Chapter 5) Precious
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Charlie babbled on for half an hour about his great grandfather who'd lived an original gypsy lifestyle and his great grandmother being a fortune teller. She could read your hand lass, your hand and tell ya your day of yer death, he'd ranted proudly providing her with slow roasted rabbit he'd skinned himself.
During the morning the men at the docks kept a close eye on her everytime she walked to the well for a bucket of water. Tommy wasn't around much, when he came back in the afternoon he signed to her to take one of the new horses to the blacksmith.
He handed her the money for the smith and informed her firm to check Johnny Jumper's new shoes before heading back. I don't want the bastard slacking because I sent you alone, he wrote down, friendly as ever.
Luckily the blacksmith delivered fine work and didn't ask questions.
When she returned with Johnny Jumper, Tommy raced into the stable with a bucket of hot water. He shoved the handle in her hands and urged the new horse to get into his box.
Labour started an hour ago, he signed while pushing her forward to Monaghan Boy's box. The mare lay nervous and restless in the corner and scrunched her hooves when noticing her caretakers.
Wait, Tommy ordered and slowly opened up her box. The mare swished her tail and huffed loudly, trying to stand up.
"Sssh," Tommy took her head and both of his hands and stroke her nose. The horse paused from the touched, hesitated and slowly got on her feet. "Sssh," Tommy motioned Maria to come closer and pointed where to put the bucket down. He pulled a cloth from between the back of his jeans and drenched it in the hot water.
Maria had witnessed a fair share of deliveries and started to remove the feeding tubs and other possible obstacles. Meanwhile, Tommy cleaned the mare's udder, belly, rear, and upper legs, any place the foal would be nuzzling when trying to find the udder.
You can go home, Tommy signed when they were done and dug his hand into his pocket for her fee.
"I can stay, I can help," Maria responded, unable to keep her excitement from showing.
Tommy paused and turned his head towards the mare that kept nosing at her flank. He took out his notebook and wrote down: It will take a while before giving birth, it's her first.
"I don't mind, I don't have anything else to do-" or feel like going home, she thought, "my brother studied to be a veterinarian and I read all his books. And we had horse-"
Tommy raised his hand to cut her off, ruffled through the pages and pointed at a cirkled, ok in his notebook and motioned her to get a bale of hay.
Almost two and a half hours passed and she'd steadied herself on the fence dividing the boxes. Biting on a string of hay she watched the mare while Tommy went out for a smoke. The mare had become more anxious, her body tense from premature contractions.
"I can see the sac," she told Tommy when he returned. Monaghan Boy rolled to her side and amber-coloured liquid streamed over the straw flooring. "She's going to be a mum in half an hour."
Both caretakers watched the mare get back on her feet and take a few steps in her box.
Tommy sternly watched his animal and dragged out his notebook: Get the vet. It will be a breech birth.
She felt herself pale a fews shades knowing the dangers for the foal and for the mother."What if the vet refuses?"
A note saying got shoved in her face saying: He better fucking come, tell him Tommy Shelby sent you. And he agitatedly motioned for her to get going.
Luckily the veterinarian was still present at his practise and was more than willingly to hurry up when she mentioned the name of her carrying a leather briefcase on their shoulders, they sped back to Charlie's yard.
Tommy had set up two oil lamps to provide the box with enough light and both his hands were bloodied up to his wrists. Maria couldn't recall seeing him in such panic.
I can't get the foal turned, he signed looking dejected as the mother-to-be let out a high pained neigh.
"How long since the sac burst?" The vet asked.
"At least twenty minutes ago," Maria informed knowing how lethal dystocia could be.
"Then we better hurry up." The vet took the bag from her. "Get some secure ropes lass! Mister Shelby if you may assist!"
Tommy took an enormous swig out of a whiskey bottle and made a military salute, entering the box again.
Meanwhile Maria ran to the back closet with an oil lamp in one hand. Every minute counted and she'd seen enough death around her lately. She shoved away wooden boxes, empty bottles, and tools until she found a roll of hennep rope on the lower shelves.
"I got the ropes, I got them" She exclaimed almost throwing herself over the wooden fence.
"Hold up the tail," the vet ordered her, "If the mother pushes any harder, she can kill the foal."
Monaghan Boy's hooves scraped loudly over the floor in utter distress, the pain was too much and she was unsure of the people around her. The vet tied the rope around the hind legs while Tommy tried to reassure his horse of their best interest; deliver the baby safely.
"Hold up the tail and help me pull Mr Shelby!"
The two men pulled with all their weight to get the foal out of the womb. The nose became visible after their second tuck, once the shoulders came out the rest followed.
With a little thump the lifeless body of the foal fell on the floor followed by the placenta. It was dead silent in the stable, the baby the centre of everyone's attention.
Slow but steadily the mother turned around and sniffed her first born.
'Oh please don't be dead, please don't be dead,'Maria praid unable to breath.
The mother took another step closer and licked the head of her foal. And there it was, a tiny stir with his tiny black sighed in relief and noticed the other two men did the same.
"It's a boy" he vet said after checking, clearing up mucus from his and Tommy exchanged gazes, her surprised, his very full of himself.
The foal took his first few breathes and opened his dark down eyes, he sneezed and the mother lay down next to him. Tommy shook bloody hands with the vet and paid him his fee and some extra for all the trouble.
Sitting down indian styled, Maria watched over the newborn and his mum, there was truly something magical about the event, a humble wonder that the baby joined her on the floor, bringing his knees up and a bottle of whiskey in his hand. In the glowing orange light of the oil lamps they witnessed the first shaky steps of a new life.
Tommy pulled the bucket of water close and washed off the blood from his hands and wrists. He pointed at her face and handed her a damp cloth, it turned pink once she was done rubbing her nose and cheeks.
"No thank you, I don't drink," She excused herself when he held out the bottle. Tommy shrugged and pushed the bottle back at his lips. Swallowing the burning liquid he rested the back of his head against the fence and closed his eyes smiling relieved.
For the first time since they met she dared herself to be at ease around him. Comfortable she picked on a few hay strings.
What should we name him then? Tommy signed, his hands floppy from the amount of alcohol in his system and adrenaline wearing off.
"I don't know."
He clicked his tongue scoffing, Be a little creative.
She took a moment to think, placing her chin on her elbow: "Precious. I like Precious."
Then P-R-E-C-I-O-U-S it is! He finger spelled sluggish.
She giggled and bit her lower lip. "Thank you Mr Shelby."
He raised his hand, Call me T-O-M-M-Y, he finger spelled, this time skillful, I ain't that fucking old.
Alright T-O-M-M-Y, she spelled back and then made a few very quick motions.
Tommy's eyes scanned her motions and then her expression, he pulled his notebook close. Did you just ask me how fucking old I am?
She nodded innocently and replayed the fucking sign exaggeratedly.
Twenty-five, he signed.
"You should wiggle your middle finger more, else it's thirty-five." She informed him, I'm seventeen.
Tommy frowned, narrowing his eyes as he stared at her hands, putting his pen down on paper,Seventeen?
"Indeed, Mr Shel- Tommy." She corrected herself. He raised his thumb up and tabbed the side of his head, Noted. He rumbled in his pocket and took out two extra shillings. For the extra work and for fucking up your clothes, he wrote down his gaze on her blood stained trousers and shirt, go home 'Maria', he drew a tiny cross, it's passed your bedtime, and smirked.
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A/N: For this chapter I used a lot of wikipedia, I'm not very fond of horses, I'm more of a cat person. Therefore, I had no idea how the birth would be. I also did a little research on sign language and fingerspelling. Very handy I can now sign bullshit, bitch and my own name.
I have one finished chapter after this one, so it'll take a bit longer to update. Review help speed up that process, be kind leave a message after the beep.
Xoxox Nukyster
