July 22, 1915

I decided to cross the river and walk to work through Steamboat.  Lately, I have gone along the railroad tracks because I didn’t want to think about Corina. But a little voice in my head said, Walk through town. It has been a while.  I shared the Second Street Bridge with a new bright, red, freight wagon.  Mud covered the large, back wheels halfway up the spokes and the smaller front wheels muddied nearly to the hubs.  It seemed odd to me because it had not been raining much. Frightened chickens stared at me from their crates as others flew, squawked, and knocked over fellow prisoners.  “Good morning, Julius,” the freighter shouted over the feathered fury.

“Good morning, Mr. Heeney, it is a lovely day in the neighborhood.”

“Indeed, it is,” he replied waving his hand.  The wagon thumped off the bridge followed by a chorus of shrieks from the chickens.

I stopped in the middle of the bridge and gazed at the sun tipped water waves, as a flock of mallard ducks flew under the bridge with strong and rapid flight. It’s going to be a great day, I thought.

A corral of horses crunched loudly on their morning oats near the north bank.  Several glanced up, with a snort of recognition, a swish of their tails and then continued their breakfast with indifference.  It was still early with few people out and about. I reached Eight Street, and again no one was visible in any direction. Only the chirps of birds broke the silence.  Corina’s front door stood closed, but the side door, the gateway to the long corridor of a vegetable garden facing Oak Street remained open.  She has a knack for gardening and the plants drooped heavy with ripening produce.  She and the coming baby would have plenty of healthy food for the winter. I thought, Good for her, and then I heard the scream.

I ran down the garden path and up the porch stairs.  A kettle was on the boil and whistling away. Corina laid on the edge of the dining table rug with her legs sprawled on the wooden floor.  Her robe open, and her nightgown wet from the waist down.

“Julius, I think I’m finally having the baby. It seems weeks late. I fell and I can’t get up.  It hurts so much,” she moaned.

“Stay still. Where are your clean sheets?”

“In the cabinet, in the hallway.”

Peculiar thoughts of Why me? and What now? swirled in my head. The situation profoundly different, but jarringly the same as new life in the barn. I found the sheets easily and stacked neatly. Fumbling, I dropped one on the floor, let it lie and grabbed two more fresh ones, a pillow and a washcloth.

“How were you close enough to hear me?”

“Pure chance,” I said while thinking What a bizarre twist of fate.

I poured the boiling water into two large bowls, added cold water to one and washed my hands in it. I dropped my pocketknife and a pair of her scissors in the second. She had another violent contraction; so, I held her hand. Sweat covered her forehead. I spread out a sheet and the pillow next to her.  She lifted her torso up slightly as I slipped her robe and her wet nightgown off. Then I helped her slide onto the sheet with her head on the pillow.

“Are you cold. Do you want a blanket?”

“Julius, you are seeing me completely naked,” she groaned.

I smiled and covered her with the second sheet.  “You’re going to be fine.  Get comfortable and just keep pushing.”

“Have you delivered a baby before?”

“No, just horses.”

The cat paced the floor like an expectant father.  “Where is your husband, JJ?

“I don’t know,” she replied.

The big baby’s head crowned, I grabbed the scissors from the still hot water and placed the lower blade on the baby’s head. Gently I pushed the scissors into Corina’s vagina and snipped while saying, “Push now.”  The baby’s head slipped out and turned sideways. I wiped its face with the moist washcloth. Its shoulders were visible, and blood stained the sheets. “We’re almost there. Keep pushing.”

With a loud scream she pushed again. I guided the shoulders out with my fingers and held him as he finished slipping out.  “It’s a fine boy,” I cried out.

“Oh, let me see him,” she exclaimed.

“Same day as me mate, but different month. You have a sweet mum.” I gazed at the little wonder, then pushed the top sheet aside and laid the crying boy at her breasts.  That was when JJ burst through the door.  With wild hair, wilder out-all-night eyes and pistol drawn he shouted, “What is going on here?”

“It’s a boy. You have a baby boy,” I said.

He stared at the blood and then at the baby. “Julius, we’ll be friends for life,” he croaked.

My dubious promise “Perhaps we will, JJ… perhaps we will. Go get Doctor Willett.”

JJ stumbled through the garden as I wrapped the baby boy in the top sheet and covered them both with Corina’s robe.

Corina smiled at me saying, “We’ll be friends for life, Julius.”

“We will.” I whispered as I gently brushed her hair from her face.

(I felt the first contraction the previous evening, told JJ and the bastard went to the saloon. I spent the night hating him. Oddly, when I saw Julius walking in front of the house my water broke. I could have called the hospital because all the details were planned. But instead, I gently arranged myself on the floor and cried for the love of my life. He was with me; we were confident, and the baby came quickly. I had no regrets. CE)