Daunting Days of Winter (25 page)

Heather snuggled the baby tight to her chest and kissed her on her head. “She seems so tiny,” she said. “Any guess how much she weighs?”

Carol ignored the question as she tied strings around the umbilical cord two inches apart.

“Spencer, my last one, was a little over eight pounds,” Jennifer chimed in. “Madison looks smaller than he was. I’d guess maybe six and a half, or seven pounds at most.”

Jane nodded. “Her color is good. Nice pink cheeks.”

The baby’s cries quieted, and she began to root around.

“She wants to nurse,” Jane suggested. “You probably won’t have any milk yet, but you should put her on.”

“The cord’s cut,” Carol said. “So she’s not tethered to you anymore. You should still have some contractions to help deliver the placenta, but they won’t be as strong. I’ll cut the cord closer to her bellybutton when you’re done nursing.”

Heather shifted the baby and pressed her to her left breast, which Madison quickly responded to, trying to latch on. “Ouch. That hurts a little,” Heather said, wincing and wiping several strands of hair off of her face. “I can’t believe it’s over. It’s been such a long pregnancy.”

“Here you go; eat this,” Jennifer said, handing Heather a piece of bread. “Your milk should come in in a couple of days. It’s not as bad as childbirth, but it can sure get uncomfortable. Kyle liked it because it made my boobs bigger, but I never looked forward to that part of motherhood.” Jennifer paused, looking around at the women grinning at her. “Okay, not sure why I shared that with you. Don’t let that leave the room, alright?”

The women laughed. “He’s not the only one,” Jane responded. “I think it’s universal.”

Carol continued to work on Heather, with a large bowl between them, positioned to catch the fluids and afterbirth as she pulled gently on the umbilical cord. “If we were in a hospital, they’d be drawing blood, running tests, and taking samples. All that stuff makes a country vet’s head spin. It’s much simpler with animals.”

“Some people bury the placenta under a tree,” Jane said. “My grandmother was originally from Sweden, and she always told us to bury it under a fruit tree if it was girl, or under a nut tree if it was a boy. We never did, though. The hospital always kept it. Said it was medical waste.”

“Well I don’t want it,” Heather said as she shifted Madison to her other breast and tried to help her latch on. “That all seems kind of gross.”

“You know,” Carol said, still focused on the afterbirth. “It’s not unusual for animals to eat the placenta after they’ve delivered. There are actually a lot of amazingly healthy components to it. Animal placenta’s are used in cosmetics and medicines; they…” Carol looked up to see all three women staring at her, wide-eyed. “You’re not that interested in hearing this, are you?”

They shook their heads in unison. “I am not eating mine,” Heather stated. “I don’t care how hungry I get.”

Carol nodded and went back to her work. It was another ten minutes before the placenta was finally delivered, sliding quietly into the bowl. “Placenta’s out,” she announced.

It was now well past midnight, and all in the room were tired. Gordon was asleep in the basement, and with things going smoothly, Ty had left before the baby had been delivered. Emma had come upstairs to check on the delivery on a regular basis, but she too had drifted off to sleep an hour before. Madison slept peacefully on her mother’s chest, leaving just the four women still awake.

“I’m exhausted. Can I go to sleep?” Heather asked.

“How are you feeling?” Carol asked, still focused on taking care of Heather and wearing a worried expression.

“Just really tired. Why?”

“Jennifer, I need you,” Carol said, her tone tense.

Jennifer moved down by Carol and noticed the placenta floating in the bowl in several inches of blood.

“Go get me another bowl,” Carol whispered. “Quick!”

Jennifer hurried into the kitchen.

Heather rose up on her elbows. “Something wrong?”

“You’re bleeding more than you should. How do you feel?”

“Just tired, like I said, and weak. I just had my first baby, you know.”

Jennifer returned from the kitchen, handing the bowl to Carol. “What now?” she asked, the color draining from her face.

“I want both of you to massage her abdomen,” Carol said, motioning to Jennifer and Jane. “Push pretty hard. Heather, your uterus hasn’t meshed back together. You’re losing quite a bit of blood. This might hurt a little.”

Jennifer saw fear darken Heather’s eyes.

“What’s happening?” Heather asked, her voice rising.

“We’ve got to stop the bleeding. Try to relax.”

Jennifer and Jane pressed on Heather’s abdomen. It was soft and pliable, having lost most of its muscle tone during the pregnancy. Heather grunted in discomfort.

“That hurts,” Heather whimpered, visibly worried.

“I don’t care. Keep doing it!” Carol demanded. “There’s still too much blood. Heather, try and tense your abdomen. Do keggles, something. Try to somehow tighten up your internal muscles.”

Heather grunted and strained, trying to help, but the blood flowed unabated.

“What do we do?” Jane mouthed as she continued to knead Heather’s stomach, watching the bowl fill with blood.

Carol shook her head and looked around the room. “I don’t know.” Panic filled her voice. “Someone give her a drink of water!”

Jennifer grabbed a cup and helped Heather drink as Jane took the baby and laid her on the box spring beside her mother.

“I feel dizzy…like the room is starting to spin,” Heather announced. “What’s happening?!”

Jennifer and Jane looked anxiously at Carol. “Keep pressing on her,” Carol insisted. “You’re losing too much blood, Heather. I can’t get it stopped.”

“You’re the doctor! Help me!”

“I’m trying,” Carol snapped back. “But I don’t know what else to do. I don’t have any drugs to give you or IVs or anything.” She raised her hand for the massaging to stop, then leaned forward and pushed her hand up into Heather’s uterus.

Heather screamed. “That hurts,” she cried, twisting sharply on the bed.

Carol probed inside the patient. She’d never done anything like this to a human before, but she’d had her arms in plenty of animals and knew what healthy tissue felt like. She quickly felt along the wall of the uterus. The first side she checked felt healthy and strong, but as she slid her hand to the other side, she felt a jagged ridge and a cleft about an inch wide and several inches long.

Heather cried out as Carol probed the tear in her uterine wall.

Carol tried to pinch the two sides of the wound together, but there was nothing solid to grasp, and the flesh slipped from her grip. Blood ran over her fingers like a faucet opened halfway as she continued trying to close the gash, an impossible task with no surgical tools.

Heather was crying and flexing her hands. “My fingers are tingling. Can’t you help me?”

Carol pulled her hand out and a gush of blood followed. She caught most of it with the bowl, the rest splashing onto the shower liner stretched over the floor. She picked up a rag lying nearby and wiped at the blood.

“What can we do?” Jennifer asked, leaning forward to resume massaging.

“You’re going to be alright,” Carol said, taking a deep breath and trying to smile. “Jane, why don’t you hand Heather her baby. That will help her relax and slow the blood flow.” She looked at Heather, who was glassy-eyed and tugging on her blanket. “You hold Madison. She needs to be with her mother.”

“Oh, thank heavens,” Jennifer said, relieved. “I was really worried there for a minute.” She smiled at Heather and dabbed some sweat from her forehead before turning back towards Carol, who was still catching the blood draining from Heather and looking scared.

“I need another bowl,” Carol whispered calmly. “Can you get that, please, Jennifer?”

Jennifer stood, her legs shaky, and ran to the kitchen. She found an old ice cream bucket and hurried back to where Heather lay.

She handed it to Carol, who looked pale and worn out. “Can I get you anything else?” Jennifer whispered.

“A miracle,” Carol whispered as she shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I’m cold,” Heather said, rubbing her baby’s back with one hand while flexing her other hand in front of her face. “Am I going to be alright?”

The room was still well over eighty degrees, but Jennifer found a blanket and draped it across Heather. “You have a beautiful baby,” she said, forcing a smile. “You did so good tonight.”

Heather smiled feebly. Her pale lips blended into her ghostly white face. “She is beautiful, isn’t she?” She saw something in Jennifer’s expression. “Am I okay? I feel so cold…so tired.”

Jennifer knelt down and kissed her forehead. “You’re a new mother. You’re perfect. Now just relax. Get some rest.”

Heather looked over at Jane, whose cheeks were streaked with tears. “Thanks for helping us today. You’re like a mother to me.”

Jane patted her hand. “And you, like a daughter to me. Just close your eyes and rest.”

Heather smiled, kissed Madison on the cheek, and closed her eyes as Carol blew out the two flickering candles on the table beside her.

CHAPTER 32

Tuesday, February 7
^th

Deer Creek, MT

Kyle whistled. He wasn’t good with lyrics, but he could whistle a tune, and it helped pass the time and fill the silence as he rode. Garfield had grown accustomed to his whistling now and no longer jumped at the sound. Considering the horse’s age, Kyle wondered if Garfield could jump at much of anything anymore.

That he had a horse was something to be grateful for, despite the fact that Garfield was old, worn down, and not too far removed from the glue factory. But had his route not followed the river most of the way, Kyle wasn’t sure how well having a horse would have worked out, with Garfield’s constant need to stop for water. Whether that was a Garfield thing or a characteristic of horses in general, Kyle, the inexperienced horseman, wasn’t sure. He thought back to traveling through Texas, when he went days without a water source beyond the jugs in his wagon. A camel might have worked, he mused, but he was sure a horse wouldn’t have lasted more than forty-eight hours.

A pheasant spooked from some bushes on the near side of the road, and Kyle quickly reached for his shotgun. Before he could get it aimed, the bird had disappeared into the trees, and Kyle reluctantly holstered the weapon.

A thin layer of fresh snow that was sure to melt before noon covered the ground, and Kyle scanned ahead for any signs of geese or pheasant that might supplement his dwindling food supply. A few yards ahead he saw what looked like a set of human footprints trailing across the road.

“Whoa, Garfield,” he said, pulling back on the reins. He surveyed the area, spotting a thin wisp of smoke rising from somewhere further up the side of the mountain. Kyle reached for his shotgun but was stopped by a voice from the west side of the road.

“Raise your hands above your head!” the voice commanded.

Kyle looked for the source, his head twisting side to side.

“You understand English? I said raise your hands!”

Kyle slowly raised his hands. “I haven’t done anything,” he called back, hands up. “Just let me go on my way.”

“Keep your hands above your head. There are three guns aimed at you. If you do anything sudden or unexpected, it will be the last thing you do. Understand?”

Kyle’s heart raced and his hands shook a little. So far he hadn’t sensed life and death desperation in the people he’d met. Yes, they were scared and hungry, but in this part of the country the population was thin, water was abundant, farms and ranches dotted the valleys, and wildlife was everywhere. He’d seen quite a few fresh graves, some at cemeteries, but most of them close to houses or farms, so he knew that the area hadn’t escaped the impact of the EMP. Still, there wasn’t that deep desperation he’d seen in so many other areas. “What do you want?” Kyle called out.

“I’ll do the interrogating here, if you don’t mind.” A tall, skinny man stepped from behind a stand of trees, their thick trunks concealing him until now. His military-style weapon was pressed tight to his shoulder, ready to fire. “Why don’t you get down off that horse so we can talk, eye to eye.”

Kyle eyed the stranger nervously. “How do I know I’ll be safe?”

“I could ask you the same question, and seeing as you wandered into my territory, I think I have first right to find out what you’re up to. Capisce?”

Kyle took a deep breath and climbed down. “I’m just passing through. No intention to cause any trouble,” he said as he dismounted. He stepped away from the horse with his hands still above his head.

Two more figures slipped from the woods and took up positions near Kyle, rifles ready. “What’s your name?” the first man asked.

“Kyle Tait. I’m from Deer Creek, just a little east of Missoula.”

“Little far from home, aren’t you?”

Kyle nodded.

“Get lost on your way home from church?” The others laughed, but didn’t comment.

“It’s not Sunday, is it?”

“Not. It’s not Sunday. What are you doing here?”

“I’m going up to check on my parents. They live in Moyie Springs.”

“You waited five months, then left home at the end of January to check on your folks two hundred miles away? You take me for a fool?”

“No, I don’t. There’s a little more to the story than that, but that’s the short version.”

“You running away from problems? Kill someone or something?”

“I was accused of something I didn’t do, but couldn’t prove it. It was leave town or be killed. I chose to leave.”

The man stared at him for a long time before responding. “What are you doing off the highway on this road? We don’t like outsiders much, that’s why we’re here.”

Kyle heard a noise near his horse and saw that one of the other men had approached Garfield and was inspecting the load. “I come this way a lot, well, not this road, but the highway. My GPS took me this way once and dead-ended me at the river. Since I’m on horseback, I thought I’d save a couple of miles and cross the river with my horse. I’m hoping to get to Moyie by Saturday.”