Untamed Journey

by Eden Carson

  The waves of pleasure overtook her body once again, and peaked in ecstasy when Jackson thrust his body completely into her one last time – releasing into her – filling her with overwhelming heat.

  Chapter 59

  “Ruth, wake up.”

  She heard the rough voice, but buried her chin in the warm covers, thinking she was just dreaming.

  This time, Jackson shook Ruth a bit as he called her name, hoping the urgency of his voice would clear away the fog of a long night in his arms. “Ruth, you need to wake up. We need your help.”

  Jackson’s insistent shaking finally got her heavy eyelids open, but she still struggled to focus on what he wanted in her room hours before the sun was due to rise.

  At his firm tugging on the covers, Ruth bolted upright in bed, finally coming to her senses. “What’s the matter?” she grumbled.

  “It’s Meghan Brown, one of the neighbors. She went into labor last night, and she’s having trouble. Sue asked for your help.”

  Before Ruth could fully process this information, Jackson had yanked the covers away and was calmly handing her bits and pieces of her clothing that had remained strewn about the floor all night long.

  As he nonchalantly handed Ruth her stockings, she blushed to the roots of her tangled hair, suddenly realizing whose bed she was lying in, and remembering hotly what she had been doing there half the night.

  Jackson couldn’t help grinning a bit at her discomfort, seeing as he was the sole cause of it. “Put your shoes on. We’ll have to ride over to the Brown place right away. It must be bad if Sue can’t handle it alone.”

  As he searched for her coat and scarf, Ruth mechanically went through the motions of lacing her shoes. She was glad that he could not see her continuing blush.

  “I thought you said there was a doctor in the area?” Ruth recalled Sue nagging Jackson into seeing the doctor for his injuries when they had first arrived at the ranch.

  “He’s in a settlement east of Fort Lyon. There’s been an outbreak of smallpox. We can’t risk bringing him here and exposing everyone. We’ll have to do our best. Sue serves as our unofficial midwife, but that only includes two children. And those births went along easily. I think she’s hoping you might be able to help, seeing as your father was a surgeon.”

  “I’ll do my best for her, Jackson, but a dozen births of livestock do not make me a trained physician in a proper hospital.” Ruth was suddenly a bit pale at the enormous responsibility she felt weighing down on her.

  “Don’t borrow trouble before we even see what’s happening. I didn’t speak to Sue in person, just got her message from a nervous husband. Come on, he’s waiting outside for us.” Jackson had Ruth bundled warmly in her coat and halfway down the stairs before she could second guess herself again.

  They hurried down the front porch to their waiting horses. The minute Ruth saw the sweating father-to-be, a sense of calm settled over her. Her father had always praised her strength in moments of crisis, even as a child. It did not fail her this time, either.

  “Hurry, Miss Ruth. My wife’s doing mighty poorly, not like with our first boy. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I’d do without her, Miss Ruth.”

  “She’s a strong woman and loves you and your son to pieces. She won’t give up without a fight. You keep your wits about you and we’ll take care of her. You need to show me the way. I’m still a little turned around in the dark.”

  Giving Tom Brown a task to do settled the panicked husband, as Ruth had hoped. He jumped into the saddle and set off at a quick pace, while Jackson pulled Ruth up behind him.

  “I can ride Caboose.” She started to protest the close quarters, but Jackson matter-of-factly cut her off. “It was quicker to saddle mine. Besides, Caboose isn’t familiar with the terrain and there’s barely a sliver of moon out. We don’t need you breaking your neck, or the horse a leg, before we reach Meghan.”

  “Of course. I wasn’t thinking,” Ruth said, somewhat grateful she had the option to lean against his warm frame in the early morning frost.

  Jackson could just as easily have saddled Caboose with little chance of a delay or injury. Ruth likely knew that as well as he did, but Jackson had needed her closeness this first morning. He did not delude himself into thinking that one night in his arms would automatically convince Ruth to change her entire life plans and marry him. She was always a bit skittish in the full light of day.

  Maybe it was her promise to her family, he thought. He could understand the power of that, particularly when that family was all but gone now. After the losses of the War, many survivors clung to the past. Or, like Jackson, they shed everything and started over. He was afraid Ruth might fall into the former category and still be struggling with the thought of abandoning the life her Aunt Kate had arranged.

  But Jackson was determined to keep this woman by his side, no matter what it took. He just hoped the Browns had a healthy new baby to welcome into their makeshift community, rather than a tragedy Ruth might harbor guilt over.

  “We’re here,” Jackson announced. “Why don’t you go in with Meghan and Sue, and I’ll take care of the horses. Call me if you need anything.”

  Ruth slid off the back of the horse and nodded in agreement. “I’ll see what’s needed and send Sue out if you can help.”

  Ruth quickly followed Tom into the warm cabin, only to be rattled by a high-pitched scream coming from the other room. She grabbed Tom Brown’s arm with as much force as she could muster, stopping him from rushing into the room in a state of panic.

  “Mr. Brown, you need to calm yourself. You’ll be no help to your wife like this. I want you to stay out here until we call you.”

  She roughly pushed the panicked man down in the nearest chair and motioned for his son, Johnny, to come out of the corner, where she’d spotted him hunkered down with eyes full of fear. “Johnny, you come over here and hold on tight to your Pa. I want you to say a prayer and stay put until I come out and tell you what to do next, you hear?” The tired little boy nodded his frightened eyes and squirmed his way into his father’s lap.

  Ruth turned to the bedroom door. After a quick, light knock, she poked her head in. “Sue, I’m here.”

  Sue turned grateful eyes toward Ruth at the sound of her voice. “Thank you for coming. Meghan and I could use a little company right about now. I’ve run out of tall tales to distract her from the pain this cute little baby is causing its Ma.”

  The mother in question barely glanced up, she was so exhausted.

  “How long has she been in labor?” Ruth asked.

  “Nearly twenty hours now,” Sue replied. “She’s exhausted and I’m not seeing the head.”

  Ruth washed her hands as best she could in a basin of hot water and then drenched them in whiskey as her father had taught her. She dried her hands thoroughly and went directly to examine her patient. She kept up a running stream of chatter trying to keep her patient awake and calm, although Meghan was so exhausted, Ruth wasn’t sure her words were getting through.

  “Meghan, I’m going to check on the baby’s progress now, if that’s okay with you.”

  Ruth took the mother’s lack of response as permission to leave all modesty aside and do what needed to be done. She could see that Meghan was dilated, but as Sue had indicated, the crown of the baby’s head wasn’t visible.

  “Sue, I’m going to feel around for the baby, to see what position he’s in. We might just need to turn him about and ease him out.”

  Ruth could feel an arm where the head should have been and knew right away that she would have to turn the baby around in the birth canal if there were any hope of saving the infant or its mother. Ruth had done it enough times with colts, but was still a bit unsure with such a delicate child.

  Ruth maneuvered an inch at a time around the baby’s left shoulder, trying with her other hand to push the baby’s arm against its body so it would not get caught up and hurt. As Ruth reached the side of the head, she felt what seemed like a think
rope. Her heart beat rapidly, afraid she had found the cord wrapped around the baby’s neck. She was not sure there was time to save him.

  She tried to recall advice from her father and tidbits she had heard from the local midwife. The woman had been a good friend of her parents, and often spent many hours discussing cases with her father.

  She recalled the midwife’s advice to unwrap the cord before trying to pull the baby out, so as not to increase pressure on the neck. Unfortunately, she also recalled the midwife saying there was not always room to manage that. Ruth thought it was worth a try. She had small hands and had been a great help to her father with delicate work. She just hoped she could succeed on her own.

  Ruth explained what she intended to do to Sue, and asked her to simply keep the mother as calm as possible. Ruth knew her efforts would cause her patient more pain.

  After a brief grimace of sympathy, Sue announced that their patient had fainted. “Should I wake her?” Sue asked, concerned.

  “Not yet. It’s a blessing, as I need to make room to get the cord out from around the baby’s neck.”

  After several more frustrating tries, Ruth finally got a good grip around the cord, and slowly started to pry it away from the baby. It was only wrapped once, which Ruth hoped would lead to good news. She felt around the baby’s entire head and all seemed as it should be. She had to tug hard to get the baby’s head into position, and then stretch the birth canal enough to remove first one, and then a second hand to lie underneath the baby’s back.

  “Okay, Sue. Wake her up now,” Ruth instructed.

  Sue nodded and quickly placed smelling salts underneath Meghan’s nose. “Wake up now, we’re almost there. Ruth has the baby in the right position now, but we still need your help.”

  “I can’t – too tired.” Meghan’s voice was barely audible as she muttered the protest.

  “Come on now,” Ruth coaxed. “You need to push and push hard – just one more time. Don’t give up now. You have a sweet son and worried husband that need you, and we still have a chance to help this little one. Do it now.”

  Her patient, whether from Ruth’s authoritative tone or pure instinct to make this ordeal end, complied and strained to push the baby out. Ruth pulled with all her might, not sure if the mother would have the strength for another effort.

  The baby slid out – wet, shiny and bloody – but made no noise. Ruth quickly flipped the baby over and pounded three times time on its back.

  “Harder, Ruth,” Sue insisted. “I’ve seen the doctor do it harder, and tilt the child more toward the floor.”

  Ruth did as Sue suggested and pounded more forcefully on the baby’s back. She prayed with all her might, until she heard the faintest mewling sound. She stuck her finger in the baby’s mouth and cleared its airway, giving one last slap on the back until she heard the crying that meant they had a living, breathing child to welcome into the world.

  At the sound of the newborn’s cry, Meghan’s husband burst into the room, a look of abject relief on his face.

  “Are they all right, Miss Sue?” He whispered.

  Jackson was right behind Tom, doing his best to keep the man calm.

  “Jackson, get him out of here,” Sue ordered. “We’re not done with his wife and you’re not cleaned up.”

  “It’s a girl, by the way.” Ruth added with a tired smile.

  Jackson did as she ordered and dragged the father out the door, reassuring him that things were looking fine.

  Sue immediately cut the cord and took the baby Ruth handed her for a quick bath.

  Ruth took a heated poker from the fireplace and quickly seared the end of the cord, worried sick that the mother had lost too much blood. Her father normally stitched a patient, but only when there was time. He still insisted that searing had its place when time was a factor, so Ruth made the most frightening decision of her life and did just that.

  Meghan was not moving, so Ruth quickly listened for her heart, and nearly sagged to the floor in relief that it was still beating. “She’s alive,” Ruth announced. “I think she just fainted again from the pain. Let’s clean her up a bit, then see if the baby’s nursing won’t wake her up.”

  Sue wrapped the baby in a tight bundle, and set her snugly in a dresser drawer. They struggled with the mother’s weight, as they changed the sheets on the bed and cleaned her once more with the remaining whiskey.

  They settled their patient under several warm blankets, then placed her new baby at her breast, hoping more smelling salts would not be needed.

  “Wake up, Meghan. Your baby is here.” Ruth shook the tired woman firmly. That, combined with the tugging and crying baby, brought their patient back.

  Sue helped the little girl find milk, while Ruth stroked their patient’s head, keeping up a steady stream of talk so she wouldn’t pass out again. “It’s a beautiful girl. She has a healthy set of lungs and seems hungry enough to me. You’re both going to be just fine.”

  Their patient let out a small sliver of a smile and thanked them both in a bare whisper of a voice. “Where’s my husband?”

  Ruth had almost forgotten about the three waiting males in the other room, and quickly opened the bedroom door to motion them in to meet the new arrival. Ruth’s welcoming smile said everything to the terrified husband. He shook her hand roughly before brushing past to kneel at his wife’s side, where he cried in exhausted relief.

  Jackson knelt down next to the little boy, who likely had never seen his father cry. “He’s just happy your ma and little sister are all right. It’s the body’s way of letting go of all those worries.”

  The little boy let a few tears fall at Jackson’s kind words and hid his head on the Marshal’s shoulder. Jackson hugged him tight, and then matter-of-factly wiped the child’s eyes and nose. “Okay, now go on in with your Pa, so you can kiss your Ma and say hey to your new sister.”

  Johnny did as the Marshal instructed, and Ruth quietly closed the door to give the family a few moments alone.

  They all collapsed to the floor and grinned in relief. No words seemed sufficient, so Jackson grabbed the last of the whiskey from the fireplace mantel and passed around the bottle. “To life,” he toasted.

  Sue and Ruth both laughed in joy and drank their fill. They were too relieved to move off the dirt floor or so much as wipe the blood and muck from their tired faces.

  “To life,” they saluted.

  Chapter 60

  “Let him up. Let my boy up!” the agonizing scream of a mother was lost on the hardened faces of three masked men, holding a nine-year-old boy to the ground, boot to tiny neck.

  The boy’s tear-streaked face was covered in dust and blood smears from the small cuts along one side of his cheek. He struggled in vain against two full grown men, trying desperately to reach his screaming mother and sister.

  The man on the boy’s left was a mulatto, escaped from Federal prison while it was under Confederate attack. He had lost one eye in a knife fight, but the hollowness in his soul was clear for all to see in the one remaining. His good eye didn’t so much as blink as the boy’s mother continued to scream and cry, while the Mulatto’s partner sharpened the family’s own axe – slowly and within clear sight of the boy and his mother.

  “Now, Ma’am, you must understand that we have nothing personal against you or your boy,” the partner said, smoothing his perfectly manicured mustache. “But I only get paid if I deliver your land over to my boss. If taking the boy’s hand will do that, then so be it.”

  At a nod from the speaker, the Mulatto took the newly-sharpened axe and held it against the boy’s outstretched wrist. It wouldn’t take much to sever such a skinny arm, he knew. Doubt the boy would live long, the Mulatto thought idly, seeing as there weren’t any doctors within one hundred miles of this stretch of farm land.

  “Please, let my boy go,” the weeping mother begged. “He’s just a child. I can’t sign the papers. It’s my husband who owns the land.”

  The mother’s frantic pleas had no
visible effect on either outlaw.

  The Mulatto thought she would have learned by now, seeing as they’d already raped her and the girl many times throughout the night. The father lay in a bloody pool, passed out cold from the beating they had given him.

  The Mulatto couldn’t understand all this fuss over a piece of dirt. He’d grown up on one just like it – an orphan bought to work as slave labor for the meanest son of a bitch in New Mexico territory. He had spent every waking moment of his childhood plotting an escape. And here were these pathetic folks risking their lives to stay put. He gave his dirty beard one good scratch before carefully adjusting his grip on the ax handle.

  With the mother unable to take action, and the father a useless heap on the ground, the Mulatto looked over his shoulder at the man with the money. Frank Masterson was calmly sitting on his thoroughbred a safe distance away. The Boss gave the nod.

  The Mulatto gave the farmers one last chance, before he quickly and efficiently severed the right thumb of the frightened child.

  The boy passed out from pain, or maybe just fright. He was a farmer all right, the Mulatto thought, truly perplexed that such a small injury would take the boy down. He had suffered much worse at the hands of his first and only master.

  Now reduced to weeping hysterically, the mother struggled to reach her child.

  The Mulatto’s partner moved across her path, blocking her way to the boy. “Now, Ma’am, be reasonable. I was downright merciful there, seeing as your boy is left-handed. He can still sit a cow pony and shoot a bastard like me someday when he’s a bit older. But next time, I’m taking his whole hand. Even if he survives the blood loss and gangrene, he’ll be near worthless. Sign the damn papers.”

  Having awakened at her brother’s cries, the boy’s sister crawled to her feet and limped past her mother. She stepped up to the outlaw and held her delicate hand out to him.

  She took the papers and knelt next to her mother. “It’s Okay. Pa will understand you had to do it. He won’t beat you much. We’ll find somewhere else to farm. You’ll see.”