by Beth Trissel
"No!” Emma wailed. “Don't go. It feels like a great serpent has me in its coils—crushing me."
Colin wiped her beaded brow with his sleeve. “He'll not crush the life from you. You'll get through this."
She clutched at his shirt. “If I don't, save the baby."
"Hush,” Charity pleaded. “Your mama lived. You'll live."
Her eyes were wild. “Colin—cut the child from me if you must.” She flailed her hand at Charity. “You take it."
Colin grasped Emma's chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Charity has no milk to give. This baby needs a mother. Fight, Emma. For the baby. For me."
Her vision cleared and she seemed more herself. “I'll try."
"Emma Estell!” a kindhearted voice called out. “Are you birthing the babe now? What a time for the wee one to come."
Captain Buchanan's brawn filled Charity's view, his broad felt hat perched atop graying, sandy-brown hair. A group of frontiersmen strode behind him. She spotted his oldest son, Jeb, with a short reddish beard and built like his father. The company Captain Buchanan headed was made up of settlers who farmed their holdings, except for two trappers, often away checking their lines. Bear skins wrapped the trapper's hats and they wore moccasins in place of shoes or boots.
Charity recognized all these men. She counted twelve. Where were the others? Wicomechee had reported more than twice that number.
"Captain! Help me!” Emma cried.
"Aye. In just a shake.” His keen eyes took in the three of them as he neared. “Colin Dickson? I never expected to find you out here. Glad to see Miss Edmondson's well."
Colin nodded a quick greeting. “The captives are safe, Captain. Even your son, Rob."
Captain Buchanan's weathered face creased in relief. “Thank God,” he said, making visible effort to stem his emotions. He looked warily at the trees, as did eleven other pairs of eyes. “Where have those savages gotten to?"
"Your questions will be answered as soon as I'm able, Captain,” Colin answered. “Meanwhile, I strongly advise all of you to remain near us. It's your best hope of survival."
Captain Buchanan ran callused fingers over his graying beard. “This makes no sense. You wouldn't sell us out to Indians, would you?"
"No. I count you as my friend."
"What say you to this, Miss Edmondson?"
"I trust Mister Dickson with my life, sir."
"Good enough. Do as he says, men."
Emma's cry rose above the captain's orders. Her flushed face scrunched together with the force of her convulsed body.
He laid his musket on the ground. “This birth is damn close. I've helped my wife with a few and I can tell you when a woman sounds like this, it's coming, or—” he broke off, his expression sober. “Have either of you checked her yet?"
It hadn't occurred to Charity to do this.
Colin shook his head. “Haven't had the chance yet."
Captain Buchanan knelt beside Emma. “Mind if I look?"
"Make the baby come out. Please!"
The rugged company turned their heads while their leader pushed up her skirts and spread her legs apart. “What do you know, I can see the head—a patch as wide as two shillings. Shouldn't be long now. Get behind her, Dickson, and support her back. It's best she not birth the babe lying flat."
Colin scooted behind Emma and lifted her onto her haunches. She grasped his hands and braced herself against him as Captain Buchanan urged her on.
"Knees up, gal. That's the way. Now push hard!"
"I'm tearing apart!” she shrieked.
"No. You're faring right well. Keep at it."
Her face colored to a deep red and she collapsed back trembling against Colin. “I can't."
He kissed the top of her head. “Yes you can, darling."
The captain's sandy brows shot up. Charity could imagine what he must think, seeing Emma consoled in this loving manner by a man not her husband. But her cousin's immediate need seemed far more crucial right now than propriety.
"What the devil's going on?” a coarse voice demanded.
Startled by the intrusion, Charity looked beyond Captain Buchanan to the brown unkempt hair and bushy beard of Neville Paxton. Hard on his heels were ten men. That made twenty-one all told. One or two may have been left in the hollow with the horses. Wicomechee had counted right.
Captain Buchanan pursed his lips, a glint of annoyance in his eyes. “I'll let you work out the obvious for yourself, Paxton. And allow this poor woman some privacy."
"Certainly, Captain.” With an ingratiating smile, the unsavory newcomer shifted his bulk a few steps backwards. He wasn't as tall as the captain, but he was wider. “Give the little lady some air, boys."
Jeb glared at them. “We thought you boys lost your way, or were waiting to see if we survived before joining us."
Still smiling, Paxton merely shrugged.
His insolence goaded Charity. Craig and Uncle John had held an extremely low opinion of this man. Like most, they suspected Neville Paxton and his men of using the Paxton homestead in the foothills of the Alleghenies as more of a hideout than working it as a respectable holding, and that their forays were for something other than trapping. Though there was no proof, folks had linked Paxton to a string of robberies in the valley and beyond, but he kept so many vicious dogs that no one went near his place.
Paxton's pale blue gaze passed over Charity and Emma with scant interest and settled on Colin with the predatory intensity of a fox studying a chicken house. Colin briefly returned the newcomer's scrutiny. Contempt narrowed his vivid eyes, while Paxton's washed-out stare held pure cunning.
Emma pushed violently with the next contraction. “Oh God! Ohhhh—help me!” Panting, she twisted against Colin, her cries interrupted only by huge tattered breaths.
Captain Buchanan's face lit up. “The head's crowning. Come on, gal. Have another go."
"Colin!"
"Once more."
"Too hard—can't!"
"Fight for this, Emma, like you've never fought before."
She clung to his hands, straining until Charity feared she'd lose consciousness.
"The wee one's coming! Anyone got some cloth I can wrap this babe in?” Captain Buchanan asked.
Charity flung down her cloak. Heedless of male onlookers, she pulled Wicomechee's shirt over her head and stood in her shift. If he were watching, he'd just have to understand. “Here.” She thrust it at the captain.
"Good heavens, gal. Did warriors steal your clothes?"
"No, sir.” Snatching up her cloak, she wrapped in it.
Clearly he was baffled, as were a great many others, no doubt, but this wasn't the time to dwell on the mystery.
He reached thickened hands between Emma's legs. “Hold on. Don't push yet.” She blew out hard while he carefully turned the baby's head. “All right. Now give it your all."
Emma gave one tremendous heave and the tiny body slid into his waiting hands. The wails of new life filled the air.
"You've a bonnie wee lass, Emma.” Smiles eased the drawn tension on the faces of the watching men.
"Thank God,” she cried, leaning back against Colin, her face red and glowing. Tears of joy and relief wet her cheeks.
"You did it,” he said.
With a grin, the unlikely midwife swaddled the crying infant in Wicomechee's shirt, and laid her on Emma's deflated stomach. “I'll see to the afterbirth and cut the cord."
Charity stroked the baby's downy head and moist curls. “She's beautiful, Emma."
Colin slid one finger over her tiny cheek. “She is that. I've never seen a babe so new and small."
Emma cradled her protesting infant in her arms. “Thank you for staying with me. Both of you."
"Where else would I be?” he asked.
Her liquid gaze anxiously scanned the gathering. “What about all these men?"
"I must speak with them and see what's to be done."
"What if they—"
"Don't fret. Lie qu
iet,” he said under his breath.
"How? I'm so afraid for you. For us all."
"We are not alone. Trust my brother. You too, Charity."
Charity knew Wicomechee was out there watching them. She shuddered to think of a fight between the warriors and Captain Buchanan's militia, but she couldn't concern herself with that now. Emma and the baby were sorely in want of attention. “Colin, I need water and fresh linens."
"I know. I detest leaving her untended. All shall be done as quickly as may be.” He slid out from behind Emma and laid her down. “See to the baby, darling. Try to calm her."
Emma stared at him dazedly.
"Feed her,” he prompted.
"Oh.” She began unlacing her bodice with trembling fingers and stopped. “There are so many to see."
Colin unbelted his sash, stripped off his shirt, and handed it to her. “Cover with this.” He retied his belt around his waist. His sheathed dagger hung from the sash, but he must have left his other weapons behind. “Now you have both our shirts,” he added quietly.
Captain Buchanan wiped bloodstained fingers on his homespun breeches. “Right then, Mister Dickson. What's happening here? Have the savages gone on without you?"
"No, Captain. They're not far removed."
He nervously eyed the dense evergreens, as did every other man present except Colin. “Is this some sort of trap?"
"Not of my making. You were seen entering the hollow."
The captain took off his hat and swatted its brim against his leg. “So they're out there now, watching?"
"Our every move,” Colin assured him.
An uneasy murmur ran through the gathering.
Captain Buchanan combed his fingers over hair loosely tied back at his neck. “How many braves are there?"
"Sixty."
"Bloody hell. Why haven't they attacked?"
"Because you cluster near to us."
He eyed Colin skeptically. “Come now. Since when are captives so precious to them?"
"I'm no longer a captive, but an adopted son and blood brother. And I've told them that Emma is my wife."
Captain Buchanan's disbelief was mirrored in his oldest son's face and nearly two dozen others. “I reckon this explains the affection between you two.” He motioned Colin aside, and Charity sidled after them. “Maybe that will help ease the blow. I hate to tell her about Edward's passing now."
"Don't say anything yet,” Colin advised.
He gave a nod and scratched his head then restored his hat. “I always thought you a decent sort, Dickson, a cut above most, you being a gentleman and all. But it must be true what Mary McLeod said. There was a white man with the party that attacked them. That fellow was you, wasn't it?"
Colin made no denial. The men, especially those who'd known him from his days in the valley, gaped at him.
"Hear me out,” he entreated. “The area targeted for attack was already laid out. I accompanied the warriors to lessen the damage inflicted on the McLeod's. I've won much respect among the Shawnee, allowing me some influence."
Captain Buchanan squinted at him, his astonishment giving way to scorn. “Why stay on? You're clever enough to escape."
"I'm in dire need of the sanctuary they provide."
"Whatever for?"
Neville Paxton stepped up. “I can answer that. This fine gentleman's got a price on his head, Captain."
Captain Buchanan's jaw dropped even farther. “What on earth have you done, man?"
"Nothing to warrant a bounty for my arrest. I'm unjustly accused of murder by a vengeful lord for the death of his lecherous son."
"Says you,” Paxton sneered.
Colin eyed him as if he would gladly wring the life from this loathsome man. “It was a fair fight, damn you. A duel."
"The dead man's uncle don't see it that way. Mister Montgomery's men were out scouting for you. He's mighty eager for the recovery of the gentleman what murdered his nephew."
"A duel isn't murder. Lawrence Montgomery was a skilled swordsman. The death could just as easily have been mine."
"But it weren't. Poor young Montgomery, done in for a bit of sporting."
Colin's eyes glittered dangerously. “Lawrence Montgomery raped my sweet sister."
A rumble of disapproval rose from Buchanan's men.
"This puts the matter in a whole different light,” the captain growled. “There's nothing lower than a man preying on an innocent lass. I don't care how rich and mighty he is."
Paxton waved Colin's assertion aside. “Pay no mind to Dickson, a renegade hiding out with bloodthirsty savages. Mister Oliver Montgomery, a proper Philadelphia gentleman, declares the young lady was little harmed in the affair."
Colin fired a scorching look at Paxton and fingered the silver hilt of his dagger. “Oliver Montgomery is as devoid of decency as his English brother. I held Rachel sobbing in my arms, her gown torn, her lovely face bleeding. She had a stabbing pain between her thighs, and there was nothing I could do but fetch a physician and draw my sword."
Pulling his hand away from the blade, Colin charged forward and smashed his fist under Paxton's jaw. “Anyone who calls my sister a liar is a damn scoundrel!” he shouted, following through with a second punishing blow.
The hefty man reeled back, wiping at the blood running down his chin. “You bastard. If I didn't need you alive to collect that bounty, I'd cut your guts out now."
"Alone, coward? Or with the help of your boys?"
"Get the son of a bitch! Just don't kill him entirely!"
Emma shrieked and Charity's heart caught in her throat as his men rushed Colin. “No! Stop them, Captain!"
The militia leapt forward in Colin's defense. Jeb Buchanan pulled a knife from his belt. “Not fair odds, twelve to one. You boys want to fight? We'll give you better than we get."
Captain Buchanan grasped Colin's upper arms from behind and wrenched him back. “Have you all gone mad? Fighting among ourselves with savages lying in wait?"
Paxton's lips curled. “You only have Dickson's word for that. Likely they've abandoned these three."
"Take a stroll through the trees,” Colin invited. “The wolves will feast heartily tonight. They like a fresh kill."
Captain Buchanan hauled him farther back from his antagonist. “I'm well aware of Shawnee loyalty to one they consider their own. Nor am I without sympathy for your plight.” He glared at Paxton. “I see now why you accompanied us so eagerly."
"Paxton's a snake,” Jeb hissed, brandishing his knife at Paxton's head. “And what do we do with snakes?"
Captain Buchanan rounded on him. “Put that blade away, son. Our predicament's bad enough.” His furious gaze flashed back to Paxton. “Does your word signify nothing? You agreed to help recover all the captives. Not just this one."
Paxton shrugged. “I would hold to that agreement, Captain, but me and the boys are dog-tired."
"You were holding up well enough until you found Mister Dickson."
"Aye, well, we're right worn out now."
The captain looked on the verge of attacking Paxton himself. “Need I remind you my son remains a captive? No man's going anywhere without my say so."
"Just how do you think to prevent us?"
"With a musket ball through your ugly head, if need be. Now keep still while I question Mister Dickson.” Paxton gave a curt nod and waited in grudging silence.
Captain Buchanan released his grip on Colin. “Tell me all you know of my boy."
"Rob has mended from his beating. I persuaded Chief Outhowwa to spare his life. He plans to adopt him."
Paxton snorted. “Make yourself out to be the hero."
"He did,” Charity interjected. “I was there."
"Anything you say, young Miss."
Her palms itched to slap his insolent face. If she sprang as Colin had, and struck out fast—
Colin gave her a sharp look. “Miss Edmondson also aided your son, Captain. If she hadn't intervened, my assistance would have come too late."
<
br /> "I'm indebted to you both. We're mighty fond of that boy.” Captain Buchanan's voice cracked with emotion.
"Thanks,” Jeb added gruffly.
Colin nodded. “You've every right to be proud. But you endanger his life if you attack. The chief may kill him in revenge for any warriors lost."
The rugged captain swiped a tear from his grizzled cheek. “It's damn foolish to march right into an ambush. What do you suggest we do? We've all the captives to consider."
"Rest assured they are being treated with kindness."
"For now."
"No one intends any harm to these captives. You may be able to purchase their freedom later. The village lies along the Scioto."
The captain passed work-worn fingers over his brow. “It might be I can look to Colonel Bouquet and his advancing army for aid in their recovery."
Colin's eyes held no joy at this prospect. “Perhaps so."
This was the first Charity had heard of an army.
"Even if you claim us as friends, surely the warriors won't simply let us walk away?” the captain pressed.
"I'm willing to go and plead for your lives."
Paxton sneered. “That's the last we'll see of you."
Captain Buchanan balled his fingers into a fist. “Let the man finish. This situation is highly unusual. So is Mister Dickson. I'll hear him out."
"Wise decision, Captain. In addition to my plea, you hold the women. Both are greatly valued. It may be Chief Outhowwa will agree to an exchange."
The captain was incredulous. “Are you suggesting we sacrifice these defenseless women to save our own scalps?"
"Never. Ask them if they are willing to remain at least until they can be recovered later."
Captain Buchanan appraised Emma lying on the ground, clutching her newborn. “Surely you don't wish to stay behind with these savages?"
Her eyes were gray pools in her now pale face. “I'll not be taken from Mister Dickson, sir."
He turned disbelieving eyes to Charity. “What of you?"
"I'll stay, too."
"Must be for Rob's sake,” he muttered, shaking his head. He threw his hands up. “I know not what else to do. Go then, Dickson, see what Outhowwa says. We'll wait with the women."
"I've a better plan,” Paxton intruded. At a nod from him, his men aimed their muskets at the captain and militia. “We're through taking orders. Dickson's going with us, now."
