Page 100 of All We Carry Home

I turned at his words, not surprised to see him behind me in a quiet row of stalls along the back portion of the grounds. The auction crowd still congregated near the block as more horses filtered through. Adia was probably still bidding on the few Polish Arabians left.

Several thumps from a nearby stall drew our attention, and we exchanged a glance. Warren walked toward the sound and peered into the stall, his body relaxing at the same time I recognized the sound as a hoof against wooden boards. He waved me over and gave me a smile.

“This feels familiar.” His eyes sparkled.

Indeed, a gray-colored mare, a Thoroughbred, with a massively large belly circled her stall of fresh straw.

“Should we notify the auction staff?”

In that moment, I spotted all the warning signs I knew to look for. The mare turned, revealing discharge that I recognized as infected, abnormal. We had to get the foal out, quickly.

“There’s no time.” I rolled up my sleeves, stepped into the stall, and put my hair back into a ponytail.

The mare groaning and lying down with a long sigh brought our attention back to her. Warren followed me into the stall.

The foal needed to be pulled right away. The placenta must have ruptured, which meant the foal would be drowning.

Warren moved with confidence and strength, and together we pulled the new life free of his mother.

Moments later, the little foal sat in a puddle of fluid and blood on my lap. Sweat covered my face.

“We should probably fetch someone now,” I said. Something tugged inside my chest as I watched Warren stroke the mare’s neck gently and look upon the foal with such care and tenderness.

He seemed hesitant for the moment to end too. “I’d forgotten just how amazing this is.”

The rush of adrenaline, the joy of new life. The marvel of God’s craftsmanship.

“I never tire of this,” I whispered.

“I hope not,” he said as if catching the somber undertone of my words. “Soon Birkstrom will be bursting with foals.”

I looked down at the foal as its tiny nostrils flared and took in the new world around him. Helpless and frail, this young life was an echo of a world torn apart by war and cultivated anew on a different continent. It wouldn’t have made it even this far without Warren, Kenneth, Bret, Lucky, and the Second Cavalry soldiers who had liberated six hundred horses from capture.

“You should know this is part of your legacy—what you and your men made possible,” I said.

“It’s easy to forget.” He dipped his chin. “It’s easy just to focus on the baggage we’ve carried home.”

“I know.”

“You’ve probably seen more than most,” he said quietly. “I saw the box of medals on the counter.”

The words cut me in half. Air escaped my lungs in a gasp. “Annie found the box.” I cursed myself for not hiding it back in the bottom of the closet.

His voice was low and full of emotion. “Those medals are not handed out lightly.”

“I’m aware.”

He didn’t back down from my terse words. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” I focused on the foal, wiping more of the fluid from his coat with my handkerchief.

The mare stood and turned, sniffing her foal and taking over the work for me in licking it clean. I stood and looked at the mess all over my shirt and slacks.

I went to leave the stall, but Warren stepped in front of me. “You’ve given everything to the soldiers and horses around you, Eva. Have you taken time to care for yourself in all of this?”

My defenses rose. “Have you, Warren?”

He flinched. “I’ve dealt with it enough.”