by Emily Woods
“Oh, Mr. Morrison, what’s happened?” Marigold asked, putting her hand on his arm gently.
“She’s been pregnant, you see, and I could tell she was getting close to giving birth. Sure enough, woke up in the dead of night and went to check on her. She was lying there, breathing real heavy. Something is wrong. She needs help.” His big brown eyes turned to James. “Please, doc, you’ve got to come help me.”
“Of course,” James replied. “I’ll just get some supplies.”
“No time,” Mr. Morrison replied.
“Besides, you won’t be needing them,” Marigold said. “We won’t need any supplies.”
James stared at her, perplexed. “We won’t?”
Marigold also looked confused. “Horses always give birth without much assistance.”
“I’m sorry …” James replied. “A horse?”
“Yes, who did you think we were talking about?”
“Not a horse, that’s for sure,” James said.
His stomach knotted.
“I’m really sorry to say this, Mr. Morrison, but I don’t know anything about animal care. I’m only certified to help humans.”
Marigold looked at him, her eyes brightening. “Don’t worry; it’s not all that much different.”
“I beg to differ –” James began.
“Please, we need to hurry!” Mr. Morrison cut in.
“Right, yes, sorry,” Marigold said calmly. “I’ve helped to deliver a baby horse a dozen times, Mr. Connor. I can be of some help.”
James stared at her. The pleading expression on her face made his throat tight. She certainly was beautiful. And if she could help …
But what if he messed up somehow? What if something happened to the horse or its mother?
“Let me see if we can borrow Marv’s carriage,” James said and dashed next door to ask.
Less than five minutes later, they were rushing to Mr. Morrison’s farm far quicker than they could have on foot. The landscape flew past them, and if James wasn’t so concerned about what he was about to do, then he would have enjoyed the scenery much more. He had not been outside the town yet, and it was much wilder than he had imagined. He was grateful Mr. Morrison was with them to lead them.
He looked back over at Marigold, whose gentle face was set in a look of determination.
Mr. Morrison did not appear to be in the mood to speak, so he did not engage them as they rode.
Mr. Morrison’s ranch was surrounded by a neatly spaced fence with a sizable wooden barn tucked beside a large, pleasant farm house. Cattle grazed in the fields on all sides of the house, and corn crops stood tall against the wide blue sky.
“She’s in here,” Mr. Morrison said, hopping down off of the carriage before they had come to a complete stop. “In the barn.”
James’s stomach clenched uncomfortably as he followed Mr. Morrison across the patchy grass, his boots crunching on the gravel. The sun was high in the sky, making their shadows almost nonexistent.
The barn smelled strongly of hay and manure. James was not accustomed to it, but his concern was immediately shifted to the beautiful chestnut horse stretched out on the floor of her stall.
“Easy there, girl,” Mr. Morrison said, his voice cracking as he knelt down beside her. “I’ve brought some help. Everything’s going to be just fine.”
James wished that his abilities were up to snuff, and he hoped he wasn’t about to let Mr. Morrison down.
Marigold rolled up the sleeves of her dress and knelt down beside Mr. Morrison. “She’s moving along quickly,” she said. “We are going to have to get the foal out as soon as possible. All she needs is a little help.”
James was amazed at the calm that had come over her, how confident she was.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Mr. Connor, have you ever delivered a baby before?”
“Of course,” James said, also rolling up his sleeves. He bent down. “It’s my most frequent job.”
“Good,” she replied. “It’s very similar. We are just going to have to pull the baby out manually.”
“All right,” James replied.
“She’s tired,” Marigold continued. “And she can’t afford to lose much more blood.”
She was right; James was aware horses were much larger than a human, but the amount of blood in the hay was approaching a dangerous level.
The horse whinnied and snorted angrily.
“I’m here, girl, I’m here.” Mr. Morrison moved closer to her head to stroke her behind the ears.
“All right, I am going to need you to move down to her legs and be ready to grab onto the foal when you see it,” Marigold said, moving to lay her hands on the horse’s abdomen. She pressed gently, and the horse squirmed.
Mr. Morrison cooed and brushed her mane with his fingers, attempting to soothe her.
James approached the back of the horse, eyeing her hooves warily.
He could see the infant horse starting to appear, but it was obvious it was attempting to come out breeched.
“She’s fully dilated,” James said. “At least I believe she is.”
“And there are no issues here I can feel,” Marigold said. “All right, I am going to pinch some pressure points to help facilitate her pushing once more. If that baby is breeched, it is going to be a painful process for her. Are you ready?”
“Ready.”
They worked together over the next hour, coaxing the horse to continue to push the foal through, ensuring that everything was safe and sound.
Mr. Morrison helped to keep the horse calm, continually talking with her. Mrs. Morrison appeared soon after to monitor the progress.
After one last great push, the foal was born all right. It shook its head and blinked its large round eyes up at James as if to thank him.
His heart constricted. He had helped deliver many babies, but this was a unique experience. Staring at the creature, he felt blessed to have helped bring it into the world.
“It’s a girl!” Mr. Morrison exclaimed happily. “Oh, how wonderful.” He turned to James and Marigold. “I don’t know how to thank you both. You handled yourselves very well. Stayed calm under pressure. And you saved my horse.” He looked at the baby one, nuzzling close to her mother. “Both of them.”
“It was our pleasure,” James said. “Though Marigold was the one who did most of the work.”
“No,” she replied. “I needed your help. And your knowledge of delivering babies certainly made you the perfect candidate to help.”
James smiled appreciatively at her.
“Well, since you were the ones to help deliver her, I think you should be the ones to name her.”
“Oh, we couldn’t do that – ”
“She is yours! You should have the honor – ”
Mr. Morrison shook his head. “No, you should name her.”
Marigold and James exchanged glances, and then looked down at the little foal. Her mother was licking her, helping her to get clean.
“I … don’t know,” James said.
“I’m rather fond of the name Abigail,” Marigold said slowly.
James felt his eyes widen and his cheeks grow pink. “My sister’s name is Abigail.”
Marigold smiled at him, surprise brightening her face.
“Abigail it is, then,” Mr. Morrison replied, grinning at the two of them.
After getting her cleaned up, helping her nurse, and Mrs. Morrison bringing them something to eat, James and Marigold stood there together outside the pen, watching Abigail try and stand on her own.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Marigold said happily.
“God’s creation sure is amazing,” James replied.
She turned to him and smiled. “I’m proud of you, Mr. Connor.”
“Oh?”
“I am. You took today in stride and performed admirably.”
“I had a good teacher,” he answered.
“I think you will find helping animals will be just as frequent as helping peop
le here,” she added. “But if you ever need assistance, I would be happy to give some instructions to a city boy like yourself.”
He grinned. “I’d be happy to have it.”
They watched the foal and heard her utter a tiny cry, and then nestle down beside her mother for a nap.
“Thank you,” James told said, smiling at Marigold. “For everything today.”
She flashed him a lovely smile. “You don’t have to thank me. I found the whole day rather enjoyable.”
“As did I,” he replied honestly.
His skin tingled, and his heart raced. She was lovely. It was hard for him to look away, but he forced himself to.
He had made a promise to Abigail that he would come home. And he had come all the way out to Utah to forget about Tessa.
“I should probably be getting back to town,” he said rather abruptly.
“So soon?” she asked, her face falling.
“I just want to make sure I am at the clinic if anyone needs me.”
He thanked Mr. and Mrs. Morrison for his meal and bid them farewell. Marigold watched him as he hopped into Marv’s carriage with Mr. Morrison. He tried not to glance over his shoulder at her as they pulled away. It was hard, though.
He was becoming too attached to her and her pretty face.
Chapter 4
It was the end of June, and the summer had arrived in full force. The heat was almost unbearable, and no one stepped out of doors in the middle of the day if they could avoid it.
James kept the windows of the clinic open all day, hoping to catch a breeze that probably was never going to come. He wore the thinnest linen shirt he could find and relished the cooler night air when the sun finally went down.
The only thing that seemed to keep everyone’s mind off the heat was spending the cooler evening hours at the saloon all together, exchanging stories and sharing a laugh. He found he was fitting in well, and everyone had accepted him as one of their own. He was able to remember almost everyone’s names, and he found himself spending more and more time with Marigold. There were always other people around, but he would have been happy just watching her from across the room.
He had learned she loved to read and always looked forward to the winter months. She was bold, intelligent, and took every opportunity to smile. He discovered her favorite food was a freshly baked loaf of Marv’s wife’s bread, and she loved a warm mulled wine on Christmas Eve.
“If you keep staring like that, your eyes are bound to fall out of your head.”
James turned and saw Marv watching him, clearly amused.
“What do you mean?” James replied, lifting his glass and taking a sip. He also wanted to hide his flushed face.
“I’ve been watching the way you’ve been looking at Marigold,” Marv went on. He was pouring an ale for Mr. Morrison who had just walked up to the bar.
James swallowed hard, his throat tightening.
“I’ll warn you now before you get involved,” Marv said. He leaned across the bar top. “Mr. Langston doesn’t take kindly to anyone taking a fancy to his daughters. He’s protective, see. Would rather find suitable husbands for them himself.”
James glanced across the room at Mr. Langston, whose face was flushed, his hand clasped tightly around a tankard. He laughed heartily, pounding the table with his fist.
“And he likes you,” Marv went on. “I’d hate to see him turn on you if things didn’t work out well with Marigold.”
James’s face fell. “What makes you think it wouldn’t work out?”
Marv hesitated, his gaze on Marigold. She was sitting with some other friends, giggling and chittering away as women did. Her hair looked like spun gold in the light of the fire.
“Well, say you ever decided to go back to that big city of yours?” Marv finally said. “What would she do? You couldn’t ask her to leave; this is her home. Her father would be devastated. And a woman like Marigold, who has such a gentle spirit, would never survive in a city like that. It would eat her alive and then spit her out.”
James stole a long glance at her before sighing heavily. Marv was right.
Murmurs rose from some people near the door.
“What’s that?”
“Who is here?”
“Is that a carriage at this hour?”
James and a few others beside the door rose and stepped outside onto the porch.
In the light from the saloon, James could see it was indeed a carriage that had arrived in the middle of the street, the darkening sky a dramatic backdrop.
The door swung outward, and out stepped a woman in a fine dress, wearing a lacy hat and holding a blue parasol clasped in one hand.
“Who is this?” one person asked.
“What is a sort of woman like that doing in a place like this?” another commented.
“Abigail …” James said and stepped off the porch and toward the woman.
She looked up at the sound of her name, and her face split into a wide smile when she saw him.
“Oh, brother! You are here!”
She threw her arms around his shoulders and squeezed his tightly.
James remained in a stunned silence, his arms wrapped around her, wondering if he was perhaps dreaming.
She pulled away. “I was hoping after all of this traveling I would find you here in this …” She looked around and dropped her voice. “Brother, is this truly a town? There isn’t much to it, is there?”
“Abigail, what in the world are you doing here?” he asked, reaching down to lift up her trunk. It was considerably heavier than he expected it to be.
“To bring you back home, of course.”
There was a loud thud as her suitcase hit the dirt.
She spun around and stared at him. “Are you all right?”
James gaped at her. “Take me home?”
She nodded. “Of course. You promised me you would, remember?”
The few people who had stepped out onto the porch of the saloon to see the carriage all whispered to one another.
James couldn’t seem to find words to say. He opened his mouth again, floundered for the words he wanted, and then snapped it shut a second time.
“James, you look like a fish. Come now, I’ve had a long journey. I suppose I’ll stay at the inn tonight, and then we can leave tomorrow after breakfast.” She gazed around the street. “Now, where might the inn be?”
“Abigail, you should have sent a letter instead of coming all the way out here yourself,” he said quietly, taking a step toward her. “Don’t take that the wrong way, of course. I am ecstatic to see you!” He nodded to affirm it. “It’s just … this is all a little unexpected.”
Abigail smiled at him.
“What about Michael? And little Henry? What are they to do while you are gone on such a long journey?”
“It’s quite all right,” Abigail said passively. “They are quite fine without me. They have decided to go and see some of Henry’s cousins in Vermont while I am gone. And you know how I don’t get along with Michael’s sister, Charlotte. It seemed like the perfect way to spend the time.”
“But to take a two week train ride just to ask me to come back?”
“James, I knew I wouldn’t be able to convince you to come back in a letter! And we would spend months arguing by post, and it would get us nowhere. No, Mother and Father agreed – ”
“Mother and Father are in on this?”
“Well, of course they are,” Abigail said. “They were the ones who thought I should come out here to get you!”
James threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “Just …” James began, throwing a sidelong glance at those on the porch of the saloon. “Just come with me.”
He bent to pick up the trunk again, and after paying the carriage driver and encouraging him to duck into the saloon for something to eat before he left, hoisted it down the street to his clinic.
Abigail followed after him.
“Why is it so dark here?” she asked from behind him
. “Surely they should have installed gas lamps or something to light up the streets at night. Isn’t it dangerous?”
“Not at all,” James answered, shaking his head, grunting with the effort of keeping the trunk aloft. “Everyone here knows each other. There’s no danger of anyone being in danger here.”
“If you say so,” Abigail replied in a somewhat condescending manner. Perhaps at one point in his life, he would have agreed with her and not thought twice about it. But now, he found it grated on him.
He kicked in the door to the clinic a little more forcefully than he should have, and it bounced off the wall, leaving a dent from the knob. He set the trunk down just inside and began lighting candles.
The air inside the tiny clinic was stuffy, even with the windows open. The candles did nothing for the stifling heat, but James had grown used to it. It was apparent his sister had not.
She strolled inside and stopped just over the threshold, halfway through removing her silken gloves.
“What is this place?” she asked.
“My clinic,” James said, collapsing into one of the new chairs he had Mr. Green carve for him. Sturdier and made from better wood, he was rather fond of them.
Abigail gave the room a thorough scan.
“Surely you must be joking,” she said with a small laugh, drawing her hands up to herself, as if afraid she might touch something filthy.
“No, I am not,” he replied firmly. “This is where I do my work.”
“I can’t imagine you get much work done in such a small space,” she replied. “When you said you were taking a job out here as a doctor, I expected, well …” She gestured around. “More than this.”
“It may be small and lack in many modern amenities –”
“All modern amenities,” Abigail cut in.
James took a steadying breath. How was it that in such short time he had grown intolerant of his sister’s attitude?
“But it has served me well. I have been able to do everything I have needed to do here. I have even provided the town with some more basic equipment, in case someone ever had to take over for me – ”
“Which they will be,” Abigail interrupted again, “Since you will be leaving with me – ”
“Will you listen to me?” James cried out, slamming his hand down on the table with a loud crash.
