Hard Country (56 page)

He shouldn’t have forced himself on her like he did. His gut seized up with the memory of it, and he quickly brushed it away, determined not to think of it again.

61

T
he day Emma’s period was late she knew she was pregnant. She waited another month before seeking out a doctor, who confirmed she was with child and spent a long time listening to her heart through his stethoscope.

“You have a heart murmur,” Dr. Fielder finally said.

Emma’s spirits sank. Ever since the start of summer, she’d been lightheaded, sometimes even dizzy, and often out of breath. After returning to Las Cruces from the ranch, she’d done a good job of hiding her ailment from CJ and her employer, Sam Miller, who owned a dry-goods store on Main Street.

She nodded.

Dr. Fielder raised an eyebrow. “You’re not surprised?”

In a way, he reminded Emma of Cal with his soft Texas drawl and quiet air of confidence.

“I know about it,” she said with a slight smile, “but I haven’t let it slow me down.”

“Do you want to have this baby, Mrs. Kerney?”

The question startled Emma. “Why would you even ask me that?” she demanded.

“I’m worried about your health,” Fielder replied gently. “With your heart condition you could easily lose it.” He paused and gave her a serious look. “Or the child might be motherless.”

Emma’s eyes widened. Both possibilities were unimaginable to her. Losing Molly had been hard enough. That would not happen again. She would have this child and live to raise it. “What should I do?”

“Do you have kinfolks who can help during your pregnancy?”

Emma shook her head. “I live alone with my son and have to work. I have a job at Miller’s Dry Goods.”

Dr. Fielder looked grave. “You must avoid excitement and strenuous work. Being on your feet all day won’t do for you or your baby. You’ll need plenty of rest so as not to strain your heart. The delivery could do tremendous damage to your heart. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“That I could die giving birth,” Emma replied.

“Or before,” Fielder added. “I take it you have no husband?”

“I do,” Emma replied, “but not for long.”

“I see. I must tell you directly, Mrs. Kerney, that in order to give every advantage to you and the baby, you must cease work, have only a very light housekeeping burden, and rest in bed every day. In addition, you’ll need to have nursing care as your time approaches. Otherwise, I fear for the worst. Is there some way this might be possible?”

“Yes.”

Fielder smiled. “Good. I’ll want to see you in a month and then twice a month after that until the baby comes.”

Fielder reached for a pen and wrote something down.

“Miss Strauss is a nurse who took her diploma at a New York hospital. She is quite capable and also an excellent midwife, although I will attend you at delivery.” He handed the paper to Emma. “Get in touch with her as soon as possible.”

“Thank you,” Emma said.

She walked slowly home in the late afternoon coolness of the day, with gray skies covering the valley and rain clouds gathering above the Organ Mountains. She kept her head lowered to hide her tears. To protect her unborn child and give it a chance for life, she needed money to get though the pregnancy and pay all the bills. That meant she would have to come to terms with Patrick. He’d offered through his lawyer to sign over the house and give her a cash settlement equal to a third of the value of the ranch if she agreed to let CJ live with him and go to Addie Hightower’s one-room schoolhouse.

Emma hated the idea of CJ giving up the chance to get a good enough education to go to college. More than that, she feared Patrick’s influence over him. Although she would never say it to him, CJ was a sweet boy, honest and caring. He had none of his father’s suspicious attitudes toward people or his sharp temper. But most of all, her heart broke at the thought of losing him. It felt almost as bad as Molly’s death.

It seemed fate had conspired to force her to give up her son for an unborn baby that might not even survive. She had no choice but to do all she could to bring her baby into the world and raise it. But she would never completely surrender CJ to Patrick in order to do it.

At home, CJ was at the kitchen table studying a Spalding Athletic Library book on the manly art of boxing that he’d bought last Saturday for ten cents. Emma had seen him in his room shadow boxing and practicing the various poses illustrated in the book. He smiled and closed the cover as Emma kissed him on the cheek.

“If I let you live with your father at the ranch for one school term and here in town with me for the other, would you like that? Summers you could stay at the ranch as always, if you like, or be here with me. It will be your choice.”

CJ’s eyes widened with pleasure for a second before he gave his mother a sharp look. “Does that mean you and Pa are for certain getting divorced?”

Emma took a deep breath. “I told you that we were. It isn’t going to change.”

CJ’s expression turned stormy.

“I know you don’t like it,” Emma said gently.

“I hate it!” CJ snapped. “Don’t do it.”

She reached for his hand, but he pulled it away. “Someday you’re going to be your pa’s partner in the Double K,” Emma said as she sat down beside him. “I know you love the ranch and would rather be there than any other place. Your pa can teach you all he knows, just like before. In the fall, you can live in town with me. That way, your pa and I get to share you. It’s the best way to do things.”

CJ turned his head. “It’s not best for me without you with us.”

Emma stood and reached for the apron on the hook by the kitchen door. She wasn’t sure if she could keep from wrapping her arms around CJ and never letting him go.

“You think about the idea while I get started on supper,” she said as she tied the apron strings. “It just might be perfect for you. Your pa will help you become the best rancher on the basin, and with all your schooling you’ll be smarter and more savvy than the whole lot of them.”

CJ stood. “I’m going to my room,” he said, sounding surly.

“Bring in some wood for the cookstove before you do,” Emma said, trying to keep her voice from trembling.

* * *

P
atrick’s attorney, Alan Lipscomb, met him a block away from the offices of Wallace Claiborne Hale, Emma’s lawyer.

“They’re waiting for us,” Lipscomb said, consulting his pocket watch. He ran a handkerchief across his forehead. It was a hot day for the middle of November, and a stiff breeze kicked across the valley. On Main Street, dust swirled up and down the boulevard. Only a few people were out. A wagon rattled past and several automobiles chugged by, billowing smoke. A huge tumbleweed followed one of the motorcars down the street. In spite of the bountiful crops harvested earlier in the fall along the Rio Grande, Las Cruces looked dried out and thirsty.

“They can wait,” Patrick replied, looking at the baby-faced lawyer in his three-piece suit. “Are you sure they agreed to my terms?”

Lipscomb nodded. “You pay her one-third the value of the ranch, livestock, and improvements, and she gets the house free and clear plus any remaining cash from the dissolution of the partnership and the marriage.”

Patrick hated the idea of borrowing the money to settle the divorce, but there was no other way to do it. “What about CJ?” he demanded. “I want my boy.”

“That’s what we’re here to find out. Mr. Hale says they’re willing to make an offer.”

“What kind of offer?”

Lipscomb shrugged. “Best you can plan on is seeing your son in town and having him out at the ranch when he’s not in school. There isn’t a judge in the district who will give you custody of the boy over his mother’s objections. And as far as we know, there are no moral or health issues that would hold up against her. She has all the cards.”

Lipscomb waited for his client to react. A tall man who towered over him, Patrick Kerney had a face that gave nothing away. In his two prior meetings with the man, Lipscomb had come to think of Kerney as taciturn and vindictive. Why else would he want to deny his wife custody of their son? Mrs. Kerney was well liked and respected by all who knew her in town. Many folks, particularly the men who frequented Miller’s Dry Goods, found her remarkably interesting and vivacious. Lipscomb was one of those men.

Patrick said nothing. “Are you ready?” Lipscomb asked.

Patrick nodded and stepped off briskly down the sidewalk toward Hale’s office. Lipscomb hurried to catch up and drew even with Kerney at the front door, just as he flung it open and stepped inside. A male secretary scrambled to his feet to greet them.

“Where is my wife?” Kerney demanded curtly.

The secretary nodded at the closed door to the inner office. “Go right in.”

Kerney stormed in. Lipscomb, in his wake, wondered if all hell was going to break loose. Instead, Kerney glanced quickly at his wife, sitting in a chair across from Hale’s desk, and locked his eyes on Hale, who rose, hand extended.

He shook Hale’s hand across the desk, sat stiffly in an empty chair away from his wife, and said, “Let’s hear what you have to say.”

Lipscomb took a seat between Kerney and his missus. As always, he was struck by Emma’s natural attractiveness. She had lively eyes, pleasing full lips, high cheekbones, and lustrous dark hair done up in a bun.

“Yes, of course,” Wallace Hale said, settling down behind his desk. “To the business at hand.” He passed a document across the desk to Lipscomb.

“What’s this?” Lipscomb said, reaching for his reading spectacles.

“Once signed, it testifies, declares, and acknowledges that Mr. Kerney is the father of Mrs. Kerney’s unborn child,” Hale replied. “By his signature, Mr. Kerney furthermore agrees to make the unborn child an equal heir to his estate.”

Stunned, red faced, and angry looking, Patrick turned to Emma and sputtered, “What damn unborn child?”

Wallace Hart held up his hand to stop him. “Enough, Mr. Kerney. If you are about to challenge my client’s claim that you are the father of this child, I advise against it. If you do so, all pending agreements regarding the divorce settlement will dissolve here and now, and we will see you and your counsel in court, where you will not fare well.”

Patrick Kerney clenched his jaw and shot another glance at Emma, who sat calmly, ignoring him.

“Just what does my client get out of this?” Lipscomb asked.

“Along with the already agreed-upon division of property and cash assets, Mrs. Kerney will graciously agree to allow CJ to stay with your client on the ranch each year from the start of the New Year through fall works, providing that CJ returns to his mother’s house during the summer should he so desire and your client agrees to return CJ home to his mother in time to attend school in the fall. Furthermore, Mr. Kerney must ensure that CJ attends school at the Hightower Ranch while it is in session during the time the boy resides at the Double K.”

Hale handed Lipscomb another document and watched as he read it. “Do you need a moment in private with your client?” he asked.

“Just how far along are you?” Patrick demanded of Emma before Lipscomb could reply to Hale.

“You should know,” Emma said evenly, refusing to look at him, “unless you’d like to forget what you did.”

Patrick gripped the arms of his chair and glared at her.

Hale passed another paper to Lipscomb. “Dr. Fielder is attending to Mrs. Kerney. She is approaching the end of her third month. He attests to it in his letter.”

“Did you figure out how to do all this all on your own?” Patrick snapped at Emma. “Is this how you pay me back for getting you away from Tom Dunphy and your loco sister? Taking you in when you had nothing and giving you a home and a family?”

Emma straightened her back and stared at the wall of books behind Hale’s desk.

“Do you want a moment with your client?” Hale repeated.

Lipscomb nodded.

“Use my office,” Hale said as he escorted Emma to the door. “If you agree to Mrs. Kerney’s conditions, call for my secretary. He’ll have the necessary documents for Mr. Kerney to sign.”

Patrick waited until the door closed. “Maybe I should get me a lawyer who will stand up for me.”

“Another lawyer might be more than willing to advise you to take the matter before a judge,” Lipscomb replied. “But I feel it will serve no good purpose, although folks hereabouts will certainly find plenty reason to gossip about what gets disclosed in court.”

“That kind of talk won’t bother me none out on the Double K,” Patrick replied.

“But it will surely bother your son here in town,” Lipscomb responded.

“Dammit,” Patrick snorted.

“If you have any knowledge that Mrs. Kerney has been unfaithful with another man, we can proceed with a counterproposal or take the entire custody question before a judge. Otherwise, I suggest you accept the terms.”

Patrick fell silent.

“Do you wish to contest Mrs. Kerney’s assertion that you are the father of her unborn child?”

Patrick sighed. “I want to be done with this and with her.”

“Very well.” Lipscomb opened the door and called for Hale’s secretary.

Papers in hand, Patrick and Lipscomb read though the documents carefully. After Patrick signed, Lipscomb witnessed his signature, and the two men left Hale’s office. The secretary was alone in the front office. Emma and Hale were nowhere in sight.

In spite of his bluster, Patrick wanted to see her again. He wanted to talk her out of the mule-headed stubbornness that had caused her to leave him. He wanted her to give him another chance, like any decent wife should.

That wasn’t going to happen, and he knew it. Right there, on the spot, with Lipscomb saying something that didn’t register, Patrick decided he would have nothing at all to do with the baby Emma carried. Not now, not ever.

62

A
s winter approached, news of impending statehood filled the newspapers. In the diners, saloons, hotels, and stores along Main Street, it was about the only subject of conversation. Rumor had it that New Mexico would become a state soon after Congress convened in the New Year. The city fathers were already planning a day of celebration.