Page 80 of In These Hills

“Help me pull. When the time comes.”

“Help you pull,” she repeated confidently, as though she understood what he meant. Which she did—in theory.

“First,” he continued, “we check presentation. Make sure this little one’s set to come as it should.”

Josephine winced as he reached inside the birthing canal. The heifer bellowed, its breathing labored, and Mr. Coburn grimaced, sucking in a breath.

“Contractions,” Doc Wyatt said softly, looking at Josephine.

Understanding dawned.

“You’ve never done this before?” Bethie asked, disbelief sharpening her features. “I thought you were a teacher.”

“Bethie . . .” Mr. Coburn straightened and reached for a towel. “There are many kinds of learning. Each has its place.”

“Some more than others,” the girl responded beneath her breath.

“You’re right, Bethie,” Josephine admitted. “While I know a lot about many different subjects, I know very little, if anything, about this one. But I’m willing to learn.”

“And that”—Mr. Coburn looked at Bethie—“is half the lesson taught.”

Bethie lowered her head without comment.

“Maple’s presenting well, forelegs extended,” he continued, sounding more like a doctor than a farmhand.

“You’re doing so good, girl,” Bethie whispered. “You’re gonna love your little one, Maple. You’re gonna be such a good mama.”

“Bethie . . .” Mr. Coburn whispered.

The girl slowly lifted her gaze.

“Straight shooter?” he asked softly.

“S-Straight shooter,” she repeated, voice trembling.

“Maple will likely die giving birth to her calf. But if she doesn’t, we’ll do our best to let her see it before she goes.”

Bethie nodded, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m not feeling any more contractions,” Mr. Coburn said after a moment. “We need to hurry. I’m going to try and get the loop around the hooves.”

Straining, he apparently managed it, then pulled tight.

He handed Josephine the rope. “Doc’s going to stay up there on that end. He knows where to push. You and me, we’ll pull together from down here. When I say pull, pull. And when I say stop—”

“I’ll stop,” Josephine said succinctly, gripping the rope behind him and positioning herself on her haunches as he’d done.

“Come on, Maple, girl,” Bethie whispered. “Stay just a little longer.”

“Pull!”

Josephine pulled as hard as she could, her strength a fraction of his. Her body began to shake from the exertion, and just when she thought she couldn’t pull any longer—the calf’s hooves appeared, followed in a slippery rush by what looked like its nose. But it was covered by some sort of milky white—

“Stop!”

Josephine let go and fell back into the hay, the agonizing cries of the mother causing tears to knot in her throat.

“You all right?” Mr. Coburn asked, glancing back.