Gift Horse by Dandi Daley Mackall Page A

the swirls of white, sinking . . . sinking. And when it sank to the bottom, something inside of me sank too.

I dropped the baster and watched the worthless first milk splash to the ground. Then I stroked Gracie, scratching her chest and pressing my face against her neck. “It’s not your fault, Gracie,” I muttered. “You’re doing everything you can for your baby. We know that.”
    â€œOh, Winnie,” Lizzy murmured, not saying more.
    M covered his head with his arms and turned away.
    Catman stared at his container of milk. “Bummer. Major bummer.”
    â€œIf it were spring,” I said, thinking out loud, “there’d be mares with foals around here. We could work something out, let our foal nurse from another mare.” This foal was going to need colostrum. “I’ll buy it!” I blurted out.
    Lizzy perked up. “Buy it? You can buy it! That rocks, Winnie! Why didn’t you tell us that in the first place? So where do we go? Are there colostrum stores?”
    â€œYou can’t just go to a store,” I explained. “It’s hard to get. Only really big stables collect it and freeze it. They have it on hand for their own horses, just in case. But if they have enough in the colostrum bank, they sell it. It costs an arm and a leg.”
    â€œWho has a colostrum bank then?” Lizzy asked. But as soon as she got her question out, her face sagged. She knew the answer. We all did.
    â€œSpidells,” M said.

    Dad agreed to drive me to Spidells’ Stable-Mart. He didn’t say anything the whole way over. He didn’t have to. I knew what he was thinking. I was wasting money I didn’t have.
    It didn’t take long for Spider Spidell to realize he had us over a barrel. “Well,” he said, when he finally came over to talk to us in the stable office, “every real equine operation needs cutting-edge technology.” He was wearing a blue shirt. His stubborn rim of dark hair came to a point in back, leaving the rest of his head bald. I’ve always thought he looked like a blue jay. Hawk told me blue jays are one of the meanest birds out there.
    â€œSo do you have colostrum?” I repeated. Dad and I had been standing in the little office for 15 minutes, long enough to have counted the silver trophies on his shelves—63.
    Mr. Spidell puffed out his chest, but it didn’t puff as far as his belly did. “Colostrum is a valuable commodity in the horse industry. At Stable-Mart, we make it our business to keep a supply, should any of our clients’ broodmares come up short. Yes, we make sure to foresee any liabilities which—”
    â€œHow much?” Dad asked, cutting him off.
    Spider Spidell grinned. He had every right to grin. He didn’t just charge me an arm and a leg; he went for the lungs, kidneys, and heart.
    I took three pints of colostrum, frozen in separate plastic bags. Then I asked Mr. Spidell to bill me.
    On the ride home I subtracted in my head. I wouldn’t be able to pay until I got Towaco’s next check for boarding. But I couldn’t think about that now. The foal needed this to survive.
    At home Lizzy watched as I packed the three bags of colostrum into the freezer, next to her homemade green ice cream. Dad stood at a distance and sighed, like the force of the air coming out of him was the only thing keeping the words in him.

    For the next couple of days M and Catman kept Gracie and me company during the day. Nights I slept on a cot in Nickers’ stall. I could peek through the slats without disturbing Gracie.
    The second night, as I piled every available blanket onto the cot, Pat Haven dropped by. I hadn’t seen her since the life-science final. I hadn’t even been to Pat’s Pets. On top of everything else, I’d been feeling like I’d lost Pat. Maybe even Pat Haven had had it with you and your kind.
    â€œHey, Winnie!” Pat called, her boots