Page 36 of Jocelyn
Scrambling, I handed Doc the calving chain, and he attached the birthing device to the calf’s exposed leg while holding the uterus in position against the outer incision. Reaching in, he found the second leg and attached another calving chain to it, which I held up. With controlled strength, Doc and I muscled against the baby, which would weigh in at almost a hundred pounds.
“You still there?” Doc called over his shoulder.
A strangled squeak answered.
“Good. We need your help.” Doc met my eye, and I could read his concern in the fine lines around his mouth.
“I…I…I…” Always in control, always poised, always with a ready response Jocelyn was tongue-tied.
The cow’s body shuddered. I hadn’t wanted Jocelyn here to witness this, and by the shell-shocked quiver to her voice, I’d been right. But she hadn’t left, and now we needed her. I pressed past the constriction in my chest and forced my voice to stay calm but authoritative. “Jocelyn, I know this isn’t what you signed up for, but this mama and baby could really use your help right now.”
“I…I…”
I braced my elbow on my hip and steadied my hand before turning my shoulder so I could look at her. Her skin had paled, and she stared at the legs coming out of the cow’s side like it was the chestburster scene fromAlien.
“Jocelyn.” I said her name softly.
She didn’t even blink.
“Jocelyn!” I barked.
Like someone coming out of a trance, she gave her head a little shake then met my gaze.
I’d never been good with a lot of eye contact, but the wave of anxiety that normally slithered up my spine and pricked my skin didn’t stand to attention as her honey eyes focused on mine. “You can do this.”
She looked like she wanted to protest, but then resolve slowly firmed her gaze. Her shoulders pushed back, and she took a step closer.
With three sets of hands, we managed to pull the calf up and out. The weight sent Jocelyn stumbling backward, and before I could catch her, she landed in a heap on the ground, the wet calf coated with amniotic fluid and white birthing membranes half in her lap. Instead of pushing the thing away from her, she leaned over its body and then looked up at me with a panicked expression.
“It’s not breathing.” Her voice wobbled.
I fell to my knees beside her and worked my fingers into the calf’s nostrils, scooping away fluid to unblock its airways.
Nothing. Still as death.
C’mon.I jammed my hand into its mouth and worked my fingers around. We had thirty, maybe sixty seconds at most to get this baby breathing. A piece of straw tickling its nose to cause it to cough or sneeze did nothing.
“Malachi.” Tears laced Jocelyn’s voice.
Time for gentleness over, I pulled the calf off Jocelyn’s legs and laid him on his side, his neck stretched, chin up, head back. Covering one nostril and holding the mouth shut, I blew into the other nostril until I saw the calf’s chest rise. I let its lungs empty.
“Breathe,” I commanded, then blew again. And again.
“Wait.” I heard Doc past the fog that had overtaken my brain. He stood at the mother’s side, washing out the abdominal cavity.
Jocelyn reached out and gripped my hand.
I stared at the calf’s ribs, willing them to rise. Then, as if a biological switch had turned on, the chest cavity expanded. The calf breathed its first breath on its own.
An exhale of relief escaped my lungs. The little guy would be all right.
Pressure on my hand stole my attention. Jocelyn’s tapered fingers wrapped around my own. Drying fluids and blood caked our skin. A mess. A beautiful, spectacular mess.
I forced my eyes up to meet hers. “You’re amazing,” I whispered, then stilled.
Not what I’d meant to say. I’d wanted to tell her shehadbeenamazing. Stepping up to help when the sight of blood and gore obviously made her uncomfortable and squeamish. But my mouth betrayed me with this woman yet again.
The pulse in her throat drummed below her jaw line as she let go of my hand and rubbed her palms together. “I can’t believe I did that.” Her eyes rounded. “I can’t believeyoudid that. You saved the calf’s life.”
