The Accidental Lawman by Jill Marie Landis Page B

guides my hands.”
    “What happens when there are complications? What happens when it’s too late to call a doctor?”
    She thought of all the things that could and sometimes did go wrong during childbirth. Her father taught her to recognize the four orders of labor: natural, tedious, preternatural and complex. Most babies presented naturally, but there were those occasions where she knew she would need all the knowledge her father had drilled into her, along with all the confidence and faith she could muster.
    “There is no doctor to call, Mr. Larson. We are out here on our own.”
    He shocked her by abruptly changing the subject.
    “I hear your brother runs with a wild crowd,” he said.
    Suddenly her insides were reeling. She hadn’t once mentioned Evan to him. She was sure of it.
    She knew so little about Evan, so little about his friends, she didn’t know what to say.
    “Where did you hear that?”
    “I have my sources. I was asking folks if they knewanything about the robbery. Someone mentioned that he keeps company with unsavory characters.”
    “Were you asking as a newspaperman, or as sheriff?”
    He paused, adjusted the reins. “Both.”
    She fell silent.
    “You never mentioned you had a brother,” he said.
    “I…why would I? When would I have had the opportunity?”
    “When I was at your house after the holdup, when you put ointment on my cut—which by the way is already healing nicely—”
    “I noticed.”
    “You could have said something about having a brother who lived there, as well.”
    “There was really no reason to mention my brother.” She tried not to sound defensive.
    “When did you see him last?”
    “Who?” She stalled, knowing very well what he meant.
    “Your brother, Amelia.”
    “Not long ago.” Please, please don’t ask for more details . “Turn here,” she said, indicating the entrance to the ranch. “I hope we’re in time.”
    “Have you delivered many children?” Again, he deftly caught her off guard by changing the subject. She detected a chill in his tone.
    “More than I can count. You sound very harsh. Why is that?”
    This was far safer ground than talk of Evan, or so she thought until he replied, “My wife and child died at the hands of an incompetent midwife.”
     
    Hank knew he’d shocked her. Amelia seemed to be gathering her thoughts as she stared at her hands, fingersknotted together in her lap. It was a good mile from the border of the ranch to the house. They rode in silence for a few minutes.
    “How did you know she was incompetent?” Amelia finally asked.
    Hank took his eyes off the road long enough to glance in her direction.
    “I had no idea until it was too late that the woman was inebriated that night. She locked me out of the room. My son was stillborn. My wife bled to death.” He took a shuddering breath, wished the words hadn’t conjured the images. “I didn’t get to tell her goodbye.”
    They were closing the last few yards to the front of Joe Ellenberg’s ranch house when Amelia said, “Sometimes, God—”
    Hank cut her off. “I don’t want to hear anything about God.” He’d heard every platitude. It’s God’s will. Trust in the Lord. The Lord giveth. They are in a better place. He didn’t care what God wanted. How was he supposed to trust a God who took His wrath out on helpless women and unborn babies?
    “I can assure you I never drink spirits,” she said softly.
    Plummeted into despair, he ignored her and forced himself to concentrate on the scene unfolding before him. He saw things through a writer’s eye, a writer’s mind.
    He saw not only the long, log home that appeared on the other side of a knoll, but also the smoke curling out of a chimney in a detached building at the end of a covered dogtrot. He saw a woman who looked to be in her late forties watching from the overhang of a covered porch. She appeared to be waiting anxiously to greet them.
    She waved with one hand and clung to the hand ofthe toddler