The One Who Waits for Me Read Online Free PDF Page B

far apart are the pains?”
    â€œThey’re right on top of each other!”
    â€œOh, gracious.” She glanced at Pierce and the urgency in her tone lifted a notch. “Hurry. The baby’s coming.”
    He took a step back. “Ma’am?”
    â€œHave you ever delivered a baby?”
    â€œMe?” He took a second step away and glanced at the expectant mother.
    â€œI can assure you that Trella will do all the work.” She motioned to the girl as she bent to assist Preach, who by now was kneeling over her. “Preach?” She glanced at him, hoping she had gotten the name right.
    He nodded. “Yes, ma’am?”
    â€œHave you ever delivered a baby?”
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    Gray Eagle moved in to help as well, and Pierce found his voice. “I’ve delivered one,” he finally admitted. “I helped Ma once with a neighbor when her time had come.”
    â€œThat’s good enough. Trella, this is Preach, Pierce, and… and Gray Eagle.” She glanced at the scout for verification.
    â€œYes, ma’am. I’ll get a piece of leather for her to bite down on. It sometimes helps.” The scout walked back to his saddle while Beth stared at the writhing young woman. It would take more than a piece of leather to get her through this.
    Kneeling, she whispered, “These men are going to help us deliver your baby.”
    â€œThank you, sirs,” the black girl gritted out.
    Proper greetings made, Preach’s eyes switched to Pierce. “I’ve delivered many a young’un. Ordinarily we’d need a few things, but—” He winced when a shrill, agonizing scream escaped the mother-to-be. “I don’t think we have time to worry about anything but cuttin’ the cord.”
    Gray Eagle returned and gently inserted the piece of leather into Trella’s mouth. “Bite down hard when the pains come.”
    With grateful eyes, she bit into the leather, sweat rolling down her temples.
    â€œI hope one of you gentlemen has a clean knife.” Beth scooted over to allow Preach room. “I’ve delivered a few babies, but I always welcome help.”
    Preach’s strong, brown hands took command. “Don’t push yet, ma’am. Take a deep breath.”
    The girl—who looked to be in her late teens—clamped her eyes shut, bit down hard on the leather, and waited. After a bit Preach said, “Now give me a push. A good hard one.”
    Trella did, biting the leather against the pain. Not a sound escaped her now.
    â€œI know it hurts,” Preach encouraged, “but we want your pushes to do some good.” He glanced at Beth. “Dampen a cloth or a rag.”
    Before she could move, Pierce poured water from a canteen onto his handkerchief and then bathed Trella’s face as if she were a small infant. “Why don’t we sing? Nothing like a good tune to take your mind off your troubles.”
    It was obvious pain racked the girl’s body. Gritting her teeth, she whispered between the leather, “You lead.”
    A low sonorous bass started. “The Gospel train’s a comin’.”
    Pierce removed his hat as their voices blended in sweet harmony. “I hear it just at hand.”
    Beth tried to follow along, harmonizing with Joanie. She’d heard the song on occasion but didn’t know all of the words.
    Trella’s tormented alto blended, offering something about children getting on board.
    â€œPush,” Preach encouraged.
    The about-to-be mother reached out and latched onto his strong hand, pushing for all she was worth.
    Men’s voices harmonized, getting louder. “Get on board, little children.”
    â€œAgain,” Preach urged. “We’re almost there.”
    Music swelled. Another hard push, and the baby slid out into Beth’s waiting hands. She wiped the infant with the damp rag. Trella silently motioned toward a cloth bag next to