“What nonsense. I could have shaken Wolfe by his ears for his bad temper. You can no more help the circumstances of your birth than he can.”
Jessica smiled rather grimly and said nothing.
“What surprised me,” Willow said, “was that you knew nothing about, er, the physical side of marriage, so I assumed you were reticent about physical things and probably horribly embarrassed by them as well. But you’re quite practical about births, aren’t you?”
“I spent my first nine years on a country estate. Dogs, sheep, cats, horses, pigs, cows, rabbits, the whole lot. They all conceived and gave birth with the regularity of the sun rising.”
“Particularly the rabbits?” Willow suggested with a slight smile.
Jessica laughed. “Those blessed bunnies were the only crop that never failed, rain or shine.”
“I’m glad you’re not a city aristocrat,” Willow admitted. “I’ve never attended a birth, but I believe I’ll need you, if only to be reassured that someone is here to care for the baby if I’m too tired at first.”
Jessica’s determined smile almost slipped. She had never had the luck to deal with a live birth, but that wasn’t something Jessica was going to mention. At the moment, keeping Willow’s spirits up was all that mattered. Talking of difficult births and dead babies was the last thing she needed.
“Now, lean on me while you step out of your skirt and petticoat,” Jessica said.
Working quickly but without the appearance of haste, Jessica got Willow washed and dressed in a clean gown. The bed was prepared by stripping off the old linens, putting a tarpaulin over the mattress, and then putting on clean linens. By the time Willow crawled awkwardly into bed, another contraction had come. It, too, wrapped fully around her body.
There was no doubt that the labor was real.
“I’ll be right back,” Jessica said as she tucked the covers beneath Willow’s chin. “If you hear the rifle, don’t worry. I’m calling in the men.”
“No. I’m fine. I don’t need them.”
“Willow, what do you think Caleb would do to the person who kept him from you when you were in need?”
Tears brightened Willow’s eyes. “But the mares need him more than I do.”
“Wolfe will help the mares. He loves horses as he loves nothing else on earth.”
“Except you.”
Jessica smiled sadly. “Tree That Stands Alone doesn’t love me. He cares for me, that’s all, and it’s more than I deserve.”
“Nonsense,” Willow said.
“No. Simple truth. Everything Wolfe said about me last night was true. I forced this marriage against Wolfe’s wishes. He wanted a Western wife like you. He got an aristocrat who didn’t even know how to comb her own hair.”
Jessica smiled at the look of shock on Willow’s face. “’Tis true, I’m afraid,” Jessica said. “The hairbrush was as foreign in my hand as a gold coin in a beggar’s grasp.”
“Dear Lord,” Willow whispered.
“But I’m learning, thanks in large part to you.” Jessica smoothed her hand over Willow’s hair. “Rest. You’ll need your strength to bring Caleb’s baby into the world.”
Willow turned and looked out the window. Nothing showed but trees bent and writhing in the wind.
“They won’t be able to hear the rifle,” she said calmly. “They’re upwind of us.”
Silently, Jessica agreed, but she went to the porch anyway. The wind sucked the door handle from her grasp and sent the door slamming back upon the wall. The air was icy. Shivering, she raised the carbine that had been a present for a wedding that should never have taken place. The gold and silver inlay smoldered in the subdued light of the storm.
She fired three spaced shots, waited, then fired three more spaced shots. Shivering violently, she lowered the carbine and retreated to the house’s shelter. After a brief struggle, she managed to shut the door once again, closing out the icy wind.
For a long moment Jessica stood alone in the living room, gathering herself for what was to come. Then she went to work.
Ignoring her trembling hands, she scrubbed her sharp darning scissors, wrapped them in a clean towel, and set them on top of the pristine receiving blankets Willow had prepared with such love. The thought of wrapping up one more tiny corpse sent a wave of sick despair through Jessica. She had seen the baby clothes and carefully made cradle. She had seen Caleb’s love and Willow’s pleasure when he held his hand on her womb and felt their baby move.
Please God, let this baby be born alive.
The wind battered the house, sending a chill through Jessica. Quickly she gathered a book and a chair and went back to Willow.
“It seemed to help Mother if I read to her,” Jessica said with a calm that was wholly false. “If that doesn’t appeal, I’ll just sit quietly until you need me.”
“Please,” Willow said quickly, her voice strained, “read.”
“Try not to hold your breath when the pain comes,” Jessica said gently. “It only makes it worse.” Jessica began reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
Time went quickly, marked off by contractions that became closer together and harder, until only a handful of minutes came between. The demands of birth took Willow’s body, made it rigid, and dragged low sounds from her.
“Try not to fight it,” Jessica said quietly. “Birth is stronger than any of us. We can’t conquer it. We can only share it with the babe.”
Very slowly, Willow relaxed despite the continued grip of pain.
“Here,” Jessica said, taking a piece of leather strap from her pocket. “Put this between your teeth.”
Neither woman heard the front door open. Nor did they hear Caleb’s voice calling for Willow. Jessica’s first realization of Caleb’s presence came when a pair of riding gloves hit the floor at her feet and a large masculine hand reached past her to Willow.
“No!” Jessica said fiercely, blocking the hand with her body. “Wash yourself first. Nothing dirty must touch her or the child or you’ll risk fever.”
Caleb grabbed the fallen gloves and left the room in a rush. When he reappeared he was dripping water, smelling of soap and wearing nothing but a pair of clean breeches. He dressed quickly.
Willow let out a low sound as the contraction peaked. When her eyes opened, she saw Caleb fastening his pants. Almost guiltily, she let go of Jessica’s hand, spat out the strip of leather, and concealed it beneath the covers.
She wasn’t quick enough. Few people were when it came to hiding things from Caleb’s golden eyes.
“I told Jessi not to fire the rifle,” Willow said. “The mares—”
“Wolfe found them,” Caleb interrupted as he reached for a shirt. “What’s this about a rifle?”
“I tried to call you in when Willow began labor,” Jessica said as she wrung out a cloth to cool Willow’s face.
“I didn’t hear any shots.”
Jessica glanced at the window. It was still light outside. The wind still howled. None of the other men had returned.
“Then how did you know to come?” she asked.
“I heard Willow calling my name.”
Jessica stared at Caleb, but he had eyes only for his wife. He was kneeling next to the bed in a carelessly buttoned shirt. No one but Jessica noticed the half-unfastened clothing as Caleb bent down to Willow, talking softly, stroking her hair and smiling at her with such tenderness that Jessica felt tears catch in her throat.
When the next contraction came, it was Caleb’s hands that Willow gripped. She struggled not to cry out, but couldn’t stifle a rough sound.
“Go ahead,” Caleb said. “Scream or curse or cry. Whatever helps.”
Willow shook her head.
When the contraction passed, Jessica fished out the piece of rein Willow had hidden beneath the covers. She put the leather strip on the blanket next to Willow.
“I prepared this and kept it near because I knew you would need it.” Jessica said. “If you won’t cry out or use the leather, I’
ll tell Caleb to leave. The last thing you should be worried about is fighting yourself so as not to upset your husband. He put the babe in your body. He can share in the pain as well as the pleasure of its birth.”
Willow’s mouth set in a mutinous line.
Caleb kissed his wife and said something too soft for Jessica to hear.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” Willow said. “Love, you get upset if I burn myself cooking.”
He lifted her hands and kissed them very gently. Then he picked up the leather strap. The marks of her teeth showed clearly. His fingers tightened on the dark leather.
“If I could bear it for you, I would,” he said roughly.
“I know. Just having you here helps me.”
It was true.
Despite the force of the contractions, Jessica saw that the lines of tension in Willow’s face had eased. When Caleb bent his head and whispered to his wife, the smile she gave him was as full of love as her eyes.
Then Willow’s body was claimed once more by the demands of birth. Caleb felt the tension of her muscles. Without a word, he held out the strap. She took it between her teeth just as a powerful contraction arched her whole body.
After that, there was little time for anything but easing Willow in small ways while she performed the hard work of bringing another life into the world. As the rhythmic fury of birth progressed, Jessica prayed silently, fiercely, that it would not all be in vain, all the wrenching pain and the blood, the set agony of Caleb’s face speaking eloquently of his fear and love for the woman who was giving birth to his child.
Finally, the contractions came so quickly that there was no time between for Willow to recover. Panting, sweating, dazed, she tried to smile at Caleb, only to be swept up once again.
“How much longer?” Caleb asked tightly of Jessica.
“As long as the babe requires.”
“She can’t take much more of this.”
“You would be surprised at what a woman can endure.”
And Caleb was.
In the final throes of birth, Willow’s hands gripped with a power that amazed Caleb, leaving bruises on his work-hardened hands, bruises that he didn’t even notice until later; he had care only for Willow, for giving her what ease he could.
The sound of a baby’s cries came as a shock.
“You have a son!” Jessica said, laughing and crying at the same time. “A beautiful, red-faced, crying, living son!”
Willow smiled and closed her eyes, letting everything slide away but the knowledge of her son and her husband’s kiss burning in the center of her hand.
Jessica managed to cut and tie the cord despite the happy tears running down her face. She washed the baby in warm water, wrapped him in receiving blankets, and handed him to Caleb. She was stunned to see tears in Caleb’s eyes as he looked at his child.
“Show Willow your son,” Jessica said huskily. “Then put him to her breast. He needs to feel her heartbeat again. She needs to feel his.”
Reverently, Caleb took their son to Willow. When Jessica looked up again, Willow was lying in her husband’s arms and the baby was sucking eagerly, his tiny head cradled by Caleb’s big hand.
“ARE you all right?” Wolfe asked urgently, pulling Jessica into his arms before she could answer.
“Willow did the work, not I.”
Wolfe didn’t seem to hear. He held Jessica hard against him. “When Reno told me, I kept thinking of your mother, of the horror you have of birth. I was afraid being near another childbed would terrify you.”
“I was afraid, too,” Jessica admitted, wrapping her arms around Wolfe’s lean waist. “I was afraid it would be born dead, like all the others.”
Wolfe made a hoarse sound, but the hand that stroked Jessica’s disheveled hair was very gentle.
“But this baby was alive,” she continued, excitement vibrating in every word. “Red-faced and crying, waving tiny fists, with black hair and long limbs. It was perfect and it was alive!”
Smiling, Wolfe bent and kissed her. When she returned the kiss rather than retreating, heat ran like leashed lightning through him. Memories of last night had come to him throughout the day, shaking him. He hungered for Jessica in ways he hadn’t believed possible.
Unable to stop himself, Wolfe urged Jessica’s lips apart. Despite the elemental need hardening his body, he tasted her with great gentleness, absorbing her warmth and the soft breaking of her breath when his tongue first touched hers. It was a long time before he lifted his head.
“Reno said both Willow and the boy are doing well,” Wolfe said finally, looking toward the closed bedroom door.
“Yes.” Jessica smiled and kissed the corner of Wolfe’s mouth. “Very, very well. Oh, Wolfe, it was extraordinary. To hold a new life where none was before made me feel as though I had touched God’s smile. The look on Caleb’s face when he held his son told me he felt the same way.”
“When will I be allowed to see this little red-faced miracle?”
“Willow can’t wait to share him. As soon as you wash, you can go in.”
“I’m clean as sunlight,” Wolfe said wryly. “Reno ran me through the wash house personally and thoroughly. Told me he wasn’t risking his one and only nephew on some dirty halfbreed.”
“What?” Jessica’s head snapped up. “Is he still alive?”
“Haven’t you heard? He’s pure greased lightning with that six-gun. I was as meek as a lamb—even washed behind my ears twice.”
“I’ll box his ears,” she muttered. “Calling you names. He ought to be ashamed.”
Wolfe made a smothered sound and broke into laughter as he lifted Jessica off her feet in a big hug,
“Such a fierce little elf,” he said against her lips. “I was only teasing. Reno has called me some names from time to time, but none of them had anything to do with my Cheyenne mother.”
The laughter in Wolfe’s eyes made them a beautiful midnight blue. The strong slant of his cheekbones and his starkly defined mouth were heightened rather than blurred by his smile. Jessica realized anew how compelling Wolfe’s features were to her.
Suddenly, she wondered what it would be like to look down into the face of a sleeping baby and see hints of Wolfe’s beloved face.
“What an odd sound. Are you all right, Jessi?”
“Yes. No. That is…”
Jessica’s aquamarine eyes searched Wolfe’s face. She slid her fingers into his black hair and found that it was still damp. The cool, sleek texture made her shiver with pleasure and say his name as she watched him with wide, wondering eyes.
“Jessi? Are you all right? You’re looking at me as though you’ve never seen me before.”
“I haven’t.” Before he could say anything, she lifted her mouth to his. “Kiss me, Wolfe. Kiss me hard.”
The kiss Wolfe gave Jessica was deep, hot, frankly hungry. When it ended, both of them were breathing too rapidly. Just as he bent to take her mouth again, the front door closed hard.
“You keep that up and there will be one more small screamer come winter,” Rafe said, trying and failing to swallow his smile.
Wolfe tucked Jessica’s fiery face against his chest. “We were just getting ready to admire your nephew.”
“Uh-huh. What’s this I hear about a complete bath before I get to see the little mite?”
“Ask Reno.”
“I did. He has a scrub brush the size of a wagon seat and pure deviltry in his eyes.”
Jessica laughed into Wolfe’s shirt.
“Are you strangling her?” Rafe asked politely.
Wolfe’s hand slid beneath Jessica’s chin. He tilted her face up and brushed a kiss over her lips.
“Are you strangling?” Wolfe asked softly.
She blushed and said something Rafe couldn’t hear.
“What was that?” Rafe asked.
“She said to enjoy your bath.”
“Damn. I was afraid of that. Don’t wear out the little morsel before I get back.”
; “Which morsel?” Wolfe asked.
“Wolfe!” Jessica said, hitting his chest with her hand.
Rafe was laughing as he shut the front door behind him.
“Come on, morsel,” Wolfe said, putting Jessica’s feet back on the floor. “Show me the little miracle.”
Willow’s radiant smile belied the paleness of her skin as she welcomed Wolfe. Caleb was sitting next to the bed, holding the sleeping baby in the crook of his arm. When Wolfe walked close, Caleb gently shifted the small burden.
“Put one hand under his head and the other under his bottom,” Jessica said to Wolfe.
“Jesus,” Wolfe whispered, “he’s tiny.”
“Not for a baby,” Caleb said. “He’s nearly two feet long and weighs nine pounds if he weighs an ounce.”
“Like I said. Tiny.”
But Wolfe took the sleeping baby in his hands and looked at it with a gentleness that softened the hard lines of his face. When the baby’s eyes opened sleepily, Wolfe’s breath came out in a wondering sound.
“Look at those tawny eyes. He’s your son, all right.”
The baby studied Wolfe with unfocused eyes, yawned, blew a tiny bubble, and was asleep within seconds. Wolfe laughed very softly and touched the baby’s small, perfect cheek with his thumb.
Watching Wolfe brought Jessica a feeling close to pain. She had seen the wonder in Wolfe’s face when he looked from the baby’s golden eyes to Caleb’s. She had seen something more, too. She had seen Wolfe’s hunger to someday hold a baby in his hands and know that he was part of that continuing miracle of life.
A man didn’t need titles or wealth in order to want a child. The pain of the realization was so deep that Jessica barely managed not to cry out.
“Are you going to be as hard-headed and decent as your daddy?” Wolfe asked the baby softly. “I hope so. The world needs more dark angels of justice to keep the devils in line.”
Wolfe looked up and smiled at Caleb. “All the same, I hope you have a daughter next time. The world needs more Western women, too.”
“Have one yourself,” Caleb said dryly.
Only Jessica saw the light leave Wolfe’s eyes. His black lashes swept down as though he were looking at the sleeping baby once more. She knew he must be thinking of their marriage, the trap he was caught in which insured he would never have daughters or sons.
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