"What happened, John?" Brie asked in an outraged whisper. "She's dripping in blood."
He gave a tight-lipped nod. "Aye, she is. The lads found her like that in the north pasture. They had no trouble catching her—she was tied to the fence with that rope. I don't know what stupid fool is responsible, but he must have been mad to do that to a fine animal. The lads had the devil of a time bringing her here."
The mare was obviously in pain, for she kept throwing her head down. John went up to her and gently ran his hands under her belly. "Looks like she's going to foal," he observed. "We'd best take her to a stall so we can watch her. There may be trouble. Can you hold her?"
When Brie nodded, John disappeared inside a small barn— an isolated building that was used to house broodmares and horses recuperating from various ailments. There were only ten stalls, most of which were occupied, but they were spacious and immaculate.
John lit a lantern and spread fresh straw on the floor of the stall, while Brie slowly lead the nervous mare down the aisle. Firefly balked at the door, causing the other horses to snort and whicker at the disturbance, but together Brie and John managed to coax Firefly into the box. They stood silently watching as the mare began to move restlessly in circles. Brie hardly noticed when Dominic quietly joined them.
Seeing the mare kick at her swollen belly, John frowned. "Aye, she's going to have trouble," he predicted. "It's too early for a normal birth. I'll wager the foal's twisted inside her, poor beast. Cleaning the wounds can wait, but she won't have that colt on her own."
"I'll get one of the men," Brie offered, realizing she wasn't skilled enough or strong enough to assist at a difficult birth.
"There's no need," Dominic said. "I've some experience, and more observers would just frighten the mare." Even as he spoke, he was shedding his elegant coat and cravat.
John eyed him skeptically, but then he nodded. "Very well. You're bigger than most of my lads."
He entered the stall and caught the mare, then eased a rope halter over her head. Dominic followed after directing Brie to bring another lantern, some rags, and a sharp knife. She obeyed instantly, returning in time to see the two men wrestle the mare to the floor.
Dominic held Firefly's head while John probed gently for the foal. Shortly, John rocked back on his heels and grunted. "I think we can save it, but it's got to be turned. The forelegs are jammed up tight." Nodding, Dominic told Brie to take his place at the mare's head.
She was glad to be of use. Quickly hanging the lantern on a peg so that light flooded the stall, she sank down in the straw beside Dominic. He must have sensed her anxiety, for he flashed her a reassuring grin as she handed him the knife. Brie gave him a shaky smile in return, before bending over the mare to secure a good grip on the halter.
It was nearly an hour later before the men were able to turn the foal, but to Brie it seemed like an eternity. Her shoulders and back were aching, and in spite of the chill, she could feel perspiration trickling down her forehead and between her breasts. She was a bit queasy as well, for the operation was bloody and extremely messy. She felt a surge of exultation, however, when two spindly front legs finally appeared.
The two men worked frantically to pull the foal from its mother's body. Then Dominic used the knife to cut the cord tangled around its neck before it died of strangulation. When the small body had been safely deposited on the straw, John worked on the mare while Dominic gently wiped the foal clean.
Brie could have cried for joy when the little filly blinked and looked around curiously at her new surroundings, but several times during the next half hour, Brie laughed at the filly's wobbling attempts to stand up.
The mare, although limp from pain and weariness, finally struggled to her feet to accept her new offspring's suckling, while John watched proudly. Brie turned to Dominic to express her thanks, giving him a smile of such brilliant warmth that he was dazzled. It took him a moment, in fact, to understand why John had suddenly shouted in alarm.
When the trainer rushed past him into the corridor, Dominic recognized the ominous crackling sound and the nervous snorting of frightened horses. He leapt to his feet, telling Brie to stay put.
As he watched John scurry back down the loft ladder, he swore under his breath. Floating wisps of burning straw and hay followed John's descent, while smoke poured through the open trap door. The loft was on fire, Dominic noted grimly. And the doors at the end of the barn leading to the courtyard were shut tightly when they had been wide open an hour ago. Instinctively he knew they would be locked.
When he applied his shoulder to the doors, he realized they had been deliberately jammed shut. Meeting John's worried gaze, he told the trainer to find an implement to pry the doors open, then turned and quickly made his way back through the gathering smoke to Brie.
She was staring up at the flaming loft. Dominic pushed her back in the stall, sweeping up his discarded coat and cravat as he went. "Take off your pelisse," he commanded, dipping his own coat in the horse's water bucket. Doing the same to Brie's, he handed her his dripping cravat. "Now cover your head with this and stay here until I say differently." Lifting the half-filled bucket, he left her again.
Brie obeyed without protest, for the situation was far too serious even to consider arguing. Already the acrid smoke was making her eyes burn, and she could hear the frightened neighs of the horses above the growing roar of the flames. As a landowner, she well knew the danger of fire. She knew also that it was probably too late to save the barn. The fire had spread so rapidly that it must caught hold of the timbers by now. She only hoped they would be able to save the horses and perhaps the adjacent barns.
She donned her wet pelisse and wrapped the cravat around her head to cover her abundant tresses, then cautiously peered from the stall. The haze was far worse in the corridor. Dominic had closed the loft trap door, but smoke was still seeping through the cracks and flaming sparks were raining down from above. By straining, Brie could see that the two men were still trying to open the huge doors. She bit her lip, wondering if they would all die in a blazing inferno.
A moment later she felt a rush of wind against her face. Realizing the doors had finally given way. Brie closed her eyes and offered up a silent prayer of thanks. When she heard Dominic shout her name, she turned and gathered the new little filly in her arms, then started back down the corridor with her awkward burden.
She was amazed by how intense the heat was. She could hardly breathe, the air was so thick. She coughed, her lungs feeling as if they were on fire as she fought her way blindly through the smoke, following the sound of Dominic's voice.
He saw her first. Grasping her by the elbow, he threw a wet blanket around her shoulders and led her through the open doors into the courtyard. Then leaving her with Jacques, Dominic disappeared into the burning barn again.
Brie stumbled into the coachman's arms, drinking in great gulps of fresh air. She wouldn't relinquish the filly to him, though, and when she had recovered her breath, she carried her precious burden well away from the burning building, depositing the foal on a patch of grass.
She would have returned to the barn then, but she was forcibly detained by Jacques. He captured her arm, telling her very apologetically that his lordship had entrusted him to see to her safety. Brie pleaded, insisted, and even shouted at the Frenchman, but Jacques remained adamant. When she at last realized that he wouldn't let her go, Brie clenched her fists in frustration and turned helplessly to watch the fire.
The household servants had entered the fight to save the mai
n barns. Men and even women were scurrying frantically to and fro, carrying buckets and wetting down blankets. Some had formed lines, passing the buckets up the ladders to the men on the roofs and back again, while others were dousing the walls of the nearest buildings, trying to prevent the flying sparks from taking hold. Only a hundred feet or so of cobblestone separated the burning barn from the rest of the stables. The entire yard was lit with a harsh yellow glow, and Brie could feel the tremendous heat even from where she stood.
Her attention never wavered from the flames. Desperately worried, she bit her knuckles each time a fear-crazed horse came racing through the doors of the burning structure. Both John and Dominic had braved the thick smoke in order to rescue the horses, but she could see no sign of either man.