My hands shook as I lifted her out. She was so small. Maybe five pounds. Still covered in vernix. This baby was hours old. Maybe less.

She wasn’t crying anymore. That’s what scared me most. The crying had stopped.

“Come on, little one. Come on.”

I put my ear to her tiny chest. Heartbeat. Faint but there.

The nearest hospital was in Jackson. Twenty-three miles. In a storm. On a motorcycle.

I looked at this tiny human. Thrown away. Discarded. Left to die in garbage.

“Not on my watch, little warrior. Not on my watch.”

I stripped off my leather jacket. Sixty degrees and raining, but the jacket was warm from my body heat.

I wrapped her carefully, making sure she could breathe. Then I did something I’d only seen in movies – I unzipped my riding jacket and tucked