with a ribbon without bothering to run a brush through the tangled curls. Then she was down the stairs, out the door, and into the barn where she saddled Shiloh’s Star and rode away from the yard as dawn became a pale promise in the east.
According to what Violet had told Anna a few weeks before, Minnie York had delivered most of the babies in Kings Meadow for the last twenty years. Certainly the experienced midwife had delivered more babies than the young physician, David Chapman, who’d opened his practice in the valley this past spring. Luckily for Anna, the York farm butted up against the Leonards’ east pastureland. It didn’t take Shiloh’s Star long to carry her there.
Almost as if she’d been anticipating Anna’s arrival, Minnie York opened the door with her leather bag already in hand. “Is it time?”
“Yes. Hurry. Abe says the baby’s coming fast.”
“What does he know? All he’s delivered is calves and pigs.” She closed the door behind her and strode toward her automobile. “If you get there first, tell Abe and Violet I’m on my way and to stay calm.”
Anna turned Shiloh’s Star around, and they began the race toward home again. The young horse gave her everything he had, his long strides eating up the ground beneath them. By the time they galloped into the Leonard barnyard, the sky overhead had turned from pewter to blue. Anna tied the reins around the hitching post and ran into the house.
Upstairs, the door to the bedroom was open. Violet’s groans filled the hallway. Looking scared to death, Abe stood beside the bed, holding his wife’s hand.
“Abe, Mrs. York’s on her way.”
He glanced toward the door. “Did you tell her to hurry?”
“I did. She was getting in her car when I started back. She should be right behind me.”
As if to prove Anna told the truth, an engine backfired below the bedroom window.
“Go see if she needs any help,” Abe ordered, his gaze returning to his wife.
Anna was quick to obey, but the most the midwife wanted from her were clean linens and hot water. After that, Anna had to be satisfied with sitting in the kitchen, listening as Violet strained to bring her baby into the world.
Twelve
O N F RIDAY AFTERNOON , ANGRY VOICES DREW C HET out of the house in time to see Pete take a swing at his brother and miss. Sam was quick to retaliate. He connected with Pete’s nose, knocking him to the ground. The younger boy was back on his feet in seconds, this time using his head as a battering ram, flying straight into Sam’s midsection. Sam was thrown backward. He slammed into the side of the truck that had carried the two boys home from school not long before.
“Sam! Pete!” Chet ran to put himself in between them. “Stop it!”
He didn’t succeed in pulling the brothers apart until one of the hired hands, Blake Buttons, showed up to assist him. Chet got ahold of Pete. Blake dragged Sam in the opposite direction.
Chet turned his youngest son around to face him. The boy had a bloody nose, and his right eye was starting to swell. “What’s going on?”
“Ask him.” Pete spat the words as he jerked his head toward his brother.
“You’re acting like a baby,” Sam returned as he fingered his split lower lip.
With a cry of rage, Pete tried to pull free from his father’s grasp.
Chet held on tight. “I want to know what’s going on between you two, and I want to know now !”
Sam was the first to answer. “He’s mad, ’cause I asked Tara Welch to go with me to the prom next week and she said yes.”
“You know I like her. You know it. You coulda asked somebody else. Any girl but Tara.”
“So what if you like her? You aren’t her boyfriend, and you couldn’t take her to the prom anyway. You’re a sophomore. Why shouldn’t I ask her?”
“You wouldn’t have asked her if it wasn’t for me.”
“Ah, grow up.”
This time, Pete managed to jerk away from his father’s grasp, but he didn’t try to go for his brother again.
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