The minute they stepped ashore a clamour of howling erupted. There were dogs everywhere. Snarling, barking, playing, fighting.
‘Don’t touch them!’ Lilli instructed sharply. ‘They look to be more wolf than dog!’
‘They’re certainly fearsome,’ Lottie said, edging nearer to her. ‘Oh look, Lilli! The Indian ladies are carrying their babies on their backs in beaded bags!’
Tiny faces, with black alert eyes, peeped out from within their snug cradles.
‘Indian ladies are called squaws,’ Leo said knowledgeably, wrinkling his nose as a rank smell assailed them. ‘And the babies are called papooses. I don’t like that smell very much, do you? What do you think it is?’
‘I think they’re preserving fish by smoking it,’ Lilli answered, entranced by the bright colours of the squaws’shawls and kerchiefs. ‘From the smell of it I think it could be salmon.’
Leo wasn’t the only sight-seer to find the smell of smoking fish hard to take. All around them their fellow passengers from the Casca were fast dispersing either upriver or downriver, eager for a short, brisk walk and unpolluted air.
Lilli saw Susan and Mr Jenkinson begin to walk downriver together. Tension rippled through her. Susan would be telling Mr Jenkinson she was a Peabody bride and his response to her disclosure would determine her entire future.
Lord Lister was walking quite unconcernedly amid the uproar of half-wild dogs and swarming children, his English jodhpurs and white silk shirt looking very restrained in contrast to the Indians’ jaunty buckskin jackets and heavily beaded waistcoats. Kate’s eyes weren’t on the children or the dogs; they were anxiously following Susan and her companion. Lilli felt for her. The outcome between Susan and Mr Jenkinson was of more than academic interest to Kate. It would either give her the confidence to make a similar confession to Lord Lister or it would terrify her into keeping silent, and the consequences of such a silence were anybody’s guess.
‘Me liket you,’ a little girl of seven or eight was saying beguilingly to Lottie in pidgin English. ‘You liket Inchen? You ketchet Inchen shawls?’ She was dragging Lottie across to a tepee made of hides, in front of which lay a display of the goods she was trying to sell.
‘You’ll have to tell her we can’t buy, Lottie,’ Lilli said regretfully, looking at the exquisite beadwork with longing eyes.
The little girl giggled. ‘No wantum money,’ she said when Lottie had explained that though they thought the shawls beautiful they had no money with which to buy. ‘Wantum gold.’
Now Lottie giggled. ‘We haven’t any gold,’ she said, vastly entertained that her new-found friend should have thought she had.
The little girl looked longingly at Lottie’s sailor-hat. ‘Me Nana. Me likum muchee fancy headdress. Me likum muchee dan gold.’
Lilli, aware that a trade-off was about to take place, opened her mouth to protest and then thought better of it. The beadwork was exquisite and the sailor-hat could be easily replaced.
As the dialogue between Lottie and her Indian friend continued there was much to-ing and fro-ing in and out of the tepee and some very disturbing cries coming from within it.
Lottie turned round to Lilli, saying in explanation, ‘Nana’s mother is having a baby and the baby is a long time coming.’
Lilli’s eyes widened. ‘Her mother’s having a baby now? In the tepee?’
Lottie nodded.
‘Then tell her that the two of you must do your bartering somewhere else!’ Lilli said, appalled at the thought of standing only yards away from a woman who must, surely, want as much privacy as she could get.
Lottie had just embarked on her task when a wizened female hurtled out of the tepee and darted across to them, seizing Lilli by the arm.
‘Quickum! Quickum! Makum white man’s medicine!’
This time Lilli didn’t need Lottie to act as interpreter.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said hastily. ‘I’m not a midwife. I don’t have any medicine …’
‘You comum!’ the century-old-looking crone demanded, tugging fiercely on her arm and pulling her towards the tepee’s entrance. ‘You comum quickum!’
With vast relief Lilli saw that Lord Lister and Kate were hurrying to her aid.
‘I’ve been mistaken for a midwife!’ she said, still struggling to free herself from the old woman’s tenacious grip. ‘Lord only knows why! Can you make her understand that I don’t know anything about midwifery?’
Lord Lister tried his best to prise the demented woman’s bony fingers from Lilli’s arm, saying firmly, ‘We have no knowledge, no medicines.’
From inside the tepee came a scream that froze all of them into immobility.
‘Sweet Jesus!’ Lord Lister said devoutly, his savoir-faire slipping, ‘don’t these people have their own midwives and doctors?’
Nana began speaking wildly to Lottie, her wheeling and dealing forgotten. With her hand still holding Nana’s, Lottie began to translate the frantic pidgin-English. ‘Her mother has been in labour since yesterday morning. It’s her fifth baby and all the other babies came quickly but this baby refuses to be born. The midwives say the baby is sick. They say only special medicine will make the baby strong enough to be born.’
‘You must tell her that we have no such special medicine,’ Lord Lister said, still failing in his efforts to free Lilli from the old crone’s grasp. ‘You must tell her that …’
Another scream rent the air.
‘We have to at least try to help,’ Kate said, ashen-faced. ‘Where’s Lettie? Lettie may have some midwifery experience. And Marietta? Marietta may know what to do.’
As blackened nails dug even deeper into the flesh of her upper arm Lilli looked around the encampment for a glimpse of Lettie or Marietta. Neither of them were anywhere to be seen.
‘Where has everyone gone?’ she demanded hoarsely. ‘I can’t see anyone from the Casca. They can’t all have gone on walks surely?’
‘They did when the rumpus started,’ Lord Lister said dryly, wondering if he was going to have to resort to physical violence in order to prevent Lilli being dragged inch by inch into the tepee.
‘I know who can help your mother,’ Lottie said to Nana, vast relief in her voice. ‘My friend will be able to help her!’
Lilli, guessing immediately who Lottie had in mind, struggled even more violently to free herself. ‘Lottie! No!’ You’re being ridiculous! Mr Cameron can’t possibly … Lottie!’
‘Where is she going?’ Kate asked as Lottie headed off in a run towards the river and the boat, her braids flying in the wind behind her. ‘Who is the friend who can help? Is it Lettie?’
‘No,’ Lilli said, staggering slightly as Lord Lister’s efforts finally freed her from the old woman’s clutch. ‘It’s Mr Cameron.’ There was a slight edge of hysteria in her voice and neither Kate or Lord Lister blamed her.
‘The Scot?’ Lord Lister asked disbelievingly, ‘But what use will he be in a situation like this? And isn’t he a jailbird? I have heard a rumour that he …’
‘He saved Leo’s life,’ Kate interrupted swiftly. ‘I suppose that’s why Lottie thought he could help now. She’s only a child and she doesn’t realise how different the circumstances are …’
A deep, guttural groan came from the tepee. It was the groan of someone only semi-conscious; someone fast losing whatever strength remained to them.
The old woman began shrieking abuse at them. Nana began crying.
Lilli’s eyes met Kate’s. ‘Let’s go inside and see what we can do. At least then they’ll know that we care.’
Nana’s mother hadn’t been left unattended. Another wizened female was sat at her side, a bowl of evil-smelling liquid in her hands. She barely looked up as they entered. Muttering to herself she continued sponging her patient’s distended body with a filthy-looking rag.
‘What should we do?’ Kate whispered as Lilli’s captor squeezed into the tepee behind them.
‘I don’t know.’ Lilli’s voice was raw. The woman groanin
g in agony only feet away from them was obviously in extremis and she couldn’t think of one single thing they could do to ease her pain. Never, ever, had she felt so hopelessly inadequate. If the reality of life in the wild was no doctors or skilled midwives or chloroform, she would never again think of it as being romantic.
From outside the tepee came the sound of pounding feet and Lord Lister’s voice saying incredulously, ‘Cameron! You’ve come! But do you know what the situation is? How much did Lottie tell you?’
‘Enough,’ Ringan said briefly, ducking his head and entering the tepee.
Lilli was aware of Kate’s gasp of horror, for Nana’s mother was semi-naked. And she was aware of something else. The professional looking battered bag Ringan Cameron had brought into the tepee with him.
He put the bag down on the beaten earth floor, felt the woman’s pulse with one hand and laid his other hand on her forehead, saying tersely as he did so, ‘I need boiled water and clean linen.’
‘But Mr Cameron! That just isn’t possible …’ Kate began, totally disorientated by his presence.
‘It is,’ Lilli said, realising that Ringan Cameron knew exactly what he was about. ‘There’ll be a fire in the camp and we can boil whatever water the Indians use for drinking. And we can use our petticoats for the linen.’
‘Be verra quick,’ Ringan said, his large capable hands gently probing the woman’s swollen belly. ‘The baby’s a breech. If I canna turn it, I’m going to have to perform a Caesarean.’
‘Here?’ Kate pressed a fist to her mouth, gagging.
Lilli, aware that Kate wasn’t going to be of much use, said, ‘Give me your petticoat. Then ask Lord Lister to take you back to the Casca. If he informs Captain Stoddart of the reason we’re not all back on board Captain Stoddart might delay sailing indefinitely. I’ll see to the water and stay to help Mr Cameron.’
Kate nodded, stepping out of her petticoat and then stumbling with relief out of the tepee and into blessed fresh air.
‘Be verra quick,’ Ringan said, opening his bag and taking out a stethoscope. ‘We havna much time if this lassie’s going to give birth to a live bairn.’
Lilli didn’t waste time in asking questions. Wondering where on earth she was going to find a container remotely clean enough, she ducked out of the tepee and ran in the direction of the nearest camp fire.
The Indians’drinking water proved to be spring water, mercifully pure. The cleanest container she could find was a skillet smelling strongly of fish.
‘It was the best I could do,’ she said as she set the skillet of boiled water down on the earth, next to his shabby doctor’s bag.
‘Have ye ever helped at a birthing before?’ he asked, rolling the sleeves of his green plaid shirt high.
She shook her head, her stomach muscles tightening. She knew what he was going to do. She had watched her father do it times without number to mares whose foals were laying awkwardly.
‘No, but I’ve seen my pa manhandle badly positioned foals into a position in which they can be born.’
The woman groaned again, her arms flailing as if trying vainly to push the pain away.
‘Then if ye could just ease the lassie’s knees high for me …’
They were the last word he said to her for a long time. Whenever he spoke again his words, gentle and reassuring, were addressed to the labouring woman.
Lilli knew that Nana’s mother wouldn’t be able to understand him and she knew that it didn’t matter. Her father had always talked in a similar crooning manner when helping distressed mares give birth. It was the tone of voice that mattered. And the reassurance and compassion that lay behind it.
Nana’s mother gave a loud, racked cry, her body arching high.
This time when Ringan spoke, it was to Lilli.
‘I think we’re going to be all right.’ Perspiration beaded his brow. ‘I think I’ve done it.’
‘But will she be strong enough to push the baby out?’ Lilli asked urgently, her own forehead sheened with sweat.
‘I dinna know,’ Ringan said truthfully. ‘But the head is now at the top of the birth canal and …’
Despite all her exhaustion a deep contraction trembled Nana’s mother’s pelvic floor.
In vast relief Ringan positioned himself so that he could steady the baby’s head the instant it emerged. To Lilli it seemed an eternity of time before, aided by forceps, it did so. Moments later the baby slithered into Ringan’s large, capable hands, it’s mouth slack, it’s mucus-streaked, wrinkled face completely still. It was a boy.
‘Is he dead?’ There was a crack in Lilli’s voice. ‘Oh, sweet heaven, please don’t let him be dead!’
Ringan didn’t answer her. Very gently, with a saturated piece of Lilli’s petticoat, he wiped the baby’s face free of mucus. Then he ran his forefinger around the inside of the baby’s mouth. The little body trembled, the eyelids fluttering, but still there was no gasp for air, no loud undulating cry.
‘Shouldn’t you smack him?’ Lilli asked urgently as he took string from his pocket and swiftly and deftly tied the umbilical cord in two places, an inch or so apart. ‘Shouldn’t you smack him to make him cry?’
‘What? Smack a tiny wee mite like this?’ With a pair of scissors from his bag he severed the cord. ‘I’d be damned to hell before I’d commit such a crime.’
‘But …’
He threw the baby up into the air. There were cries of protest from the two old women. Hazily Lilli wondered how long they had been there. Not once through the birth had she been aware of their presence.
The baby dropped into Ringan’s hands, its mouth opening wide in a gasp of shock, its lungs filling. The puny, healthy, enraged cries that followed were the most beautiful sounds Lilli had ever heard.
‘Isn’t he grand?’ Ringan said with a grin, holding the bawling baby high in his hands as if it were a trophy. The best, most magnificent trophy in the world. ‘Isn’t he just the bonniest little laddie you’ve ever seen?’
The baby was red, wrinkled, and still streaked in mucus. ‘Yes,’ she said, laughing through tears of emotion. ‘Yes, Ringan. He’s the bonniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.’
‘Cameron!’ From outside the tepee footsteps approached, Lord Lister’s cultured voice carrying clearly, ‘Stoddart says he’s waited as long as he can and that he can’t wait any longer. He’s right, y’know. We need to be underway. Either you board now or you‘ll have to stay here till the next steamer puts in for wood.’
The two old crones were already busily seeing to the after-birth. Nana’s mother was again fully conscious, her eyes fixed longingly on her son.
‘We’ll be right with you!’ Ringan called back, laying the squalling baby in its mother’s arms.
Lilli picked up his instruments and put them in his bag. Then, as Ringan turned away from mother and child, she retrieved what remained of her and Kate’s petticoats.
‘You deserve a bloody medal,’ Lord Lister said baldly as Ringan stepped out of the tepee. ‘I’d as soon face the Boers single-handed as do what you’ve just done.’
Ringan grinned. ‘Then you dinna show very good judgment,’ he said, his battered doctor’s bag easy in his hand, his sense of well-being euphoric. He had done that which he had thought he would never do again. He had brought a child into the world. A child who, if it hadn’t been for him, would very probably have died, taking its mother’s life with it. In the most unexpected way possible, the decision that had been tormenting him had been resolved for him. Of course he was going to continue practising the profession he had been trained for. And he was going to practise it amongst Indians. He had seen more disease and sickness in his short walk through the camp than he would have seen in a year on the streets of a Canadian or an American city. He knew now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, where his future lay. And the knowledge elated him.
‘You’ll not find many people curious about what you’ve been up to,’ Lord Lister said as they neared the river-bank. ‘Kate thought you wouldn
’t want people to know what it was that was keeping you in the camp and they think you’ve merely been powwowing.’
Lilli could see Marietta and Edie standing at the Casca’s rails. And Lucky Jack. ‘I’ve something I want to say to you before we board the Casca,’ she said urgently to Ringan as Lord Lister strode a little ahead of them. ‘I want to … to apologise.’
He turned his head so that his eyes met hers, his eyebrows rising. ‘Apologise? I canna imagine what you have to apologise to me about.’ His grey eyes, usually so cool and clear, had darkened in perplexity.
‘Someone slandered you to me aboard the Senator,’ she said, wondering how she could have ever have allowed the slander to affect her behaviour towards him. ‘They didn’t do it maliciously, they were merely passing on a piece of information they believed to be true. I only half-believed it when I was told it, but I know now there was no truth in it at all. And I’m ashamed that I even half-believed it.’
Lord Lister was already in the small boat waiting to ferry them out to the Senator.
Ringan stopped walking, his eyes holding hers. Perspiration still sheened her face. Tendrils of hair had escaped from the twist on top of her head and were curling down to her shoulders. The sleeves of her caramel coloured shirtwaist were pushed high, like a washerwoman’s, and there was a smear of blood on her cream serge skirt. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and why the hell she was in love with a rogue like Lucky Jack Coolidge he couldn’t begin to imagine. ‘If you’ve been told I’m an ex-prisoner, then I’m verra afraid you were told the truth,’ he said slowly, wondering if any other woman in the world had eyes of a such a pure, clear, forget-me-not blue.
‘For the Lord’s sake, hurry both of you!’ Lord Lister shouted impatiently. ‘I don’t want to be left kicking my heels here for the next few days!’
Both of them ignored him.
‘No, it wasn’t that.’
The mid-day sun was flaming his hair with gleams of gold and copper and she saw that his long eye-lashes, dark auburn at the tips, were almost blond at the roots.
Forget-Me-Not Bride Page 20
