IRISH FIRE Read Online Free PDF Page B

was Caitlin Claiborne now, and impulsive decisions were an indulgence she could no longer afford.
    Out of the corner of her eye she saw him swallow. Flying a premium broodmare across the Atlantic when she was due to foal was a disaster waiting to happen. If anything happened to the mare or her foal, they could all be in a very bad way.
    She turned back to the road. Shed played the odds. But it was her turn to win. Just this once, to make up for the mistakes shed made, she needed a win.
    The neonatal unit and foaling barn were at the end of the farm along the Tully Walk. Past the wrought iron gates with their enormous gold letters. Past the tree-lined drive and rail fences. Past the training school, the dormitory, and the kitchen. Past the stallion boxes, the museum and the Black Abbey. Away from engine noises and crowds. Near the side of the paddock where the mares chewed on lush grass, rich in lime, blue at the rootgrass that bred horses unlike any other in the world. Davy drove up to the white-washed building with its lantern-shaped roof broken by a series of skylights, and killed the engine.
    Caitlin grabbed her bag, ran across the packed dirt, and disappeared into the black shadow thrown by the barn door.
Kentucky Gold
was pacing back and forth inside her stall. Easy, love, she crooned, rubbing her hand against the mares swollen belly. Milk had congealed around her nipples like melted candle wax. Her nostrils were flared and she was warm to the touch.
    It wont be long, Caitlin said, when she heard Davys footsteps at the door. She reached for her bag, her fingers closing reassuringly around the iodine and the enema. Fill a bowl with water and bring me some gloves, she ordered.
    Davy watched the horse begin to circle. Then he disappeared through the door to find a bowl, returning quickly.
    Caitlin glanced at him. Dont be nervous, Davy, Her husky voice was filled with amusement. Have I ever let you down?
    He sat on a low stool and watched the mare pace. No, lass, but weve never had so much at stake.
    She nodded. At fourteen years old,
Kentucky Gold
was already a legend, the dam of more winning bloodstock than any mare in the history of American thoroughbred racing. The foal she carried was a
Narraganset
foal, the Claiborne Triple Crown winner whose syndicated shares sold for one million dollars each. This was the mares sixth labor. It was imperative that nothing go wrong.
    Less than an hour later, she stopped pacing and collapsed in the straw on her left side. Caitlin slipped on rubber gloves and knelt beside her, waiting. Amniotic fluid, warm and foul smelling, gushed from the animals vaginal opening. The foal would soon follow. A minute passed and then another. The tip of a foot appeared. Caitlin bit her lip. Where was the other one? Normally, the two came out together. A full three minutes passed. Call the vet, Davy, she said tersely. Tell him we need him now.
    Davy ran for the phone beside the tack room. Caitlin waited no longer. Gently she inserted her gloved hand into the vagina. The mares contraction peaked and her tight muscles clamped down mercilessly, crushing Caitlins hand. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Gritting her teeth, she waited it out. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she was able to feel for the foals foot and gently untwist it.
    Kentucky Gold
breathed heavily, blowing through her flared nostrils. Caitlin waited for the foals legs and then the head to appear. If all went well the shoulder would be next, followed by the neck. Both slipped out of the opening with perfect precision.
    A cold draft pierced her fleece-lined sweatshirt. Someone had entered the barn. The mare panted and strained. Caitlin took hold of both legs and pulled hard.
    Easy now, said a voice as rough as tires on wet gravel, a voice that definitely did not belong to the stud farms vet. Dont rush her. Youre doing fine.
    Caitlin kept her eyes on the horse. This must be the elusive Brian Hennessey, the man in whom John OShea had