallion was still a work in progress. In frustration, he’d shipped Rebel off to Silas.
Molly liked working with Rebel but had suggested to Silas that he should charge more to exercise the difficult horse. The stallion was a challenge for even the most experienced rider. Training services were more valuable than exercise. And Silas had experienced riders for the task. He’d agreed to talk with the owner. In the meantime, Silas’ team was taking turns running Rebel through his paces.
Rebel was exciting. He had an element of untamed wildness, and could run like the wind. He wasn’t interested in a nice controlled gallop. When prodded, he wanted to go, really go. It was terrifically exhilarating, but the team was trying to train Rebel about controlled speed. Rebel demanded all of Molly’s skills. He was going to be a magnificent stud, but was still a work in progress.
