Carla Kelly (44 page)

“He just said it was time for him to move on,” Paul continued, when his cup was full. “I hope he doesn't mean that really.”

The February wind blew away most of the snow, except in the deeper drifts, then swirled around and redeposited it. “I wonder if that happens in other states too,” Paul asked her as he came away from the window and pulled on his nightshirt. He got in bed, and she went into his arms, resting her belly against his side. “Pa used to say that it never really stopped snowing in the spring, but the wind blew the snow back and forth until it wore out.” He patted her. “I wish… oh, I do wish my parents were here.”

She kissed his cheek, surprised to find it wet. “Hey now, cowboy, I'm supposed to be the one who cries,” she told him. “That was my kiss. Here comes my handshake.”

He laughed and shook her hand. “
How
long after the baby comes?”

“Doc said six weeks, but he's praying for at least four, Romeo. Good night.”

The calves started coming then, beautiful bawling calves from Paul's Denver bulls, the second generation. He and his crew were out day and night, assisting where needed, as cows grunted and gave up their calves to the cold world of the Double Tipi, snow-covered, bleak, and unforgiving in winter.

“Why not breed them later, so it's not so miserable in February?” she asked, when Paul came into the kitchen after another late-night delivery, his eyes tired and his moustache frozen.

“Oh, I don't know,” he said. “I could ask why you and I didn't plan this whole thing a little better, ourselves. Maybe the mood was on them.”

“That's no answer, Paul,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster, considering that he was giving her the edgy look that even now, at her most awkward, excited her.

Two weeks later, another two-day blizzard bowed out. Julia glared at the calendar as her supposed date of confinement came and went. “We could have figured it wrong,” she said to Paul and Doc as she finished the breakfast dishes. “Just as well, I suppose. I am desperate to clean the parlor this morning and reorganize the pantry this afternoon.”

Doc smiled at her then, the first genuine smile she had seen on his face since he mailed that letter to Indiana. “Boss, best you send Matt for Elinore today. Julia, that's the surest sign I know of that your baby's coming soon.”

“Really? I have lots to do then. Stand back, boys.”

Matt was gone within the hour. By late afternoon, Elinore, her eyes merry, had unpacked her valise in the best guest room.

“You're pretty cheerful,” Julia said as she finished rearranging the spices in the pantry. “Doc says anticipating mothers get a sudden burst of energy right before the big day. That doesn't sound too scientific to me.”

“Move over, Julia. I'll help,” Elinore told her. “You're going to argue with your doctor now?”

“Heaven knows I've argued with everyone else lately,” she said with a sigh. “You're still my friend, I hope.”

Elinore hugged her as Paul opened the kitchen door. “Julia, are you getting stir crazy? Put on your coat. Let's go to the cow barn.”

She did as he said, embarrassed that she could only button the top three buttons of her coat.

“Waddle with me, Darling?” he teased after he closed the door on the overheated kitchen and they were out in the swirling snow.

She laughed out loud and punched his arm for good measure. “You know I'll waddle anywhere with you!”

He took her hand and led her into the barn where the men had brought as many gravid cows as they could. A grunting cow with an inward expression lay straining on the straw.

“I'll have you sit on one of these remarkable bales of hay, courtesy of my new best friends, the farmers of Wheatland. Comfortable? Or at least as comfortable as you're going to be?”

Paul sat cross-legged by the cow's straining hindquarters. “I was missing you, sport, so far away there in the kitchen. Heavens, Julia, but I love you.”

“I've been cross and contrary, and you love me.”.

“I do. Plain and simple, you're my girl. Well, here we go.”

She watched as a dark-colored sac began to squeeze slowly from the cow's hindquarters. The cow grunted softly and nosed at the hay in front of her. Julia's interest grew as the membrane inched out.

“Does she know what's happening? She seems a bit casual.”

“Give her a few more minutes.”

More of the sac spilled out. Julia looked closer, awed to see the dark calf inside, head between its front legs. After another grunt from mama, Paul slit the membrane with his fingers. Fluid gushed out as he grabbed the slimy front legs and gave a tug, all that was needed to finish the birth.

Julia wanted to protest when he took a firmer grip on the legs and unceremoniously dragged the calf, already bawling, around to his mother's head and plopped him there. With a moo that sounded almost maternal, the cow began to lick her baby. Julia clapped her hands in delight.

Paul lifted a hind leg for a good look. “Another bull for the herd. Steaks for Chicago, eventually. Here, sport. Take this burlap sack and rub him down. She could use some help.”

Julia took the sack as Paul helped her down beside the cow. “Just a good rub. It gets the circulation going.”

She rubbed the calf, wrinkling her nose at the earthy odors. Paul had returned to the nether end, where he tugged out the afterbirth and tossed it aside, spreading the straw around with his feet to cover the blood.

She rubbed the calf gently, smiling to herself when the cow's rough tongue tickled her hands. Paul squatted on his haunches and watched them.

“You love these little critters, don't you, husband?” she asked.

“I like husband even better than cowboy,” he told her, his voice cheerful. “I do, indeed, maybe until they step on my boots or sh… um… there's no better word… well, do that all over my hands when I'm trying to deprive them of their manly parts. It's our life, Julia.”

Julia nodded, grateful. She insisted on staying until the calf figured out how to rise, the rump end going up first, and after several attempts, the front legs rising too. She laughed out loud as he tottered on uncertain legs, falling down a few times, but making his way purposefully to his mama's engorged udder. In a moment, he was tugging on a teat and nursing. To her delight, the cow made a sound remarkably close to a purr, low and deep in her throat.

“One more baby for the Double Tipi,” Paul said. He washed his hands in cold water, dried them with another piece of burlap bag, and held out his arm formally. “Your turn now, Julia. Let's go home.”

Peter Jedediah Otto joined the Double Tipi cow-punching corporation before the sun was up, two mornings later. A blizzard raged outside as, red-faced and straining, Julia clutched her best guy's hand and delivered a squalling son. What a long night it had been, with Paul going outside a few times to break off an icicle from the house and bring it in for her to chomp on between labor pains. He wiped the sweat from her face and sang all the verses to “Redeemer of Israel” over and over because it calmed her. Without Doc asking, Paul climbed behind her into the bed and held her in his arms as she pushed, and cried, and finally sagged against him in relief as their son was born.

“Darling, you do beat all,” he said when Doc plopped their son on her chest, and she reached for the slimy, noisy baby. “Quite a set of lungs.” Paul kissed her sweaty head, then gently lowered her to her pillow as he got up and went around to cut the cord.

She protested when Elinore reached for her son to clean him up. Paul kissed Julia's forehead. “He's only across the room. Elinore, can you just move over that table so Julia can see him? That's better.”

Doc and Elinore worked quickly and efficiently. Julia watched them, interested now that the pain was gone.
Elinore's a good nurse
, Julia thought.
I wonder what will happen to these two?

Julia put her arms around Paul's neck when he picked her up from the bed so Elinore could change the sheets. She started to shake when Paul put her back in bed, but Doc had a hot water bottle for her feet.

“That's a common reaction, Julia,” he told her. “If you get really cold, you could probably convince Dad here to get in bed and keep you warm. In fact, why not? Elinore, hand over the baby and let's leave these three alone for a while.”

Elinore did as Dr. McKeel asked. “He's beautiful, my dear,” she whispered as she handed Julia her son. “All red faced and wrinkled like Paul.”

With a sigh, Paul got in bed, after the door closed. When she asked, he raised her carefully onto the second pillow, then helped her settle their son in the crook of her arm. Gently he pulled back her nightgown as she pressed her nipple between two fingers and teased Peter's cheek with it. The baby turned toward her and latched on, his small hand flexing on her scar. Julia leaned back and closed her eyes as her son nursed for the first time and a blizzard roared outside.

“We ought to convene the Double Tipi corporation, and officially welcome the newest voting member,” she murmured. She glanced at Paul, loving him with a ferocity that startled her. “Are we the luckiest people ever?” she asked.

“Quite possibly. Another tender mercy, sport.” Paul kissed their son's still-damp black hair, then leaned over and kissed her.

In a few minutes, Peter started moving restlessly. “I think he needs a burp,” she told his father. “I'm so tired. Put him on your shoulder, Paul.”

He took Peter and nestled him against his shoulder, rubbing his back, then nodding at the soft burp. “He's asleep. I'll keep him for a while. Quite a night, eh, partner?”

Julia leaned against his shoulder, listening as her best guy hummed “Dear Evalina.”

“It's been quite a
year
,” she murmured, drowsy now and completely content. “We've been pummeled, but we're still here.”

“More storms to come, I imagine,” he told her. “You're good for it, sport, and so am I.” He looked sideways at their sleeping baby. “You too, Pete?”

The answer was the smallest sigh from the newest member of the corporation, curled into a tidy package on his father's chest. Paul just looked at Julia. He didn't say anything; he didn't need to.

from
Borrowed Light

and
Enduring Light

Sonofagun Stew or
The Gentleman from Cheyenne

2 lbs. lean beef

Calf heart, liver, sweetbreads (throat, stomach, thymus gland)

Brains

Marrow gut

Salt and pepper

One bay leaf (Julia's version)

Cut the beef, heart, liver, and sweetbreads into one-inch cubes. Slice marrow gut into thin rings. Place in Dutch oven and cover with water. If you're Julia Otto, add one bay leaf, and remove it before serving, of course. Let simmer 2–3 hours. Add salt and pepper. Squish brains into small lumps and add to stew. Simmer another hour.

Rocky Mountain Oysters
(calf fries, cowboy caviar)

2 lbs. calf oysters, cut into ½-inch thick ovals

Vinegar water

2 eggs, beaten

1½ cups flour

¼ cup cornmeal

Salt and pepper to taste

Hot oil

After oysters are cut into ovals, soak for two hours in vinegar water. In shallow bowl, combine eggs, flour, cornmeal, salt, and pepper. Drain oysters and dredge thoroughly in flour mixture. Deep fry three minutes or until golden brown (will rise to surface when done). Drain. Serve as is, or with ketchup or hot sauce.

Bear Sign

1 cup buttermilk

2 eggs, beaten

1 cup sugar

1/3 cup butter, melted

2 Tbsp. baking powder

½ tsp. salt

½ tsp. cinnamon

4 cups flour

In one bowl, mix buttermilk, eggs, sugar, and melted butter. In second bowl, combine baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and flour. Slowly add the dry ingredients to first bowl and stir together. This mixture should be stiff enough to hold spoon upright; if not, mix in more flour. Knead together lightly for a minute, then turn onto floured board. Pinch off dough in egg-sized balls, then roll into little logs about 1-inch high. Deep fry until golden. Drain and coat with sugar and cinnamon mixture or powdered sugar.