The Badger's Revenge by Larry D. Sweazy Page B

bed, her legs pulled up in a V, about to give birth to a baby.
    Josiah could see the baby’s head starting to protrude out of her body. There was no time for embarrassment or hesitation. Billie needed his help, needed him to be strong, to be there for her in a way he couldn’t be there for his own wife when she was alive. He had no choice but to put his hands down between her legs and guide the baby out into the world.
    In his memory, Josiah heard Ofelia speaking in Spanish, “ Empujar al bebé hacia fuera .” And then in English: “Push, Miss Lily. Push hard.”
    Josiah repeated what he remembered. “Push, Billie, push.”
    â€œOh damn it. Where’s Charlie?”
    â€œPush, Billie.”
    The baby’s head was halfway out.
    â€œPush harder, damn it,” Josiah demanded.
    Billie screamed again, and with a swift and surprising thrust, the baby was in Josiah’s bloody hands.
    For a second, he was in shock, holding the wet and warm little thing. It wasn’t moving. It was all red and wrinkled like a prune. Honestly, the baby scared him, covered in mucus and blood like it was. He’d only seen one that wasn’t cleaned up, and that was Lyle, cut out of his dead mother’s stomach. Josiah had tried to forget that.
    Billie was panting, catching her breath, staring at him. Her eyes were all glassy.
    Josiah stood back, brought the baby up to his face, and tapped it between the shoulder blades gently. The baby didn’t hesitate. It gasped, let out a whimper, opened its eyes, and began to cry, filling the room with life—and relief.
    â€œWhat is it?” Billie whispered.
    â€œA girl,” Josiah said. “You have a daughter, Billie Webb. You have a healthy little girl.”
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    The day had passed right on by with Josiah completely emerged in the drama of the baby’s birth.
    The strongest part of the storm had passed over them, too, but the rain persisted, steadily now, tapping on the roof comfortably instead of with the threat of menace or destruction.
    There was some coffee left, and Josiah poured himself a full cup. He wasn’t sure what time it was. Coming up on evening. It was hard to tell with the continuing cover of grayness that seemed like it was never going to go away.
    Billie and her daughter lay sleeping in the bed. Josiah had done what he could to clean the two of them up, but eventually Billie ran him out of the room, certain she could do it herself. Another relief.
    The coffee was strong and only lukewarm since the fire in the stove had nearly died out. After a couple of deep drinks, Josiah set the cup down and tossed a few pieces of wood inside the stove. The pile was getting low and probably wouldn’t last another day. The thought caused Josiah some deep concern. He had no idea how Billie was going to take care of herself.
    There was nothing he could do at the moment to help her out, other than warm up the beans and bacon and fry up some bread. He figured Billie would be pretty darn hungry when she woke up.
    He wasn’t totally inept when it came to women’s work. He couldn’t be. There were a lot of things he’d had to learn after Lily died. Ofelia was a great help, but in the beginning she wasn’t around all the time. That didn’t happen until Josiah moved to Austin, and Ofelia had decided to come along with him.
    He eased over to the window, then eyed all of the ingredients he’d need to get supper going.
    The land was flat beyond the barn, and the horizon was a good distance off. It was hard to tell where the rainy sky left off and the earth began.
    The ground was soaked. Newly created streams crisscrossed the yard, rain cutting through the dry, unsettled dirt around the house. Puddles looked like ponds, and the pasture appeared more like a lake than a field left unattended.
    Wispy clouds rolled east, pushed by a strong unseen breeze. Rain fell from the sky in a slant, and there was no