Powder River Read Free

wailing.
    â€œI’ll go to the village for a woman,” Billy Sun said. “I’ll be back in two hours, no more.”
    Rose shook her head and gripped his hand. “No. I don’t have even one hour.” She clenched her teeth; the pains were coming quicker now, and each was stronger than the one before. Things were happening much faster than they had with Harry. “Please, Billy, it’s happening now. You must stay and help me.”
    Billy saw the truth of her words with wide-eyed horror and muttered something under his breath in his Crow language.
    â€œThere’s hot water on the stove,” Rose said. “Bring it in here with clean rags from the cupboard. You know where I keep them. Bring scissors also.” The Indian boy swallowed hard and nodded. “Then take Harry from his chair and tie him to a leg of the table, and tie him securely. We won’t be able to watch him when it starts.”
    Billy looked at Harry, then back at Rose. “Tie him to the table? He’ll holler.”
    â€œDon’t argue—just do it!” Rose immediately regretted yelling at her savior. “I’m sorry, Billy. Yes, he’ll complain but there’s nothing for it. You might give him a cup of milk first, and another biscuit.”
    Billy nodded and left the room, returning a minute later with rags and a basin of steaming water, which he set on the floor beside Rose’s bed. She soaked a rag in the hot water and laid it across her stomach, feeling her muscles relax as the heat soaked in. The child inside her grew less restless, less sharp elbows and knees. “Let’s have a bit of rest first, shall we?” Rose whispered.
    She heard Billy go outside to take the coil of rope from his saddle, then Harry’s wails as Billy Sun bound him to the table leg. “I’m sorry,” the Indian said. “Mother’s orders.”
    * * *
    Soon the contractions were so close together they were almost constant. Rose fought to contain her fear. Billy sat beside her, holding her hand and occasionally wiping her sweaty forehead with a warm cloth.
    Harry’s cries grew weaker and weaker and finally stopped altogether. Rose was in too much pain to notice, but Billy discovered the boy had merely cried himself to sleep.
    Time passed and it seemed Rose was no closer to birthing the child. Billy could see she was tiring; sometimes she appeared not to know where she was, or who was with her. She called out for her husband and for her mother. Once she spoke to a woman named Margaret.
    Billy contemplated riding to his village for one of the grandmothers. He was not the right person for this; he should not be here. But he was all Rose had. He would not leave her.
    â€œMrs.,” he said during one of Rose’s moments of clarity, “when the women in my village do this, they do it differently. Maybe you should try another way.”
    Rose looked at him with sunken eyes. Her lips were pale and bloodless. “How do your women do it, Billy?” she said. “Tell me.”
    Childbirth was a sacred event in Billy’s village, secret to the women, but one he had surreptitiously viewed as a young boy. “First she drinks tea made with the powder of a snake’s rattles,” he said. “When things start to happen she does this.” He walked to the wall and dropped to his knees, leaning his arms against the chinked logs for support. “At the same time a grandmother stands behind her, pressing so.” He put his hands on his lower back and moved them in a downward motion. “This brings the baby quick.”
    Rose doubted she had the strength to get out of bed, but she knew she had to do something. To remain as she was would mean death, not only hers but the baby’s. “Help me,” she said, raising her arms.
    Billy took the gray wool blanket from Rose’s bed and spread it on the floor by the wall. When he came for her she again marveled