Joline's Redemption (12 page)

The moment Gabe set the brake, he was out of the buggy and running for the house. Luke, his foreman, met him coming out of the kitchen, carrying an empty bucket. Gabe took one look at his friend's pale face and raced upstairs, two steps at a time, to the bedroom he and Lara shared, anxious to see how she was faring.

The flowery curtains Lara had made were pulled back, and light was spilling into the room. One window had been opened, even though the temperature outside was cool. Several lanterns had been lit, and a basin of water sat on the bedside table. Marilyn Eastman stood over the bed, wiping Lara's forehead with a cloth. His wife's eyes were shut, and she looked relaxed. Marilyn glanced at him and smiled. “She's doing fine, so don't worry.”

A weight fell off Gabe's shoulders. Lara had told him a little about Michael's birth and that delivering a baby could take a long time. Still, this was the first time he'd been through childbirth, and soon he would see his newborn son or daughter. Something in the pit of his stomach warmed. There was a time he'd never have thought such a thing possible. He wished his ma were still alive to share in the joy of this day.

Marilyn rose, pressing her fist in the small of her back. “I'll take a short break since you're here and can sit with Lara. Just holler if you need me.”

Gabe's heart jolted. “How will I know if I do?”

Their neighbor smiled. “Lara will tell you.”

Moaning, Lara ran her hand in a wide circle over her bulging belly. “Here comes another one.”

“Another what?” Gabe glanced from his wife to Marilyn and back.

“Birthing pain.” Lara reached for his hand and tugged him down onto the side of the bed. “Don't worry, dear. It's all per—fect—ly nor—mal,” Lara said, her voice deepening. She stammered out the last few words as if her teeth were gritted. Her hand moved faster on her stomach, and she drew up her legs, groaning.

“What can I do to help?”

Even in her pain, Lara chuckled. “Not a thing … unless you can get a draft horse and chain … and pull this little one from me.”

Gabe smiled, and some of the tension left his shoulders. If his wife could joke in the middle of such pain, she must be all right.

Footsteps sounded behind him, and he turned to see Jo and Michael standing in the doorway.

“Is Ma all right?”

Lara blew out a loud breath. “I'm fine, now that that is over with.”

“What's over?” Michael crinkled his forehead and looked from Lara to Gabe.

“Never mind, Shorty.” Jo gave him a playful shove. “You're about to become a big brother.”

Michael had assisted Gabe with the livestock births enough to know what was about to happen. Gabe knew the moment his son fully understood. The boy's face went white, and his blue-green eyes widened. He backed up. “I'm getting something to eat.”

Jo chuckled as she watched him leave; then she sobered. “Are things truly all right?”

Lara nodded. “Progressing just like last time, only maybe a bit faster.”

“Faster?” Gabe rubbed his hand across his nape, thinking of the times he'd aided a cow that had trouble delivering. But this was different. “You're goin' to wait until the doctor comes, aren't you?”

Lara and Jo both giggled. Lara reached over and cupped Gabe's cheek. “Sweetheart, you know things don't always work that way. Marilyn has delivered several babies, and Jo can help if she wants.”

“What about me?” Gabe reached for the cloth Marilyn had left on the side of the bowl and wiped his wife's forehead, half-tempted to wipe his own face, too.

Lara shrugged. “I don't know. Men don't usually watch their young'uns being born. Do you want to?”

Gabe considered what she was asking as he watched tension tighten her pretty features. He'd heard a woman screaming during childbirth once at the hotel where he lived then, and he wasn't sure if he could sit by and watch his wife suffer like that. “I think it might be better if I sit with Michael, in case he gets upset.”

“Fine.” She squirmed under the intensity of the pain. “Oh, my back hurts. Rub it, Gabe.”

He slid off the bed onto his knees and crawled toward the headboard. Lara groaned, arching her back while massaging her belly. She couldn't seem to sit still. He hated seeing her hurting. Gabe pulled out a pillow and reached behind Lara, touching her back. She jerked away.

“No! Don't touch me!”

Gabe yanked his hand away, his gaze shooting to Jo's as she walked toward the bed.

“Don't worry. She doesn't know what she wants right now.” Jo stood on the far side of the bed and leaned across it, her hand brushing the hair from her sister's face. “This is why men tend to leave. Women's emotions are like a seesaw—up and down—late in the birthing.”

“S–sorry, Gabe.”

He rose, bent over the bed, and kissed Lara's head. “Don't worry, darlin'. It's not the first time you've snapped at me.”

Her light green eyes shot toward his. He loved those eyes—loved her. “I don't snap.”

He smiled. “You just did.”

She closed her eyes and tucked in her chin. “I need to push.”

“Push! Already?” Jo wrung her hands then faced Gabe. “You'd better get your neighbor. I
had
a baby but I've never delivered someone else's.”

Gabe looked at his wife a final time. “I'll be praying—for a son.”

Lara shook her head. “Girl.”

Smiling, Gabe hurried down the hall. He didn't care what the baby was as long as it was healthy—and had Lara's eyes.

J
ack reached the place where the trail dipped into a wide but shallow creek. He guided the buggy off the trail and pulled back on the reins. After setting the brake, he turned toward Cora. “Mr. Beatty never said exactly where by the creek his kids were.”

“I can go one way if you want to go the other.”

Jack shook his head. “We don't know what we're facing. That oldest boy might have a rifle. I think it's best if you stay here until I find out.”

Cora shot to her feet. “I didn't come clear out here on my day of rest to sit alone in the wagon. I'm going with you.”

Sighing, Jack jumped down then helped the stubborn woman to the ground. “Just make sure you stay behind me until I assess the situation.”

“All right, Jack.”

Praying they'd have no trouble with the boys, he turned left, walking along the trail that paralleled the river. How was he going to tell those kids that their pa was dead?

You've gotta help me here, Lord.

They walked several minutes with Cora fighting the tall grass and shrubs on either side of the faint path. Her breathing became more labored. Why couldn't she have waited at the wagon like most women would have been content to do?

Cora grabbed Jack's arm, stopping him. “Did you hear that? It sounded like a big cat's cry.”

He heard it, although he wasn't quite sure what to make of the noise. “Not likely a cougar would venture this close to town. Too many people around.” Jack touched his hip, wishing for the first time in a long while that he had his gun, but he put it away when he started pastoring the church in town.

An eerie howl raised the hairs on his arms. “That sounds more like a person than a cat.” He grabbed Cora's hand and tugged her along with him. The wail could be that of the younger boy. Had something happened to him—or his brother?

A low-hanging branch slapped his cheek, causing a burning sting. He lifted the branch so Cora's bonnet wouldn't snag on it then proceeded forward, his gaze searching in all directions. He spotted a flash of red near the creek and started toward it.

“Stop wailing, Lee, and hand me a branch.”

Jack rushed forward at the frantic tone of the boy's voice. At a bend in the creek, he saw the boy called Lee standing near the bank, facing the water. The boy was far too close for his liking. Jack hurried toward him and lifted him.

The boy stiffened and cried out.

“Shh … you're all right. I don't mean to hurt you. Where's your brother?”

“Help! Down here!”

Jack's heart somersaulted. “The boy's in the water!”

He passed Lee to Cora. “You two stand back,” he ordered; then he held on to a cottonwood trunk as he slid down the bank. He worked his way along the creek's edge toward the older boy, who had clung to the branch of a downed tree. Most of the creek was shallow, but here in the bend, a small lake had formed from the fast-moving waters of flash floods that often came after a bad thunderstorm.

“My name's Jack, and I'm here to help. My friend is watching your brother.”

Relief flashed in the boy's eyes. “I was so afraid L–Lee would f–fall in. He c–cain't swim.” His teeth chattered.

“What's your name?”

“Nick.”

The temperature wasn't overly cool for early spring—he was only wearing his suit that he preached in—but being in the water was something different. Jack surveyed the scene. Nick held on to the end of the tree, about fifteen feet away from the bank. Jack eyed the trunk. If he stepped out onto it, would it hold his weight? If only he had a rope.

“Can you swim, Nick?”

“A l–little.”

There was no way to get the boy without getting wet. “Stay where you are, and I'll come to you.”

The boy nodded.

Jack removed his frock coat and vest, laying them across a shrub, and yanked off his boots. He searched the bank and found a four-foot-long branch, grabbed it, and waded into the chilly water. He sucked in a sharp breath. In spite of a week of sunny weather, the water was colder than he'd expected.

He waded out farther, gritting his teeth as the chilly water quickly reached his stomach. Holding on to a branch of the fallen tree, he stretched the shorter limb toward the boy. “Can you grab hold?”

Nick worked his way around the tree toward Jack and stretched out his arm. “No.”

Jack's teeth chattered as a light breeze wafted across the water. He took another step, but the ground dropped off. He stretched out, holding the end of the limb. “Try to get it now.”

Face white and chin bouncing as he shivered, Nick lunged for the limb. His hand touched it, but then he slipped under the surface.

“Nick!”

The boy's head bobbed up, and he was closer now. He reached up a hand and grabbed hold.

Jack's knees nearly went weak from relief. “Hang on. I'll have you out in a moment.”

Slowly, he pulled the lifeline his way, drawing the boy nearer. Finally, he reached out and snagged the child's icy arm and drew him close. “I've got you. You're safe now.”

Jack waded toward the bank then lifted the skinny, shivering kid into his arms. “Hold on to my neck until we're back on level ground.”

Nick nodded, but the only sound he made was his teeth clacking together. Grabbing a sapling halfway up the bank, Jack hauled himself and the boy up. Doing the same thing again brought him to the top.

Cora's relieved gaze heated his belly. He glanced at Lee, feeling awkward being in Cora's presence with his clothes clinging to him. Nick loosened his chokehold on Jack's neck, and he set him on the ground. The boy rushed to his brother, kneeling down and hugging him.

“You're gettin' me all wet.” Lee squirmed.

“We need to get you fellows back to town.” As her gaze wandered from Jack's face to his torso, Cora's cheeks turned red.

He spun around and found his boots, tugging them on even though his socks were soggy. It probably would have been smarter to remove them first, but the expression in Cora's gaze flummoxed him. He glanced down, wondering if he had mud or something on his shirt. What had she been looking at?

Glancing at his frock coat and vest, he decided against donning them. It was the only coat he had good enough to wear on Sundays. He held them by the collar and turned around.

“Where's our pa?” Nick asked, his arms clasped around him.

“Do you have any blankets at your camp?” Cora asked, obviously trying to change the subject.

Nick nodded. “It's just over there.”

“Let's get them so we can wrap you in them. We need to get you to town so Dr. Vance can look you over.”

“We ain't goin' nowhere.” Nick's chin shot into the air. “Pa won't know where to find us.”

Cora glanced at Jack, her gaze pleading.

He didn't want to broach the topic of their pa now, but he could tell the boy wouldn't budge. “Nick, come here. I need to tell you something.”

Jack nudged his chin at Cora in the direction of the boys' camp.

She frowned for a moment; then her gaze lit up. “Lee, will you show me where your camp is? We need those blankets.”

The young boy looked at his brother, who nodded.

“All right. It's this'a way.”

When the pair disappeared around a curve in the trail, Jack bent down. “I met your pa in town.”

Nick's eyes brightened.

Hating to hurt the boy, Jack lowered his gaze to the ground. How much should he tell him about his pa's death?

“What happened? Is he hurt? That why you came out to get us?”

Jack blew out a sigh, shaking his head. “There's no easy way to tell you. Your pa was killed in town.”

Nick backed up a step; then his gaze hardened. “I don't believe you.”

Jack held out his hands. “I'm the town preacher, son. I have no reason to tell you a falsehood.”

“I ain't your son.”

Jack's heart ached as he watched the boy struggling with his emotions and confusing thoughts.

“Where is he? I want to see him.”

He couldn't blame the boy for that request. He'd felt the same when his own parents died, but with a raging fire, there was no chance of seeing their bodies. If not for him, they might still be alive. He cleared his tight throat and squatted on his toes, ignoring the squish in his boots. “I lost my folks before I was fully grown. I understand what you're feeling.”