Michael McGarity - Serpent Gate

Both had faltering business districts along a main drag, hodgepodge residential areas of mixed housing in various states of repair, and the fast-fading feel of old-time ranching communities.

But Estanda had the edge in terms of survival. It was the county seat and within commuting distance of Albuquerque. The town had gained population as old farms and ranches were carved into mobile home parks and ranchettes with prefabricated houses that served the spillover growth of city workers who wanted inexpensive land and country living.

The sprawling new developments sprinkled on me high plains and the strip businesses along the highway that connected with the interstate depressed Kerney.

None of it belonged on the landscape.

On the main street of Estanda, Kerney found Nita Lassiter's office, a one-story white stucco building sandwiched between a movie theater and a boarded-up cafe.

A sign on the locked office door listed business hours and telephone numbers. In the alley behind the row of buildings, he found the trailer Floyd Wilson, the railroad crew chief, had described. A painted sign on the side panel read:

LASSITER VETERINARY CLINIC

specializing IN livestock amp; lab.gb animals estancia, new mexico From a pay phone at a convenience store, Kerney called Lassiter's office and got an answering service.

Lassiter was on a call at the Von Hewett Ranch. The operator gave him directions.

He climbed back in the car wondering what Andy Baca would say if he knew the only lead that had been developed in four weeks consisted of a crazy man who had been seen on the day of the murder talking to a lady horse doctor, who happened to share the same name with a pregnant teenage girl.

If nothing materialized with Lassiter, he would turn in his commission card, thank Andy for the work, and try to figure out what in the hell he would do next, while Gillespie's unsolved murder gnawed away at the back of his mind.

Ten miles out of town and a mile off the blacktop that ran from Estanda to the village of Manzano, Kerney found me Von Hewett Ranch, backed up on the far side of a knoll, hidden from sight, with the mountains rising to the west.

The clapboard house was a two-and-a-half-story affair with five columns running the length of a porch underneath a glassed-in sunroom.

Positioned between dormer windows at the roofline, two brick chimneys jutted out from the center of the house. In the front yard was an assortment of restored Depression-era farm machinery, including a spreader, cultivator, and mower, all with oversized metal wheels. The centerpiece of the display, a reconditioned backboard wagon, was filled with terra-cotta flowerpots.

Kerney walked toward a barn, where two pickup trucks were parked by the open door. The newer truck, an extended-cab, full-size Chevy 4x4, had a magnetic sign on the driver's door that read ntta lassitbr, dvm.

Through the open barn door, he heard two women speaking in anxious voices. He stepped inside. The women were working on a mare that was trying to foal.

The animal lay on a bed of straw in a stall, her front legs tucked under her chest, straining in discomfort. An older woman dressed in work boots, jeans, and a barn jacket held the mare's head and tried to keep it still.

The other woman, in her thirties with short brunette hair, lay on her side at the mare's rump with an arm inserted in the birth canal, trying to dislodge the foal.

She wore a sleeveless undershirt with no bra, blue jeans, and pair of leather work boots.

"What's the problem?" Kerney asked.

Nita Lassiter looked up from the mare and scanned the stranger. She saw a tall man somewhere in his forties, with blue eyes, square shoulders, gentle-looking hands, and an outwardly calm presence. He hunkered down next to her.

"Mama's having a hard time delivering her baby," Nita replied.

"The foal is hung up." Nita sized up the length of Kerney's arms.

"I can't reach in far enough to free it. Strip to the waist, slosh some antiseptic on your arm, and coat it with Vaseline. I'll walk you through what needs to be done."

"You got it," Kerney said as he hurried out of his windbreaker and shirt.

Nita tensed when she saw the badge clipped to his belt and the bolstered gun. He had an ugly scar on his belly. He cleaned his hands with the antiseptic before rubbing Vaseline on his arm.

"We don't want to damage the mare's womb," Nita said, removing her arm from the canal.

She gave up her position to Kerney and watched as he slowly inserted his arm into the mare's vagina.

"Find the foal's head. Have you got it?"

"Yes," Kerney replied.

"Push it gently back toward the mare's abdomen."

"Done."

"Lift the muzzle by the chin and position it toward the vaginal canal."

"Okay" "Now, find a hoof, cup it in your hand, and pull it forward.

Careful. Don't tear the womb."

"It's free," Kerney said.

"Do the same thing with the other hoof."

Kerney felt around but couldn't find it. Nita could see the frustration in his eyes as he searched.

"Push back on the foal's head a little more," she ordered.

Kerney nodded, pushed the head back, and located the hoof with his fingertips. With his arm inside the mare up to his shoulder, he strained for another fraction of an inch to reach the hoof. Slowly, he brought it forward and the foal, no longer hung up, entered the canal before Kerney could extract his arm. At that same instant, the mare dropped a load of horse shit that hit Kerney in the face and chest. He pulled free and moved out of the way as the foal and me afterbirth came into view.

The foal was out and struggling to stand on shaky legs as Kerney got to his feet. The mare snorted once and lowered her head in exhaustion.

Horseshit dripped down the front of Kerney's jeans.

"Don't say it," Kerney warned both women.

Nita tossed him a small towel.

"Say what?"

"That I look like shit."

"Well, now that you mention it…" She waved off the rest of her comment.

"Thank you for your help."

An attractive woman, Lassiter had a finely boned oval face that appeared to be almost symmetrical. Her eyebrows were straight and thick, and her lips were full.

She had a small birthmark on her chin.

"I was glad to oblige."

Kerney's thoughts turned to his visits with Lassiter's sister, Lurline Toler, and Verdie Mae McNutt. Had Lurline put him off about how to find Nita? What did Verdie Mae think he was smart enough to figure out?

Nita gestured at her companion.

"That's Uddy Hewett. I'm Nita Lassiter."

"Kevin Kerney."

Nita turned her attention to the foal.

"It's a girl," she announced.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Liddy Hewett said, as she retrieved Kerney's shirt and jacket.

"That would be nice," Kerney allowed, blinking through the manure, and dabbing the towel around his eyes.

"We don't usually have policemen come calling," Uddy said. She walked him to a utility sink outside the tack room and turned on me faucet.

"Is there a problem?"

"I came to see Dr. Lassiter," Kerney replied. Behind him, Nita Lassiter's stirring ceased and he thought he heard a sudden intake of breath.

"Well, I'm glad you came when you did," Liddy noted.

"We were having a hard time of it with the mare."

"Some births don't come easy." He scrubbed his hands clean, ran the basin full, and started washing the shit off his face and chest. He dirtied one large towel and Liddy handed him another.

"Can I offer you a cup of coffee after you've cleaned up?" Liddy asked.

"That sounds nice."

She handed him the last clean towel.

"I'll get the pot going. You and Nita come over to the house when you're ready."

Liddy walked off and Kerney turned to study Nita.

She was bent over the mare watching the horse lick the foal clean. She straightened up and forced a smile at Kerney.