"If the fire fails," Serena answered, "one person cannot protect both the house and the barn."
She reached for the guide rope. After one brief hesitation, Beatrice placed her own hand behind Serena's. The path had disappeared, but the rope remained.
Belle's labor lasted far longer than anyone wanted. By the time the calf slipped onto the straw, she was exhausted. The little heifer lay still—her coat soaked, her breathing coming in weak, uneven pulls. Every time the barn door opened, the wind drove another blast of snow across the floor.
Elias had strained his shoulder helping Belle through the delivery, yet he kept working without complaint. Serena pointed toward the warming crate they had built days earlier. Its floor stood above the frozen ground, dry burlap lined the sides, and warm water crocks wrapped in heavy cloth rested beneath the bedding. Small vents near the top allowed damp air to escape without creating a draft.
"Dry her first," Serena said. Nothing else mattered until the water was gone.
Beatrice knelt beside her and rubbed the calf with coarse towels until the wet hair fluffed instead of clinging to the skin. Amos stayed beside Belle, speaking softly while replacing fresh fodder from the emergency reserve. Elias changed the burlap whenever moisture collected inside the crate.
An hour passed, and the calf still could not stand. Serena lifted her out for a few moments and guided her close enough for Belle to smell and lick her, then returned her to the warmth before her body lost too much heat again. The crate was never meant to replace the mother; it was meant to buy time.
Outside, snow piled against the side door. Inside, the older cattle chewed through the cottonwood branches and dried cornstalks they had stored weeks before, saving the best hay for Belle.
Nearly two hours after birth, the calf tucked her legs beneath herself. She struggled, rose, stood for only a heartbeat, then collapsed gently against her mother's shoulder.
"You saved her," Elias said quietly.
Serena shook her head. "We only kept her alive long enough for her to begin saving herself."
Beatrice rested one hand beneath the calf's head. It was the same steady touch Serena had used the day Elsie stopped crying.
The storm entered its second day, and visibility shrank to almost nothing. Then the guide rope jerked hard—once, twice, then stayed tight.