“Oh yes.” Emma smiled at her, and then she and her husband bowed their heads.
September 22, 1860. Thus far, I haven’t written in this journal about being a midwife, but today I have something to write about. Little Laura Joy Edwards was born tonight at eight o’clock. She weighs six pounds and is about nineteen inches long. She has fine blond hair and big blue eyes. I’ve never seen a papa so proud of his little girl.
You may be afraid when called to help deliver a baby, but the joy you will feel afterward will wash away all those fears. Seeing God at work, creating life, fills me with a joy like no other. I now understand why Mamadele is a midwife.
Gordon stood off to the side of the camp. He’d just finished his round of guard duty and saw Polly duck into her tent. Her face appeared pale, and dark circles shadowed her eyes. Over the last month, it seemed every woman in the train either was expecting or thought she might be. Since she’d delivered the Edwards baby, the women called on her for constant assistance.
Polly pushed the flap back and stepped out into the evening air. She lifted her eyes to the heavens as if in prayer. He waited until she reached back inside and pulled out a water pail. For the past month, he’d wanted to spend time with her, but she always seemed to be surrounded by women, children, or both. She started walking down to the river.
Gordon fell into step beside her. What was she doing? Didn’t she realize the dangers of leaving the wagon train? He knew the wagon master had warned them all to stay close. He worked to keep the irritation out of his voice as he announced his presence: “It’s kind of late to be going to the river alone.”
Her jaw worked for a moment, and then she said, “I’m not alone, Reverend. You’re with me.”
“So I am.” A breeze lifted the ties of her bonnet, and her sweet scent filled his nostrils. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the minty fragrance. Sensing she wanted silence, Gordon allowed himself to be content just to be with her. The trip to the river for water would be swift, and then they’d return to the safety of numbers, he assured himself.
She surprised him by stopping at the water’s edge, sitting down, and slipping off her shoes. She unwrapped cloth from around her feet. They were swollen and red, and she dipped her toes into the water.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea, Miss Schultz.” He moved to stand beside her.
Polly sighed. “Really, Reverend, I don’t care if you think it’s a good idea or not.”
Patience, Gordon, use patience. He took a deep breath and tried to do as his inner voice said and find patience. “Miss Schultz …”
“And stop calling me Miss Schultz,” she snapped. “Everyone calls me Miss Polly or just plain Polly. I don’t know why you can’t do the same.”
Gordon took another deep breath. He kept his gaze on the hills around them. “Miss Polly. There is a reason the wagon master doesn’t want women out at dusk, at the river, by themselves.”
She wiggled her toes in the water. “I’m sure there is, Reverend. But you are with me now, so I’m not alone.”
Why was she being so stubborn? Did she really not understand the dangers? Using the same steady tone he used with Daniel, Gordon tried again: “See the hills all around us?”
Polly nodded without looking up.
“They are full of Indians who are watching our every move right now.” When she didn’t answer, Gordon knelt on one knee beside her.
In a soft voice, Polly whispered, “Don’t look now, Reverend, but we’ve been joined by the Indians.”
“What?” Gordon moved to stand, but she held on to his arm.
“Lower your voice,” she hissed and then in slow motion began pulling her feet from the water. She used one of the cloths she’d wrapped around them to dry off. “To our right, we have company.” Polly slipped her feet into worn shoes, and slowly they stood.
Gordon felt the presence of the Indians now. He took her elbow and held his head high. With no gun, no horse, and a woman at his side, he knew they were in trouble.
As silent as shadows, Indians surrounded them.
Chapter 7
The scream welled up in Polly’s throat, but no sound came out. Within moments of the arrival of the Indians, Gordon was on the ground. He’d wake up with a knot on the back of his head the size of a cantaloupe.
Her mouth had been stuffed with something soft and then bound so that she couldn’t scream. Her hands were tied behind her back, causing her shoulders to begin a slow ache. She faced her captor. What were his plans?
The dark eyes returned her stare. He didn’t seem angry—if anything, his expression appeared sad and almost hopeful. Then he picked her up and tossed her over his back, much like a sack of potatoes.
His shoulder blade in her stomach cut deep with every step he ran. But at least her feet were off the hard-packed ground. She’d been foolish and brought this upon herself and Gordon. Tears stung the back of her eyes, but Polly refused to allow even one to fall.
Would the wagon master send someone out for them? Or would their rush to get over the mountains cause him to leave them behind?
Polly twisted and raised her head to see where they were going. She counted six men running in the dark, the moonlight their only means of seeing. Gordon’s head bounced against the back of the brave who carried him. His eyes were closed. Why hadn’t they left him and just taken her? What evil plans did these men have for them? She shuddered at the thought.
Her head ached as blood continued to pound in her temples. They seemed to go on forever. Every part of her body began to protest, with the exception of her feet, she thought irrationally. She felt sick, the pounding in her head more than she could stand. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on Mamadele. What would she do in this situation? Would they ever see each other again?
Several times throughout the night, the braves stopped and set them down to rest. They never allowed Polly and Gordon to talk or communicate. She hated what was happening to them but could see no way to escape. Just when she felt as if her head might stop pounding, they would pick them up and move on.
When the sun peeked over the horizon, they stopped. The man set Polly down on the ground and held her arms to steady her.
Gordon’s captor did the same. A small trickle of blood ran down the side of his face. “It’s all right, Polly.”
With her mouth gagged, Polly couldn’t answer, so she nodded. The brave tears she’d held earlier slid down her face as she realized this was all her fault. The Indian took the gag out of her mouth and wiped her tears. She looked up to find his gaze also filled with sorrow.
She cleared her throat and then asked, “Why did you do this?”
He didn’t answer but walked around behind her and untied her hands. She rubbed her wrists. They were in a small camp close to another stream of water. Polly counted ten tepees and saw there were about thirty horses in a corral off to the right of the camp. One tepee stood off by itself.
A woman’s scream pierced the air.
Polly jerked as the horrors of what might be going on in the tepee rushed into her tired mind. The Indian began pulling her in that direction.
“Stop!” Gordon yelled and jerked against the two men who held him.
The Indian ignored Gordon and continued to pull Polly forward. She looked back and saw that Gordon had been forced to kneel on the ground. His panic-filled eyes followed her. Polly dug her heels into the hard ground and twisted against the hand that held her.
When he released her, she fell backward but caught herself before hitting the ground. She held up her hand to stop him from grabbing her again. She looked at Gordon. “I’m all right. Pray for God’s protection.”
He nodded.
Satisfied that Gordon would be praying, Polly turned back to the Indian.
Another scream tore through the air.
She held her head high and walked past him toward the tepee. Whatever fate awaited her, God would see her through. She stopped at the entrance and waited for the man to open the flap. Her han
ds shook, and she clasped them in front of her before bending to enter.
The flap closed behind her. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Two young women stood in the center of the enclosure, worry etched on their faces. Another very pregnant woman was squatting, holding on to two poles standing on each side of her. Sweat ran down her red, exhausted face. Then she arched her back and screamed.
Polly hurried to her. She waited until the girl withered against the poles and then captured her face between her hands. “How long?” she asked the woman.
The woman looked back at her, uncomprehending. Polly turned to the other two. “How long?”
They looked at each other and shrugged. Either they didn’t know how long or they didn’t understand her. Polly searched the room until she found a jug of water. She poured some into a bowl and washed the dirt from her hands. Then she returned her attention to the soon-to-be mother.
In a soft, reassuring voice, Polly spoke: “I want to help. So first, I’m going to pray.”
Unsure if the laboring woman understood, Polly bowed her head and prayed: “Lord, please help me to assist this mother as she struggles to bring forth new life. Give me the wisdom to know what to do and her the courage to allow me to do it. Also, I ask for Your strength to sustain her. In Your name. Amen.”
As soon as Polly disappeared into the tepee, Gordon was yanked to his feet. He was pulled by his bound hands to another tepee, where the men sat down around a fire. He stayed just outside of their circle. They talked in low tones, and their eyes often moved to the tepee that Polly had disappeared into. When they didn’t push him down or force him to sit, Gordon decided the best thing to do was join them. His thoughts moved to Daniel, and he prayed someone would look after the boy.
Once more a scream carried from the interior of the tepee. Gordon wanted to go to Polly, but when he started to rise, a young man shook his head at him.
The man who had taken Polly paced outside the tepee he’d shown her into. Gordon bowed his head and prayed. He asked for assistance, safety, and guidance.
It seemed like hours before a young Indian woman stepped outside the tepee. She handed the man a jug and said something to him, pointing to the stream. He immediately ran to fill the jug with water.
Once he delivered the jug to the woman, Polly’s captor joined the rest of the men around the fire. His brown gaze moved over Gordon, and he jerked his head toward him, grunting what sounded like a command.
One of the men stood, pulled a knife, and walked behind Gordon. Gordon’s insides quivered, but he refused to show fear. To do so might mean his life and Polly’s. Instead, he maintained eye contact with the first man.
At his nod, the knife swished through the air and Gordon’s bonds fell to the ground behind him. Gordon swallowed. His shoulders ached as he pulled his hands around. He rubbed his wrists and rotated his sore shoulders.
The Indian in front of him nodded and motioned for Gordon to join them around the fire. Gordon followed and sat down beside him. He assumed this young man was the leader. The others seemed to follow him. One of the men went inside the nearby tepee and returned shortly with a bowl of dried fruit and jerky.
Gordon’s stomach growled as the bowl was passed about the circle. Each man grabbed a handful of fruit and a piece of the dried meat. He didn’t expect the bowl to be shoved into his hands but smiled gratefully at the man who handed it to him.
Like the others, he filled one hand with fruit and took a slice of meat. They nodded and grunted their pleasure. He’d always heard the Indians were savages and not to be trusted, but these men seemed pleasant enough. If I don’t take into account I’m their prisoner.
He bowed his head and thanked the Lord for his food. When he looked up the others stared back at him. Gordon chose to try the fruit first, and as he chewed he nodded his approval.
Gordon sat and waited for hours, hoping Polly would return. He wasn’t sure what was going on, and since he’d not heard her scream coming from the tepee, he continued to pray.
The other men worked on arrows and bows. They sharpened their knives, and after a few hours of waiting, one of the men left. When he returned he had a deer slung over his horse. The other men joined him, and they skinned the deer and cut the meat up. As time passed, the men’s dark eyes darted between the tepee and their leader.
When Gordon thought he could no longer stand the waiting, another scream tore from the tepee.
Polly’s captor stood. He hurried to the tepee that the scream came from.
Gordon stood and stretched. No one stopped him, so he decided to follow the leader. When the man arrived at the tepee entrance, he stopped and turned around.
Dark eyes filled with concern stared at Gordon. He’d seen the same troubled look in many men’s eyes in his day. This man needed prayer. Gordon laid a hand on the Indian’s shoulder, bowed his head, and prayed: “Lord, I don’t know what is going on in there, but I ask You to give this man assurance and to give me strength to help him. Amen.” He raised his head and found the dark eyes still studying him, but now they were filled with moisture and thanks.
Gordon patted his shoulder and nodded. He hoped the Indian would understand that he was there for him. His concern for Polly nagged at him, but he knew his place was with this man during his time of need.
Polly’s sweet voice sounded through the hide of the tepee as she sang, “What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear! What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer!”
Realization dawned. Polly was delivering a baby. A few minutes later the sound of its cry split the evening air.
Gordon pounded the Indian on the back and smiled. He called through the door, “What did you deliver?”
She laughed. “A baby.”
“I know it’s a baby! Boy or girl?” He continued to pat the brave on the shoulder.
“It’s a boy! A big boy, maybe ten pounds or more.” She laughed. “And the mama is going to be fine.”
Gordon grabbed the man’s hand and pumped. He smiled his widest grin and signed that the baby was a boy. The thought that the Indian man might not understand him never entered his mind.
The Indian gave a whoop and danced about. His friends ran over to join him. He spoke rapidly to them and then pointed at Gordon and made the same sign for boy that Gordon had made. They threw their heads back and laughed. He felt heat enter his face and neck.
A young woman pushed the flap back and exited the tepee. She held a small bundle wrapped in animal skins. The baby whimpered when she handed him over to his father.
The men all stared into the chubby little face. His father looked up at Gordon and then gently unwrapped the baby. He grinned when he looked upon his newborn son.
Caught up in the joy around him, Gordon still couldn’t help but wonder. Now that the child had been born, what was to become of Polly and him?
Chapter 8
Polly was having the same thoughts. Mother and child were lying at the back of the tepee. Since this wasn’t her normal approach to midwifery, Polly didn’t know if she should pray over the family or not. The mother smiled at her over the little boy’s head.
She bowed her head and prayed: “Lord, please bless this family and keep them safe. In Jesus’ name. Amen.” Polly raised her head and returned the woman’s grin.
One of the other ladies motioned for Polly to follow her outside. Polly stepped into the cool night air and inhaled. Her back ached from the bent-over position she had maintained most of the day. The stars twinkled down upon her, and she marveled that a full day had passed. How had Gordon passed the time? She glanced around.
Gordon sat beside a fire. He stood and walked over to her with a smile. “You did well.”
Polly returned his smile. “Thank you.” She rubbed her lower back. “It was a hard labor, but the mother is doing fine.”
He nodded and looked up into the star-filled sky. His handsome features were reflected within the light. Light-brown hair fell across his forehead. Dri
ed blood caked his temple. She wondered if his head still hurt from the blow that had knocked him out.
An Indian man exited one of the tepees and knelt beside the campfire. One of the women who had been with Polly throughout the day entered another tepee with an armload of skins. The camp seemed alive with activity, and at the moment the Indians didn’t seem to be paying any attention to her and Gordon. For that, she was thankful.
Polly gulped. “I’m sorry I got you into this, Reverend. I should have listened to you.”
“It’s all right, Miss Polly. God knew what was going to happen, even though I didn’t. I think it’s a good thing you were here to deliver the baby.”
Why did he have to be so kind and understanding? She rotated her shoulders and looked up into the heavens with him. “What do you think they are going to do with us now?”
He sighed. “I’m not sure. We need to put our faith and hope in God that all will go well. Something that helps me is remembering Philippians, chapter 4 verse 13: ‘I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.’”
She smiled. “That is one of my favorite scriptures.”
“Mine, too.”
Polly frowned. “Do you think there is a search party looking for us?”
Gordon shook his head. “They have to get over the mountains, and I don’t believe the Indians were foolish enough to leave a trail to follow.”
Tears stung the back of her eyes. “So they left us behind?” Her voice cracked.
“I promise I’ll do everything I can to get you to Oregon.” The strength in his voice gave her hope.
Silence hung about them. Crickets sang and frogs croaked. If only they weren’t in danger, it could have been a peaceful time.
The Indian by the fire stood and walked toward them. Gordon straightened his shoulders and stood a little taller, placing himself between the man and her. Polly felt a moment of pride and fear. She’d grown to care about Gordon and prayed the Indians wouldn’t harm him.
The Midwife's Legacy (Romancing America) Page 10
