Joshua’s head snapped around. “I can’t imagine a British officer going against a loyal King’s man. When was he here?”
“Would you do something to Captain Snapes for his crimes?” She wanted the man brought to justice. Patriot or Loyalist, no one deserved that kind of slaughter.
He bowed his dark head which gleamed in the meager light, the muscles in his body tightening. “I want to catch the bastard for his raids—”
“He left shortly before you arrived. Snapes ordered Onontio to raid forts to the south and leave when the moon turns full. He is to meet up with Colonel Butler and Captain Snapes with many warriors. Snapes promises ten pounds for each scalp. To know that others will suffer what I saw at the Hayes’ farm. He must be stopped.”
A woman’s frantic voice called to them from outside the lodge. They both rose, Joshua translating the woman’s rapid-fire words. “Ojistah must have Woman with Hair of Fire to help Princess Evening Dove.”
As Juliet moved to follow the woman, Joshua hauled her back against his chest. “You must refuse. What knowledge do you have of such things?”
She tossed her hair back over her shoulders. “I am a trained midwife.”
He jerked his head back with that revelation, and then narrowed his eyes on her. “Even so, this is not England. If anything happens to the chief’s wife or child, you will be blamed and our lives will be forfeit.”
“My mother died in childbirth and if my father had allowed someone with ability to tend her, she might have survived. I cannot fail Princess Evening Dove, not when I have the skills to help her.”
She wrenched free and trailed the woman to the birthing lodge. The chief shook his head, refusing to let her pass. Ojistah spoke impatiently with heated argument.
Joshua limped beside her. “Ojistah told the chief you have great power.”
“Tell the chief, I have great skills. If I bring his child into the world, then he must set us free.”
Joshua translated. “The chief says if the child and the mother die, we will all die.”
“I am not afraid.” The lie came out smoothly.
The chief stepped aside. Juliet ducked beneath the flap. Princess Evening Dove, her hands tied at the wrists above her head, squatted from a center pole. Naked, her black hair lay plastered to her dark skin. In Europe, Juliet had heard of similar practices where women were held beneath their arms and made to walk to expel the baby.
“Could the chief come in and help us lay Evening Dove on the furs?”
A look of horror crossed Ojistah’s face. “Men cannot tread the same path as a pregnant woman. They lose their power.”
Ridiculous.“Untie Evening Dove and lay her on the furs.”
Ojistah translated. The three women helpers glared at her, and then glanced to Ojistah for orders. Juliet gazed at the heavens through the smoke hole, saw the stars, wishing Moira was with her. Memories of the many childbirths she’d helped Moira perform came back to her in a rush. She returned her gaze to the medicine woman.
“Excuse them,” said Ojistah. “They are the chief’s sisters and heavy with suspicion.” Her silver braids swung as she roughly rebuked them for their hesitation. The women shifted and laid the chief’s wife upon the furs.
Juliet dropped to her knees, moving her hands across Morning Dove’s swollen belly. She was young and pale. In the forefront of Juliet’s mind was how the chief had lost two of his previous wives. Juliet squared her shoulders, fully dedicated to using everything in her power to keep Evening Dove alive.
In an even tone, Ojistah said, “I have given her a tea of squaw root to speed the delivery. You will see the baby is bottom first.”
Juliet concurred as she, too, observed the breech presentation. Moira had told her breech babies were ten times more likely to cause both the infant’s and mother’s death.
The child had dropped, making outside manipulation impossible. In England, a doctor might have been called—if there was time. Only twice had she witnessed Moira’s interior maneuvering of an unborn baby. Furthermore, Princess Evening Dove had been given an herb to speed the contractions. Not good. She glanced over her shoulder to the door flap. Too late to leave.
Juliet grabbed a strap of sinew and knotted her hair on top of her head, trying to remember everything Moira had instructed her concerning the practice. Observing and performing were two different things.
The princess moaned and panted with the savagery of one contraction after another—a child impossibly positioned to bring safely into the world. Her lip bled and swelled where she bit too hard. How long could the woman last with the rapidity and intensity of contractions? Not long. “Ojistah, I’m going to reach inside and move the baby.”
The old woman, always calm, nodded her head. “You know of such practice?”
Juliet did not answer. Not when her nerves prickled up her spine, and screamed for her to run, not when she prayed to have as much faith placed in her as possible. She searched the lodge and washed her hands in a vessel of cool water.
“Oil?”
Ojistah produced a clay pot. “Sunflower.”
