Seven Babies For Ezra
Disclaimer: The Magnificent Seven belong to MGM, Trilogy, etc.
Challenge: M7M Challenge for 13 May 2003: one or more of the boys help in a birth
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Seven Babies For Ezra
Of all the possible loyalty tests he might have expected, assisting in the delivery of babies wasn't one of them. Still, he needed to prove to the leaders of the group he could be trusted.
Even to his inexperienced eye, he could tell which of the women was in labor. His job was to coach the woman through. Stepping closer, he took the woman's hand. "You look beautiful my dear," he said, surprised he meant it.
The look she gave him rivaled any Larabee glare he had received. His eyes widening in fear, he decided to keep quiet.
Wiping his brow, Ezra took a deep breath. He was looking forward to a nice relaxing cup of wine. Having never assisted in a birth before, he had been amazed at how he felt.
Never before had he seen such a beautiful sight or heard such vile threats from a woman. He briefly wondered what it would be like to be at the birth of his own child before ending those thoughts.
Reaching for the jacket he had discarded earlier, his hand froze as an urgent voice called, "Mr. Simpson. Terri's just gone into labor, can you help?"
"Thank you, Mr. Simpson," Terri said, looking up into the emerald eyes.
Ezra smiled down at the young woman. After 10 hours in a delivery room helping two women have babies, he was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sink into his bed and sleep. "You're welcome, my dear," he replied.
He was startled out of his thoughts of rest by a frantic call from the nurse, "Mr. Simpson! Abby's gone into labor with the twins! Could you help until her husband comes?"
Ezra suppressed a whimper as he flexed his sore hand. Women in labor were deceptively strong.
"OK, dear, deep breath," Ezra coached, beginning to feel like an old pro. Actually he was beginning to hit that level of exhaustion where reality became unreal. Taking a quiet look at his watch, he realized he'd begun this fifteen and a half hours ago. Right now they were taking a very short break between the birth of Abby's twins.
"Thanks Ezra," Abby whispered, panting from her exertion. "Sorry about the shirt."
Ezra smiled down at her. "Not a problem," he answered, sighing inwardly at the destruction of his silk shirt.
"Here he comes!" Abby called out, clutching Ezra's hand.
Ezra awoke to a gentle hand shaking him. "Mr. Simpson," the nurse said, smiling down at the half-asleep man. "It's time for you to go."
Stretching and hearing his back crack, he stood and slipped on his jacket. Looking at his watch he realized that between the births and his few hours of sleep, he had been in the compound for twenty-eight hours.
His hand just rested on the doorknob when a nurse called out, "Mr. Simpson!"
With a heavy sigh, Ezra turned around and headed back. It appeared Elizabeth was in labor now.
"Thank you, Ezra," Jane said.
Jane had gone into labor several minutes after Elizabeth and Ezra had split his time between the two women. Jane seemed to respond best to poetry, nearly exhausting Ezra's repertoire. He would have to refresh his memory on several.
Elizabeth focused best if he was silent and simply stroked her hair.
The two women had delivered two more healthy baby boys. Ezra smiled. Six babies he'd been involved with. Right now he just wanted to go home. This time he actually had the door open before the nurse called him back.
"You're doing wonderfully, Mary," Ezra encouraged through gritted teeth. Lord the woman was strong. He'd have to have his hand examined to ensure there were no broken bones.
"I can see the head," the doctor called as Mary let out a low moan. "Just a bit more work..."
"Ezra!" she cried out.
"You're fine, you're doing fine," Ezra encouraged, gasping in pain as his hand was clenched more tightly.
There was a smack followed by a high-pitched cry. "You have a beautiful daughter," the doctor announced as the mother burst into tears.
Ezra held Mary and prayed his day was over.
"So how did you gain their trust so quickly, Ez?" Buck asked, settling into his chair at their table in the saloon.
Ezra lifted his tired eyes to his friends. They had successfully wrapped up the case and Ezra just wanted to sleep. He lifted his hand to brush a stray strand of hair off his forehead and winced at the bruises. Staring at his hand, he sighed and said, "Lamaze, Mr. Wilmington."
"Lamaze?" JD asked, puzzled.
"Let's just say there will be a sudden influx of Ezra's in the next census."
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