Galen Delbert, the ranch’s foreman, answered his daughter’s silent question by lashing his Appaloosa into a gallop over the nearest ridge.
Falling several lengths behind, Jennie pushed her pony to its limit and followed her father into the ravine. She found him kneeling over a downed heifer that was struggling in pain. “What’s wrong with it, Pa?”
“It’s giving birth too early.” He grunted as he reached into the writhing cow’s birth canal to feel for the calf. “Bring me the rolled canvas on my saddle.”
Jennie dismounted and delivered the tarp to her father. She began collecting driftwood to build a crude shelter against the biting wind. In the corner of her eye, she saw something flash across the auburn sky. She pointed at a star shooting. “Look, Pa! It’s like Bethlehem!”
Working feverishly to get the calf out, her father grimaced bitterly at the irony of the celestial coincidence. “I guess all we need now are three wise men. But those seem to be in pretty short supply around here these days.”
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