as if he were a china vase. This could be her first midwifery, he reasoned. But had she slept through the training? Her hesitation to reach in and manipulate the infant could have endangered this mother and her son. If he hadn’t come when he had—
“What now?” The midwife glanced hither and thither, everywhere but at the newborn in her uneasy arms.
“You can lay him on his mother. Then please find a clean sheet and cover her.”
Inexperience was no excuse. Not when you had lives in your hands. After Morgan clamped the cord, he snipped it. Then he motioned the midwife away from the bed and the little girl, who now played patty-cake with the plaster wall.
“This woman and her baby could’ve died because you were too timid to take action.”
Her jaw dropped. Had the woman never been corrected? No matter. Someone needed to instruct her and then watch her in an actual birth. Someone other than him.
“I’m reporting you to Dr. Hanson. You have no mind for being a midwife.”
“And you, sir, have no mind for being a gentleman.” The young woman dashed out the door, with the little girl running to catch up with her.
Hand in hand, Kat and Rosita walked out of the hospital and turned the corner to climb the hill to Golden Avenue. The wind had cleared out the smoke, and the sun had given way to a nearly full moon. Kat breathed in deep swallows of the fresh, crisp air. It was the first relief she’d had from the stench of smoke in several hours. She and Rosita both needed a good cleaning and a fresh change of clothes. The whole town could use a nice long bath.
Nightfall cloaked the devastation below, but the darkness hadn’t brought silence. Search and cleanup efforts continued in spotty moonlightand lamplight, and desperate voices echoed off the ring of hillocks that cradled Cripple Creek. In startling contrast, a chorus of cheers drew Kat’s attention to the reservoir two blocks above them. Swinging lanterns flashed light like fireflies on a summer evening. Then in the eastern hills, Kat glimpsed the glow of the train charging toward town, bringing relief supplies. Tears stung her eyes. The destruction was swift and merciless, and the need dire, but help was on the way.
Please, Lord, let that be true for me and Nell too .
Surely they’d find Judson Archer soon, and he’d take Nell to be his wife. And Kat had to believe that even though trusting Patrick Maloney had turned out to be a mistake, she’d be all right.
“I like ba-bies.” Rosita said, though she wasn’t much more than a baby herself.
“I do too.” It was true as long as she didn’t have to push or pull one out, or watch it being done. And the child should not have been in the room, watching. She and Rosita should both have their ears cleansed of that woman’s bawdy ranting.
“But you no like the baby man.”
“I don’t know him, Rosita.” But Kat didn’t have to know the man for his words to hound her. “This woman and her baby could’ve died because you were too timid to take action.”
He’d thought she was a midwife. She had met men like this one before, wearing fancy herringbone vests with shiny watch chains dangling from their pockets, believing they knew everything. Some of those men wore handlebar mustaches and bowlers with peacock feathers. That doctor didn’t know her any more than Patrick Maloney did. She wasn’t timid. Eight days ago, she’d left the comforts of Maine—the only life she’d known—to live in the unknown. Why,she’d even been in a saloon just last night. But she was no midwife, he was right about that. The birthing room was no place for her or for a child. All she’d wanted was to be a writer. Then her father’s company turned their world upside down, and she’d given up her dream to forge a life for her and her sisters.
More cheers from the reservoir crowd pulled Kat out of her stewing and told her the train had rounded another curve, and food and supplies would be here soon.
Turning onto
“What now?” The midwife glanced hither and thither, everywhere but at the newborn in her uneasy arms.
“You can lay him on his mother. Then please find a clean sheet and cover her.”
Inexperience was no excuse. Not when you had lives in your hands. After Morgan clamped the cord, he snipped it. Then he motioned the midwife away from the bed and the little girl, who now played patty-cake with the plaster wall.
“This woman and her baby could’ve died because you were too timid to take action.”
Her jaw dropped. Had the woman never been corrected? No matter. Someone needed to instruct her and then watch her in an actual birth. Someone other than him.
“I’m reporting you to Dr. Hanson. You have no mind for being a midwife.”
“And you, sir, have no mind for being a gentleman.” The young woman dashed out the door, with the little girl running to catch up with her.
Hand in hand, Kat and Rosita walked out of the hospital and turned the corner to climb the hill to Golden Avenue. The wind had cleared out the smoke, and the sun had given way to a nearly full moon. Kat breathed in deep swallows of the fresh, crisp air. It was the first relief she’d had from the stench of smoke in several hours. She and Rosita both needed a good cleaning and a fresh change of clothes. The whole town could use a nice long bath.
Nightfall cloaked the devastation below, but the darkness hadn’t brought silence. Search and cleanup efforts continued in spotty moonlightand lamplight, and desperate voices echoed off the ring of hillocks that cradled Cripple Creek. In startling contrast, a chorus of cheers drew Kat’s attention to the reservoir two blocks above them. Swinging lanterns flashed light like fireflies on a summer evening. Then in the eastern hills, Kat glimpsed the glow of the train charging toward town, bringing relief supplies. Tears stung her eyes. The destruction was swift and merciless, and the need dire, but help was on the way.
Please, Lord, let that be true for me and Nell too .
Surely they’d find Judson Archer soon, and he’d take Nell to be his wife. And Kat had to believe that even though trusting Patrick Maloney had turned out to be a mistake, she’d be all right.
“I like ba-bies.” Rosita said, though she wasn’t much more than a baby herself.
“I do too.” It was true as long as she didn’t have to push or pull one out, or watch it being done. And the child should not have been in the room, watching. She and Rosita should both have their ears cleansed of that woman’s bawdy ranting.
“But you no like the baby man.”
“I don’t know him, Rosita.” But Kat didn’t have to know the man for his words to hound her. “This woman and her baby could’ve died because you were too timid to take action.”
He’d thought she was a midwife. She had met men like this one before, wearing fancy herringbone vests with shiny watch chains dangling from their pockets, believing they knew everything. Some of those men wore handlebar mustaches and bowlers with peacock feathers. That doctor didn’t know her any more than Patrick Maloney did. She wasn’t timid. Eight days ago, she’d left the comforts of Maine—the only life she’d known—to live in the unknown. Why,she’d even been in a saloon just last night. But she was no midwife, he was right about that. The birthing room was no place for her or for a child. All she’d wanted was to be a writer. Then her father’s company turned their world upside down, and she’d given up her dream to forge a life for her and her sisters.
More cheers from the reservoir crowd pulled Kat out of her stewing and told her the train had rounded another curve, and food and supplies would be here soon.
Turning onto
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