The Last Bloom

by Roberta C. M. DeCaprio

  She nodded, inhaling sharply as she walked in the direction where she was needed. Climbing into the home on wheels was even more difficult than walking. But bracing herself slightly, carefully using the fragile frame of the archway, seemed to suffice. Once inside, she scanned the dimly lit abode. Nothing but a few chairs, pillows, a small table with a lit lantern upon it, and a feather mattress furnished the area.

  Immediately, what came into her mind, were the stories her mother told of living for several decades in a wickiup. Hearing about the primitive housing and daily survival had her both stunned and awed. Yet she couldn’t fathom such an existence as reality. How anyone could truly survive, throughout all seasons, living in such a fashion was beyond real comprehension…until now, seeing it all unfold before her eyes.

  On the mattress set upon a thin, wooden plank, a woman with long, fiery red hair lay writhing with pain. Beneath the sheet, barely covering her breasts and the juncture of her thighs, she was naked. Another woman, older than the expectant mother with hair the same shade of the blackest night, knelt beside the mattress, swabbing the patient’s neck and face with a moistened cloth.

  “Ramona, love, I’ve brought the midwife.” Niko made his way to his wife.

  Ramona held out her hand to him. “I knew you would find her.”

  Niko knelt on the other side of the mattress, pulling Ramona into his embrace. “All will be fine now.” He rubbed his wife’s naked back in slow, circular motions.

  She hobbled over to the mattress, looking down at the laboring woman.

  Ramona’s large, green-gray eyes locked with hers. “Please, help me.”

  “My name is Cassia Rose Holmes, I am a midwife and a nurse, and I will do everything I can,” she assured the woman, kneeling beside the mattress.

  “If my wife and baby die, you also will die,” Niko threatened with wide eyes.

  Ramona turned her gaze briefly to her husband. “Niko, hush with such talk,” she scolded.

  Niko bowed his head, like an admonished child. “I could not bear it if anythin’ happened to…”

  “Nothin’ will happen to me,” Ramona interrupted. “Now, go. Leave this work to the women.”

  Reluctantly Niko stood, looking back at his wife for a long moment before he left the wagon. Niko looked as though he feared he’d be seeing his wife alive for what might be the last time.

  “Forgive my husband.” Ramona turned onto her side. “He will not harm you, so no need to fear. He is just very worried over this birth. I have been too long in too much pain.”

  “How long have you been in labor?” She hoped to get a timeline on Ramona’s situation.

  “For near to two days,” Ramona confessed. After inhaling sharply, she went on. “My other three children slipped easily from my body. But this one is stubborn…like my husband,” she added, forcing a smile.

  Cassia’s heart went out to the woman. In all her pain, she tried to make her feel at ease as did the little girl. Like mother, like daughter, she supposed, returning the smile. “I am not afraid of your husband. I see he is just worried for you and the baby.” Gently she pushed aside a lock of red hair from Ramona’s sweaty brow. “Now that I am here, all will be fine.”

  Ramona relaxed a bit, taking a cleansing breath. “This is my mother, Maria.” She indicated the other woman.

  Maria inclined her head politely. “Tell me how I can help.”

  “I had no time to grab my medical bag,” she began. “In it I keep gloves and a gown to put over my clothes, which I wear to insure sanitation.” She looked down at her bare hands, quite dirty now from falling off her bicycle. “I will need hot water, soap, and whiskey, if you have it, to cleanse my hands properly. Also towels and a sharp knife, that also needs to be clean.”

  Maria nodded, leaving to fetch the items requested.

  “Does my baby not come because somethin’ is wrong?” Ramona’s eyes filled with tears.

  “I won’t know anything until I examine you,” she said. “But whatever the circumstance, we will work together—you and me—to do the very best we can.”

  Again Ramona forced a smile. “Yes, we will do our very best.”

  When Maria returned, Cassia sterilized her hands the best way she could and removed the sheet covering Ramona. Carefully she examined her breasts and felt around her very swollen abdomen. Then, cleansing her hands once again, she made way to examine Ramona internally.

  It was then Ramona cried out with the urge to push.

  “Ramona, you must not push.” Cassia positioned herself between Ramona’s thighs. “Instead, take deep breaths, try to relax, until I’m finished examining you.”

  “I will try, but it is hard not to want to push.” Ramona moaned.

  “I know, Ramona,” she sympathized. “But remember, we need to work together.”

  “I will remember,” Ramona choked out hoarsely.

  Cassia instructed Maria to help Ramona scoot farther down on the mattress, hanging her buttocks off the slightly raised edge. Then she showed the older woman how she wanted her to hold onto Ramona’s legs.

  As the perineum, the section between the vaginal area and the anus, expanded, Cassia didn’t see the baby’s head, but the purplish color of the prolapsed cord. And instantly she knew why Ramona was having such a hard time delivering…the baby was breech.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Before Brodie joined Gabriel and Ethan on the search for Cassia, they drove Sadie and Sean over to the Holmes’s residence. Gabriel wanted to check on his mother, and Brodie wanted to make sure his parents made it safely to their destination. With Cassia missing, he didn’t need or want any more of his loved ones in jeopardy. Knowing his sisters were safely settled in their homes and his parents stayed with Reverend Holmes and Amanda freed his thoughts to focus on finding Cassia.

  Amanda ran into Sadie’s embrace, the two weeping and consoling each other. His heart broke for his future mother-in-law, as she clung to her friend for moral support. Cassia’s parents had always been good to him and his family. In the early days of their arrival to a new land, it was Joshua and Amanda who helped them to settle in by showing them the new ways of a country that offered them much more than from whence they came. His proposal to Cassia now insured he would be a part of this heartwarming and honest family, as she would be a part of his. It was no wonder all the people gathered in the Holmes’s house felt the pain and fear of Cassia’s disappearance and prayed the mission would be a rescue and not a recovery.

  Brodie spotted Reverend Holmes standing alone in the parlor, gazing out the front window. No doubt hoping he’d see Cassia making her way up the front walk, all this just a horrible mistake. He neared the elderly man and stood silently beside him, a small sign of support and solidarity on his part toward his future father-in-law.

  “You are to go, then, with Gabriel and Ethan to find my daughter,” he said, his tone calm, soft, as though he were having an ordinary conversation.

  “Yes, and although I am not deputized, I will hold nothing back in actively rescuing her from whatever circumstance she is in,” he vowed.

  Joshua Holmes remained looking out the window. “My daughter is resilient, like her mother. The two of them only need the smallest measure of hope to be courageous enough to carry on—survive—and strive to return to those they love.”

  “I know Cassia will be clever and brave, wherever she is and in whatever circumstance she finds herself in,” he countered. “I am the one ready to fall apart.”

  “It is always harder for the loved ones left behind to cope, but together we must expect a good outcome tonight, and in doing so, we will all find good wins out, more than not,” he advised. Turning to glance at Brodie, his eyes brimming with unshed tears, the reverend added, “I am too old to go on this rescue mission. My mind is willing, my heart yearns to be the one to find her and bring her safely back to her mother, but my body is too weak…too old and tired to withstand such rigors. So, I ask you, my son-to-be, to bring my precious baby girl ba
ck to us.”

  Brodie’s eyes grew moist, his heart breaking for this father who loved his child. He would feel the same if it were his daughter in peril. “You know, sir, I love Cassia with every fiber of my being.”

  “Aye, I know this to be true,” Joshua agreed.

  “Then you must also know I will not stop searching until I find her, and bring her home. On this you have my word.”

  “Then go with God. Do at all costs, what you must,” Joshua whispered, turning back to gaze out the window.

  He left his parents’ wagon at the Holmes’s residence and followed Gabriel and Ethan on foot into the woods. In one hand he gripped his shot gun and in the other a flashlight. His heart beat like a drum, echoing throughout his body, into his ears, to the top of his head. The pulse at his neck throbbed. Every part of his body was on high alert…aware of his surroundings and every move Gabriel and Ethan made. He watched them, admiring their excellent tracking skills. The ease and familiar way they went about the search, comfortable with the wilderness they trudged through despite the inner turmoil they had to be experiencing, gave him a higher regard toward them. His two companions crawled on the ground, sniffed the area like dogs, left nothing unturned as no sign was considered too small or insignificant. They were patient, steady, stealthy, and wise with their every move.

  “We have come as far as we can from this end of town,” Gabriel announced about an hour into the search. “It would be wise for us to double back. McCrea’s men are meeting in a clearing about a mile south of here, near the creek, and have brought in the hounds. We would do well to check in with them to see what news they might have.”

  As they drew nearer to the clearing, he heard the barking hounds, their howls high-pitched with excitement. A mixture of dread and hope washed through him, as the dogs could have come upon either a living or a dead body. Men, their flashlights beaming in the distance, followed the dog’s trails. At the juncture of a path not far from the creek, several men stood. The dogs halted beside them, sniffing a body lying on the ground, draped with a blanket. He, Gabriel, and Ethan shared horrified glances before proceeding farther.

  Michael McCrea spotted them and made his way to where they emerged. “About twenty minutes ago we found a woman’s body beside the creek.” Michael paused, biting his bottom lip. “She has short blonde hair and blue eyes.”

  He went numb, as the blood drained from his head. The bond he had with Cassia, the love and devotion etched deep within his heart was so strong, so much a part of his life that if the woman found was her, he no longer would have a reason to live.

  Gabriel’s voice shook. “Is it my sister?”

  “We can’t tell.” Michael ran a hand through his hair. “She’s been badly beaten so her facial features aren’t recognizable.”

  “My mother said when Cassia left the house this morning she was wearing a blue blouse and a blue and white checked skirt,” Gabriel supplied.

  “Not a help to us at this point, Gabriel.” Michael cast his eyes to the ground. “The woman has been stripped of her clothing.” He inhaled sharply before raising his gaze. “The only way we might get some answers is if we take the body to the Willow Creek examiner for an autopsy. And even then we could still be in the dark as to who the woman is, as well as it taking weeks for any other results.”

  “Let me examine the body,” Brodie choked out, his stomach turning inside of him.

  “Brodie, you don’t have to put yourself in this position,” Michael said.

  “Yes. Yes, I do.” He swallowed back the nausea rising in his throat. “We need to know instantly if it’s Cassia. And if not, then we need to continue our search before the trail grows cold.”

  “He speaks the truth,” Gabriel agreed. “Let him examine the body.”

  “But how will you tell if it’s her?” Michael questioned.

  “I can tell if it’s not her,” he said. “As a doctor I’ve examined and delivered the babies of many women. I can tell if this woman has ever been with a man or had a pregnancy.”

  “Whether she’s ever been virtuous or not wouldn’t be something you could determine now with an examination.” Michael cleared his throat nervously. “From the blood it’s evident she’s been severely and brutally compromised.”

  Brodie closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself not to black out. “Saints preserve us,” he whispered. Of all the horror and death he’s witnessed throughout his medical career, nothing could compare to the gore of the scene he was about to set his eyes upon. Then a thought struck him. “Let me see her feet.”

  Michael frowned. “What can the woman’s feet tell you?”

  “In this case, everything.” He made his way to the body on shaky limbs. Slowly he knelt, placed the shotgun aside, and lowered the flashlight. With trembling hands, he pulled back the blanket from the woman’s feet and examined her toes…carefully.

  Bringing the light close to each digit, he searched for the pink nail polish. There was not a trace of the pale paint, but something else caught his eye. There, on the left ankle bone, he spotted a birthmark in the shape of the number eight. Frowning, he forced himself to remember where and when he’d seen this birthmark before. And then it came to him, in a sickening and disturbing rush. Dropping the flashlight, he stood, running over to a tree. Bracing himself against the trunk he began to vomit, losing all the contents of his stomach. An intense pang of sorrow gripped his heart, a heart he could feel bleeding, if that were possible, for the woman lying brutally murdered a few feet away. And then he thought of Cassia. Where was she? Was she scared, suffering, and desperately fighting for her life? Would she be Becket Attwater’s next victim? It all became too much to bear, and he lost all resolve. Falling to his knees, he wept loudly, not caring who heard him or what any of the other men might think. It was then he felt a hand upon his shoulder. He turned to look up at Gabriel. Even in the dark he could make out the other man’s anguished-filled eyes. They mirrored Brodie’s own heart.

  Gabriel’s words trembled with his emotion. “Is the woman Cassia?”

  He swallowed hard, forcing his voice to come. “No,” he finally managed to choke out.

  In an instant, relief washed over Gabriel’s face. “Do you have an idea, then, as to who the woman might be?”

  He nodded and slowly stood. “Tell Mike he needs to send someone over to the Boyd residence.” After taking a deep breath he whispered, “Because that’s Alma Lee Sloane.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Besides the situation of delivering a breech birth, the covered wagon’s draped walls seemed to close in on Cassia. No air circulated within the wheeled dwelling, causing the perspiration to form on her forehead and drip into her eyes. Not wanting to contaminate her clean hands, she raised her arm to wipe her brow upon her sleeve. Sweat trickled down her cleavage, as well as her back, causing her shirt to become wet, the flimsy material sticking to her flesh. Not long ago she was shivering from the night chill, but now her adrenalin was in full force, and she was as hot as an oven. It was the case for Ramona as well. Her entire body glistened with sweat, as she lay writhing with pain. And the dark, loose tendrils framing Maria’s face spiraled into damp curls.

  She closed her eyes a moment to calm the inner turmoil rioting deep within the pit of her stomach. Here she was, in the middle of nowhere, with none of her medical equipment or supplies, and facing a difficult birth. She’d never delivered a breech baby and only saw it done once. Taking a few deep breaths, she called sternly and desperately on her medical training to recall the procedures she must take to save Ramona and her baby.

  “What is it? What is wrong?” Ramona choked out hoarsely.

  Slowly Cassia opened her eyes, her gaze meeting Ramona’s. “Your baby is breech—coming out buttocks first.”

  “And how will you help her?” Maria sternly responded.

  Cassia inhaled sharply. “The only way is to turn the baby.”

  “Have you ever done this?” Maria probed.

  “No, bu
t I’ve seen it done—once,” she admitted.

  “Then once will have to do,” Maria said flatly.

  She licked her dry lips, removing herself from the fear coursing through every vein in her body, the throbbing pain of her swollen ankle, and the extreme heat of her surroundings, and put every effort into concentrating on the next move she needed to make.

  Instantly she realized the breech position is an incomplete sphere and the cord could very easily slip down around the baby’s legs. But as far as she could tell, the cord was still pulsating normally. And that was a good sign. As the perineum continued to extend, Cassia could see more clearly the baby’s buttocks. It appeared the baby’s right buttock cheek would emerge first from under the pubic bone.

  “The baby needs to come as slowly as possible, Ramona. The slower, the better,” she strongly emphasized. “So try not to push.”

  Ramona, her face contorted with pain, nodded her response.

  The baby, with legs curled up, needed to be rotated to safeguard the best position for delivery. Carefully she inserted a hand into Ramona’s birth canal, latching her fingers over the baby’s legs. It was fortunate Ramona had already given birth to three other children, as her body was stretched enough for Cassia to navigate her hands successfully within the woman’s womb. If this was Ramona’s first birth, the situation would have been very grave. A Cesarean section would have been the only plan of action, something Cassia could not have performed. Gravity helped at this point, pulling the baby’s body to hang from the vulva, which helped to sustain flexing the head.

  “The baby’s legs are sliding out,” she announced, as a gush of blood followed, soaking the front of her blouse. “Please, keep from pushing just yet, Ramona.” A long piece of the cord also came out, and she could see it throbbing…the baby’s life blood as the child was still attached to the placenta. Even though the baby was half born, until the nose and mouth were clear, the placenta was what sustained life.

  With Ramona’s next contraction, more blood flowed, staining her skirt. Then the baby slid out as far as the shoulders.