by Lee Savino
Frowning, Jesse lurched out of the room. He knew, as well as Lyle, that a hired hand wouldn’t be as good as family. Many a claim jumper started by lending a hand to get a day’s wage, then might cheat or even kill the stake holder for the land. As the Wild West was tamed, it didn’t happen so often, but out here, in the wilderness near the Rockies, anything could happen.
Jesse ran his hand through his thick, dark hair and sighed. He’d let his brother down when he left, he knew. Living as a vagabond suited him, though. He’d rustled cattle in Texas, panned for gold in California, and for an exciting few months, rode in the Pony Express. He was a man who’d always needed adventure.
Now, sitting and brooding in a chair in the shadows, he watched Miles with Carrie and Mary by the fire. Donovan sat on the deep ledge of the fireplace, his back to the stone chimney. Carrie had settled in front of him, and she held Mary as she leaned back into her husband’s arms. Her thick chestnut tresses wafted about her face, one curl falling across her cheek. Miles put his thick arms around his wife, his broad body enveloping her smaller form. He rested his chin on Carrie’s shoulder, and both parents looked down at their wide-eyed child. It was a pretty picture, and for some reason, set Jesse’s gut aching. The younger Wilder looked away, but everywhere couples seemed to be cuddling close. Mr. Martin bustled about his new bride, offering her chestnuts and hot cider. Johnathan had finally coaxed his wife to leave the kitchen, they sat at the table, their heads pushed close together and Johnathan’s arm around his Esther’s shoulders. And then there was Lyle and Rose, still holed up in their bedroom, doing God knows what. Jesse frowned. He knew Lyle disciplined his wife, but from the way she gazed at him afterwards, the punishment probably led to games.
Jesse rubbed his hands across his face as if he could erase the thought. Whatever his brother and sister-in-law were up to, it didn’t bear thinking about. After all, it did him no good.
For a moment, he imagined if the lies he’d told at breakfast were true. What if there was a sweet, doe-eyed lady waiting for him in some fine city? He’d ride his horse up to her house, and she’d rush to the door. In his fantasy, she was lovely with fresh, pink cheeks and a merry sparkle in her eye. She wore a fine velvet riding habit and danced up to him with breathless excitement, taking his hand so he could pull her up behind him. He’d spur his horse and ride to the countryside with her curves pressed against him, find a quiet lawn near a rushing brook, lay the lady down and then… mmm.
Biting back a curse, Jesse broke off that train of thought too late. The front of his trousers already felt fit to burst. Worse was the realization that he’d been daydreaming of settling down with a woman. Was he, Jesse Wilder, man of action, actually envying a quieter life?
Rising, he stomped to his bedroll and snatched up his hat and long coat.
“Leaving so soon?” Johnathan asked as Jesse passed him on the way to the door.
“Just gonna get some air,” Jesse muttered, and stepped outside.
This Christmas night the air was crisp, the razor’s edge of cold slicing through his layers. He crunched over the snow, heading past the stables where he could feel the horse’s heat calling to him, and barreling away from the town on a quest to nowhere. After crossing a large field, he hit a line of trees and stopped, staring up at the moon.
He was twenty-seven, and though he’d never owned a homestead or a house, he’d always been proud of his rambling ways. His best friend was his long rifle. He could ride a horse and shoot a bison, rope a steer, kill and skin and cook his dinner in less than an hour. He’d slept out under the stars more times than he could count.
Even his body bore evidence of his rough life. His face was rugged and torso scarred from fights, falls, and even a fire. He had a shiny weal on his hand from when he escaped from a burning building as a child. The building had been his family’s shed, and Jesse had started the fire, so his back also bore a few scars from the whipping his father had given him. Women liked pretty things; he wondered if a wife would balk at such a tough looking mate. Of course, when he stopped in a town to take a bath, the girls at the saloons and brothels always cooed over his body. They seemed to enjoy his broad shoulders, taut muscles, and the size of the appendage between his legs, but he paid them well with coin for the pleasure of their bodies and their attention. He’d tupped a few milk maids, too, and they gave him the same compliments and sighs for free.
Besides his rough looks, he owned almost nothing. Just his horse, his gun, a bedroll and a few clothes. Sure, he had some money stashed away, but what woman would want to tie herself to a man who was more comfortable sleeping on the hard ground than a bed?
Staring into the frozen sky, Jesse let the cold bite him along with reality. Marriage was probably not for him, no matter how enticing the prospect seemed at the moment. With his lifestyle, he couldn’t tie a woman to him, even if the thought of waking up next to a sweet and loving wife warmed his whole body, even standing knee deep in snow.
A twig snapped and Jesse whirled, raising his rifle in one movement. The hemlocks shook, snow falling in great clumps. Jesse stood his ground, muzzle at ready, pointed at whatever disturbed the deep shadows.
Out stepped a big mountain of a man, a big beard covering most of his face. He came trudging out of the woods, a large fur covered travois behind him. Dressed in leather and fur with a big beaver cap, he had the look of a trapper, one of the few left still hunting beaver and fox in the last forests of the Rockies. He came barreling out of the forest, halfway to the rifle before Jesse could blink.
“Dinnae shoot!” The man raised his hands. Woolen mittens covered his hands, and his beard was full of snow.
Jesse lowered his gun, but still kept it at hand. The wild-looking man kept coming, pulling his burden behind him. “You must help me,” the man said with a slight Scottish burr. “I found her in the woods, with a babe at her breast.”
“What?” Jesse blinked at him.
“An Indian lassie. She isnae well. I need a doctor.” He waved behind him at the travois, two large branches lashed together and covered with a plaid blanket. A woman lay on her back, round face wan under tan skin. Her clothes, dark brows and raven black hair spoke of her native heritage.
“Right.” Jesse jerked his rifle up. “This way.” He started for the town and the barn, the big man following, pulling the makeshift sled like it weighed nothing. When Jesse looked back, he realized the man had large snowshoes on his feet. “It’s that barn, right there.” Jesse pointed at the large structure.
“Go,” the man panted. “I’ve got this one. Get the doctor.”
Whirling, Jesse plowed ahead through the snow.
The Christmas party looked up in shock when a snow covered Jesse burst through the door.
“Doctor, you’re needed. A man is bringing a sick young woman and her babe.”
Esther and Johnathan immediately burst into action, the tall minister hurrying to the door, with Miles and Jesse not far behind, while the blonde ran to the kitchen.
“Hot water,” Esther ordered when Mrs. Martin and Rose came to the kitchen door. “Heat cider and stew. And put bricks and blankets by the fire to warm them. We’ll need a room.”
“You can have ours,” Rose said, and rushed to ready the bed.
“Fresh linens in the wardrobe,” Esther told Mrs. Lovett, and the matron sailed out of the kitchen, calling orders to her new husband. “Laurie, get the brick from our room, and the extra cask of cider. Hurry!”
Outside, Miles and Jesse met the mountain man with lanterns in hand, kicking the snow down to make his way faster. Johnathan met them at the door; the men all helped untie the travois and carry it well inside the building. The trapper lagged behind, untying his snowshoes and stomping his giant feet.
“Here,” Jonathan directed, already kneeling in the melting slush. His hands dove through the woman’s layers to find her precious bundle. “Esther.” His wife stepped forward to take the baby, wrapped tightly in fur, and Johnathan instructed her to wrap the
baby in another warm layer before glancing up at the rugged trapper. “What happened?”
“I found her in the woods near town, lying under a tree,” the big man said, whipping off his cap in a flurry of snow. “Looked like she saw the lights, come some way, but the blizzard blinded her before she could reach the shelter. She was cold, but the babe at her breast was bundled up tight.” The big man watched, face grim, as Johnathan checked the woman’s neck for a pulse. “I lashed the branches with leather, tied them to me and set off.”
“Cool to the touch, and no heartbeat. She’s gone.” Johnathan rose and hurried to his wife. “Let me see the babe.” She laid the infant on the table and he started to pry apart the thick swaddle.
The rest of the men stared down at the dead woman’s lovely face. Snow was melting on her dark lashes and shining, black hair. Her round features were serene in death.
“Poor lassie,” the trapper said. “Came so far to save herself and her babe.”
“She did all she could.” Lyle clapped the man’s arm. “So did you.”
Jesse stepped forward with a blanket, and draped it over the body. Together he, his brother and Miles lifted the makeshift sled and carried it outside to the stables, where the cold would keep the body until burial.
The trapper watched them go, his shoulders sagging. “I knew she wouldnae last long. I had the blanket, but it wasn’t enough.”
Mrs. Lovett bustled forward and handed the man a mug of steaming cider. “You have a hero’s place by the fire. Come get dry.”
“Thank ye.”
“I know you,” Mr. Martin said as the giant sat on the raised stone hearth. “You’re the trapper who just made a claim near town.”
“Calum Macdonnell.” The cup he held disappeared in his meaty hands, but the steam rose up and thawed his coarse sandy beard. “Not much fur to be found anymore, so I’m trying to turn farmer. I live at the foot of the mountain.”
“Long way to come to town on foot,” Miles observed. Both he and Lyle stood close to the giant stranger, studying him, a slight wariness to their posture.
“Was out for a walk anyway. Always restless this time of year. Nothing but snow.”
Miles and Lyle shared a glance, and Jesse felt a pang of sympathy for the lone man. After years of being on his own, Jesse was used to being the odd man out.
Taking his own mug of cider, the younger Wilder settled next to Calum. “I know what you mean, friend,” he said. “I was born to live in the wild, but sometimes in winter it seems too big an empty space to be filled with cold and darkness. Leaves a man lonely.”
“Aye,” Calum said.
“You have any kin close by?” Lyle sat on the other side of the trapper, giving enough berth to the man’s buckskin jacket, which was beginning to drip water down the leather fringes as it thawed.
“No, not anymore.” Calum’s voice was mild, but his eyes were haunted.
Rose approached the big man on Lyle’s side. After a nod from her husband, she set a large bowl of stew and a half a loaf of bread nearby, and Calum thanked her.
“How’s the babe?” Calum took the bread and tore into it with his teeth.
At the table, Johnathan bent over the infant.
“So quiet,” Esther said, hovering at her husband’s shoulder.
“But alive,” Johnathan said. “Limbs all normal. She bundled him with everything she had, and kept him warm.” He took a step back. “If he doesn’t eat soon, though, he’ll die.”
An awful silence fell over the room.
Carrie stepped forward. “Give him to me.” Her fingers were already loosening the shawl she wore over her dress. “I have milk enough for him.”
“Carrie…” Miles started forward.
“I do, husband.” Carrie’s voice was soft, but firm. “Trust me on this, I can feed both—at least for a little while.” She laid a hand on her strong husband’s arm. “I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. I’ll not let our child go hungry.”
Looking troubled, Miles nodded. Carrie was already moving to pick up the baby and tuck him to her breast. Everyone watched the young mother in silence as she seated herself on a bench with her back turned to the room. Esther stayed close, wringing her hands until Johnathan put his arm around her.
“Have faith, dearest. His heartbeat is strong, and he survived the cold so far.”
Esther nodded, tears shining in her eyes. For a moment, the only sound was the crackling fire and Carrie’s quiet murmurs, encouraging the child. Miles stayed close, worry still written on his face. Rose had gone to check on Mary, sleeping in the other room, but the rest of them waited, hardly daring to breathe.
Bending her head, Carrie held the baby to her bosom, allowing her warmth to seep into the little body. As minutes passed, the tiny one’s head moved, lips parting in a movement as old as time. “There you are, child,” Carrie whispered, shifting so her hand could squeeze her breast, milking it so drops of milk fell into the child’s mouth. “That’s it.” The babe’s mouth worked weakly, and Carrie felt a surge of triumph. This little one wasn’t too far gone.
A few more tense moments, and Esther stepped forward, close enough to see the baby latch onto Carrie’s breast and begin to suckle.
“Oh.” The blonde stepped back, her hand to her mouth.
Carrie glanced over her shoulder, smiling. “He’s eating.”
The entire room sighed in relief, except Miles, who came to sit on the bench near his wife and tuck a blanket around her shoulders. Carrie leaned back into the strong circle of his arms, a satisfied smile on her face.
Esther turned a teary smile to her husband. “It’s a miracle.”
“Yes.” Johnathan used his handkerchief to wipe away her tears. He checked on Carrie and the babe, and once he was satisfied with the baby’s returning color, drew his wife away to comfort their giant guest.
Calum Macdonnell was halfway through his own meal, staring at another large bowl of stew and the second half of the loaf of bread. His sandy hair and beard were coarse and unkempt, but under the wild brush, his face had attractive, if rough-hewn features.
“On behalf of the babe, we can’t thank you enough,” Johnathan said. “You saved a life today.”
“Wish it could’ve been two.” The big man swallowed. “I don’t usually come so close to town, but the more I think on it, I had a feeling that kept me out in the forest until I found her tracks. You’d call it Providence, preacher.”
Johnathan nodded.
“But who was she?” Rose asked.
The trapper shrugged. “Ute, maybe, or another tribe. Governor Evans wants the Indian peoples out of Colorado Territory, and the soldiers he sends to “keep the peace” know it. Maybe she had a rough experience and sought to escape.” The rest of the gathering stayed silent at the obvious rancor in Calum’s voice, but then the big man sighed and rubbed his face with a rough hand. “Whatever the reason, the woman had come a long way. Pity she died so close to her destination.”
“And yet, if she’d lived, she’d thank you for your effort. It’s a sad thing, and a blessing in one.” Johnathan squeezed Esther closer. “So many things often are.”
A while later, the babe was well fed, and Miles escorted Carrie to their bedroom to eat and rest. Esther held the brown-skinned child, cooing at his solemn little face. Johnathan bent over her shoulder.
“He’s such a beautiful child,” Esther said. “I wonder what he’s called.”
“We’ll have to search the mother, to see if there’s any evidence of her clan,” Jesse muttered, too low for any of the women to hear, and Calum nodded.
The babe blinked, then yawned, and Esther purred with happiness. “Look, Johnathan, he has brown eyes like yours. Perhaps we can call him Little Johnnie.”
Johnathan put a cautioning hand on his wife’s arm. “We must wait, Esther, to see if his kin come looking for him. And send messages to find them.”
Her face fell. “Oh, of course. I didn’t think.”
“He’ll hav
e a home with us as long as he needs,” Johnathan said gently. “Carrie can stay with us until we find a wet nurse. There’s a woman in Florence who lost a child, and I’d like to keep an eye on her anyway. Perhaps she and her family will agree for her to stay with us for a time.”
“All right. Then it’s settled. He’s Johnnie as long as he’s with us.” Esther bent back over the babe, her face glowing. Johnathan looked pained, as if he was already anticipating his wife’s grief if she and the babe were someday parted. Standing just behind his wife, looking down at her bonding with the child, he passed a hand over his face, forehead weary.
Lyle came to his side. “Relax, minister.”
Jesse also clapped Johnathan on the arm. “Johnnie’ll be a gift to you and Esther, even if we find his family and you are soon parted.”
The minister nodded, but he still looked torn between joy for his wife, and worry at her inevitable disappointment.
“Johnathan.” Esther stood up and pressed the babe into her tall husband’s arms. He looked down at the baby, and his furrowed brow smoothed as he stared at the precious round face, the dark brows and tufted black hair.
His wife pushed closer, smiling at the two of them. “Do you understand it? This Christmas, we have a gift.”
“Yes,” Johnathan whispered. All trace of strain was gone from his face. “It’s a miracle.”
The night wore on and the couples settled in. Calum stretched close to the fire, his long form only half covered by a blanket. Judging by the snores coming out from under his big fur cap, he didn’t care. Jesse was about to turn in when Lyle stuck his head out of his bedroom and motioned to his brother.
“Jesse, can I talk to you for a moment?”
Nodding, Jesse followed. When he entered the bedroom, Rose was sitting on the bed, her hair was undone and spread down her back. She looked like a fiery temptress, but Jesse felt his shoulders hunch with wariness, as if he expected an ambush. Rose smiled at him coolly, looking much like she had before she’d flown at him. This time she seemed much calmer, but that didn’t make Jesse feel better.
