The wind howled outside, blowing snow so hard it sounded like sand rasping off a layer of wood. Fern listened to it quietly, taking strength from it between pains. Harry made her tea, fussed over her, worried himself into a frenzy, and paced, cursing. He hated this. This was something he had done to her, and he was sorry. He saddled up a horse in the barn, to keep ready in case the storm eased and he could ride to Addie’s. Addie had experience in things like this. Addie could help.

Just before the white dusk turned to dark, the wind stopped. Absolute silence outside made Fern’s raspy breathing loud and terrible to his ears. The pains were frequent. He’d tied a rag to the headboard for her to hold, and as he walked into the room, she was pulling on it, perspiration rolling down her face and neck, moaning, cords and muscles standing out in her neck and arms in dramatic chiseled relief. He slid into his overcoat, and when the pain passed, he walked to the side of their bed.

“Storm broke, Fern. I’m going for Addie,” he whispered softly.

“No. Harry, it’s close. Stay here.” Another pain gripped her, and he ran out of the house.

Addie grabbed a coat and swung up behind Harry. Sam said he’d saddle up a horse and be along presently. They rode urgently through the knee-high snow, only guessing where the road was. The wind began to pick up again as they neared the house. They heard the screams, both fearfully telling themselves it was a trick of the wind. It was no trick. Addie jumped off the horse and ran inside, dropping her coat on the kitchen floor. Harry dawdled in the barn, his heart racing, feeling helpless and useless.

Fern’s knees were bent high, tenting the covers. She gripped the rag, her face and pillow soaked. A wail began deep inside, forcing its way through her exhausted body. Addie closed the door quickly and whipped off the covers. The bed was soaked with blood. The wail stopped abruptly as Fern’s eyes bulged, a dark vein stood out in the middle of her forehead, and she gave a tremendous grunt, a push, and Addie saw the brown top of a head poke out, then recede back inside.

“Push, Fern, he’s almost out!”

Fern pushed. She let go of the rag and gripped her thighs with strong fingers. Addie watched as they dug deep into the flesh, little droplets of blood mixing with sweat and trickling down her thighs. Fern’s back arched with the effort, oh, God, it was so awful, it was right there, why won’t it come out, push, push, oh, God, PUSH!