The Cowboy And The Baby. Marie Ferrarella

ordered. “Like this.”

      And he proceeded to show her, recalling what he’d seen on that program he’d watched during his summer of forced confinement.

      He could only pray he got it right.

      Cody saw anger in the woman’s eyes. Anger mingled with fear, but then she began to do what he’d told her. Blowing air out of her mouth, she stopped pushing for a moment.

      And then he felt her growing rigid again. Her whole body looked as if it was in the throes of another contraction.

      “Another one?” he asked.

      It was a rhetorical question, but she answered anyway. “YES!” she hissed as she dug deep into her core to find the energy to expel this child out of her body once and for all.

      “I see the head!” Cody declared in wonder as he tried his best to encourage her.

      “Isn’t...there...any...more?” she cried sharply.

      She was going to die like this, she was certain of it. She could feel herself growing weaker and weaker as she seemed to float in and out of her head.

      “There’s more,” he assured her. “There’s more!” This time he said it because she was pushing again. Pushing and screaming. “You’re almost there,” he encouraged.

      “AAAARRRGGGHHH!”

      The word shattered the atmosphere as it accompanied the emergence of the infant who was sliding out of her body.

      Euphoric, exhausted and close to delirious, Devon panted hard, trying to regain her breath. Trying to hear something beyond the sound of her heart, which was pounding like mad.

      “He’s not...crying,” Devon said, panicking. “Why isn’t...my...baby...crying?”

      Cody didn’t answer her. He was too busy trying to get the tiny human being he was holding in his arms to do just that.

      Turning the infant over so that it was facing the ground, Cody patted the baby’s back, then turned it over again to check its airway.

      Quickly clearing it with his forefinger, he held the baby in one arm while unbuttoning his shirt with the other.

      Devon attempted to use her elbows to prop herself up so she could see what was going on. She didn’t have enough strength left to manage it.

      “What—what are you doing?” Devon demanded weakly. Why was this man getting undressed? Fresh fear vibrated through her.

      Parting the tan deputy shirt, Cody pressed the baby against his bare skin, all the while still massaging the tiny back.

      A tiny whimper just barely creased the air. And then there was a cry. An indignant, lusty cry, followed by another one.

      Cody breathed a sigh of relief. His own heart was racing in triumph and elation.

      “She’s going to be all right!” he declared.

      Confusion slipped over Devon’s face. “She?” Devon questioned, unable to process the deputy’s words for a moment.

      Shrugging out of his shirt one sleeve at a time, he passed the infant from one arm to the other as he did it. Once he had the shirt off, he wrapped the material around the newborn.

      “Your baby’s a girl,” he told Devon. She was also the first infant he’d delivered and he was filled with a warm glow he couldn’t begin to describe.

      “Michael’s a girl?” Devon asked, confused and happy at the same time. It was over. The baby was out and it was over! She realized that she was crying again.

      “You might want to think about changing that name,” Cody advised. Looking down at the infant, he smiled. “This is your mama,” he told the baby as he transferred her into Devon’s arms.

      Her head spinning, feeling like someone in a dream, Devon carefully accepted the swaddled infant into her arms. She felt completely drained as she held the infant against her.

      She did her best to smile at her daughter. “Hi, baby.”

      Out of the corner of her eye, Devon thought she saw the man who had come to her rescue pull a knife out of the sheath within his boot. A wave of new fear shimmied through her.

      “What are you going to do?” she asked in a horrified whisper, unable to gather the strength for anything louder.

      Having struck a match—he always kept a book of matches in his pocket, although he rarely used them—Cody was passing the blade of his knife back and forth over the flame.

      “The umbilical cord is still attached,” he told her with an easy smile. “I figure it might get in the way after a bit.”

      Even though it was hard for her to focus, Devon was watching his every move. Her arms weakly tightened around the baby. “Will it hurt?”

      “Can’t really say for sure,” Cody told her honestly, “but I don’t think so.” He looked up at her. “Got any alcohol in the glove compartment?”

      Was he looking to toast the successful birth? Now? Had she not felt so exhausted, she might have seriously considered trying to get out of the truck with her baby.

      “No,” she cried.

      “Too bad.” He carefully lifted the umbilical cord at the baby’s end. “It might have been good to disinfect the area, but this should be okay for now.”

      And then, just like that, before she could ask Cody when he was going to do it—he’d separated the infant from the cord. She felt the remainder, no longer of any use, being expelled out of her own body.

      Sweating profusely, Devon didn’t realize that she had taken in a sharp breath until she released it.

      “That’s it?” she asked.

      Cody nodded. “As far as I know.”

      The reality of the situation and what he had just miraculously been a part of finally hit him. It took Cody a moment to get his breath back. The tiny infant nestled in the crook of Devon’s arm looked at peace, as if she had always been a part of the scene rather than just newly arrived.

      “How are you feeling?” Cody asked Devon, concerned. The color seemed to be draining out of her.

      “Woozy,” she answered. “Wonderful, but really, really light-headed.”

      “Well, you did good,” he told her. Very carefully, he reached out and, ever so lightly, stroked the baby’s downy head. “Feels like peach fuzz,” he commented quietly with a warm smile.

      “It’ll grow,” Devon told him, struggling not to slur. “My mom said... I was bald until I...was one, now it grows like...crazy.”

      She sounded exhausted. He didn’t blame her. He was feeling a little depleted himself. He just had one more question for her. “What are you going to call her?” he asked.

      She barely heard him at first, and then his words replayed themselves in his head.

      “I don’t know,” Devon answered honestly. “I was...really sure I was having...a boy, so all I have...are...boys’ names.”

      A thought hit him. It seemed almost like fate, he thought. “My mom’s name was Layla. I always thought that was a pretty name.”

      “Layla,” Devon repeated weakly. “You’re...right... It...is...pretty.” She looked down at the baby in her arms. Her daughter was looking up at her with wide, wide blue eyes. A peacefulness was descending over Devon. Her mind began to drift, but she did her best to focus. “Layla,” she repeated again to see if the name fit. It seemed to.

      “You like that?” The infant made a tiny noise. It wasn’t in response, but Devon took it that way. She glanced up at the man who had been there for her when he could have just kept going. “Looks...like it’s...unanimous.”

      “What