Healing Montana Sky (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

On the Prairie Outside Sweetwater Springs

I
n the tree-shaded edge of pasture outside the barn, Erik Muth watched two newborn calves nurse, one on each side of their dam, and his chest swelled with satisfaction. Two heifers!
A double blessing and a good addition to my milk herd.
He’d been plowing a field when his favorite cow, Annabelle Lee, had disappeared from the herd, a sure sign she’d gone off to hide and birth her calf.

The cow wasn’t hard to find. Trees grew only along the tiny stream trickling from the springhouse well and cutting through the pasture. Although he knew Annabelle Lee was an old hand at birthing her babies, he stayed with her to help with the delivery.

Erik stepped out of the shade and blinked in the bright sunlight. He hadn’t realized half the morning had gone by already. He paused for a moment to survey his property, feeling a sense of pride at all he’d accomplished in the last six years. He took a deep breath of the fresh prairie air, inhaling the scent of turned earth and new growth.

Across the barnyard was his house, made with squared-off logs—a long, low building, nestled into the hillside. Two windows were set in the front and one on each side. A porch jutted in front. The sod roof kept the dwelling cool in the summer and warm in the winter. He already had a plan to expand his home—when the baby grew enough to need a sleeping room.

Erik squinted against the glare of the sun, trying to see his wife, Daisy, on the porch. He blinked, wondering why she wasn’t there now. Usually after finishing the morning chores, weather permitting, she spent all her time out front, doing handwork or other tasks such as shelling peas or scrubbing clothes before she needed to start cooking his supper.

Maybe she’s lying down.
She’d become more and more tired as the months of her pregnancy crept by.

I’d better go check on her.
He glanced down and saw his blood- and muck-stained hands and shirt. Knowing his sensitive wife would shrink from the sight, Erik figured he’d better wash up before he entered the house. As much as possible, he tried to shield Daisy—not something that was easy to do on a farm.

Erik strode to the barrel-well next to the springhouse and pumped water until it spilled into a small metal trough. He plunged in his hands, wetting his arms to his elbows to get off the blood from the birth. He rubbed his wet hands over his shirt but only succeeded in turning the red stain to pink. Then he picked up the trough and tossed the dirty water into the rosebush Daisy had planted near the left of the well. Some of the water splashed dirt on a tight bud that hung heavy on a branch, almost to the ground. Daisy had watched the bush for days, eager to see the first flower burst into bloom.

He picked up the bucket stored by the well, hung the handle on the top of the pump, and filled the pail. At her advanced state of pregnancy, his petite wife had difficulty carrying the water bucket without spilling, so he almost always brought in fresh water when entering the house.

He headed toward the porch, anticipating Daisy’s reaction to his good news. She loved baby animals and would be doubly glad for heifers because they wouldn’t grow up to be slaughtered. His wife shared his dreams of creating a prosperous farm, not just from the wheat he planted on the prairie, but from the dairy herd he planned to expand from the seven, no
nine
, cows he had now—including the five calves. He dreamed of fostering his family’s legacy, making cheese, and selling his wares in town—maybe even shipping them off to some of Montana’s cities.

As Erik walked, he could hardly keep the bounce from his step. And why should he?
Two calves when I expected one! And both heifers. A double bonus. Wouldn’t that be wonderful if Daisy delivered two babies, too?
Then he sobered. His wife was too small to carry twins. But soon, they’d have the first of what he hoped would be a long line of children.
Only another month to go.

He took a long step up to the porch, bypassing the two stairs, poured the water into the big pitcher set on a bench next to a basin, and set down the pail. He thought of washing up again, this time with soap, before dismissing the idea. Anxious to check on his wife, he tiptoed inside. Daisy was a light sleeper who complained if he woke her.

A quick scan of the room, half kitchen and half parlor, showed no wife. But a moan sounded from the next room, kicking his heart into fast thump-thumps.

He raced to the bedroom and saw Daisy on her back on the bed. She’d changed into her night shift, or maybe had never changed out of it. He didn’t know.

Her face was pale and perspiring, her breaths harsh enough to hear. One hand was raised over her head, clutching a bar of the iron bedstead; the other rested over her mounded stomach.

“Daisy, sweetheart? Is it the baby?”

She slowly turned her head. Her blue eyes were sunken in her oval face. “Where were you? I called and called.” Her voice sounded weak.

The accusation in her tone made guilt stab into him. He’d been so engrossed in delivering the calves that he hadn’t checked on his wife as he normally did.

He sat on the edge of the bed and brushed aside the sweaty wisps of blonde hair that had escaped her braid. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“The baby’s coming.”

“What! It’s too early! We have to get you to the doctor.” Erik bent, slid his arms under her back, and scooped up his wife. Seemed like a calf weighed more than she did, even with the baby inside her.

At the movement, she screamed and arched her back, kicking her feet. “No, no, no!”

Startled, Erik almost dropped her. He lowered her to the bed and gripped her hands, sitting down next to her.

Her face flushed red and crunched with effort. She squeezed his hand so hard pain radiated through his fingers. Grunting moans that didn’t sound human came from her throat.

He remembered the panting the cow had done. “Breathe, sweetheart. That will help.”

The contraction eased, and Daisy collapsed on the bed, panting. She started to cry. “I can’t do this. I can’t!”

Erik’s mind raced.
What should I do?
He couldn’t leave his wife and ride for the doctor. He’d be gone from her too long. Nor could he take her with him to town, lying in the wagon bed, bouncing over the ruts with those contractions. Might end up delivering the baby at the side of the road.

He released her hands and stood.
I need to ride for Henrietta O’Donnell.
But as Erik started to leave the room, he remembered his nearest neighbor telling him at the ice cream social that she was going home with her daughter Sally, who lived on the Thompson ranch with her new husband—on the far side of Sweetwater Springs. Henrietta had planned to visit for a few days and wouldn’t be back yet.

He doubted there’d be time to ride for their closest neighbor on the other side, either. Not that he knew what childless, elderly Mrs. Knapp could do anyway. But she was a woman, so surely she’d know something about childbirth.
But what if she doesn’t?
He couldn’t afford a wasted trip.

Erik moved back to the bed and took his wife’s hand. “Everything is going to be all right, dearest.” He tried not to betray his feeling of panic. “I’m leaving you for a bit to go to the O’Donnells. I’ll send Rory or Charlie for Dr. Cameron.”

“No!” Wide-eyed, she clutched his arm. “Don’t leave me!”

“Dearest, we need the doctor.”

Another contraction came, and Daisy screamed the whole time, her fingernails digging into his skin.

Helpless, all he could do was hold her hand and make soothing noises, realizing there wasn’t time to ride for help. With a sinking heart, he acknowledged delivering this baby was up to him.

“You did this,” his gentle wife growled. “You put this baby inside me.”

He tried to tease her. “I think we both made the baby, my sweet.”

“I hate you!”

Shocked, Erik released her hand and stood. Daisy had never taken to his humor, and, of course, she wouldn’t react well now to any attempt to tease her out of the seriousness of this situation
. I’m such an oaf,
he berated himself.
Just stand and take the blame
.
She’s right that I was more eager for the act of making a baby than she was.

“You’ll never touch me that way again!”

Each word was a knife in his heart. They’d conceived this child in love.
She’s in pain. I need to make allowances for her harsh words.

To give himself a few minutes to recover, Erik strode over to a blue shirt hanging on a peg on his side of the bed. He removed the filthy one he wore and changed into the fresh garment before hurrying to the porch to leave the dirty shirt in the laundry basket.

When Erik returned to the bedroom, he saw that Daisy kept her face averted. Nevertheless, he took a seat and picked up her hand, bringing it to his lips.

Still, she refused to meet his eyes. “You need to put the waxed cloth under me so we don’t ruin the mattress.” She pointed a trembling finger at the bureau.

Erik took the cloth from her drawer, moved to the bed, and lifted Daisy so he could slide the material under her. Afterward, he prepared a warm, damp cloth and gently wiped the perspiration from her brow.

“My back aches.”

“Turn over, and I’ll rub you.”

With a groan, she shifted to her side, presenting her back to him.

As Erik had so often in the past months, he massaged her tight muscles, pressing his thumbs into the knots.

She suffered his ministrations, seeming to relax. When Daisy finally turned over, she even offered a small smile. “Thank you. That helped.”

He sat in the ladder-back chair next to the bed and rubbed her hand. “Soon, we’ll be parents, dearest.”

Her smile was strained. “I can’t bear this, Erik.”

He didn’t know how she could, either. “Just keep thinking of holding our child in your arms.”

She squeezed his hand. Her eyes drifted closed.

Some time passed in silence. Daisy even dropped into a doze. Then another contraction hit, and she began to scream and thrash on the bed. As he tried to hold her down, Erik couldn’t help the clutch of fear in his stomach.
I’m not sure we can get through this!

Long hours passed. Darkness had fallen, and Daisy labored throughout the night. As each hour dragged by without the baby’s appearance, his fear grew.

Through the window, Erik could see dawn smudge purple shadows around the house. His body felt heavy with fatigue, yet each contraction charged him with energy, only to leave him shaken when it passed.

Good thing all the calves were born, so I don’t have to go do the milking. The animals could wait on their feeding until the child came. “
If the child comes,” he said out loud. Erik finally put into words the dread he’d struggled with for the last hours.

Toward dawn, Daisy had stopped moving. Even when a contraction hit, all she could do was moan. But something in those muffled sounds of pain frightened him more than her shrieks had. His wife had always been delicate, and the strength to battle childbirth had drained away.

Helpless, all he could do was hold her hand and wipe her sweating face. His coaxing, pleading, even ordering didn’t make any difference. “Please, dear Lord,” he prayed in a soft voice. “Let them make it through this ordeal.”

The pains started to come quickly, rippling across her distended stomach. He pushed up her nightgown and moved her legs aside. To his relief, Erik saw the top of the baby’s head. He gently touched the damp down. “Come on, baby,” he urged. “Come to Pa.”

Daisy lay still, her eyes slitted, half-open.

“Push, Daisy. You must push!” he demanded.

His wife didn’t respond.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can do this.”

Her eyes opened in response to his words. “Can’t,” she mouthed.

“You must.” He moved to the middle of the bed and placed his hands above the mound of her stomach. “I’ll help. You push. I’ll press on the baby. Together we can do it.” He kept talking, even as he saw her gather her strength to do as he asked.

She lifted her head, rounded her shoulders, and pushed.
“ARRRRRGGGGHHH!”

He pressed, imagining himself pushing against the baby’s feet.

All too soon, Daisy collapsed.

Erik rushed to peer between her legs. More of the baby’s head had appeared, but not enough. “Again, Daisy,” he directed. With one arm, he lifted his wife’s shoulders, the other pressing against the baby.

His wife gave a halfhearted response before collapsing in his arms. This time, she wouldn’t move, no matter how much he exhorted her.

Desperate, he lifted her, then climbed on the bed so he could stand and pick her up, hoping the position would aid the baby in coming out.

Erik struggled to hold his wife’s deadweight in one arm while pushing on the baby with the other. Under his hand, he felt the baby move a bit. He shoved again and then another time.

The nightgown obscured his view, so he stepped off the bed, laid her back down, shoved up the material, and saw that enough of the head had come through. He pushed on her stomach with one hand and pulled the baby with another. The tiny body finally slipped free, followed by a gush of blood.