“Damn you!” she began, then stopped when Donald stepped down from the wagon.
He was obviously worried. “She wants you,” he said, his brow creased into a frown. There was a white line on each side of his lips. He reached for a piece of wood for the fire, but his hand shook so badly he dropped it.
“Me?” Bronwyn began, but Stephen gave her a sharp push forward.
“There’s no one else,” he said.
Her face lost all its color. “Stephen, I don’t know the first thing about birthing a baby.”
He put his hand to her cheek. “You’re frightened, aren’t you?”
She looked down at her hands.
“It couldn’t be much different from a mare or a cow,” he said helpfully.
“A cow!” Her eyes flashed at nim, then she relaxed. “Stay with me,” she said quietly. “Help me.”
Stephen had never seen her look so soft, so in need of help. “How can I? A man can’t attend a birth. Maybe if she were a relative of mine…”
“Look at him!” Bronwyn said, nodding toward Donald. “He only cares that his wife gets well. He doesn’t care about anything else.”
“Bronwyn!” Kirsty suddenly screamed from inside the wagon.
“Please,” she said, her hand on Stephen’s chest. “I’ve never asked you for anything before.”
“Except to change my name, my nationality, my—”
She turned away from him, but he caught her arm. “Together,” he whispered. “For once, let’s do something together.”
It wasn’t an easy birth. Kirsty was very small, and the baby was large. None of the three of them knew much about having a baby, and they all agreed it was a wonderful experience. Bronwyn and Stephen sweated as much as Kirsty. When the head appeared, they looked at each other with pride. Stephen held Kirsty up so she could see while Bronwyn held the little hea
d and gently guided the shoulders out.
The last part of the baby seemed to pop out, and Bronwyn held him in her arms.
“We did it!” she whispered.
Stephen grinned at her, then gave Kirsty a smacking kiss.
“Thank you,” Kirsty smiled as she lay back against Stephen’s arm, thoroughly exhausted but very happy.
It took them some minutes to clean the baby and Kirsty. Stephen and Bronwyn looked down at the mother and child, the baby already nosing around Kirsty’s breast.
“Let’s tell Donald he has a son,” Stephen whispered.
Donald stood just outside the wagon, waiting, his face full of fear.
“Cheer up!” Stephen said, laughing. “Go have a look at the boy.”
“A boy,” Donald said in a very shaky voice before he climbed into the wagon.
It had grown dark while they were inside with Kirsty. The bright, cold day had turned to dark, even colder night.
Bronwyn stretched and drank deeply of the fresh, clear air. For some reason she had a feeling of freedom. She suddenly threw back her head, extended her arms, and twirled round and round.
Stephen laughed and grabbed her in his arms, lifting her feet off the ground. “You were wonderful,” he said enthusiastically. “You were so strong and calm, and you helped make things easier for Kirsty.” He braced himself as he realized he’d made an opening for Bronwyn to tell him of her training to become the MacArran.
Bronwyn smiled up at him, put her arms around his neck, and snuggled her face into his shoulder. “Thank you. But it was your knowing what to do that was the most help. If it’d been me alone, I think I would have just stopped and stared when the baby’s head came.”