The trailer was brought around in case Willow had to be moved. Headlights swept across the barn doors, turning the rain into white streaks. Daphne heard the engine idle outside and felt every second tighten around her.
Dr. Okafor explained the choices without drama. They could load Willow and drive to the equine hospital, where there were more hands and better equipment. But the drive could exhaust her further. Or he could try once, right there in the stall, to correct the second foal’s position and help Willow deliver. It might save time, but it would be difficult and risky.
Daphne looked at Willow. The mare’s head hung low, and her legs shook. Beside her, the colt rested under towels, watched by the farmhand’s wife. “What would you do?” Daphne asked. Dr. Okafor looked at Willow before answering. “I would try once here. If the position does not improve quickly, we load.” Daphne swallowed. “Do it.” She held Willow’s halter with both hands and spoke close to her ear. Willow strained before the vet could move. Daphne’s knees weakened, but her grip still stayed firm anyway. Dr. Okafor stepped in, then froze. “Wait,” he said. “The foal may have shifted.”