Chapter Six

Stunned mute, Eve watched John bolt from the kitchen with Matthew in his wake. During her almost three weeks at the farm, she’d learned that Ginger was both a favorite and valuable milk cow. She looked at Clara, whose face scrunched in concern. “Sure would hate to lose that cow.” The older woman shook her head, her hand a bit shaky as she spooned molten wax into jars of blackberry jelly. She lifted her chin and gave a sharp sniff—something Eve had noticed Clara do when worried, as if steeling herself against trouble. She gave Eve a brave smile, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Ginger is one of the last calves I helped Phil birth.”

“I’m so sorry, Clara.” Eve gave Clara’s shoulder a hug. “I hope Ginger makes it, and her calf, too.”

Clara turned to Eve and took her hands in hers. “Will you pray with me, Eve?”

The same uncomfortable feeling that always curled in Eve’s midsection during the family’s prayer time struck again. “I…” She felt herself lean back, away from Clara, but the pain in the older woman’s eyes compelled her to acquiesce. Offering a warm smile, she squeezed Clara’s hands. “Of course I will.”

Clara’s head bowed, and she closed her eyes. “Dear Lord, I’m sure You’ve got more pressin’ things to attend to, but if You could see fit, I sure would appreciate it if You took a moment to look down on our Ginger and her new calf and bring them through this perilous birth.” That sharp sniff again. “It’s a little thing, Lord, but that cow, well, she’s somewhat special to me, bein’ the last calf Phil named and all.” Her voice cracked, and Eve squeezed Clara’s hands, hoping to offer the other woman some comfort and support.

Another sniff, softer this time, but Clara’s hands relaxed in Eve’s, and a more peaceful tone came into her voice. “ ‘We know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.’ So we ask for Your favor in this, but we accept Your will, knowin’ You want only the best for us. We ask this in Jesus’ name and for His sake. Amen.”

Clara gave Eve’s fingers a gentle squeeze and released them, and Eve felt almost sorry for the prayer to end. Though she sensed that praying and perhaps even a belief in God was as foreign to her as life on this Indiana farm, she couldn’t deny its calming effect. Was there a benevolent deity who looked down upon her and cared about her? John and Clara thought so. But if that were so, why did God allow tragedies like the train wreck that took lives as well as Elmer’s leg and Eve’s memory? And what about the possible loss of the Westons’ favorite cow?

That question had no sooner formed in Eve’s mind than the kitchen door burst open and John, with an arm around Matthew, half stumbled into the kitchen. The boy’s facecontorted in pain, and he moaned as he gripped his right arm with his left hand.

John helped the pale-faced boy to a chair, while Clara gasped and rushed to them.

“The cow kicked Matt in the arm. It may be broke.” As John talked, he unbuttoned the boy’s shirt and eased the garment off his right shoulder amid protests of “Ow! Ouch!” from Matthew.

“Oh my goodness.” Clara, with concern lines deepening on her face, hovered near her grandson. “Can you move your fingers, Matthew?” She patted his back as if he were a babe.

Grunting and grimacing, the boy clenched and unclenched the fingers of his right hand. “Yeah.”

John blew out a long breath. “I doubt it’s broke then, but it wouldn’t hurt to have Doc Callahan take a look at it.” He patted Matthew on his good shoulder, his worried frown melting into a sympathetic grin. “You’re gonna have a first-class bruise, though.” He nodded at the purplish discoloration deepening on the boy’s upper arm.

“I’ll heat water and get the Epsom salts.” Clara hurried to the sink and pumped water into a teakettle. Setting it on the stove, she glanced over her shoulder at John. “How’s the cow?”

“Not good.” John rubbed his forehead that had furrowed again in worry. “I don’t think the calf’s gonna come by itself. It’ll have to be pulled.” His lips pursed beneath his frown. “I was about to do that with Matt’s help when Ginger kicked him. I’ll need to get back out there and try to do it myself, or we’ll lose the cow and the calf.”

“I’m feelin’ better. I think I can help.” Matt started to get up from the chair, but John shook his head and eased him back down.

“You’re done in the barn today, Matt. I can’t have you out there doing more damage to that arm. You’ll need to stay in here and let your grandma doctor it up.”

“I’ll help you.” The words popped from Eve’s mouth before she realized she’d said them. As she watched the proceedings of the past few minutes, a desire to help had gripped her.

The surprise on John’s face slipped back into a frown. “I appreciate the offer, Eve, I do. But calving may not be something you’ll want to see. I’ll have enough to contend with out there without dealing with a female fainting at the sight of blood.”

Eve prickled at John’s presumption of her weakness, and anger flared in her chest. Stiffening her back, she lifted her chin and shot him a glare. “I have two good arms, and I saw plenty of blood at the school two weeks ago and didn’t faint.”

“Let her help, John.” Clara turned from adding small pieces of wood to the stove’s firebox. “Eve’s right. She’s stronger than you give her credit for.” She gave Eve a confident smile before turning a sterner face to John. “You need help, and God has provided it.”

John’s eyes narrowed in deliberation. At last he exhaled a breath of resignation and bounced a somber look between Clara and Eve. “All right, but she’ll need to change into a frock you don’t mind ruining.” His brow lowered in a grim line as his gaze settled on Eve. “I doubt it’ll be worth keeping after today.”

Ten minutes later in a patched and stained brown cotton dress that fit her like a sack, Eve followed John to the barn. The sense of victory she’d enjoyed earlier in the kitchen faded with each step, replaced by growing trepidation.

The smell of manure and the sound of bawling cows met them as they entered thedim barn. Eve followed John down a narrow, straw-strewn dirt corridor between stalls of brown and white cows. With each step, she fought the urge to run back to the house. But her determination to prove John wrong in his assumption of her feminine weaknesses trumped her fear, and she steeled herself against what might lie ahead.

At last they entered a stall where a brown cow lay on a bed of straw. The animal’s stillness caused Eve’s heart to sink. Had the cow died in John’s absence? A sudden grunt and movement from the beast relieved Eve while, at the same time, sending her heart vaulting to her throat.

“Shh. There, girl.” John patted the cow’s brown rump. “We’re gonna get this calf out.” He turned to Eve, who stood with her back pressed against the stall’s weathered boards. “Go to her head and try to keep her calm, but stay away from her legs. That’s how Matt got kicked.”

For a moment, Eve stood frozen with fear. The thought of approaching the big beast’s head, let alone touching it, filled her with terror.

“Eve! Please. Do as I say.”

Eve jerked at John’s sharp voice, and she found she could move her limbs again. The thought of disappointing both John and herself propelled her to the cow’s head.

Tentatively, she touched the cow’s jaw. The silkiness of its hair surprised her, sparking an immediate feeling of sympathy for the beast. “There, there.” Her courage growing with her empathy, she caressed the streak of white that ran the length of the cow’s forehead. “Stay still, Ginger, and let John help your baby to be born.”

A warm breath huffed from the cow’s nostrils, and her head leaned harder against Eve’s hand as if acknowledging Eve’s show of compassion. Though happier to pet the suffering animal’s head than to deal with the other end, Eve ventured a look at John and saw him take a length of chain from a nearby post.

“I’m going to have to pull the calf out.” His jaw clenched, John sent Eve a stern glance from the back end of the cow. “She’s not going to like this, so try to hold her as still as possible.”

Nodding, Eve stiffened her back and held tight to each side of Ginger’s face. Pressing her forehead to the cow’s wooly one, she murmured, “Be strong, Ginger, and all will be well. I promise.”

At the other end, John pulled on the chain he had evidently attached to some part of the unborn calf, grunting with the effort.

The cow jerked and emitted a loud bawl, but Eve managed to hold tight to her head. She looked back at John and saw what appeared to be a reddish brown blob with legs lying in a pool of blood. Instead of the revulsion she might have expected to feel at such a sight, Eve experienced a sense of amazement and exhilaration. She hugged the cow’s head. “Look, Ginger, you have a baby!”

Ginger made no move or sound. Her big eyes closed, and her pink tongue lolled from the side of her mouth.

“Poor thing. You must be exhausted.” Eve rubbed the cow’s forehead. She had no idea how a cow—or a person for that matter—might react after having given birth, but a marked slackness in the animal’s muscles troubled her.

“Eve. Come here, I need you.” John’s voice, though calm, held an urgency, and Eve hurried to his side.

She stifled a gasp at the sight that met her. John stood in an ankle-deep puddle of blood, shoving wads of rags into the animal’s bottom in an effort to stem a gushing, gory flood. A couple steps away lay the lifeless-looking calf, still half-swaddled in the birth membrane.

John wiped the sweat pouring from his grim face with the back of a bloody wrist, leaving a red streak across his forehead. “Take one of those rags and wipe that calf. I don’t think Ginger’s going to be able to lick the life into her.”

Eve obeyed, feeling as if her emotions had gone on a wild roller-coaster ride at Coney Island. How did she know about Coney Island or what a roller-coaster ride there felt like? Pushing the thought away, she focused on the hapless calf, rubbing gently so not to injure the infant animal.

Still at work on the cow, John looked over at her effort and scowled. “Hard! You’ll have to rub her hard, or we’ll lose the heifer.” Drenched in sweat and blood, he stepped back from the cow, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “We’ve already lost the cow to a ruptured uterus.”

Eve blinked back tears for the loss of the animal she’d petted and consoled moments earlier. A strong desire to save Ginger’s calf gripped her, and she began rubbing the calf’s wet hair with all her strength.

John came and knelt beside her. Together, they rubbed and massaged the limp calf for what seemed to Eve an interminable amount of time, though in reality a few minutes. Despair that rivaled what she’d felt when she woke three weeks ago with no memory engulfed her. Tears filled her eyes as resolve filled her chest. Renewed strength flowed into her aching arm muscles, and she rubbed the calf until it shook. “Come on, little cow. Live. Please live.”