A Historical Christmas Present

by Lisa Kleypas

  Of course women preferred almost any kind of man to an ex-convict. You couldn’t get much lower than that without killing a man. And if Joe could have gotten his hands on Pete right after the conviction, he might have done that.

  Joe was late getting back. Mary had expected him by mid-afternoon. It was dusk now, and there was still no sign of him. She knew she shouldn’t try to milk the cow, but she needed to keep busy. It helped keep her mind off Joe’s absence. And she needed to be outside, away from all the Christmas decorations.

  “You sure he’s coming back?” Sarah asked for the dozenth time. She was more worried about Joe than Mary was.

  “Absolutely,” Mary said. “Now help me down these steps. Queen Charlotte is probably in a fret to be milked by now.”

  Mary paused on her way across the yard to let a pain in her back pass. The pains had been getting worse all day. She had started to worry that something was wrong with the baby. It wasn’t supposed to come for another month. Between worry about Joe and the baby and trying to reassure Sarah that Joe would be back, she was nearly frantic.

  “He wouldn’t leave Samson,” she said to Sarah. “Now stop fretting and fetch the cow.”

  But when Mary reached the shed, she turned to the room where Joe slept. She stepped into the shadowy interior. She could see his bedroll spread out over the deep straw. She felt even closer to him here.

  Without warning, a pain wrapped itself around her and squeezed until she was sure she would faint. Clutching her belly, she fell to her knees. The pain let up long enough for her to call for Sarah before it struck again. It was blinding in its intensity. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t think. She could only sink to the straw.

  The baby was coming!

  “Joe will be home soon,” she told Sarah as the frightened child hovered over her. “Everything will be all right then.”

  By the time the cabin came into view, Joe had made up his mind to leave the next day. He had given up any hope of finding the gold. Maybe he could come back, but for now, his time had run out. Sooner or later people would forget him.

  Even Mary.

  He was surprised not to see a light in the cabin. It was only dusk, but it would be dark inside. It seemed unlikely that both Mary and Sarah would be taking a nap at this time of day.

  He urged General Burnside into a trot. The packages bounced noisily, but he didn’t slow down. He urged his horse into a canter when he saw the cow standing in front of the shed, lowing in distress.

  Something was wrong. He was headed toward the house when he saw Sarah emerge from the shed.

  “Where’s Mary?” he called as he slid from the saddle.

  “In the shed,” Sarah said. The child looked badly frightened.

  “What’s wrong?” Joe said, heading toward the barn at a run.

  “She fell down and can’t get up again,” Sarah said. “She said the baby’s coming.”

  Inside the shed, Joe dropped to his knees next to Mary. He could hardly see her in the dim interior. “What are you doing here?”

  “I can’t move.”

  “I’ve got to get you inside. You can’t have this child in a cow shed.” Joe slid his arms under her. “Brother Samuel would have apoplexy.”

  Mary groaned when he picked her up. She groaned even louder when a pain struck.

  “You had no business leaving the house,” Joe said as he carried her across the yard. “Open the door, Sarah. And turn back the bed covers.”

  Mary moaned, but she seemed relieved to be inside.

  “How long have you been in pain?”

  “The really bad ones started this afternoon, but my back has been hurting ever since last night.”

  “You mean you were getting ready to have this baby this morning and you didn’t tell me?”

  “I didn’t know. It’s not due for another month. I thought I had a backache.”

  “How long is having a baby supposed to take?”

  “It depends. Maybe five or six hours.”

  “You mean I don’t have time to go back to town for Sister Rachel?”

  “No,” Mary said. The word was changed into a howl by the pain. “You’re going to have to help.”

  “Me!”

  “You and Sarah.”

  “But I don’t know anything about having babies.”

  Mary tried to smile. “It pretty much happens by itself. All you have to do is keep telling me it will soon be over and that it’ll all be worth it because I’ll have a beautiful baby to show for it.”

  “Shouldn’t I get hot water and things like that?”

  “You won’t need water until time to clean up.”

  Joe decided the baby had better come pretty much by itself. He was too dumbfounded to do anything but stand around wringing his hands. Mary was equally helpless as one pain after another gripped her in its coils.

  “You’re going to have to catch the baby,” Mary managed to tell him between gasping breaths.

  “In what?”

  “Your hands.”

  Joe looked down at his hands as if he’d never seen them before and didn’t know what they were for.

  “Sarah will help you.”

  But Sarah was even more upset than he was. The poor child didn’t know what was happening. He couldn’t help her. He didn’t know what was happening, either.

  Instinctively he reached out to take Mary’s hand. She took hold of him as if he were a lifeline and she a drowning sailor. He had no idea a woman could be so strong. When the pain hit her and she squeezed his fingers, he expected to come away with a collection of broken bones.

  He directed Sarah to gather towels, put water on to heat, and find the extra blankets. But each time the pain hit Mary, Sarah would stop, her gaze shifting between Joe and Mary. Only when the pain had passed and Mary’s face was once again reasonably calm would she move.

  Joe had never felt more helpless in his life. It was even worse than watching himself be convicted for a crime he hadn’t committed. Then he had had his anger to sustain him, his plans for what he would do to Pete Wilson when he got out. Now he easily understood why men got drunk and left birthing babies to the women. Joe wasn’t a drinking man, but he wished he had a drink right now. As Mary’s pains got worse, he found himself wanting a whole bottle.

  “Help me sit up a little,” Mary said. “I need a pillow under my back.”

  Just as Joe slid his arms around Mary, she screamed in pain.

  “What!” he said, jumping back. Sarah was hitting and kicking and scratching him for all she was worth.

  Joe decided they had both gone mad.

  “No!” Mary managed to say as the pain started to recede. “He’s not hurting me.”

  Sarah didn’t stop until Joe took her by the shoulder and pushed her away from him. Even then she would have bitten him if he hadn’t jerked his hand back when he saw her go for him with bared teeth.

  “It’s all right,” Mary said, reaching out to pull the child to her. “He’s not hurting me. It’s the baby.”

  “You mean she thinks I did that?” Joe asked.

  “Her father used to hit her mother. I saw him hit Sarah once. I told him if he ever hit her again, or me, I’d kill him.”

  Joe looked at Sarah and felt anger surge through him. He wasn’t proud of a lot of things he’d done, but he’d never hurt a child. “Why the hell did you think I’d hurt Mary?” he demanded.

  “She doesn’t,” Mary assured him. “She’s just frightened. She doesn’t know what to think.”

  “Do I look like I’m beating her?” Joe demanded, his own worry finding release in anger.

  Sarah stared up at him, frightened.

  “I’m trying to help her have this baby,” Joe said, “and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I can’t figure it out if I’ve got you biting and scratching like a bobcat.”

  “She won’t,” Mary said, hugging the child to her. “You won’t, Sarah. I’m going to scream a lot more. Joe’s helping. You’ve got to help too.”


  As though to prove her words, Mary went rigid and cried out. Joe jumped to her side, holding her hand, supporting her until the pain released its grip.

  “The baby is almost here,” Mary said. “See if its head is showing.”

  “Huh?” Joe said, stunned.

  “See if it’s showing. If it is, you’ve got to get ready for it.”

  “Can’t Sarah do it?”

  “No.”

  Joe had never been shy around women, but this was different. He felt that in some way he was violating Mary, and that went against his grain.

  “What am I supposed to look for?”

  “The muscles have to relax to allow the baby to pass. If you can see the top of its head, you know it will be born soon.”

  It was easy for Joe to clear his head of coherent thoughts. He didn’t have any. To pretend he wasn’t doing what he was doing was more difficult.

  “I see it,” he said, so excited he forgot his embarrassment. “I can see almost the whole top.”

  “Good,” Mary said. “Then I might not die before it’s born.”

  Another excruciating pain caused her to cry out.

  “Hold her hand,” Joe told Sarah. “I think it’s getting ready to come.”

  It seemed to Joe that the pains came one right after another, giving Mary no time to rest or recover in between. Then it was all over, and he held a baby girl in his hands. He stared down at the child, unable to believe he had just witnessed the birth of another human being, the beginning of a brand-new life. He had looked like this once. So had Mary, Pete, and Sarah. Someday this baby would be a grown woman and have her own children.

  It was amazing, incredible, unbelievable.

  The baby’s cry brought Joe out of his daze. “It’s a girl,” he said, handing the infant to her mother. “And she looks like you.”

  Mary was exhausted, but she managed a smile. “She doesn’t look like anybody yet. But she’s beautiful just the same.”

  “She’s all messed up,” Sarah said.

  Mary laughed. “Yes, she is. Why don’t you help Joe clean her up.”

  “Me!” Joe was counting himself lucky to have done nothing wrong so far. “I’ll bring the water to you,” he said. “I don’t know a thing about washing babies.”

  “It’s simple.”

  “Maybe, when I’m not shaking so much.” He held his hand up in front of him. It was quivering.

  Mary managed a weak smile. “Maybe you’d better let Sarah bring me the water.”

  Joe turned away from the bed and came up short. Samson sat by the door, his gaze following every movement. Outside, General Burnside and the cow stood with their noses to the window, their breath fogging the panes. They looked as if they had been watching the entire proceedings. “I forgot all about them,” he said, turning to Mary. “The presents are still tied to the saddle, and Queen Charlotte hasn’t been milked.”

  “Then you’d better take care of them,” Mary said. “Sarah and I will try to have everything cleaned up by the time you get back.”

  Joe stumbled out the door, too dazed by the events of the last few hours to be aware of the cold or that Samson had followed him. Like a man in a trance, he caught up General Burnside’s reins. Queen Charlotte followed on her own.

  “Did you see what just happened?” he asked the animals. “Mary had a baby. It’s a tiny little thing, so tiny you can hardly imagine it growing up into a real person.”

  He began to untie the ropes that held the packages to General Burnside’s back.

  “One minute there were just three of us. Next minute, there were four. A brand new person, just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

  Samson was sniffing the packages with particular attention to the ones containing the ham and bacon.

  “She’s got little tufts of black hair all over her head. She’s all wrinkled up from being squeezed inside Mary. Can’t be too much room inside a little woman like that, even for a tiny baby. Leave that alone,” Joe spoke sharply to Samson. “That’s Christmas dinner.”

  He put all the packages inside the shed and closed the door on Samson. He unsaddled General Burnside and turned him into the corral.

  “Okay, it’s your turn, Queen Charlotte.” He patted her side as he settled himself on the milking stool. He looked again, then ran his hand carefully along her side. “Looks like you’ll be having a little one come spring,” he said, the streams of milk beginning to hit the pail with rhythmic smoothness. As the milk filled the pail, the high ping thickened until it more closely resembled a rip in a piece of fabric.

  “You get busy on those coyotes,” he said to Samson. “We can’t leave any hanging around. We don’t want Queen Charlotte here to lose another calf. And no telling what they might do to a baby girl. No, sir, you get up off your haunches and get going.”

  Almost on cue, a coyote yip-yipped somewhere in the hills close by. A second answered.

  “See, I told you there was work to be done.” But Samson had already disappeared into the night on silent feet, a growl deep in his throat.

  Joe finished milking the cow and let her into the corral. He looked toward the house, at the light shining brightly through the window in the dark night, and felt a wonderful sense of peace. The horse and cow were in the corral, the chickens were safe in their pen, and it was warm and secure inside the house where Mary, Sarah, and the baby awaited his return. Everything he’d ever wanted was right here.

  Only he had to leave.

  But he couldn’t, not until he was sure Mary and the baby were all right. He was worried about her. She looked so worn out. Sister Rachel was coming on Christmas. He couldn’t leave until then.

  Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. He had to help Sarah make a bow for the front door. And he wanted to see her open her presents on Christmas morning. He wanted her to have some pretty dresses, but the biggest reason for staying was to see the expression on her face when she unwrapped them.

  He wanted her to know her mother still remembered her.

  He’d stay until Christmas. Then he’d go.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Mary had never felt so happy or content. She held her daughter in her arms, the infant nursing contentedly. Sarah bustled about helping Joe fix breakfast for all three of them. Nothing more was needed to make Mary’s life complete. It was all here in this small cabin.

  She loved Joe. She was comfortable with that now. It would never change. But she knew he couldn’t stay. It would mean capture and return to prison with very little chance that he would get out for a long time.

  “Have you been thinking of a name for her?” Joe asked.

  “I had several in mind.”

  “Like what?”

  “Elizabeth. Anne. Ruth.”

  “They’re such sober names. Don’t you think a greedy little puss like her ought to have a different kind of name?”

  The baby nursed with noisy, slurping sounds. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I haven’t known many good women, but I think Holly’s okay.”

  “Holly,” Mary said half to herself. “It is a nice name. It makes her sound strong, bright-eyed, and ready to fight if she needs to.”

  “Like right now.”

  Mary was changing Holly to the other side, and the infant screamed her anger at having her meal interrupted.

  “I think Holly is a fine name,” Mary said. “I’ll always think of you when I call her name.”

  The silence that fell made them both painfully aware that their time together was drawing to a close.

  “You haven’t found the gold.”

  “No.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Go to California. Somewhere else if I have to. Maybe after a while I can come back and look for it again.”

  She knew he wouldn’t. If he didn’t find it now, he would never come back.

  “When do you have to go?” She didn’t want to know the answer, but she had to ask.

  “Christmas. I got a few presents in tow
n.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. Her husband had caused him to be sent to jail. She had caused him to risk being caught. Still he had taken the time to buy presents for them. How could anybody believe he’d stolen that gold? “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “It’s not much, just some little things.”

  The baby finished eating. She rewarded Mary with an enormous burp. “That’s what you get for eating too fast,” Mary said, but her smile and tone turned her censure into words of love. “Here, why don’t you hold her while I eat?”

  “Me?” Joe said.

  Mary smiled. He always seemed to be saying that, like there were things he’d never considered he could do. “She’s a lot nicer to hold now than she was last night.”

  “I don’t—”

  “All you have to do is put her in the crook of your arm. Come here, and I’ll show you.”

  Joe approached reluctantly.

  “Put your arm across your chest,” Mary said.

  He did, and she placed the baby in his arm. He immediately clamped her against his chest with his other arm. He was certain he would drop her before he made it to the chair so he could sit down. Holly looked up at him with the biggest black eyes he’d ever seen.

  Joe walked to the chair with small, stiff-legged steps. He felt as if he’d never walked before, as if his legs had forgotten how. He practically fell into the chair. Holly continued to look at him with her big eyes.

  “She ought to go to sleep in a few minutes,” Mary said as she prepared to get up.

  “Stay in that bed.” Joe’s order was so sharp that Holly started to cry. He held her a little closer and, miraculously, she stopped. “You’re too weak to get up,” he said in a hushed voice. “Sarah can bring your breakfast to you.”

  “I feel fine. I—”

  “You can get up this afternoon. For now, you stay where you are.”

  Satisfied that Mary would remain in bed, Joe turned his attention back to Holly. Mary had dressed her in a soft flannel gown that was twice her size. She looked too small to be real. He rubbed her cheek with his callused finger. It was incredibly soft. She opened her mouth wide and yawned. She took hold of his finger with her hand. It looked absurdly small, too small to encircle his finger.