The Legend of the Bloodstone by E B Brown Read Free Book Online Page A

Could it be any more unfair?
    “Oh. That’s too bad.”
    Two familiar warriors approached, just as Maggie gritted her teeth against the pain of a sharp rock stabbing through her moccasin.  She would never get used to the clothes or shoes, and failed to understand why she couldn’t just wear her own boots. After all, it was not like it was some big secret she came from a different time; everyone she met so far acted as if it was a perfectly normal occurrence.
    “You look much better today, Red Woman,” Chetan said with a shy grin.
    “Thanks,” she replied. Teyas seemed welcoming to the men, and Maggie wondered how they were all related after the mini-genealogy lesson she received.  Makedewa flanked Chetan, his demeanor much less flattering, and Maggie again felt a twinge of unease in his presence.
    “Did the mare drop her foal yet, Chetan?” Teyas asked, pointing toward a lean-to and corral where several horses stood eating.
    “Yes, but neither will live. The mare bleeds, and the foal will not stand. They will die soon.”
    “What mare?” Maggie interrupted. Chetan waved his hand toward the corral.
    “She lies there. The colt is too big and his legs too weak. Go see,” he offered, moving aside to let them pass. Maggie pushed in front to see what they spoke of, and was sad to see a large sorrel mare lying motionless inside the lean-to. Her barrel heaved with each breath, her silken nostrils flaring with the effort to push the air through her lungs. Her belly was slathered in sweat, and her eyes sallow. 
    Maggie made no decision to ask per mission. She lifted her leg and ducked under the wooden rail, sinking to her knees in the straw beside the mare. The sorrel twitched her ear forward and made no other movement, except to shift her eye back to the foal at her side. Lying in a heap, gangly legs curled under his body, the nose of her colt lay buried against her lathered flank.  He could not reach her teat to nurse, nor could she move to help him.
    “He can’t reach her- he nee ds her milk,” she said when the other reached her side. Chetan squatted down beside her, but Teyas and Makedewa hung back, silent.
    “Yes, he will die without her. He is not even strong enough to stand. I know little about this mare, she came in trade from the English. She is much different than our war ponies,” he answered. He ran his hand down the neck of the mare and patted her softly. “Go in peace, nehenaonkes .”
    Maggie already knew the mare was past hope from the pale color of her gums and the way her skin hung limply from her muscles. She had lost too much blood in the birth, so much that even the blood no longer flowed, but the colt might still be saved. If she could get him to nurse, perhaps he would stand, and then he would have a chance. Her eyes darted around the corral, and when could find nothing of help she turned to Chetan.
    “Do you have a sack? Like you can carry water in?” she asked.
    “Sack?” he frowned. “ Mpiakhakw? ” He held out a soft skin that Maggie thought might be the bladder of some animal, but it was perfect and her face broke into a wide smile.
    “Yes, that’s perfect! Mpiakh-akw!”
    “Do you know horses, Red Woman?”
    “I raise horses back where I come from. I can help this one, if you help me,” she replied. She saw the hesitancy when he glanced back at his brother, but was relieved when he quickly returned to her for instructions.
    “Help the new one. What do you need?”
    “I need to milk the mare, the colt needs the colostrum.”
    “The first milk?”
    “Yes, we need to milk it from her.” Maggie crawled closer to the mare, fairly certain there would be no resistance, but she watched for a swinging hoof in case the dying mother objected to her teat being milked. Maggie never had a mare die at birth, but she had helped milk a sick mare once, and knew she could extract something to help the colt.  The mare let out a sigh when Maggie grasped the base of the swollen teat and