Authors: Shirley Kennedy
“
I can’t, I can’t!” her sister-in-law called in a pitiful voice.
Lucy replied firmly, “You cannot stay here with the rain falling in your face. You must move. I insist.”
Martha begged, “Can we at least wait until the next pain passes?”
“
Of course. We’ll do it between your pains.”
“
They’re coming so close now!”
“
They’re at least a minute apart. That’s plenty of time. Try to think of the good part. Soon you’ll be dry and so much more comfortable.” It was hard, trying to sound confident and cheerful when she wasn’t sure she could get Martha to the other wagon, let alone help her climb inside.
A sheet of rain fell through the rent in the canvas, further drenching them both. “All right, I’ll do it.”
They waited until the next pain struck and subsided. The second it did, Lucy called urgently, “Come on, let’s go.” She helped Martha to the back of the wagon. In near total darkness, she jumped to the ground, braced herself, and raised her arms. “Just lean into my arms. I’ll catch you. Hurry!”
With a groan Martha lowered herself from the wagon. Lucy caught her, glad she’d braced herself. Petite as Martha was, Lucy needed all her strength to cushion her fall. She placed her sister-in-law’s right arm around her shoulders. “Lean on me. We’ll be there in no time.”
Martha leaned heavily against Lucy as they half walked, half stumbled the short distance through drenching rain to Lucy’s wagon. Just as they reached the rear of the wagon, Martha cried, “Oh, Lucy, another pain’s coming!” She doubled over and let out a long, heart-wrenching scream. Lucy stood helplessly by, hoping she’d have the strength to boost Martha up and into the wagon.
Lord give me the strength
.
When Martha’s scream ended, she sagged to the muddy ground and started to sob. Lucy bent over her. “Please, Martha, you’ve got to stand up.”
“
I can’t! I can’t!” With the rain pounding on her, Martha remained on the ground and screamed again.
Lucy bent closer. “Do you want to lie here in the mud? You must help me. I can’t lift you by myself.”
Sheer desperation gripped her. What if she didn’t have the strength to lift Martha? She was putting her hands under Martha’s arms, trying to pull her up, when from behind she heard a man’s voice say, “Looks like you could use some help.”
Oh, no! One of the Butler Brothers? She looked over her shoulder. She could barely make out the outline of a face ... It was Clint! A cry of relief broke from her lips. “I’m so glad you’re here! Where did you come from?”
Swiftly Clint bent and swept Martha into his arms. “We’ll talk later. Right now let’s get this lady out of the rain.”
In the wee hours of the morning, Clint, assisted by Lucy, delivered Martha’s baby girl. She wasn’t very big—Lucy guessed she was at least a month early—but she possessed the correct number of fingers and toes and let out a lusty wail when Clint held her up by her heels and gave her a gentle slap.
She and Clint had been so busy during Martha’s final birth pangs that—other than Lucy relating the tragic news about Noah—they had hardly talked. Now, with the baby swaddled in one of Abner’s old shirts and lying snug in Martha’s arms, Lucy finally could express her gratitude.
“
You were like God descending from the heavens. What would I have done without you?”
“
I came to find you.” Clint smiled. “Figured you might be in trouble. Even if I hadn’t shown up, you would have managed.”
“
I highly doubt it.” She tipped her head. “Where’d you learn how to deliver a baby?” She’d watched in awe as Clint brought the baby into the world with the skill of a midwife.
“
I’ve done a lot of things in my lifetime.” His brow furrowed. “That’s terrible news about Noah. Are you all right?”
The thought of Noah left her empty and drained. “I’m all right because I have to be all right.”
“
You’ve been through a lot. Too much.” Clint slipped his arms around her and pulled her close. She rested her head on his shoulder, savoring the strength she drew from his sympathy and understanding.
Clint finally asked, “Where’s Abner?”
“
Gone ... I don’t know where. Maybe he got lost in the woods. Surely he’ll be back by morning.”
Lucy awoke by dawn’s first light. She’d spent a cramped few hours next to Martha’s bed and was pleased to see that both Martha and her baby appeared to be doing fine. Clint was gone. She poked her head out and saw that the rain had stopped. Clint was piling wood for a fire. After a greeting she asked, “Is Abner back?”
“
No, he’s not.”
“
Then something’s definitely wrong. He could be lost, dead, badly injured, captured by Indians—anything!”
Clint struck flint and steel together and lit the kindling. “Don’t worry. After breakfast I’ll go after him.” He nodded toward Lucy’s wagon. “Are they all right?” When she nodded, he climbed into the wagon, knelt beside Martha, and picked up the baby. Tenderly his finger traced over the tiny velvet cheek, button nose, and up over the soft, golden wisps of hair. “She’s beautiful. Have you named her yet?”
Martha lay limp and quiet on the mattress, so exhausted she could hardly move, but she managed a smile. “Amelia Catherine. That was my mother’s name. I shall call her Amy for short.”
He held the little bundle up in front of him. “Well, Miss Amelia Catherine Schneider, you may have been born in the midst of a rain storm, but I see you’re none the worse for it.”
Martha’s eyes brimmed with gratitude. “What would we have done without you? I’m so glad you came after us. I never thought ... I wouldn’t have dreamed ...” Her face reddened. Lucy guessed she was thinking of last night, how she’d lain there, in such an undignified position, while he did all those intimate, personal things.
Clint must have guessed, too. He smiled gently. “You’ve brought a new life into the world. What could be more beautiful? It’s a shame white women set such a store on modesty. The Indians consider giving birth just a normal, everyday thing.”
“
Indian ladies aren’t modest?”
He smiled. “No, the Indian ladies aren’t modest.” Martha sighed with relief. “Then I won’t worry about modesty.”
At that moment, Lucy felt like throwing her arms around Clint and giving him the hug of his life. Never had she felt this close to a man. “You were so good to help us. It seems you’re always there when I need you.”
“
My pleasure. It’s because I—” He drew a sharp breath, as if to check himself, then sighed. “Tell me about Abner.”
“
Yesterday we got hopelessly lost, so Abner and Sam Butler went to look for the trail. Sam came back, but Abner didn’t.”
Clint muttered a curse under his breath. “I’ll go after him. Sam can show me where to look.”
“
What if you can’t find him?”
A quirk of his lips told her he found her question amusing. “Trust me. I’ll find him.”
She suppressed a sudden urge to reply, “I hope not.” She couldn’t say such a thing in front of Martha. What would Abner say when he came back—
if
he came back—and discovered Clint had delivered his child? She’d wager he’d be furious, not that she cared. Resentment welled within her. If not for Abner, poor Martha wouldn’t have suffered so much. If not for Abner, Noah might not have died. If not for
Abner ... oh, so many things. She wouldn’t have to tolerate Abner much longer. Her spirits rose at the thought that he no longer had a hold on her.
“
Can I please have some water?” Martha whispered. “I feel hot.”
Lucy felt her sister-in-law’s forehead. Yes, it was hot, very hot. “You have a bit of a fever, but that’s no surprise. Nothing to worry about.”
Lucy slipped from the wagon to make breakfast, Clint close behind. Away from Martha’s hearing, Lucy said, “Do you think Martha’s fever is anything to worry about?”
“
We’ll keep an eye on her. I’m going after Abner now.”
She reached out and clutched at his hand. “Oh, Clint, there’s so much I want to tell you. I—”
“
No, not yet.” He pulled his hand back. “We’re not out of the woods yet, in more ways than one.”
Before she could answer, he spun on his heel and left her standing, her heart full of sentiments left unsaid.
The sun was just setting behind the trees when Clint, Sam Butler, and Abner Schneider rode into camp. At the noise, Lucy left Martha’s side and went to greet them. The sight of Abner made her gasp. Ashen faced, eyes nearly shut, he swayed in his saddle. Then he started to fall.
“
Grab him!” Clint and Sam sprang into action. “Careful of his leg. Lay him down while we pitch the tent.”
Lucy asked, “What happened?”
“
Durned if the captain didn’t bust his leg,” Sam replied. “Busted it bad, it looks like.”
Abner opened his eyes and moaned. “My horse stumbled, fell atop me. I lay in the rain all night ... I ... awwww!”
Lucy knelt by Abner’s side, her ears ringing from his awful screams. She took his hand, but he jerked it away. His face twisted. At the top of his voice he yelled, “Give me something for the pain!”
Clint gently clasped Lucy’s arms and raised her to her feet. “Don’t try to talk to him. Get back to Martha and stop worrying. The Butlers can give him some of their moonshine to ease the pain. We’ll get him settled in the tent.”
“
Will he be all right?”
“
No telling. Sam’s right. It’s a bad break.” He paused for a moment. “One thing’s clear. You can’t go any farther on this insane shortcut.”
“
What will we do? Where will we go?”
“
I’m taking you back to the wagon train.”
“
What if Abner—?”
“
Abner’s in no condition to decide anything.”
“
Can we catch up?”
“
You let me worry about that.”
Joy filled her heart. She would no longer be alone. She would soon see her friends again. What a comfort to know she could share her grief over Noah with friends who would truly care and understand. She could share the happy moments, too, knowing how Cordelia, Agnes, Inez,
Hannah ... all of them, would appreciate the story of how Amelia Catherine came into the world.
Only one worry hung over her like a dark cloud. Martha didn’t seem to be getting any better. She could not eat and lay on her bed like a limp rag doll, her eyes glazed with fever. She had no milk for the baby, whose weak wailing increased as the hours went by. “Give the babe some sugar water,” Erasmus Butler suggested, perhaps the only sound advice that had ever come out of his mouth.
The sugar water helped. The baby quieted and went to sleep. To Lucy’s growing concern, Martha’s fever refused to come down.
* * *
“
Your leg’s badly broken in several places, Mister Schneider.”
In the hastily erected tent, Clint looked down upon the injured man and made an effort to hide his contempt. He would not kick a man when he was down. “We’re going back to the wagon train. I calculate they’re about to reach Fort Hall. There’s a doctor there.”
Abner’s whiskey-glazed eyes glared up at him. “How ... dare you ... tell me what to do.”
Clint crouched beside the stricken man. “You think I want to haul your sorry ass back?” Abner started to sputter. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for your wife and baby.”
“
Baby?” For a moment the dullness lifted from Abner’s eyes.
“
She had the baby while you were out in the woods with your broken leg.”
“
A boy?”
“
Girl.”
Abner’s response, a slight sniff of scorn, fueled Clint’s contempt, but he kept his voice level. “You’re lucky the Butler Brothers agreed to come back with us. They’ll drive your wagon, as well as their own.”
“
This is your doing, not mine, Palance!” Abner tried to sit up, winced with pain, and fell back. “I’ve no choice but to return. Mark my words, though, you’ll rue the day you
ever—”
“
Schneider, I know you’re hurting, but don’t be a bigger prick than you already are.”
Clint left the tent in a hurry. If he stayed, God only knew what he’d do to that lily-livered bastard. However, nothing could be as bad as the fate God had in store. Abner’s twisted leg jutted at an odd angle. A jagged bone fragment poked through the skin. Ugly black streaks tinged with red had already crept beyond his knee and up his thigh. Clint had seen bad breaks like this one before. Abner would be lucky if all he lost was his leg.
Clint was struck by the sorry irony of it all. He was about to make an all-out effort to save the life of a man he not only detested, but a man who had, up till now, controlled the fate of the woman he loved and made her life a living hell.
Ought to leave him here to die
.
He wouldn’t, though. Gentlemen called it honor. He called it downright stupidity, but, like always, he’d do the right thing.
* * *
That night, as the hours crept by, Martha’s condition worsened. Wracked by the raging fever, she lay dull-eyed and weak on her makeshift bed. Clint and Lucy did everything they could, but without medicine they were helpless. In a futile attempt to bring the fever down, Lucy spent hours sponging Martha’s burning skin with cool water. It didn’t work. The fever raged on. In the end, there was nothing left but prayer.