Spinning Out Of Control

by Vickie McDonough

  Unaware of her mother’s struggle, Beth giggled and shinnied off the bed. She trustingly took Jonah’s hand and looked back over her shoulder, giving Amy a curious glance.

  “There’s a pot of hot water on the fire, if’n you’ve need of it.” Jonah nodded toward the fireplace. He took a brown cape off a peg behind the door and tied it on Beth’s shoulders then secured a cap over her long, dark hair. Amy wondered if the girl’s hair color resembled her father’s. Jonah and Beth stepped outside, and Amy secured the door shut.

  “Amy! The baby’s coming.”

  She scurried back to Kathryn’s side. “What should I do? I—I never helped birth a baby before.”

  “Help me—sit up.”

  Kathryn pressed against the bed but was too weak to push herself up. Amy lifted her skirt and slid onto the bed. She hoisted up the exhausted woman and propped the two pillows behind her.

  “Thank you.” Kathryn laid her head against the wall and moaned softly. After a few moments rest, she drew her legs up. “Towels. Water.”

  Amy hurried into the parlor and found the towels on the table. Using a notched piece of wood, she swung around the iron arm holding the pot until it was no longer over the fire. She snagged a ladle hanging next to the hearth and scooped some water into a wooden bucket. Quickly, she unlaced her French bodice, removed it, and pulled an apron from her travel bag. She tied the apron over her chemise, wishing she could take away her cousin’s pain.

  Why did women have to suffer so much to bring a child into the world?

  On a whim, she grabbed the knife lying on the table, along with the towels and bucket of water. Amy rushed back into the sleeping room and nearly stumbled. A tiny baby lay motionless on the bed. Tears blurred Amy’s eyes. She’d never seen a brand new life before.

  How amazing! One moment Kathryn had one child, and in another moment, she was the mother of two. The perfectly formed infant had ten tiny toes and fingers and a cute little nose. Awestruck, Amy couldn’t move. It was almost enough to make her believe in God. But shouldn’t the baby be moving?

  “Knife.” Uttering the single word seemed to sap Kathryn of all her strength, but it pushed Amy into motion.

  “I have it.” She set the bucket on the chair and bent over the bed.

  “Tie the cord tight—two places—’bout a thumb’s length apart, then cut in between.”

  Amy winced. Wouldn’t such a feat hurt the baby?

  “Hur–ry. Cut it.”

  Swallowing her fear and apprehension, Amy found two pieces of ribbon lying on the bedside table. She tied them tightly around the baby’s cord about an inch and a half apart; then she snipped the cord in half. The baby girl jerked—perhaps from the touch of Amy’s cold hands—sucked in a deep breath, and then wailed a warbling cry ’til her face turned red. It was the most beautiful sound Amy had ever heard. Almost lovely enough to make her want to marry and have her own child. But to have a child one must have a husband, and Amy never wanted to experience what her own mother had been through.

  She toweled off the infant then laid the baby on her mother’s chest, as Kathryn gave her daughter a proud but weak smile. Amy stuffed the spare pillow under the baby to help support it, then helped her cousin untie her chemise so she could nurse her child.

  Heat rose to Amy’s cheeks as Kathryn lifted the baby to her breast. Her gaze darted away, then back to mother and child.

  While the baby learned to suckle, Amy tended Kathryn. She wiped her cousin’s brow then turned back to tend the bed. Her heart plunged down to her toes at the dark stain on the bedding. Should there be so much blood after a birthing?

  “Promise me.” Kathryn’s voice was a mere whisper. “Take care of my girls.”

  “What?” Amy glanced at her cousin, a sense of impending doom filling her. Kathryn’s face looked as pale as Amy’s mother’s had right before she died. Her gray, sunken eyes sent a saber of fear straight into Amy’s heart.

  “Care for Micah, my girls. Please—”

  Amy sat beside Kathryn and lifted a trembling hand to brush her cousin’s hair from her face. “No, sweetie, you’ll do that yourself. Just as soon as you get some rest—” Her voice broke, choked off with emotion. This can’t be happening. Why now? I just found you again.

  “Micah must name the baby.” She placed a gentle kiss on her daughter’s blond hair.

  “Yes. Of course. If that’s what you want.”

  “He didn’t know.” Kathryn closed her eyes and tears ran down the side of her nose.

  “Know what?”

  “Micah. I didn’t tell him.”

  Amy’s heart pitched. “You didn’t tell Micah about the baby before he left?”

  Kathryn barely nodded then gazed down at her daughter. Amy wanted to ask why she hadn’t told her husband she was with child. And where was this missing husband? He was just like her father. Never there when I needed him. Were all men the same?

  “Stay, Amy. Care for my family.”

  Tears blurred Amy’s vision and stung her eyes. Her throat tightened, making it hard to talk. “Yes. I will. Now don’t you fret.”

  Stay with me, Kathryn. I know nothing about caring for babies.

  Kathryn’s lips turned up in a soft smile then straightened, and her arm slipped off the pillow onto the bed. Amy grabbed the baby to keep her from falling to the floor then cuddled the tiny newborn child.

  She raised a trembling hand to her cousin’s mouth and felt nothing. Not a single breath. A tear tickled her cheek as she touched Kathryn’s neck, just under her chin. No heartbeat. Amy sucked in a sob and cried for her dead cousin. She cried for this nameless, motherless child. She cried for Beth and Micah. And she cried for herself.

  Two

  Micah Walsh’s chest swelled with thankfulness to God. He’d been gone from home six weeks longer than he’d planned because of a lengthy illness and several unusually heavy snowfalls that trapped him on the far side of the Appalachian Mountains. Winter had refused to yield to spring, but here on the east side of the mountains, in the foothills, the temperatures had warmed and spring had won the battle.

  He smiled, knowing he was almost home. Just another few hours and he’d be back on his land—land that had belonged to his parents and grandparents, even before America was a free nation. Land his family had shed blood to keep.

  His heart ached to see his beautiful wife and daughter. Had Beth grown much in the five months that he’d been gone trapping? Was she talking better? Would Kathryn welcome him home?

  His city-born wife had not adapted to farm life as he had hoped. While their newlywed love carried them the first year, things had gotten worse recently, and Kathryn had grown more dissatisfied. He hoped with all the furs he was returning home with that he could barter and make life a bit easier for her. He’d prayed all these months that God would heal their relationship and show him how to be a better husband.

  His thoughts drifted to his farm, and his mind raced with all the things he could do with the money he’d get from the four mule loads of furs that trailed behind his horse. He hadn’t wanted to leave his family for so long, but two years of lean harvests necessitated such a drastic venture. He hoped Kathryn understood. She’d acted strangely during the final days of his preparation but never once complained about him leaving. She had probably dreaded his being gone so long.

  It wasn’t as if he’d left her alone. Jonah was there. And Ben. Micah had decided it was time for his younger brother to take responsibility and care for the farm while he was gone, so he’d left him in charge. Ever since their parents died and left the farm to Micah, he’d had trouble with Ben. His seventeen-year-old brother said since he didn’t inherit the farm, he saw no reason to work on it like a slave. Ben didn’t know that Micah planned on splitting the farm, just as soon as his little brother showed he was man enough to care for his half. Micah heaved a deep sigh. He figured leaving for a few months would force Ben to step up and handle things.

  “I sure hope I didn’t make a mistake.”


  Micah reveled in the greenness of the Shenandoah Valley after months of looking at gray skies, white snow, and barren trees. Reining his horse to a stop he marveled at the colorful wildflowers and trees starting to bloom. Rusty snorted and pawed, anxious to be on his way, but Micah held him steady. The afternoon sun warmed him, and a choir of birds chirped their cheerful tunes.

  To Micah’s right, a patch of dogwoods was shedding its pink and white flowers in favor of bright oval green leaves. The tiny purple flowers of the blue-eyed grass stretched their faces toward the sun. “Ah, Lord, thank You for the beauty of Your creation.”

  He nudged his horse forward, feeling a tug as the lead rope attached to the first mule pulled taut against his leg. The tired mules were not happy to move away from the tender green feast at their hooves. After several hee-haws of resistance, the overloaded quartet reluctantly plodded forward.

  Micah smiled. Tonight he’d hold Kathryn close and nuzzle her sweet-smelling hair—but he should probably take a bath first. She’d be proud of his success, though less acceptable of how he currently smelled. As soon as he cashed in his furs, restocked the pantry, and bought a few fripperies for Kathryn and Beth, he would find the best broodmares in the area and buy a dozen or so. He’d finally realize his dream of raising horses.

  Tobacco and cotton were popular crops and had made many Virginia farmers wealthy, but Micah refused to raise them. Unlike most of his neighbors, owning another human just didn’t sit right with him. He’d never owned a slave, but he couldn’t afford to hire the workers needed for either labor-intensive crop. He grew corn and wheat, though two years of above average rainfall had caused most of his crop to rot. But that was in the past. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this year’s crop would be a good one, providing Ben plowed the fields and started planting as he was supposed to.

  Micah whistled a jolly tune. Life was good. He kicked Rusty into a trot, anxious to be home.

  Around midnight, his horse nickered and picked up his pace. Amazingly, even after months away, the faithful animal knew he was home. A short while later they stopped in front of the barn, and Micah studied the area. The full moon cast a warm glow, but Micah couldn’t tell if things had changed much.

  He dismounted and stretched out the kinks in his back, happy to know he wouldn’t have to spend tomorrow on the back of a horse. After unsaddling Rusty and putting him in his stall with a fresh manger of hay, Micah unpacked his four mules and put them in the pasture. He stashed his furs in a hidden storage area below the barn then headed for the cabin with a wide smile on his face. He couldn’t wait to see Kathryn’s expression when she realized he was finally home.

  Opening the door quietly, so not to wake anyone, he slipped inside, crossed the room to the fireplace, and poked the ashes. They flickered and sparked bright orange. He tossed on some kindling, because once Kathryn knew he was home, sleep would flee and she’d want to hear all about his trip. The kindling sputtered and sparked, then flamed to life. Standing, Micah laid his arm on the mantle and watched the flames dance and grow, sending its wave of heat over his tired, cold body. The faint aroma of fresh-baked bread tantalized his senses. It was so good to be home again.

  ❧

  Amy froze, straining her ears for any sounds out of the ordinary. Something had awakened her. Perhaps it was just an animal prowling around outside. After a month on the Walsh farm, she still wasn’t used to the country sounds. It was all so much different from city life in Boston.

  She sat up in bed and listened for Missy. Some nights the baby slept straight through, which was a good thing because Sookie, the wet-nurse slave Ben had borrowed from a neighbor, slept like a hibernating bear on her floor mat. If Missy did awaken, Amy would get up and change her, then wake Sookie.

  The slave girl had hardly said a word the whole time she’d been at the Walsh farm. Amy’s heart went out to her, and she’d tried hard to make friends, but Sookie preferred keeping to herself. Perhaps she was still grieving the loss of her young husband and child. Ben had told Amy how Sookie’s husband had been injured while working and died after his wounds had gotten infected. Then Sookie’s baby was born too early to survive.

  Amy rubbed her eyes, sorry that the young woman had endured so much pain. Was it hard for Sookie to nurse Missy? There wasn’t much Amy could do about that, but she could be more diligent in trying to make friends with Sookie.

  Amy yawned and felt around on the pillow for her nightcap. The ribbon that secured it kept coming untied. She didn’t like wearing the crazy thing anyway. Finally, she gave up her search.

  She lay down again and thought about all that had happened the past month. How her life had changed. In a way, it was a relief her father had finally passed on. She no longer wondered when he’d come home or if there’d be food on the table. Kathryn had left behind a good-sized root cellar filled with a bounty of vegetables and fruit. The smokehouse still held some meat, and Ben was a decent hunter, when she could get the stubborn lad to go hunting. He was sweet, with a willful streak, and at seventeen, he was only two years younger than she.

  Some nights it was a relief to see him head off to his room upstairs. At times, he wore her down more than the two little girls put together.

  Beth was finally warming to her. At first, the three-year-old only wanted her uncle or Jonah to handle her, which made getting her dressed in the morning an ordeal.

  Amy yawned again and relaxed against the pillow. A smile tugged at her lips as she thought about their numerous conversations about Missy’s name. Ben wanted a modern name like Charlotte or Henrietta. Jonah preferred something Biblical such as Dorcas or Martha. In the end, they just called her Missy, just like Jonah called Beth, Mizzy Beth—only Missy didn’t have a second part. Amy wondered if the child would ever have a real name, since it had been Kathryn’s wish for Micah to name her. It seemed Missy’s father had abandoned both girls for good.

  And wasn’t that just like a father? To be unreliable and irresponsible?

  Perhaps he had run into some kind of trouble while trapping. For the girls’ sake, she hoped not. She flipped onto her side. Perhaps she wasn’t being fair to Micah Walsh. But then again, what would he say when he found out that Kathryn had died because she wasn’t skilled enough to save her? Would he toss her out of his home without a second thought?

  Her eyelids lowered of their own accord. Amy didn’t want to travel down that road again. She’d endured more than her share of guilt. At least she had cared for Missy, and the child was thriving.

  Amy yawned. Morning would come soon enough, and she needed her rest. Jonah had agreed to clean and fix up an old spinning wheel she’d found in the corner of the barn. In the morning, she’d bring it up to the house, and if time allowed, start spinning some flax.

  As she relaxed and her body grew limp, she heard someone drag a piece of wood off the pile and drop it into the fireplace.

  Amy bolted upright, wide-awake. Someone was in the house. Her heart stampeded. Tossing aside the quilt, she slid off the bed and tiptoed to the doorway. During the day, a colorful quilt hung over the opening between the sleeping room and the parlor, but at night, they needed the warmth of the fire, so she left the quilt pulled aside.

  Eerie shadows danced on the walls from the growing fire. Jonah and Ben never came inside the cabin once they’d gone to bed. This must be an intruder. She’d give her life to protect the girls, though she hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  Fishing around in the dark, she groped for the musket she knew sat in the corner. She’d told Ben she had no need to learn how to load the confusing weapon, but now she wondered if she’d been wrong. Her hand landed on the cold metal, and her fingers tightened around it. Ever so slowly she lifted it up then clutched it to her chest.

  Gathering her courage, she peered around the doorway. Her heart leaped to her throat. She smelled the bear of a man before she saw him. And he looked just like a grizzly bear with that thick fur coat and long hair. He stood warming his hands at the fire.
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  For a moment, she considered screaming. Ben would hear her through the opening in the roof that allowed heat to his room upstairs, and he’d be downstairs in an instant—provided he woke up. But then her hollering would most likely awaken the girls, and they’d be frightened. She almost wanted to ask Jonah’s God for help.

  But it was up to her to protect Kathryn’s sweet babies—and she was up to the task.

  Ignoring the chilly floor against her bare feet and clutching the musket like a club, she tiptoed toward the intruder. Her hands shook, and her knees almost gave way. Surely the man could hear her heart ricocheting in her chest.

  Think of the girls.

  As she moved closer, the man’s odor grew stronger. How in the world could he live with himself?

  Four more feet.

  Three feet.

  Please don’t turn around—and please don’t let me kill him.

  Amy lifted the musket and swung with all her might. For once she wished that she were taller than five and a half feet. The weapon connected with a thud. The wide-eyed man turned his bearded face toward her, the flames of the fire illuminating his cheek. Her heart pounded like a blacksmith’s hammer. She stepped backwards, tightening her grasp on her weapon. His questioning gaze latched onto hers for a split second, and then his eyes rolled upward. His knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground in front of the fireplace with a loud thump.

  Three

  Micah clawed his way through the darkness and pain, focusing on the dancing light in the distance. He blinked, and a fireplace took shape. His fireplace. He rolled onto his back, hoping to ease the throbbing in his temple, and waited until the room stopped spinning. Reaching up, he touched his forehead, wincing when he made contact with something moist. He pulled his arm back and looked at his fingers.

  Blood?

  How had he managed to trap in the mountains all winter and not get injured, yet as soon as he stepped foot inside his home he got smacked upside the head?