realizing she hadn’t introduced herself during all the ruckus. “We’ll find him,” she promised, though she had no idea where the drummer had been heading. And when they did find him, she was going to give him two black eyes before she’d let him see his baby, she vowed. “But first we’ve got to help you give birth to his son or daughter. How old are you, April Mae? Where are your parents?” And why did they give you two months as a name?
“Fifteen last week,” the girl told her with a wan attempt at a smile. “And they’re back in Vic—” Her words broke off as another contraction seized her in a merciless grip. Maude tried to help her breathe through it—to demonstrate the technique that would help with the pain—but April Mae was too frightened and pain stricken to pay her much mind.
After an endless minute, the contraction passed, and April Mae continued what she’d been about to say. “Don’t bother writin’ them—they disowned me after they figured out I was gonna be a mother and that Felix wasn’t likely to come back. I’ve been living on what I could beg or steal ever since I set out for Simpson Creek...”
Maude mentally consigned the parents to the same place she’d wished Felix Renz. How could parents abandon a daughter who needed help, no matter what she had done? And only just fifteen, at that. That meant she’d been nothing more than fourteen when that wretched drummer had taken advantage of her innocence. Still just a child, without the wisdom or understanding to avoid falling for the wiles of a charming man.
Just then Ella arrived with a pot of steaming water. “I boiled a knife in the water, Maude, in case you have to cut the cord. Good thing you told me about that time you helped your papa deliver those twins, or I wouldn’t have known you’d need one.”
“Good girl,” Maude praised her friend with an appreciative look. She hoped Ella wouldn’t be too frightened to get married after tonight, knowing childbearing would likely be part of her lot.
But where in the world could the doctor be? If he didn’t arrive soon, he might miss the main event entirely. She’d just seen a hint of fuzzy hair while checking the laboring girl’s progress during the last contraction, so delivery was imminent. She was going to have to handle the delivery herself, Maude figured.
Both women started as the door banged open below.
“I cain’t get the doctor!” Delbert bellowed up the stairs. “He’s away fer th’ night, his wife said, at someone’s deathbed out on a ranch. But she says she’s comin’ t’help just as soon as she can take her young’un to the preacher’s wife!”
This might well turn into a deathbed, as well—a double one of both mother and baby, Maude thought grimly, as blood continued to stain the sheet crimson beneath April Mae. She’d be glad of Sarah Walker’s help, if she came in time, but while Sarah had assisted her husband, just as Maude used to assist her father, there was a limit to what either of them could do. While they’d both helped deliver babies in the past, she doubted Sarah knew any better than Maude herself how to stop the bleeding that was draining away April Mae’s life.
“Did you hear me, Miss Maude?” Delbert called again. “I said Doc Walker ain’t comin’! You want me to ride t’San Saba for their sawbones?”
April Mae’s eyes had grown even more frightened at what Delbert had yelled up the stairs, and her cheeks grew paler, if that was possible. Her breathing came in panted, ragged gasps.
“Tell Delbert we heard him, so he can stop bellowing. There’s no time to fetch the Saba doctor,” Maude told Mrs. Meyer, who stood at the door as if guarding it from the other inhabitants—though she doubted any of the other boardinghouse residents would try to enter. This room was the last place any normal man would wish to be.
Maude gently took hold of the girl’s chin and directed it so that April Mae looked at no one but her. “Don’t you worry, April Mae,” she said steadily. “I’m the daughter of a doctor and I’ve assisted at dozens of deliveries so I know exactly what to do.” It wasn’t quite a lie, but it was certainly an exaggeration. “The doctor’s wife is coming to help, and she, too, has assisted at births. And she’s a mother herself,” she added, praying Sarah would hurry. Sarah wouldn’t be able to run, for she was just about to give birth again herself.
Lord, we could use Your help here, she prayed, and then April Mae’s hand tightened around her wrist.
“It’s coming!” she cried.
And it was. After another fierce, long contraction, April Mae’s baby girl slid into the world, screaming at the indignity of it all, with a thatch of black hair as thick as her drummer father’s.
By the time Sarah Walker arrived half an hour later, breathing hard and rubbing her distended abdomen, they had the squalling baby wiped off and wrapped up warmly, and she had taken her first suckle from her mother. April Mae had fallen asleep with a weary smile on her face after telling Maude the baby’s name was Hannah.
Mrs. Meyer had gone downstairs to make coffee, which Maude sorely needed. April Mae well deserved the rest she was taking, but Maude had resolved to stay awake until she was assured that all was well with mother and child.
“I see you’ve taken care of everything,” Sarah said to Maude. “See, you didn’t need me after all. How is she?”
Maude motioned for Sarah to leave the room with her. “We’ll be right back, Ella.”
Her friend looked up from where she sat holding the sleeping baby and nodded. “We’re not going anywhere.”
“I’m worried about her, Sarah. She lost too much blood. Did you see how pale she was?”
Sarah nodded, her face solemn. “Did you check her abdomen?”
Maude knew she referred to whether or not the womb had firmed up again after the delivery. The difference could be felt through the skin. If it hadn’t, April Mae might continue to bleed. “It’s still softer than I’d like, but I kneaded it.” Both women knew rubbing the area firmly could make the womb tighten up and stop the bleeding.
“You’ll have to keep checking every so often. Why don’t we pray, and enlist the help of the Great Physician?” Sarah suggested, holding out her hands to Maude, and together they stood in the shadowy hallway, as Sarah began, “Lord, we come to You in great need of Your healing touch for April Mae Horvath...”
* * *
“So yer trip inta town was an utter failure, Jonas?” Coira MacLaren inquired from her rocking chair near the fire. Her brogue was as thick as a stack of Scottish oatcakes, as if she’d just disembarked the ship that had carried her and Jonas from Scotland this month rather than six years ago. Though her son sat behind her, not wanting to be so close to the heat, she didn’t turn to aim her disapproval. She knew quite well the power of her spiteful words. Whether she faced him or not, she could be certain they would hit the mark. They always did.
Still, Jonas was glad she couldn’t see his involuntary stiffening. “I didn’t find anyone looking for work whom I thought suitable to see to tend you, Mother, but I wouldn’t call the trip a total waste of time,” he said, keeping his tone calm. “I had a pleasant meal.” One free of your carping. He wasn’t about to tell her he’d attended the barbecue put on by the Simpson Creek Spinsters’ Club or she’d be on him again about marrying and producing a bairn or two before she died.
Before he’d gone into town, he’d been vague about the details of his intended trip,
