Miranda

Miranda

         "I wish Paul would hurry up and get home," I told Dusty, the old collie who always stayed at the house.

         Dusty wagged his tail, thumping it against the wooden porch, but otherwise he wasn't any help.

         Paul had been gone since lunchtime, and there was still no sign of him. I knew he had planned to ride the lower pastures where the herd of breeding mares was. We were just a dude ranch now. We didn't own any valuable animals, but the ones we had, still had to be checked on.

         About an hour ago, the radio had started talking about a brand new snowstorm moving in. It wasn't like Paul to ignore the color of the sky. The way it was darkening so fast, it looked like the snow would be falling sooner than the radio had said.

         Dusty stood up and started barking. When the bark turned to tail wagging, I sighed and started smiling. Dusty always knew when Paul was coming home.

         Just as I could almost make out the sight of horse and rider, the snow started falling. Paul was swallowed in low clouds and a thick whiteness. I ran inside to get one of the old green military blankets that Dad had brought back from the war. While I was there, I paused to turn on the flame under the coffee pot.

         I heard Paul's horse, Cheyenne neigh to the stallion in the barn. Old Arrow would be mighty glad to see his friend return. The two of them rarely left the other's side when they had their choice.

         Poor Paul. I wondered what had kept him so long. Usually a sweep took no longer than a couple of hours. He'd been gone closer to four.

         The coffee started boiling. I poured a huge mug full, threw on my parka, cuddled the blankets inside it, and made a mad dash, heading for the barn.

         "Paul," I called out, as I stepped inside. He turned to look at me, and a smile lit up his face. I wasn't sure whether it was for me, or for the blankets and coffee.

         I handed him the mug, and while he was drinking tossed a blanket around his shoulders.

         "Ah, Carrie. You're a jewel, my love," he said, and his afternoon whiskers scraped my face with a kiss.

         I probably would have started questioning him about his lateness, if a noise hadn't drawn my interest to one of the unused stalls. "What's that," I asked, but I was already moving forward to take a look.

         "It's a new filly, Carrie. She's about a week old. Her mother was fighting off a pack of wolves when I came upon them. The baby didn't have a scratch, but the wolves had already gone for the mare's tendons. You know how they do. There wasn't a thing I could do to save her, Carrie."

         I'd been petting the new little one, trying to calm her fear. I'd let the flow of Paul's words form the background for the cooing I was doing, but I had heard him just fine. He still considered me a city girl, and he coddled me too much. When I heard the worry in his voice, I turned and looked at him.

         "Paul, I know you did your best. You always do."

         His grin dimpled his cheeks. My heart flip-flopped as it always did at the sight.

         I turned back to look at the foal. "We don't have anyway to nurse her. What are we going to do?"

         Once again Paul turned from grooming Cheyenne to look at me. His grin was back.

         "We got a nipple and formula. Want to try it?"

         Paul didn't wait for my nod. He walked over to the sink and started mixing powder and water. Because of the dude ranch business the barn was equipped with a stove to heat up coffee or soup. In a minute the filly's dinner was warm enough to give her.

         I'd never attempted anything like this before, but I was eager to try. I was determined to show Paul what a good farm wife I could be. But the filly didn't like my efforts, and her head thrust away from me every time. She was small enough to hold in one place, but that didn't mean I could get the nipple in her mouth.

         Paul stood watching for a moment, trying not to laugh, but I could see the tears running down his face.

         "She won't let me, Paul. Now what?"

         He wiped the smile off his face, and showed me how to get her to suck the milk off my finger. The foal was very willing to do that. In minutes, she'd learned that there was more in the bottle than on my finger.

         There aren't many things as pleasing as nursing a baby animal. You feel the maternal love flowing through your hands. Foals snuggle up against you, and look at you with those big browns, grateful and pleased as a dog with his belly being scratched. It's a fine thing, taking care of a young one.

         I smiled up at Paul with such happiness, he grabbed me away from her, and kissed me good and proper. That was fine, but when he told me that it was time to go in, I started arguing. I knew Paul needed his dinner. My stomach was growling too, but a baby needs you -- it doesn't matter if it isn't your own kind.

         Paul was adamant. We settled the filly in with Cheyenne. Both horses seemed OK with that, but as Paul steered me out of the barn, I heard the filly's frantic neighing. Even then, I would have turned and gone back to her, but Paul had a firm grip on me, and he walked me back to the house.

         We named the little filly, Miranda. She grew up strong and healthy, in spite of her bad beginning. And she became, much to Paul's disgust, a pet that followed me around as I did the chores. During the summers when the dude ranchers came, she was spoiled by their constant attention, but her nature was sweet and everybody loved her.

         Two years later, she was ready to learn how to carry someone on her back. Paul said she learned faster than any horse he'd ever seen. I was as proud over his praise as a mom would be.

         I've lived on the ranch six years now. I can ride and saddle horses. I can cook for twenty dude ranchers, and keep them happy besides. I'm definitely not the city girl I used to be.

         This winter when the snow starts to fall, long about November, there's going to be a new baby on the ranch. We're really please about that. Paul glows when anyone mentions his son-to-be. And, although I'm a little nervous about taking on such a big responsibility, I think I'm ready, knowing that I've had all that practice raising Miranda!

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