The Wolf's Surrender. Sandra Steffen

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      He reminisced about simpler times, and what it was like growing up in a loud, boisterous family. She was breathing quietly when he started to tell the story of the time he, Billy, Jesse, Sky and their cousin Willow had been visiting the family ranch.

      “We climbed up a rickety ladder nailed to the wall in the barn. At the top was a window with no glass where barn swallows and doves roosted. From there it was an easy climb out onto the roof of a lean-to that housed straw and machinery and little animals that scuttled, heard but rarely seen. We all knew that roof was forbidden territory. That was half the allure. The other half was the view. We sat up there in a row, smugly enjoying our adventure. Our grandmother’s voice carried around to the back of the barn, calling us in for lunch. Being the oldest, I went last, the others climbing down ahead of me. We could smell the homemade soup and fresh-baked bread before we reached the house.”

      “What kind of soup?” Kelly asked.

      So she was listening. “Vegetable beef. My mother was stirring it on the stove when we got there. My grandmother, who had been raising my cousins ever since their parents died a few years earlier, looked at each of us in turn. Tossing her gray braid over her shoulder, she said, ‘Willow, would you like your spanking now or later?’

      “All five of us froze like antelope trapped in the glare of headlights. How could she have known? My ever-wise grandmother nudged my mother and said, ‘Are you going to line yours up for spankings, too, Alice?”’

      “Not exactly good appetizer talk, huh?” Kelly whispered.

      Grey shook his head at the memory. “My mother said that she would prefer to wait until our father got home.” He leaned ahead in his chair, quietly adding, “And you’re right. None of us ate much at lunch that day.”

      “Did your father spank you when he got home?”

      “I don’t think my mother ever told him. I doubt she’d planned to. That six-hour wait was our punishment.”

      Kelly grew silent, panting through another pain. It lasted almost two minutes. Deep lines cut into the corners of her mouth; her face was wet with perspiration long before the contraction was over. Exhausted, she slumped back. Without opening her eyes, she said, “Do you believe in spanking children?”

      “Most of the time, no.”

      “But?” she whispered.

      “If they climb out onto a rotting roof forty feet off the ground, when one wrong move could get them killed, or worse, then, yeah, I believe in spankings. Not beatings, or whippings, but a swat on the seat of their pants, or the threat of one, was very effective.”

      Kelly thought about that. Grey’s mother sounded like a wise woman. The “wait for your father to get home” ploy had worked, probably because she hadn’t overused it. Kelly’s baby wasn’t going to have a father. It was all up to her. She didn’t want to think about that right now.

      “Tell me more. About that big family of yours.”

      Grey Colton, a man who’d professed that he wasn’t much of a talker, told her about the years his family had moved around while his father had been in the army. He talked about his great-grandfather George WhiteBear and his spirit quests. Sometimes she whimpered. Sometimes she squeezed his hand so hard he feared for the internal integrity of several of his bones. She never screamed or yelled, and by God, he wasn’t about to.

      Before long, there was no time between pains. Her body strained as if being guided by inner wisdom fueled by some ancient knowledge.

      Grey went on automatic pilot. Since he had no blankets or sheets or towels, he removed his white dress shirt and the cotton T-shirt underneath, for later use. The sounds Kelly made now were guttural, her breathing labored as he reassured her and told her she was doing great. A nearly bald head crowned. Soon, a shoulder emerged. He didn’t know where Kelly found the strength to keep pushing. She was so tired, and God, the pain…

      But she pushed again, and an unbelievably tiny child was born into Grey’s hands. “I’ve got her.”

      “Her?”

      “It’s a girl.” His throat closed up tight.

      The child was warm and moving. Using his T-shirt, he cleaned the baby off as best he could. It caused her to start to cry.

      “What’s wrong?” Kelly whispered.

      “Nothing that I can see. I don’t think she likes to have her face washed.”

      That tiny, mewling cry grew stronger as he wrapped her in his starched white shirt. Carefully, he placed the tiny bundle in Kelly’s shaking arms. The baby stopped crying.

      And Kelly started.

      She hadn’t shed a tear through the entire ordeal. Now she cried, big, fat tears rolling down her face. “She’s beautiful.”

      The baby was bald, wrinkled and red. She needed a bath. “Not just beautiful,” Grey whispered. “She’s perfect.”

      Kelly sniffled. “I need to call my mother.”

      Grey handed her the cell phone. She pushed speed dial, and, lo and behold, the phone worked. She told her mother all about the birth. Of course her mother freaked and insisted Kelly hang up and call 911 immediately.

      And miraculously, this time that worked, too.

      Grey took the phone from her. “This is Judge Grey Colton. I’m in my chambers on the second floor of the courthouse, with Kelly Madison. She’s just had her baby. We need an ambulance and some paramedics up here, now. I’ll stay on the line. Try to disconnect me and I’ll see you in court.”

      Feeling her eyes on him, he glanced at her.

      “Even without your shirt, you’re formidable.”

      She wavered him a woman-soft smile that went straight to his head. He barely managed to hold the phone to his ear.

      “Was it worth it?” she whispered.

      At first he thought she was referring to delivering her daughter. But then she said, “Was climbing onto that barn roof worth it?”

      A lump came and went in his throat. “I can still remember the view.”

      “That’s what I thought.”

      She pressed her lips to her daughter’s cheek. “Why is it that the most worthwhile things in life always come with the greatest risk?”

      Their gazes locked, and something nearly tangible passed between them. She leaned back and closed her eyes, drawing the baby closer.

      He wished he had a blanket to cover her and the infant. Those paramedics had better hurry up and get here. “Yes.” He spoke into the phone. “I’m still here. Yes.” He answered a few questions, gave a few details, which he followed up with one succinct order to hurry.

      “Help is on the way,” he said.

      He looked at Kelly. She and the baby were both asleep.

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