“People think lions, people think elephants. People overflow with mistakes and blunders.”

“I know, I know.” She pried his arms off. But gentle. “Let’s get on back.”

They stood and brushed themselves off. The butterfly roamed the high dirt walls between landings on a rump, then a forehead, then an ear with a tag beginning to rot where it sipped, then a hoof to a lip to a sunny flank to a scrotal sac until the lime burned its pinhead feet. It skipped off to cool them. Elsewhere, the planes landed too, spun down the ends of runways, tied down, refueled. Others dropped into blue lakes and scattered ducks, fishing lines off pontoons, rolled cuffs, sunburnt knees, toes swinging cool as bait.

They walked together from the cow pit, stiffly, arm in arm.

Word travels fast over hills and creeks. Saul and Ella were first to arrive in a plume of dust.

“Sister to the rescue,” said Dan.

Their truck nosed in at the rusted saw blade on the barn. Ginny didn’t care to see them walk up the slope with a cooler between them. They also brought a hacksaw, a bag of chips, rum and Coke in an old milk bottle. Saul screwed the top off, drank, passed it.

“Poor gal,” Saul said. Leaned the hacksaw against the oak. Ella passed the chips. The Percheron’s harem of grays had joined him at the fence. They grazed and watched the show.

“Son of a bitch,” Saul said. “Gigantic stud.”

Ginny finished the bottle to backwash. The mare seemed to be sleeping with eyes open.

“Still,” Saul said. “Screwing is part of nature. Foals, etc.”

“True fact,” Dan said. “We all want to screw.”

Ginny flung the bottle.

“Just look at the size of him,” Ella said. “Imagine that thing getting on you.”

“Why are you here?” Ginny said.

“How ’bout a truce,” Dan said. “Just today.”

“We don’t need help,” Ginny said.

“I asked them over,” said Dan.

“It’s private.”

“They’re offering. They’re family.”

“Grannie never turned down help,” Ella said.

“Grannie’s dead,” Ginny said. “Seems like a while now.”

Saul popped a top with his ring. Beer foamed over his hand. He licked his fingers.

“A cock like that,” Ella said. “Split any mare wide open.”

“Seems you’ve put some real thought into it,” said Ginny.

Saul got a kick out of that, but a look from Ella stopped his laugh. “In dogs, this would never have happened,” he said. “The bitch size fixes the size of the pups. A teacup bitch bred to a Saint Bernard stud will produce a teacup Saint Bernard. No trouble with the pelvis.”

“We need to get her up,” Dan said.

“A horse who won’t stand dies quick,” Ella said.

“In a few hours, even,” Saul said.

“She’ll get up,” said Ginny.

“Why don’t you go find Shaw?” said Ella. “Why don’t you run along?”