to the turquoise stones, silver, and feathers that adorned his braided hair and cowboy hat. Cowboy boots pushed the jeans-clad man to over six feet, four inches.

“Say, you’re Kier Wintripp, aren’t you? The veterinary doctor?”
He nodded.

“Winona told us to look for you. Room Six down there. She just got back from recovery. She gave birth by cesarean just over an hour ago.”
“I didn’t expect it would be that fast,” Kier said.

“The baby was breech and had the umbilicus wrapped around its neck. Couldn’t be helped.” She pointed down the corridor to the right. “They rushed her straight to surgery.”

Kier followed where she had pointed. The floors were gleaming, the walls without a mark and tastefully adorned with watercolor wilderness scenes. In the hallway, Kier passed a defibrillator and brand-new stainless-steel medicine carts.

Before he entered Winona’s room, he heard the commotion.

“I want to see the baby just once.” It was Winona, sounding stressed.

“It’s awful, just awful.” His sister’s voice.

As he came through the door, Kier’s mother sounded only slightly calmer. “Honey, we’ve asked them.”

His mother smiled at him, and for just a second, the exhaustion departed her body. She looked back at Winona, whose dark hair hung down around a face taut with anguish.

“What’s wrong?” Kier asked.

“They won’t let me even look at the baby. Not even for a second.”

Kier pondered for a moment. “I’ll ask them to let you see the baby,” he said. “But just for a couple of minutes. Then we have to let the baby go. He’s not one of us.”

“I want to see him.” She grasped his hands.

“We’ll try,” he said, seeking to comfort her. “When they bring you this baby I want you to tell

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