Luz, an eleven-year old Latina, finds a half-frozen newborn foal and engages her African American friend, Zan, to help keep it alive in her kitchen. Luz’s work-focused mother and single parent directs all the affection Luz longs for onto the baby horse until Holly grows past the ‘cute’ stage. Facing the harsh realities of maintaining a growing horse brings mother and daughter together in a dramatic ending. In this story, you’ll recognize many of the horse loving friends you’ve come to know in earlier books in the series: Wa-Tonka, Camp Cowboys, Saving for Trace, Riding the Waves, Zan (a free book) and Can Do, Zan. One more book to go: Mountain Rules.
A Horse In My Kitchen
Joe Novara
cover design: Lyndsay Kibiloski
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 Joe Novara
Discover other titles by Joe Novara at Smashwords.com
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Chapter 1: A Christmas Present
Luz struggled through the shin-deep snow to get to the newborn foal. Crusty ice covered the baby horse. The mare stood off to one side, absently pawing the frozen ground. Luz dropped to her knees and laid the foal’s droopy head in her lap. “Pobrecito,” she said, watching its quick, shallow breaths hang like wisps of fog in the cold, morning air.
Carlos caught up. Knelt beside her. “Aii, chica, ‘poor thing’ is right.” He flicked his cigarette butt into a snowdrift. “I checked the mare yesterday afternoon. She musta dropped this filly during the night.”
“How can a horse have a baby, out in a field, in the middle of a Michigan winter? The baby would …” Luz finally realized what Carlos had just said. “A filly? It’s a girl horse? How cool! Why is she all frozen like that?”
“Because her mother didn’t lick her off after she was born like she’s supposed to. Stupid horse.” Reaching up under the mare’s flank Carlos gently squeezed a teat. “No milk, neither,” he said. “Call that a mother?”
“But how come the baby’s not standing?”
“She’s too weak from the cold and no food.”
The foal stared at nothing, eyes dull, lids half-closed. Luz ran her finger along the trembling lips. The newborn shivered but didn’t suck. “Don’t just stand there, Carlos!” Luz cried. “Let’s get her into a warm place—now!”
Carlos shook his head. “That foal’s half-frozen—almost dead. The mother’s got no milk. Better just let her die.” He tapped a cigarette out of the pack. Lit it. “Oye, chica. I told your ma I’d take you home. Vamanos, pues.”
“Stop calling me chica. I’m not a little girl. I’m eleven years old and I’m not going to let this baby die out here. I’ll carry her to my house if I have to. It’s just down the road.” Luz slid her arms under the horse. She tried to stand with her burden but couldn’t. Something held the foal down.
“Okay. Okay, I’ll help,” Carlos said, stamping on the snow and ice surrounding the foal. Chunks of ice clung to the elbows and forelegs of the newborn horse as Luz hefted the floppy animal into her arms and staggered off.
“Put her in my pickup,” Carlos called.
Luz smiled to herself—so far, so good.
Carlos helped lay the foal on the front seat. Then he climbed in the driver’s side and turned the heater on full blast. Luz squeezed onto the floor on the passenger side, her eyes even with the filly’s head as it drooped on the seat.
“You’re so cold and so tired, you can’t even hold your head up, can you?” Luz asked the half-frozen filly. “How could anyone do this to you?”
“Not anyone. My boss. He lets his mares run with his stallion in the same pasture all year round. So, who knows when she was bred. And even if he knew she was pregnant and ready to drop her foal, do you think he would put her in a barn? In a birthing stall? Not him.”
“Well, don’t worry,” Luz crooned to the shivering newborn, “we’re going to take care of you now, little one, even if your mother won’t.”
Carlos lit another cigarette. “What do you mean, we? Do you know what it’s gonna take to save that bundle of fur and bones?”
Luz stroked the baby’s icy coat. The melting ice smelled bad—like the inside of a chicken right after it’s killed. She grabbed a rag from under the seat and began wiping the stinking slime. The heater soon dried a patch of fur along the foal’s neck. “Look,” Luz said, “she’s a chestnut. I love that color. And I’m going to call her Holly because it’s almost Christmas. Holly. Little Holly.”
“Don’t,” Carlos warned. “Don’t like her too much. She ain’t gonna make it.”
Luz kept wiping. “Don’t listen to him, Holly. You’re safe now.”
“Who’s gonna take care of her for a month? It’d take at least that long, you know. And where would she stay all that time where it’s warm and people can watch her ‘round the clock? Huh? Not in some barn, I can tell you.” Carlos rolled down the window a crack and flicked out his cigarette butt.
Not daring to look at Carlos, Luz said, “We could put her in your trailer and…”
“No way,” Carlos snapped. “Not in my place.”
Luz cut him a glance, half grinning. “It’s not like you’d notice a little more mess in there. Your trailer smells like the inside of a barn, anyhow.”
Carlos’ lips curled up for a second, fighting a smile. Luz saw his hand gently stroke the newborn’s rump. “If you’re so eager to help, why not take her to your house, chica—I mean Luz?”
“My mother never pays any attention to me. Why would she care about a horse?”
“You might be surprised.”
Luz stroked the filly’s neck. “Look, we gotta do something. This poor baby needs lots of attention. Now.”
Carlos nodded, thought for a moment. “How about that vet for the Police Department, the one that helped Zan with his filly last winter. Came out to Corky’s a couple of times. What’s his name?”
“I heard about him but never met him. Danell? You mean Danell?”
“Yeah, that’s him. Maybe he’ll take a look at the foal and…decide. You know. What to do next.”
“Let’s move it,” Luz said. “We can call from the freeway, to be sure he’s there.”
Chapter 2: Danell’s decision
“Yallo. Detroit Mounted Police Training Center.”
“Is Danell handy?”
“Naw, he’s pretty clumsy. That’s why they let me hang around.”
“Zan!” Luz said.
“Hey, Lucy Goosey. I knew it was you.”
“What are you doing there? Aren’t you supposed to be working at Shamrock Stables?”
“Corky sent me here for the day. You know, like the Molly Maids that clean houses? ‘Cept she’s got me mucking out horse stalls. Whadda ya say, should I start my own business—call it the Bun Butlers?”
“Zan! Stop! Just stop. Okay? We got an emergency and we need Danell. Is he there?”
“Yeah, the little brother’s around here somewhere. What’s up? Who’s we?”
“See you in about twenty minutes.”
“Come in, I was just straightening up the surgery,” Danell said. “You’re Carlos, right? We met at Corky’s a while back.”
“Right,” Carlos said bending to shake hands with the undersized horse trainer.
“And who’s this little lady you brought along?”
Zan just in from the stables, snapped, “Ha! That’s no lady that’s Luz—rhymes with goose, sounds like juice, looks like Bruce and his brother—”
“I don’t need a whole rap, Zan,” Danell cut in, “just a name will do.”
“Luz. I’m Luz. Hi.”
“Nice to meet you,” Danell said.
Luz flashed a dazzling smile set off by her caramel-colored skin. Quick as a snake, she poked her tongue out at Zan —you may be two years older than me, she seemed to say, but this man knows how to treat a person.
“An’ that’s my buddy Carlos,” Zan continued. “He goes down to Tennessee to round up cows. Lives down the road from Corky’s.”
“We’ve met,” Danell broke in.
Oblivious, Zan blathered on, “Me and my dog, Barkley, hang out at his place sometimes—”
“How lucky can you get?” Danell asked Carlos.
Zan paused, studied both men. “Was that a shot? You guys bustin’ on me?”
HONK! HONK-HONK!.…HONK!
“Hey, Carlos, sounds like your truck,” Zan called as he bolted toward the door. “You got a little kid in there, or something?”
“Or something,” Carlos replied.
Danell looked from Carlos to Luz, back to Carlos. “What’s with the honking?”
Carlos shrugged—beats me.
HONK! HONK!
Zan burst into the clinic, “It’s a foal…wiggling on the front seat…bumping the horn.”
“She’s a filly. Holly. That’s her name, Holly,” Luz added.
Danell nodded—go on.
HONK! HONK!
All in one breath Luz blurted, “She was born in the pasture last night and her mother doesn’t have milk and didn’t lick her and she was covered in frozen glop that I mostly wiped off but she’s so weak she can’t stand and can’t suck and since Christmas is next week I want to call her Holly only she’s going to die if we don’t help her.”
HONK! HONK!
The police horses stirred in their stalls, nickered and stomped. Danell shrugged into his coat. “Well, c’mon, then, let’s go see this foal that’s about to die but is healthy enough to honk a horn and rile my horses.”
Using his forearm to clear the frosty window, Danell studied the foal. Holly struggled to stand, flopped against the horn, fought to raise her head but couldn’t. “Get her inside,” Danell snapped.
The chubby veterinarian cleared bottles of pills, a box of syringes and a lead rope from a work bench in the middle of the room. Carlos laid the exhausted newborn on the table. Danell probed her chest with a stethoscope. He looked in her eyes, rolled back her lips. Six pairs of eyes watched anxiously, waiting for his verdict.
“Not good,” Danell said, shaking his head. “She’s dehydrated. She needs fluids and food but is too weak to swallow. She never got the first feedings from her mother—so important for establishing her immune system.”
“What’s that mean?” Luz whispered to Zan.
“She could get sick real easy. Shhh.”
“She needs a naso-gastric feeding tube to get food through her nose into her belly,” Danell continued. “And she’s going to need an IV for plasma.”
“Like on ER?” Luz asked.
Zan nodded.
“And she’s going to have problems with the frostbite on her legs. Lots wrong. We could send her to Michigan State University. They have a top-flight equine facility.”
“How much would that cost?” Carlos asked.
The vet studied the ceiling, calculating. “Maybe $5000. Maybe more. Depends.”
Carlos shook his head. “No way.”
“We could raise the money.” Luz said, hopefully. “Couldn’t we Zan? We could do it—right?”
“Not that much,” Zan replied. “It’s too much.”
Danell stroked the filly’s neck. Looked up. “You’ve got a choice. I could put her down. Or you could take a shot at saving her. No guarantees.”
“Yeah, she could stay here and we could come to see—” Luz began.
“Not so fast,” Danell interrupted. “Number one, she can’t stay here. This is a municipal facility. I can’t keep personal animals here. Well, maybe for tonight, but that’s it. Number two, it’s going to take at least three weeks, maybe more, to get this filly on her feet and growing—if she makes it in the end. During all that time she’s going to need constant attention, 24/7. Do you know what that means?”
Luz turned to Zan, eyes wide, then back to Danell. She nodded.
Danell shook his head. “I don’t think you do. This foal needs to stay someplace warm. I mean ‘people’ warm. Not a barn. Not a garage. A house. And people are going to have to change the bandages on her legs and feed her every three hours—if we can even get her strong enough to stand and drink from a bottle.”
Carlos turned to Luz. “What’d I tell you?”
Eyes tearing, Luz lifted her chin.
“Tell you what,” the vet said, “I’ll get her started on an IV and in the meantime you can decide what you want to do next. You can let me know in the morning.”
“You guys,” Carlos said, “I gotta split.”
“What about Holly?” Luz whined. “I don’t want to leave her.”
“I told your mother I’d get you home.” Carlos reminded.
“I’ll call her to come get me here,” Luz offered.
“Fine. I’m outta here,” Carlos said.
Luz picked up the phone book in Danell’s office.
“If Holly makes it,” Zan asked “what’re you gonna do then?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Corky would keep her?” Luz flipped through the yellow pages. “There’s lots of room in her stables and she loves horses.”
“You heard what Danell said. This critter needs to stay inside someone’s house. And I don’t think—”
“Hey, what’s the worst she can do? Say no?” Without waiting for an answer, Luz dialed Shamrock Stables and punched the speaker button.
“Hi Corky, how are you?” Luz asked, “Zan and I—”
“Uh-oh, there’s trouble. The two of youse together,” the Irish stable owner said. “Why do I get the feelin’ you want me to do something I really won’t want to do?”
Luz held up her crossed fingers to Zan. “There’s this filly that was born yesterday in a field but now it’s like an orphan and Danell says it needs to stay in someone’s house for a little while. How about yours?”
“Jaysus, Mary and Joseph. In my house, you say? Horses belong in barns, not houses.”