by Ginny Aiken
To Emma’s dismay, Colley’s shoulders shook with mirth. Clearly, Peter didn’t much care that his ranch manager had laughed at the situation, so he turned to her.
“We’ll be needing a bucket of warm soapy water right soon here,” he told Colley. “And some clean cloths to dry off the lamb.”
Although the older woman gave Peter a strange look, she did as he asked, and left the barn. “Ain’t like this is the first lamb I helped birth…”
Without a word, Emma knelt just outside the stall. Unexpected peace settled on her as she took in the sight of the animal before her, felt the warm presence of the man nearby, heard the soft whicker of a horse in one of the other stalls. Perhaps she had missed more than she knew in her regular life. “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you with—”
“Hush!” His request was more absent than pointed, and Emma realized he’d fixed his attention on the ewe again. The animal raised her head, gritted her jaw, let out a guttural grunt from deep in her throat, and her every muscle strained hard again.
She leaned forward.
Peter laid his hand on the animal’s side. “Easy.”
The ewe’s immense effort struck Emma as so great that she felt compelled to help her, to do anything to ease her struggle. But was there anything she could do? It didn’t appear there was, since Colley had left to fetch needed supplies, and Peter just sat at the animal’s side, his only movement those gentle touches to the ewe’s abdomen.
To her surprise, the calm assurance he exuded helped ease Emma’s sense of urgency somewhat, even as it seemed to encourage the ewe in her travail. That composure brought her a measure of respect for the man.
Seconds later, the animal’s strain let up, she lowered her head down a touch, and eased back onto the bed of straw. As she took her rest, she seemed to prepare for the next bout in her labor.
The silence in the barn began to disconcert Emma, especially since Colley had yet to return. The only ones in the structure, aside from the horses and the laboring ewe, were Peter and her. She grew unsettled.
When she was about to burst out with some inconsequential chatter, the ewe raised her head and let out another of her rough grunts. Emma was coming to know the rhythm of the animal’s labor pains, and she felt she could go with their ebbs and flows until the lamb was born. Peter seemed enthralled by the event, and likely didn’t register her presence at his side anymore.
Then, when she least expected it, the ewe’s straining grew harsher and Peter leaned closer, blocking her view. “Here we go, girl,” he said, a touch of excitement in his voice. “I see your lamb, now. Easy… easy.”
Emma’s heart kicked up its beat, and she found herself praying under her breath. Before, she hadn’t been one to spend much time pleading for heavenly assistance, but in this sweet-smelling barn, as she watched the miracle of Creation played out before her, she gained a new appreciation of God’s gifting. She wanted nothing to go wrong, nothing to keep the valiant mother-to-be from ending her efforts with a hearty and healthy little one at her side.
Peter shifted closer as he reached out to the ewe. As he moved, Emma saw what his hands had stretched out for. Even though he hadn’t yet touched it, she could see the lamb. As the infant protruded from between the ewe’s rear legs, its forefeet and nose showed through a clear membrane. An odd emotion caught hold of Emma, and she was helpless to keep tears from welling up.
The ewe strained once again, and Peter grasped the little feet that poked out through the membrane between the first three fingers of one of his large hands. With the other, he cradled the small head, his tenderness causing her heart to swell even more.
With firm, sure motions, he held the tiny new life in his hands, his voice crooning to the mother. To Emma’s surprise, she realized he’d lulled her, too, into a sense of peace she doubted she otherwise would have felt at such an eventful moment, or any other moment, at that. The ewe continued her labor, her effort nearly continuous by then, all the while Peter exerted the gentlest of pulls on the infant to help ease it into the world.
Birth.
New life.
God’s Creation.
A drop of moisture slipped onto Emma’s lips, and only then did she realize she wept at the wonder of it all. Awe at the reality of what was happening before her, of the promise of a future existence, washed over her. Images flew through her thoughts, inspired by the lessons she’d been taught her whole life in church.
She’d accepted what she’d heard, but hadn’t spent much deep thought on the teachings. Superficial, indeed. Right then, however, in Peter’s small barn, as Emma watched the miracle of birth, she caught a glimpse of the much more awe-inspiring, more unfathomable miracle of Jesus’ birth.
The new lamb, not yet fully into the world, couldn’t yet breathe or live on its own. It would remain a part of its mother until it drew that first life-giving breath. The notion impressed upon her as never before mankind’s need of the Father. God the Father had breathed the breath of life into Adam, the first man, and continued to do so with every new creature on earth. Emma had never felt so small and humble in her life.
Emotions she’d never experienced wracked her, and she breathed a prayer of thanksgiving. She would never regret coming out to the barn to watch this lamb be born.
The ewe’s body gave another massive heave, and just like that, the rest of the lamb’s body slipped out into Peter’s hands. With a large finger, he wiped across the tiny nostrils, clearing away the thick moisture visible there. He laid the newborn in the straw right by its mama’s head, then picked up a blade of the straw bedding, and with it tickled the animal’s nose. The little one shook its head. A snuffly sneeze burst out.
The ewe nudged her offspring with her nose, sniffing, acquainting herself with her infant, and then began to vigorously lick the lamb. She appeared quite intent on cleaning it of all sign of the birthing process.
“Emma,” Peter said, his voice husky. “There’s a piece of clean towel hanging from a hook outside the stall. Could you please hand it to me?”
Clearly he hadn’t forgotten her presence in the barn. Emma scrambled up and let her cape drop to the ground, thrilled to be able to participate in the blessed event, even if in such an insignificant way. A moment later, she found the rough-woven, much-washed cotton, grabbed it, and returned to her prior post.
“Here.”
Without turning in her direction, he reached blindly behind him for the cloth. Emma grasped his hand, the large hand that only moments before had held a new life, and placed the towel there. The moist warmth of his work-roughened skin gave evidence of the event she’d just witnessed, and moved her more than it likely should. Admiration filled her. Those hands had helped that lamb ease its way safely into the world.
Her view of Peter Lowery shifted. She counted the moment as yet another one that changed her life. How, she couldn’t say.
But change it had.
As the realization struck, Peter glanced back.
Their gazes met.
And held.
Chapter 12
Birthing a lamb had never felt like such an intimate experience before. Peter had always recognized the Creator’s hand in all phases of life, but as he’d felt Emma’s presence at his back, as he’d listened to her hushed breathing, as he’d sensed her amazement, he’d viewed an otherwise mundane lambing in a new way.
He’d watched and helped deliver dozens of lambs by now. Usually, it was Colley with her practical, sensible demeanor who kept him company, especially during the touchy ones, as this first-time mama’s birthing had been. Tonight, Emma had brought him a different way of thinking about what he did day after day after day. Pride and humility mingled inside him, contrary though the two emotions were.
As he found himself caught in the web of her tear-filled green gaze, Peter couldn’t help but acknowledge once again the wonder of life. God held it all in His magnificent, all-powerful hands. Even when loss and pain invaded, the Father had a way of
bringing hope back into His children’s lives. The trick was in recognizing it when it came.
He let out an odd hiccup of a laugh. Funny how it took a frivolous society miss to remind him of that.
“Thank you.” The roughness in his voice caught him by surprise. Not only that, but he realized unaccustomed dampness had risen to his eyes. Just as had happened to her. He could still see the moisture spiking her eyelashes and making the many shades of green flicker in the lantern’s light. How a woman like Emma could raise within him such a peculiar response to something so familiar, he’d never know. Peter just knew Emma had come into his life like a wild storm, and nothing had felt the same since.
The red-haired storm nodded and gave him a small, tentative smile. Something told him this was the true Emma Crowell, the one few ever saw. The socialite with her fancy airs was a part of her, true, but a part he suspected she’d grown used to displaying over time. This emotional woman, the one who’d held his son close to her side, who’d read to him until they’d both fallen asleep, this one who’d let herself be moved by the simple miracle of new life, was the woman he suspected few ever saw.
Why he should feel so honored by that realization, he also didn’t know.
Oh, yes. Emma Crowell was trouble. Peter feared the danger she posed was greater than that posed by the threat of ruin in the fall.
He couldn’t let himself fall under her spell.
She couldn’t be any further from the kind of woman he needed. He couldn’t let his attention wander toward her any more than it should.
To that end, he shook his head to free himself from the effect she still had on him.
Colley marched into the barn again, destroying the magic of the moment he and his uninvited guest had shared. “Here y’are. Brought ya the warm water and soap, plus the scissors, tincture of iodine, and more clean cloths. That there lamb sure is one pretty little girl, now, isn’t she?”
All Peter registered was Colley talking about a pretty “she,” and he couldn’t help but nod. While Emma’s hair still displayed that wild quality, no matter how tightly she tried to plait it each day, it didn’t detract one bit from her looks. She was still the loveliest woman he’d ever seen.
As much as he’d loved his wife, and as pretty as she’d been, he knew in an objective way that Emma outshone her like no other woman he knew.
When he realized he hadn’t answered his ranch manager, his irritation grew. At the source of his distraction, of course. Time to pay attention to his business again.
The ranch. His animals. The lamb. “Looks right healthy, too.”
“Good thing, I’d say.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Emma sit back into the layer of straw, twin dabs of red on her cheeks, the dampness in her eyes only making them shine brighter still. She scooted a hair sideways, letting Colley into the stall closer to his side.
A surprising sense of loss struck him, but he pushed that aside and focused on the newest member of his mercifully growing flock.
With the ease of expertise, he and Colley cared for the two animals, and once the stall was clean again, he prepared to leave the barn. It was then he realized Colley must have forgotten the pail of warm water for the ewe to drink. She would need plenty of liquid in order to produce the amount of milk the newborn would need.
“We need another pail of warm water,” he said. “And molasses.”
Colley made a face. “Silly of me! I up and forgot the other one back at the cabin. I’ll be right back, Pete. Don’t you worry none. And give me them dirty rags. I’ll take ’em out with me.”
With a final look to make sure the lamb was suckling properly, Peter stood, ready to head to the bunkhouse for some much-needed sleep. He realized Emma still sat on the cushion of straw, wearing a tender expression, seemingly unable or unwilling to drag her gaze away from the occupants of the stall.
He couldn’t stop the grin. “There’s nothing more to see.”
She blinked, then looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
“The lamb is born. Now, the ewe will raise her. Just like all the other sheep do. And they need to get their rest. It’s best for the lamb if they’re not disturbed for the next couple of days. It lets the two of them grow close, like a mama and lamb should.”
She pursed her lips and her eyes snapped. “Are you making fun of me, Mr. Lowery?”
His mouth twitched as he tried to keep from smiling. “I reckon it’s past time you called me by my given name.”
“Fine.” She stood. “But should they really be left all alone? What if something goes wrong? Who’ll help the poor little thing?”
“Right now, the best help the ‘little thing’ can have is attention and lots of milk from its mother. The two of us sitting here and talking will only distract them. They really need to sleep. So do you.”
“Sleep?” She looked surprised. “You really think sleep is possible? After…” She gestured toward the sheep. “After this?”
He had to laugh. “I don’t know about you, Miss Emma, but I know I sure can sleep. I need it. A full day’s worth of work and then some will be waiting on me when the sun rises. I’m sure Robby’ll be up before you know it, too. Then there’s all those meals you’ll be needing to make, right? We’re all waiting on you.”
Indignation turned her face the color of fresh-cooked beets. “Oh! Oh-oh-oh! How dare you?”
He raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. “What? Mention what we all know? That you can’t cook? There’s no shame in that.” At her surprise, he shrugged. “I’ve come to think you did have a point. It isn’t your fault you never were taught, but I reckon you can learn while you’re with us, can’t you?”
“As if you’ve given me a choice!”
“I don’t have a choice, either. I found you, whether I wanted to or not. I could hardly up and leave you out there.” He lifted a shoulder. “I’m not one to hurt anyone, even by not taking action, by walking away and not doing something to keep them from being hurt. My faith doesn’t have room for that kind of thing. And I’m not ready to be an inhospitable oaf, once a body’s on my land.”
“I’d say an oaf is just what you are. Why, I’ve been working mighty hard to learn, and I’ve been working with Robby to teach him his vocabulary, too. We’ve been working on improving his reading ability, I’ll have you know.”
His humor faded some. “About that reading…”
She crossed her arms. “Are you about to protest over the reading matter? Because if that’s the case, sir, then I’ll have you know we did our lessons using the Good Book before we ever touched Le Morte D’Arthur. By the time you came back to the cabin, we’d finished. I gave you my word, and I kept it. We only read from the Malory after I’d put Robby through his lesson.”
Skepticism made him arch a brow. “Were you teaching Ned some kind of lesson, too? I never asked you to teach my prisoner anything, you know.”
She squared her shoulders. “He didn’t take any part in our lesson. But there wasn’t much for him to do in the cabin. He simply sat and listened while Robby and I read. Then… well, then Robby wanted to play, and I, sir, saw no harm in letting a child entertain himself. It was innocent play, after all.”
“Innocent play you knew I wanted you to avoid.”
She shook her head, and the dark auburn curls flew loose from the bounds of her braid. “I couldn’t do that. It’s something he enjoys because it reminds him of his mother. I could never take that away from him. I can’t say I see your reason to do so, in fact.”
He narrowed his eyes. “It didn’t look to me like you were recollecting my late wife when I walked in. You were neglecting your work and cavorting with the man who stole from my flock.”
She gasped, horror blazing in her expression. “Cavorting? I wasn’t cavorting with Ned! Not at all.” Her arms punctuated her words with firm, wide gestures that set her richly colored curls to dancing over her shoulders. “When you walked in, I’ll have you know, I was in the process of handing
Ned the sword—er… the branch, so that he and Robby could play. I was about to return to my supper preparations.”
The thought of the contents of the spider before Colley had stepped in made Peter laugh. “And a fine supper it would have been, had I not sent my ranch manager in to save it, right? Seems to me your efforts do more harm than good. It didn’t even look like food.”
Her eyes grew huge. Peter knew he’d gone too far. He’d let his fears, worries, and irritation push him to where he’d wounded Emma.
Without another word, she swooped down, caught up her cape in her arms, spun on her heel, and fled the barn. As she ran away, the silence of the night grew thick, uncomfortable, and troubling.
While he hadn’t wanted Robby to waste his time on useless fairy tales, he also had never wanted to wound anyone as he just had hurt Emma. As guilt swelled in his heart, the door opened again.
“What in tarnation was all that about, Peter Lowery?” Colley asked, shaking her head. She plunked down the bucket of sweetened warm water in a corner of the stall, closed the door and latched it, then clapped her hands free of straw. She turned her blue eyes on Peter. “Well?”
“Ah… that was Emma.”
“I ain’t gone blind, all of the sudden, you know. I saw it was Emma right clear when she flew by. Now, what kind of forest fire was she runnin’ from, Pete?”
Shame heated his face, so he shrugged. “She wasn’t running from any fire.”
“And of course, y’ain’t foolin’ me none, neither. What did you go and do to that lil girl?”
Peter couldn’t make himself meet his ranch manager’s gaze. He also couldn’t find the words to confess his cruelty toward a guest in his home. He knew Colley would take to that truth no more kindly than she had to whatever her no-nonsense mind suspected.
Of course, she suspected the truth. That he’d lashed out as he’d done before. Only thing was, his criticism had been worse, it had gone deeper this time. This woman who’d helped him so much after his wife’s death had come to know him better than anyone else ever had. She knew he’d hurt Emma and, as she often did, she was going to hold him accountable. He wasn’t ready for that, he never was.