"Push harder! The head is almost out!"
"One more, Julia! You can do it!" Maverick's voice cracked loud enough to scare the rafters.
"Don't shout, you'll make her strain," Janet snapped, gripping Julia's hand like iron.
"Stop staring, Midwife Clare. Do your job!" Janet barked.
Clare's hands moved quick and sure. "Curl, Julia. Push now."
"I can't—" Julia gasped, sweat on her lip, breath ragged.
"Push!" Maverick slammed a fist against the low bedpost, then tugged at the rope that steadied Julia's hip.
"Come on, girl," Ethan said from the doorway, one hand on his ear, face set. "You did the pigs by yourself last year. This is nothing."
"Shut up and hold my hand," Julia yelled, then pushed.
Clare's voice became a steady drum. "Her head. Now take a breath. Push with me."
"There!" Janet cried. "I see the hair. A dark curl."
"It's a girl!" Clare cried, and the room filled with a sound like release.
Maverick sank to his knees on the straw. "Julia—thank the sky—"
Julia sobbed and laughed through pain. "Is she—"
"Alive," Clare said, bringing a tiny, slick bundle into the light. "She's breathing. A daughter."
Maverick couldn't stand. He pressed his forehead to the place the baby lay, whispering, "Welcome home."
Janet hushed everyone. "Blankets. Warm water. Ethan, fetch the herbs."
Ethan moved like a soldier, clasps of his sleeves making small, efficient motions.
Dashiell stood by the door with Zander
