The Midwife and the Lawman

by Marisa Carroll

“Right.” She smiled her agreement. It was nice to have someone to help make the decisions.

  A pager went off. Miguel’s hand went automatically to his belt, Devon’s to the waistband of her pink scrubs. “It’s mine,” she said. “I left my phone in the car.”

  Miguel waved his hand toward the wall. “Use mine.”

  She stood up a little too quickly and had to steady herself with a hand on the tabletop.

  “You okay?” He didn’t make even the slightest move toward her and Devon was glad. If he had, she might have let him take her in his arms and…

  “Just tired.” She punched in the clinic’s number.

  “The Birth Place,” a voice answered.

  “Trish?” Devon was a little surprised the clinic’s receptionist, Trish Linden, was still on duty.

  “Yes, I’m still here. Got some paperwork I wanted to finish up. One of your patients is on her way in. Carla Van Tassle. She’s spotting. Just a little, but she’s worried.”

  Devon sorted through her mental case file until she put a face to the name. Carla was seven weeks pregnant with her second child. Lydia had delivered her first, a little boy, twenty-two months earlier. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Wait a moment, Devon, your grandmother wants to speak to you.”

  “I thought you were taking the day off,” Devon said, when Lydia came on the line.

  “I did take the day off. I came in to catch up on some charting and to give Lacy Belton a follow-up phone call.”

  “I planned to do that a little later this evening.” Devon felt her neck and shoulder muscles tighten. Lacy’s temperature had returned to normal and stayed there after she had received the IV antibiotics Joanna prescribed. She and her baby had left the clinic shortly before noon.

  “I’m sure she would still appreciate your call. And you’ll probably want to set up a convenient time to check in on her tomorrow, anyway.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I just wanted to tell you that since I’m here already, I’ll examine Carla. I’m sure it’s nothing serious.”

  Spotting early in a pregnancy wasn’t unusual, but Devon would have taken a blood sample, checked hormone levels, maybe ordered an ultrasound to be on the safe side. Not Lydia. Not at The Birth Place. Her grandmother had decades of experience, four thousand healthy deliveries to her credit. She relied on her instincts and her personal knowledge of each and every patient that passed through her care.

  “I’ll be glad to come back.” Devon kept her voice even and pleasant. She was very aware of Miguel standing just a few feet away. She was usually pretty good at hiding her emotions—she had to be in her business. But he was also very good at reading people for the same reason.

  There was a small silence before her grandmother spoke again. Her tone was unusually gentle. “Devon, I assure you I’ll transfer Carla to Arroyo County for an ultrasound if I think there’s the least chance this is serious. I’ll notify you immediately if that’s the case so you can be with her.”

  Devon took a breath. This was Lydia’s way of apologizing for their disagreement over Devon’s handling of Lacy Belton’s delivery. If only they could do the same with the past. “Thanks, Lydia.”

  “Good,” her grandmother replied briskly. “As I said, I don’t anticipate any real problem with Carla, so I’ll see you tomorrow. Why don’t you take the morning off, come in after your visit with Lacy?”

  Devon opened her mouth to say she’d be in at her usual time, and then changed her mind. She could use a few hours to herself. “All right. I will. Good night, Lydia.”

  “Good night, Devon.” She replaced the receiver.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yes. One of my patients is spotting a little. She’s still early in her first trimester, so it’s probably hormonal. The cervix is very sensitive at this point, so it could also be that she and her partner were just a little too energetic in making love.”

  Miguel lifted his hands in a time-out gesture. “Whoa. That’s enough.”

  Devon laughed. “I’m sorry. I was thinking out loud.”

  He was smiling, but he looked distinctly uncomfortable, and totally, breathtakingly male. Her stomach tightened in response and she felt her pulse speed up.

  “That’s more information than I really need,” he said.

  “I’ll remember that.”

  “Are you heading back to the clinic?”

  “No. My grandmother is going to check Carla over. She’ll call me if she needs me.” She caught a glimpse of the smooth, bronzed skin of his throat. She had kissed him there that night, and the taste of his skin had been like sunlight and sagebrush. She forgot what they’d been talking about. She forgot what she was going to say next. “I really should be going,” she finished in a rush.

  “You don’t have to run off, Devon.” He kept the width of the table between them, but she felt as if he was only inches away. She wished he was only inches away.

  “I…” She stopped and got hold of herself. “Would you like me to drop by and check on your grandfather while I’m out that way tomorrow morning?” They were neighbors. Neighbors did things like that for each other.

  “The Belton place is five miles from Granddad’s.”

  “I thought I’d drive on up to Silverton. I haven’t been there since I got back.” Silverton was an old abandoned mining town in the hills north of Enchantment. Horseback rides, picnics, a played-out silver mine and false-fronted wooden buildings slowly falling into ruin. It had been one of her favorite places as a girl.

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. We’ve been getting a lot of calls about stuff coming up missing out that way. Probably just kids, but with the INS cracking down on border crossings, the Coyotes are working their way farther north all the time.”

  Coyotes, the unscrupulous men who transported undocumented workers across the border from Mexico and sometimes left them to die a terrible death in the desert.

  “I’ll be careful. Thanks for the warning.” But the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to go.

  Devon had gotten up as she spoke and was heading into the main room of the cabin, with its whitewashed walls and shiny, wide-planked wood floor. A big fireplace made of river rock stood against one wall, flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows. Hanging on the opposite wall was a gorgeous hand-woven Navajo rug in warm earth tones. Miguel’s aunt, Carmella Elkhorn, was a master weaver. The rug was most likely her work.

  “Thanks again for the sandwich and the tea,” Devon said. “I’ll talk to Kim as soon as I check in tomorrow.” She reached to open the door.

  Miguel circled her wrist with his hand. His grip was painless but strong. She would have had to use her other hand to pry his fingers loose, and she didn’t trust herself to touch him even that much. “We have to talk,” he said quietly. “And not about the party.”

  She started to shake her head in an instinctive denial. They hadn’t seen each other a half-dozen times in the past ten years. Before that they’d parted in anger and hurt. Then the first time they were alone together, she fell apart in his arms and into his bed. He must think she’d lost her mind.

  She wasn’t sure she hadn’t.

  “I know we have to talk,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes. “But not now, please.” She was too vulnerable, her nerves rubbed raw by fatigue and the temptation of his nearness. “All I can say now is that I’m very sorry about…that night. And I promise you it will never happen again.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “SHE’S ADORABLE, Lacy.” Devon handed the sleeping infant back to her mother reluctantly. She loved holding babies.

  “She looks just like Angie did at that age.” Lacy settled the baby on her shoulder. “She’s nursing well, too. I was a little worried. I didn’t have as much milk as I needed for Angie. I had to put her on a bottle way sooner than I wanted to.”

  “Any problems this time?” Devon asked, putting her stethoscope and blood pressure cuff back in her tote.

  “
Heavens no. My milk just gushes.”

  “No redness or sore nipples?”

  “A little,” she said with a grin. “She has an excellent sucking response.”

  “Great. That’s what I like to hear. I’ll leave you some cream for the soreness. It should help.” Devon stood up and reached down to touch a fingertip to the baby’s silky cheek. “You did good, Lacy.”

  “Thanks, Devon. Maybe we’ll do it again sometime.”

  “You’re planning on having another baby?” When Devon let herself daydream about a family of her own, she always pictured herself with four children. She was an only child and had always envied big families.

  Lacy nodded. “Not right away. But Tom and Luke want a boy to even out the numbers. And I like the idea of this little angel having a sister or brother close to her own age to grow up with. I hope The Birth Place will still be operating in a couple more years.”

  “It will be.” Devon said what Lacy expected her to, but the truth was she didn’t know how long the clinic would stay in business if her grandmother retired. The other midwives were dedicated, but they couldn’t be expected to shoulder the responsibility of keeping the always cash strapped clinic afloat.

  That would be up to her.

  If she gave up her practice and her life in Albuquerque.

  That was a big if.

  “I’ll see you to the door.” Lacy put her hand on the arm of her chair as if to rise.

  “Stay put,” Devon said, bending to pick up her bag. “I’ll see myself out.”

  “Thanks. I’m still a little stiff.” Lacy settled back into the rocker. “Tom took the kids to town to buy gifts for the new baby with their allowances. They’re going to fix me a special dinner and then we’re going to pick a name for the baby.”

  “Sounds like a wonderful evening.”

  She smiled down at the sleeping infant. “It will be.”

  Devon’s heart contracted. It always happened. She didn’t think she would ever grow blasé about watching a mother with her newborn at her breast. “I’ll stop back in a few days. We’ll fill out her birth certificate then.” The clinic usually did two follow-up visits after a birth, more if the midwife thought it necessary.

  “Thanks, Devon. Say hello to your grandmother for me.”

  “I will.” She let herself out of the cabin into the bright sunshine of the summer morning. The sky was so blue it hurt to look at it without sunglasses, but off to the south was a ridge of dark clouds. One of the thunderstorms she’d heard predicted on the TV the night before? This one looked to be a long way off, and moving away, so it shouldn’t spoil her trip to Silverton.

  But first she’d stop and pay her courtesy call on Miguel’s grandfather.

  Daniel Elkhorn had been working as a carpenter on a remodeling project at the clinic when she was fifteen. She had been born and raised in San Francisco, but long visits to Lydia in Enchantment were the highlights of her childhood. That was how she’d first met Miguel—he’d been helping his grandfather during summer vacation. Daniel had been patient with all her questions about Navajo customs and way of life. He never once asked her if her sudden interest in his heritage had anything to do with her very obvious crush on his grandson.

  She had no trouble finding the turnoff to the Elkhorn place, although it had been a long time since she’d been out this way. Daniel lived in a mobile home, white with green shutters and a steep-pitched snow roof suspended above it on wooden posts. A small barn housed a couple of milk goats and a chicken run. A swaybacked roan horse grazed in a fenced pasture that would be in shade when the sun dropped behind the ridge line. A dusty, dark-blue pickup was parked alongside a newer dual-cab pickup. She wasn’t Daniel’s only visitor, it seemed.

  Sitting in plastic lawn chairs beneath a brush arbor was Daniel and a plump woman in traditional Navajo dress—long-sleeved blouse and long, pleated cotton skirt with a woven belt. Her hair, gathered into a heavy knot at the back of her head, was black, barely streaked with gray. Her jewelry was silver and turquoise. Devon recognized her as Elena Eiden, Miguel’s mother. She was holding a spindle, spinning yarn from a pile of sheep’s wool in her lap.

  Elena put down her work and rose from her chair. “Devon Grant? Is that you?” She shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand.

  “Hello, Mrs. Eiden. Yes, it’s me.”

  “How good to see you! Miguel told me you were back in Enchantment. I was planning to stop by the clinic. Dad and I have been in Arizona visiting my daughter and new grandbaby. We only returned to town a few days ago,” she explained, motioning Devon to an empty chair. “I have pictures for Lydia. She delivered her, you know.”

  “I know she’d love to see them. We all would.” Devon felt gooseflesh rise on her arms. She might have been carrying Miguel’s baby, another grandchild for Elena, if the timing of their night together had been different. Not for the first time she felt a tiny pang of regret, not relief, when the thought crossed her mind.

  “Father, you remember Devon Grant. She’s Lydia Kane’s granddaughter.” She spoke in English, although Devon suspected she and her father had been speaking Navajo when she drove up.

  “Yah-ta-he, Grandfather,” she said, using the Navajo greeting he’d taught her years before.

  “Welcome. It’s been a long time since you came to visit and ask questions about the Diné, Devon Grant.”

  “Yes, it has. I don’t have time to come to Enchantment often anymore.”

  “But now you’re here to stay, aren’t you?” Elena asked, resuming her spinning. She was a weaver, too, Devon remembered, though not as renowned as her sister-in-law.

  “For the time being. I’ve taken a six-month leave of absence from my practice in Albuquerque.”

  Daniel let a few seconds elapse before he spoke. It was a sign of politeness among the Navajo, making sure someone was finished speaking before jumping in. “Are you here now to learn more about the Diné?” His face was impassive, but a glint of humor sparkled in his faded eyes.

  “I would still like to learn from you,” Devon said carefully, shying from his gaze. Obviously the man’s advancing years hadn’t taken a toll on his mind. He hadn’t forgotten that she’d been as much interested in Miguel as about Navajo lifestyles.

  “You have followed the Navajo way in honoring your grandmother’s wish that you return to Enchantment.”

  “I will certainly stay until my grandmother is fully recovered from her heart attack.”

  “How is Lydia?” Elena asked.

  “She’s regaining strength and is impatient to be back delivering babies full-time.”

  “I heard you went out to the reservation to help Ophelia Pedroza. Not many whites will make that drive for any reason.”

  This time Devon had no trouble meeting the old man’s gaze. “She needed me.”

  “Miguel told me the baby was breech. That you had to take Ophelia to The Birth Place to deliver.”

  Devon felt the familiar need to explain her actions and fought it down. The silence stretched out a little longer than good manners dictated. “It was a difficult birth. I’m not my grandmother. I don’t have her experience and expertise. For Ophelia’s sake and the baby’s, I felt they should be brought to the center.”

  The two Navajos nodded acceptance of her explanation. Daniel changed the subject. “What brings you this far up the mountain? You didn’t come all this way just to say hello to an old man like me.”

  “Well, not exactly,” Devon responded, smiling. “I’m also going to drive on up to Silverton. I haven’t been there in years. I used to love to go there.”

  “Not a good place to go,” Daniel said bluntly.

  “He’s right, I’m afraid,” Elena said. “Dad’s had stuff stolen and whoever’s doing it could be hiding out there.”

  “Miguel mentioned it.” Devon wished she’d kept her mouth shut when she saw the flicker of interest in Elena’s face.

  “Someone’s been in my chicken coop,” Daniel elaborated. “Couple nights ago
they took off with a hen. It’s probably just kids, but if they go after my goats, I’ll shoot them.”

  “You will not,” Elena said firmly. “You’ll call Miguel. And then you’ll call Dennis and me and we’ll come and get you, and you can stay at our place until they catch the thief.”

  “I’ll stay here.” Daniel’s tone left no room for argument.

  Elena’s lips tightened into a straight line, but she said no more, concentrating on tugging a strand of wool from the bundle of fleece on her lap.

  “I’m only going to stay there a little while,” Devon assured them. “I just want to see if the place has changed.”

  “There are ghosts there,” Daniel said. It was Navajo custom not to mention the names of the dead in case their malevolent ghosts were nearby. But Devon knew he was talking about Teague Ellis. Teague had been Enchantment’s bad boy a generation ago. He’d died in the Silverton mine before Devon was born, his body not found until years later.

  “I’m not planning on going into the mine,” she said, rising from her chair.

  “It’s still not a safe place to be right now,” Elena said. “Ghost or no ghost.”

  “I’ll be careful.” Devon turned to Daniel. “It’s so good to see you, Grandfather.”

  “Come back again, Devon Grant. I am here most days.”

  Elena once more put down her spinning and followed Devon to her truck. “Thank you for stopping. My father enjoys the company. He misses my mother.” Elena did not mention her mother’s name in deference to her father’s beliefs. Elena herself didn’t follow the old ways. Her mother had been Roman Catholic and Elena had been raised in that faith. The heavy silver cross she wore around her neck was proof of that.

  “I’ll stop by as often as I can.”

  “Thank you.”

  Devon waved a last goodbye to Miguel’s grandfather, then climbed in her truck and headed up the mountain, following Silver Creek. There was only a trickle of water now. The snow melt was long over and there’d been little summer rain to keep it running free and strong.

  The turnoff to Silverton was almost invisible if you didn’t know where to look. But she did. She kept Silver Creek on her left and watched for the landmarks she remembered from her teens, the twisted ruin of a huge cottonwood tree on one side, and a big limestone boulder on the other. There was a sign, too, leaning and faded. If you weren’t looking for it, it was hard to see. She nosed the Blazer onto the old roadway and shifted into four-wheel drive.