“What happened next?” eight-year-old Christina York asked. She leaned against her mother’s leg.
Polly offered her a smile. “Well, the reverend had to stay with the men, and I went into the tepee. There was a woman in there, and she was having a baby. So I helped her.”
Christina smiled back. “You are so nice. When I have a baby, will you help me, too?” The last few days had been hard on Polly, but she knew to help the Indian woman have her baby, she’d do it all again. “If we are together, then I will be honored to help you, Miss Christina.”
“Thanks.” She pulled her rag doll to her chest and looked up at her mother. “Did you hear that, Ma? Miss Polly is going to help me have a baby when I get bigger.”
The women laughed and smiled at one another.
“I’m glad to hear that, Chris. Now it’s time for sweet little girls to be off to bed. Night everyone.” Mrs. York took Christina’s hand and led her back to their wagon.
The other ladies proceeded to leave as well. “Good night, all,” Idella called after them.
Once they were alone, she turned to Polly. “You are all right, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am fine. But I am tired, and tomorrow we will be starting out bright and early.” She stood, yawned, and stretched.
Idella cleared her throat to get her attention again. “Polly, please sit down. There is one other thing I wish to discuss with you.”
Polly did as she was asked. She searched Idella’s face. “Are you all right? I’m sorry, I should have asked about your well-being sooner.” She reached out and took Idella’s hands in hers.
Idella smiled. “The baby and I both are fine. My question is about you.”
“Oh, all right.”
“When you were out there, alone with the reverend and those men, were you compromised in any way?” A deep red filled Idella’s cheeks.
Polly jerked her hands back. “Of course not! He was a perfect gentleman.” How could Idella ask such a thing of her?
Idella’s voice hardened. “Please lower your voice,” she hissed at Polly. “We are all thinking the same thing, and unless you hadn’t noticed, young lady, you arrived not with just one man, but four.” Idella softened her voice. “I’m not trying to be mean, but if I am to help you, you must tell me if your reputation was tarnished.”
Polly’s blood boiled. Her ears roared with anger. “I have nothing to be ashamed of, Mrs. Bentz.” She stood. “Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going to pitch my tent and go to bed.” Tears burned the back of her eyes.
The other woman sighed heavily. “Polly, we’ll talk more about this tomorrow.”
“No, ma’am, we won’t.” Polly pulled her tent and bag from the wagon and moved as far away as she dared from the Bentzes’ wagon to pitch her tent.
I have lost track of the days so for now will leave the date off and fill it in at a later time: I’m not even sure if Mamadele would want this entry in here, but I must share with whoever comes behind me and reads this. Two days ago, I was taken, along with the good Reverend Gordon Baker, by Indians in need of a midwife. I’m not sure they knew they were getting a midwife, but they did. The baby was turned the wrong way. I’m so thankful I’d read Mamadele’s tips on how to turn babies around that are coming into the world feet first. Thank You, Lord, for giving her the wisdom to put such things in this journal. So the second baby I’ve delivered was that of an Indian couple. I learned something from these people. We’ve been told to watch out for the Indians, that they are dangerous, and they probably are in the wrong situation, but I found them to be like everyone else. Kind, loving people, who are only different in the way they speak and dress. Yes, their skin is tanner, but their hearts beat the same as mine.
This is the part that Mamadele might not have wanted in this journal. Idella seems to think that I was compromised by either the good reverend or one of the Indian men I spent the last two days with. I’m not sure Idella or the other women believe me, but I am still pure in both body and spirit. Why do people feel the need to judge others? I’m praying no harm will come of this sort of talk, especially for the reverend. My heart softens more for him each day, and I don’t think I could stand to be a part of his ruin, should it come to that.
Gordon looked at the men as if they’d grown two heads. “Are you mad? No! I’m not going to marry her.” He crossed his arms. Yes, he cared for Polly—but marry her? Not like this he wouldn’t.
“Our wives are very insistent, Reverend.” John York took the same stance. “I for one do not want to hear mine grumble all the way to Oregon.”
John York, Omar Masters, and Lawrence Edwards stood around him. “Look, I know it doesn’t look good for either of us, but marriage? No, that’s out of the question. Besides, who would carry out the ceremony? I’m the only preacher on this train. I’m not going to perform my own wedding and that’s final.” He appreciated the men taking care of Daniel and his wagon, but he couldn’t tolerate them putting their noses in his business. Especially where Polly was concerned. Gordon prayed they’d return to their own wagons and forget the whole subject.
“My wife’s not going to like this.”
The other men grumbled similarly as they stomped off. Gordon sighed. “Thank You, Lord.”
“Why don’t you want to marry Miss Polly?” Daniel asked.
He’d thought the boy was asleep in the wagon. He was thankful the men hadn’t heard Daniel’s question. If they had, he felt sure they would have stuck around to hear the answer.
Daniel jumped out of the wagon. Gordon felt he had no choice but to answer. He turned to face the young boy and placed his hand on his thin shoulder. “Daniel, when two people get married, it should be for love. Both parties have to love each other—at least, for me that’s the way it has to be, and that’s not the way it is.”
“Why don’t you love her? She’s pretty.” He tilted his head to the side and searched Gordon’s eyes.
Gordon didn’t answer. He did love Polly. But she’d never indicated she had feelings for him, and if Gordon Baker was going to get married, his wife would have to love him with all her heart. He grinned. “She is very pretty, but pretty isn’t love. Now, don’t you have a couple of last-minute chores to do before we line up this morning?” He ruffled Daniel’s hair.
“Yes sir.” Daniel started to run around to the other side of the wagon.
Gordon called after him. “Hold up, son. I just thought of something.” He moved to the wagon seat and pulled out the skin bag he’d been holding for Polly. She’d been enveloped by Mrs. Bentz and led away so fast the night before that he’d forgotten to return it to her. Under their present situation, Gordon decided maybe Daniel should be the one to give it to her. “I’ll finish breaking camp if you will run this over to Miss Polly.”
Daniel took the bundle with a smile on his lips. What boy didn’t want to get out of his chores by going to see a pretty lady?
Chapter 11
Everything was back to normal. Well, as normal as it could be, Polly supposed. She packed up her tent and supplies and placed them in the corner of the Bentzes’ wagon. Her feet stung, reminding her that another day of walking was ahead of her.
Idella had seemed a little cold in her attitude this morning, but Polly dismissed the behavior, praying it was due to her being tired from her pregnancy and the long trip. Little Luke had been fussier than normal, and Idella had cuddled him close while doing her normal chores.
Polly offered to help with Luke, but Idella told her she could manage. Sitting in the shade of the wagon, Polly worked on the sketch of the Indian mother and her newborn son. She wanted to remember them. The echo to form up the line traveled to them. Polly put her sketchbook with the rest of her belongings and went in search of Idella and little Luke.
She found them returning from the river. “Would you like me to take Luke this morning?”
“No, thank you.” Idella walked around her.
Polly reached out and stopped her. “Idella, what is wrong?”
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Cold eyes bored into hers. “You’ve been gone for two days, doing who knows what with those men, and you’ve shown no remorse or regret at all. I don’t want you taking care of Luke any longer, Polly. And if it were up to me, I’d ask you to find another wagon to travel with, but Gustaf says no, that you are to stay. So stay you shall, but I no longer need your help.”
Tears filled Polly’s eyes. “Idella, you can’t mean that.” The pleading in her own voice sickened her—never in Polly’s life had she been accused so unjustly.
Idella jerked her arm away from her. “I do. Now, please, excuse me.” She picked Luke up and walked away.
Polly followed at a slower pace. She stood off to the side and watched the train begin to form.
“Here, Miss Polly. Papa Gordon said to give this to you.” Daniel thrust the animal skin bundle into her arms and then bent over and panted. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Polly stroked the hair on the soft skin. “I’m sorry, Daniel.”
“That’s all right, Miss Polly.” He looked up at her. “Are you crying, Miss Polly?”
She felt the moisture on her cheeks and wiped it away. “Yes. But I’m fine.” She offered him a wobbly smile.
“Is it because Papa Gordon doesn’t want to marry you?” he asked, still bent over and looking at the ground.
Had she heard him right? Gordon didn’t want to marry her? “What?”
“I heard him tell Mr. York and some other men this morning that he wasn’t going to marry you. Is that why you are crying?” He straightened up and looked at her.
Polly’s head began to ache, and the tears flowed more freely. “No, Daniel.” She touched her throbbing temples. “I just have a headache. Thank you for bringing me this.” She hugged the bag to her.
“You’re welcome. I’d better get back to Papa Gordon.” Daniel ran back the way he’d come.
Polly felt as if all the air had been squeezed from her lungs. Why did it hurt so bad to know that Gordon had no feelings for her? The sharp pain in her heart confirmed to her that she had fallen in love with the reverend.
She dared not think why the men had demanded that he marry her. Did the whole train think they had been sinful? Dirt rose as the wagons pulled out. If she stayed where she was, no one would miss her. But if she stayed where she was, she’d also be disobeying Mamadele. How was she going to face everyone again?
Polly shook her head to clear her thoughts and opened the skins. Inside were two pairs of moccasins. She realized that the Indian women had noticed her discomfort and offered her shoes that would ease her pain. One pair was ankle high and the other looked as if they would go up to her knees. When winter hit, the moccasins would feel wonderful.
Give the mother as much control as possible, since there is only so much a new mother can control. Mamadele’s words filtered through her tired mind.
If Idella didn’t want her traveling with her family any longer, she’d ask and see if she could store her things in someone else’s wagon.
New shoes, new circumstances, she thought. Polly took her shoes off and wrapped them in the animal skin. She slid her feet into the soft moccasins and sighed. They felt heavenly. Then she hurried to catch up with the wagon train.
Polly walked and thought about her situation all day. The Millers were an older couple and might have room in their wagon for her tent and few belongings. As soon as the train stopped for the evening, Polly walked to their campsite.
Mrs. Miller was pulling the camp together when she arrived. Polly cleared her throat. When the silver head rose, Polly asked, “May I speak to you for a moment, Mrs. Miller?”
“Of course, Polly.” She tugged on a wooden box. “Come and help me get this crate out, won’t you, dear?” She grunted as she pulled.
Polly hurried to her side and took the majority of the weight and lifted the crate down.
“Thank you. Normally Mr. Miller gets it down, but the men are having a meeting, and I wanted to start supper.” She lifted the lid and began to work. “What did you want to ask me?”
Now that the time had come, Polly felt her palms get sticky. “Mrs. Bentz isn’t happy that the reverend and I were off alone, with Indians really, and she’s angry at me because … well, I’m not really sure why.” She clasped her hands together and inwardly fretted. The words just weren’t coming out right.
Mrs. Miller nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard. The ladies seem to think the whole situation was improper. I’m sorry she is being so hard on you, dear.”
Polly gulped down the knot in her throat. “There was nothing improper about it. We were kidnapped, asked to help with the birth of a baby, and then returned here. That’s it, that’s all that happened, Mrs. Miller. I promise.” So much for a new attitude, she thought as she fought the tears that threatened to spill over at any moment.
The older woman walked over and embraced Polly. “It’s all right, dear. Why don’t you come and stay with Mr. Miller and me? I could use your help, and I’ve missed good company.”
“Really?” Polly sobbed against her shoulder.
Mrs. Miller pulled back and lifted Polly’s chin. “That was what you were going to ask me, wasn’t it?”
Polly nodded. Mrs. Miller’s eyes were a soft blue, surrounded by a halo of kindness.
“Good. Now before you say yes, I think you should know. I don’t like gossip. I’m not above saying what I think, and I enjoy reading.”
Why the older woman thought she needed to know that she enjoyed reading, Polly didn’t know, but she smiled. “Then we should get along nicely, except I don’t read a lot—well, other than my mother’s journal. But I enjoy sketching.”
Mrs. Miller nodded. “Good. Why don’t you gather your things? I’ll let Mr. Miller know we have a new wagon guest.”
“Oh, I won’t be any trouble at all. I only need a small space for my tent and other things.” Polly was fearful Mrs. Miller would change her mind.
“I know, dear.” The older woman waved Polly off and returned to her crate.
When she returned to the Bentzes’ wagon, Idella was setting up camp also. She ignored Polly as she pulled her things from the back of the wagon.
Polly said to Idella’s back, “I’m staying with the Millers now, Idella. Should you need me, please come and get me. I will still help you with birthing the baby.”
Silence hung between them. Polly picked up her things and walked away. Her heart ached as she realized that another new chapter had started in her life. She prayed that within the next few months Idella would come around and that she would be allowed to deliver the Bentzes’ baby.
Over the next few months, the wagon train made its way over the mountains. Gordon’s heart ached for Polly. She kept her distance from him, and he missed her. He’d noticed that only a few of the women now befriended her, and the men seemed to hold him at bay also, at least when they were within seeing and hearing distance of their wives.
Polly grew thinner with each passing mile. Most evenings he found himself watching her from the shadows. She and Mrs. Miller had become friends. Polly huddled in front of her small tent, under the skins her Indian friends had given her, sketching, writing in her journal, or sewing.
One evening she looked up when Gustaf Bentz hurried up to her tent. He held little Luke in his arms. “Is time.”
“Go get the reverend,” Polly instructed. At his swift nod, she hurried into her tent.
Why did she want Gustaf to come get him? Gordon hurried back toward his wagon. If he hurried, he might beat the other man back. He had just stepped into the firelight of his own camp when Gustaf rushed toward him. “Is time,” the man told him.
“Time for what?” Gordon asked. He didn’t want Gustaf or anyone else suspecting he’d heard the man summon Polly.
“The babe. Time to go.”
“Daniel!”
The boy stuck his head out the back of the wagon. “I heard.”
“Take little Luke from Mr. Bentz; he can sleep in our wagon tonight.” He
watched as Gustaf handed a sleeping Luke up to Daniel. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Stay close to the wagon and get some sleep.” He picked up his Bible and followed the father-to-be.
When Gordon arrived at the wagon, he stopped and asked, “What can I do to help?”
“You can get in here!” Idella yelled from the wagon.
He looked to Gustaf, who simply shrugged. Some help he was. Gordon wondered if all the men in the wagon train were afraid of their wives.
“Now!”
Gordon hurried over the wagon’s tailgate and into the wagon. “I’m here,” he announced unnecessarily.
Idella was sitting in a rocker rubbing her stomach. Polly sat on the floor beside her. Both of them ignored him as Idella rode out a wave of pain. Her pale, pinched face and the way she gritted her teeth told the story of her labor. When the pain passed, she looked up at him. “I want you here to pray.”
“I can do that outside, ma’am.” He’d never even been in a birthing room, much less this close to a woman about to give birth.
Pain flashed across her features again. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. Sweat broke out on her brow.
When the pain eased again, Polly wet a small rag and gently washed Idella’s face. He looked to her for guidance. “Idella, the reverend is right. He shouldn’t be in here just now. He’ll stand outside the wagon and pray, while your husband comes in here and takes the first baby when it’s born. How does that sound?”
Idella leaned forward in her chair. “That would be nice. Thank you, Reverend.”
The two men exchanged places. Gustaf stepped to the side, looking confused.
Gordon turned just in time to see Polly indicate Gustaf should move behind his wife and watched as he began to slowly rub her back. He closed the flap and silently prayed for all those within the wagon.
“Lower, please,” Idella groaned. “Are you praying, too, Gustaf?”
The Midwife's Legacy (Romancing America) Page 12
