The One Who Waits for Me (5 page)

He flashed another grin, and she knew without a doubt that while this man was more efficient with his fists than a canon, he'd also be hard to best in a verbal squabble as well.

“If you stay close and don't cause any more trouble, we'll get you where you need to go.”

Nudging Sue's flank, he set his horse in motion.

F
ace it, Pierce. Trouble's got you cornered
. A mile up the road another woman waited. A young black girl writhing on the ground immediately caught Pierce's attention.

Reining up, he slid off his mare and then helped Beth down from her mount. They quickly approached the moaning girl. “Is she having some sort of seizure?” he asked.

“No,” Beth said briefly.

“She's ill?” That's all he needed. Three females, two of them ailing.

“No, sir.”

Beth knelt by Trella as her own panic rose. She'd feared this. Could nothing go right today? She looked up at Pierce. “She's having a baby.” She turned back to the young woman lying on the ground and tried to soothe her. “It's okay, Trella. We're here.”

We're here?
Pierce mouthed. Baby? The woman was having a child? The situation was fast getting out of hand.

The girl's round dark eyes focused on Beth. “The baby's comin' early, Beth. I'm sorry. I've tried to hold it in—”

“Shush…how far apart are the pains?”

“They're right on top of each other!”

“Oh, gracious.” She glanced at Pierce and the urgency in her tone lifted a notch. “Hurry. The baby's coming.”

He took a step back. “Ma'am?”

“Have you ever delivered a baby?”

“Me?” He took a second step away and glanced at the expectant mother.

“I can assure you that Trella will do all the work.” She motioned to the girl as she bent to assist Preach, who by now was kneeling over her. “Preach?” She glanced at him, hoping she had gotten the name right.

He nodded. “Yes, ma'am?”

“Have you ever delivered a baby?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Gray Eagle moved in to help as well, and Pierce found his voice. “I've delivered one,” he finally admitted. “I helped Ma once with a neighbor when her time had come.”

“That's good enough. Trella, this is Preach, Pierce, and… and Gray Eagle.” She glanced at the scout for verification.

“Yes, ma'am. I'll get a piece of leather for her to bite down on. It sometimes helps.” The scout walked back to his saddle while Beth stared at the writhing young woman. It would take more than a piece of leather to get her through this.

Kneeling, she whispered, “These men are going to help us deliver your baby.”

“Thank you, sirs,” the black girl gritted out.

Proper greetings made, Preach's eyes switched to Pierce. “I've delivered many a young'un. Ordinarily we'd need a few things, but—” He winced when a shrill, agonizing scream escaped the mother-to-be. “I don't think we have time to worry about anything but cuttin' the cord.”

Gray Eagle returned and gently inserted the piece of leather into Trella's mouth. “Bite down hard when the pains come.”

With grateful eyes, she bit into the leather, sweat rolling down her temples.

“I hope one of you gentlemen has a clean knife.” Beth scooted over to allow Preach room. “I've delivered a few babies, but I always welcome help.”

Preach's strong, brown hands took command. “Don't push yet, ma'am. Take a deep breath.”

The girl—who looked to be in her late teens—clamped her eyes shut, bit down hard on the leather, and waited. After a bit Preach said, “Now give me a push. A good hard one.”

Trella did, biting the leather against the pain. Not a sound escaped her now.

“I know it hurts,” Preach encouraged, “but we want your pushes to do some good.” He glanced at Beth. “Dampen a cloth or a rag.”

Before she could move, Pierce poured water from a canteen onto his handkerchief and then bathed Trella's face as if she were a small infant. “Why don't we sing? Nothing like a good tune to take your mind off your troubles.”

It was obvious pain racked the girl's body. Gritting her teeth, she whispered between the leather, “You lead.”

A low sonorous bass started. “The Gospel train's a comin'.”

Pierce removed his hat as their voices blended in sweet harmony. “I hear it just at hand.”

Beth tried to follow along, harmonizing with Joanie. She'd heard the song on occasion but didn't know all of the words.

Trella's tormented alto blended, offering something about children getting on board.

“Push,” Preach encouraged.

The about-to-be mother reached out and latched onto his strong hand, pushing for all she was worth.

Men's voices harmonized, getting louder. “Get on board, little children.”

“Again,” Preach urged. “We're almost there.”

Music swelled. Another hard push, and the baby slid out into Beth's waiting hands. She wiped the infant with the damp rag. Trella silently motioned toward a cloth bag next to her on the ground, and in it Beth found soft blankets, diapers, and tiny baby clothes. Taking one of the blankets, Beth quickly swaddled the infant.

“You got a fine girl, Trella.” Beth placed the newborn in her mother's arms, whispering. “You did good.”

Between tears and laughter, Trella focused on her child as Preach delivered the afterbirth and cut and tied off the cord. “She's so tiny!” She counted the baby's tiny fingers and toes. “She's just perfect!”

“Ladies.” Pierce glanced down the smoke-filled road. “I know this isn't the ideal time, but we have to move on.” He felt bad for asking Trella to make the effort, but he knew that Indian women often had their young beside a stream or field and then rode on. Because of the danger of fire and smoke, Trella would have to do the same.

Struggling to sit upright, she wiped tears from her eyes. “I can ride, sir. You've done been too kind. I don't want to delay you any longer.”

“We'll look for a grove of trees out of the smoke and let you rest a spell just as soon as we can. Pierce glanced back at the fire that jumped the road in places. It should slow the uncle's chase.

Preach took Trella's arm and led her to his own saddle, placing a soft blanket on the worn leather. Then he assisted her up, handing her the baby once she was seated.

Smoke blinded Pierce's eyes. He searched for the trail. Now what? He decided the sisters would be safer riding with him and Gray Eagle. They could lead Walt and Bear's horses. Making that happen, he then turned to call out, “Can anyone see the road?”

Preach answered, “I can! I can barely make it out!”

“Take the lead.”

Hooves pounded as the group rode almost blindly through thickening shroud. Beth was silent behind Pierce. He couldn't help wondering who this woman was who could so adeptly help a young woman birth a child and yet burn down her own homestead.

It took longer than they would have liked, but to the relief of the entire party, eventually the smoke began to thin. Eyes watered. Lungs ached.

Turning in his saddle, Pierce glanced at Preach, taking note of Trella. She was secure in his arms, cradling her newborn. “How's the new mother holding up?”

“I'm fine, sir,” she answered through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, ma'am. We'll stop as soon as it's safe.”

She nodded.

Pierce met Gray Eagle's eyes. Joanie lay limp in his arms across his saddle, gasping for air.

The Indian looked grim. “She's not going to make it.”

Preach stated the obvious. “She can't breathe, Captain.”

Pierce turned back to Beth. “Does your sister have an herb or anything at all to help her?”

Beth shook her head. “Uncle Walt wouldn't allow it.”

“Wouldn't allow it?” He tried to think of the natural remedies the army used for the affliction. Then it came to him.

“Preach!”

“Sir!”

“We need grindelia.”

“Don't know that it grows in these parts.”

Beth drew back. “What is it?”

“A miracle for your sister, if we can find some.” What manner of man was this woman's uncle to not allow her to use a simple weed that could help his niece draw a deep breath? And where was her pa in the matter?

“Lobelia will do,” Gray Eagle said from the back. The smoke had cleared enough to spot a small stream ahead. Pierce glanced down at Beth's small hand around his waist and odd warmth passed through him. He quickly brushed it aside as a result of the fatigue eating at his bones.

The group pulled up, and once Gray Eagle settled Joanie on his blanket, he remounted his horse and went in search of the herb.

The day passed, and night began to fall. Pierce and Preach tethered the horses so they could sleep for a few hours. They made camp in a thick row of cypress. Trees stood like towering sentinels shielding their young.

The stars began to come out as Pierce paced the campsite. Gray Eagle had been gone for hours. Had he failed to find the plant? He was notably one of the best army scouts that ever fought for the South. He'd find the medicinal plant if any grew in the area.

Preach remained with Trella and the newborn, clucking over their needs. Pierce observed the display and thought,
He's going to make a fine pa one of these days
. Then, glancing down the road, he muttered, “What's taking Gray Eagle so long?”

Joanie's coughs and wheezes filled the air.

“He'll be here. Try to relax,” Preach said.

“How can I relax when I have a sick woman on my hands?”

“Then pray, sir. Keep your mind occupied.”

Then Pierce heard the call he'd been waiting for. A soft hoot. Twice.

He returned the signal, and within moments Gray Eagle rode into camp. Dismounting, the Indian reached into his saddle and brought out the medicinal weed. “This was hard to come by. I had to go far.”

Pierce took the small bag. “I'm glad you found it. And the way back to us. Even with the moon, it's dark in the woods.”

“Yes. Let's pray it will help the young woman to breathe easier.” He reclaimed the bag and stepped to the fire to prepare the hot tea.

A little while later he and Pierce approached the pallet where Beth sat cradling Joanie's head in her lap.

Beth's hand flew up to shield her sister. “What is that?”

“Tea made from lobelia. We used it on the battlefield to help—”

“No!”

“There's nothing to be afraid of, Beth, but your sister isn't going to make it without some relief—”

“I said no!”

“Look, lady.” Pierce gripped the cup as he felt his anger rising. “Do you
want
your sister to die? She can't last much longer.”