Page 23 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot

“Close the door.” Jane looked surprisingly calm given the fact that Mavis was also on the floor, half-slouched against the side of her bunk, writhing in agony. Her chemise was rucked up to her waist, her drawers off, her bent legs open.

She was birthing a baby.

Temperance pressed the door shut, heart at a dead stop.

Mavis seemed to be doing as well as any woman pushing out a new life, which was to say she was crying and sweating and throwing her head back to release curses of acute pain. Bloody fluid soaked the blanket beneath her.

Temperance fought to keep her light head from falling off her body. She had never seen even a kitten being born, but she couldn’t leave.

“What can I do?” she asked fearfully.

“Fetch clean water.” Jane gave the rag she held a quick wring into its basin, then nudged the near-empty basin toward her. She patted Mavis’s brow with the cloth. “Ask around for a clean towel to wrap the baby. Hurry now. It’ll be here soon.”

Temperance snatched up the basin and ran to do as she was told. Thankfully there was a pump behind the saloon and even though the miners in those shacks up the hill were as down on their luck as anyone else, one pulled a scrap of cotton off his line when she called out what was needed and why.

“This is clean. She can have this.” Another gave her a scrap of wool blanket. A third offered his flask of whiskey. Two more gave her their best handkerchiefs.

Temperance arrived back in time to see a reddish-purple baby enter the world in a fresh gush of fluid.

“It’s a boy, Mavis. You have a son.” Jane set him on Mavis’s bare belly. The little being had the posture of a treefrog. He was covered in milky white and gave a tiny squawk.

Mavis sagged and folded her shaking hands over the tiny boy.

Jane had already torn a ruffle off her own petticoat. She used her teeth to tear it into two strips then tied off the cord.

“My sewing scissor, Temperance?” Jane wore a sheen of sweat and her voice held a tremor, but she looked as calm as could be.

How?

Temperance hurried to comply, then picked up the branch she’d brought in and threw it into the stove, keeping the fire roaring. When the afterbirth appeared, Temperance ran outside for a fresh scrap of wood and carried the organ to the outhouse.

“Shall I make coffee?” Temperance asked when she came back.

“Please.” Jane was washing the baby and Mavis and herself. Jane was smiling now, still wearing that mask of supreme calm—which Temperance was starting to realize Jane had adopted for Mavis’s benefit, since she’d done something similar for Papa.

Temperance’s hands were shaking so badly, she nearly spilled all the grounds, but she got the pot filled and took it to the kitchen.

Mr. Fritz wasn’t at home, which was probably for the best. She used the time it took the water to boil to gather her composure. When she returned with the coffee, Mavis was fast asleep. The baby was swaddled in Jane’s arm.

“Thank you,” Jane said with heartfelt gratitude as Temperance poured the cups.

“I thought my day was eventful. Did you know she was expecting?” Temperance asked in whispered astonishment.

“No.” Jane shook her head and allowed her eyes to widen with belated alarm. “Not until her pains were on her. I don’t think she wanted anyone to know. Maybe she hid it from herself even. Will you hold him while I fix my hair?”

“Of course.” Temperance set aside her cup and eagerly held out her arms for the tiny bundle with the serene little face. “How did you know what to do?” She was still in a state of wonderment. “Oh, your mother. Of course.”

“Yes, but I only ever did for her what you did—fetched water and such. I’ve never caught a baby.” She spoke around pins as she moved them from teeth to hair. “I was so scared when I realized what was happening. Anything can go wrong. I was so glad you came along.”

Temperance managed a wobbly smile of emotive sympathy. Her own mother had died in childbirth. She knew how badly things could go.

“You did very well,” she assured Jane. “You both did.”

Temperance had arrived feeling very sorry for herself, but Mavis’s predicament sobered her. Mavis couldn’t work, not immediately, and she now had another mouth to feed..

“What will she do?” Temperance asked in a faint whisper.

Jane gave a dismal shake of her head.