Thanksgiving In Clover Springs

by Rachel Wesson

  “Is he still fixated on that potato scheme?” Mrs. H shook her head as if Samuel had decided to grow another head.

  Wilma guessed she was worried his farming attempts could cause him further injury. Her attempts to protect him led to her trying to make him housebound. She was terrified something else would happen to him and she would lose her child. She had come close enough to that already.

  “Nandita gave him another salve to rub into his burns to protect against infection. Doc said exercise would be helpful for his recovery so long as he was careful.”

  “Nandita is working very closely with Doc now isn’t she. Sorcha said she was making and selling her healing creams to other folks too.”

  “People have seen how much her creams helped Ellen’s hands as well as Samuel’s injuries. The Indians are used to using Nature’s own bounty to provide all sorts of healing. The white folk can only benefit from her knowledge.” Wilma took a deep drink of her coffee.

  Mrs. H nodded in agreement before asking, “What about the potatoes?”

  “Sorry, I got distracted thinking of Nandita. Growing potatoes makes him feel useful. He’s read about it and questioned Miss Ellen and Miss Katie till they are blue in the face. It is rather amazing how many he can grow in a small space. Ideal really given his need to make the land Mr. Davy gave him self-sufficient.”

  “But he is busy enough with the horses he is training for the children to ride.”

  ‘Little Beaver does most of the training. There isn’t anything that Indian can’t teach an animal. He also keeps an eye on your son. You should hear him telling Mr. Samuel off if he thinks he is doing too much,” Wilma laughed heartily, causing her stomach to wobble. “Come on, Miss Bertha, sit yourself down and stop fussing. It’s a rare pleasure to have this ole kitchen to ourselves.”

  Mrs. H sat down with a sigh. “How’s the young’uns settling in?”

  “John and Rosa is doing just fine, Miss Bertha. John follows Samuel around the house, helping him by opening doors and things. Rosa idolizes him too.”

  ‘It’s thanks to you those children have settled in so well. Samuel told me you gave him the advice on how to get Rosa to trust him.”

  ‘Didn’t take a big brain to work out that whoever John trusts, Rosa is likely to follow,” Wilma sighed.

  ‘What’s wrong with that?” Mrs. H sat back in the chair.

  “I was just thinking how those kids will react when Father Molloy comes back. He’s bound to bring more orphans and then Rosa and John will have to share Mr. Samuel and Miss Ellen. Not sure how they is going to like that.”

  “Don’t be looking for trouble now, Wilma. It has a way of arriving at your doorstep without us giving it cause to invite itself in. We just need to count our blessings for what the good Lord has given us.”

  Wilma stiffened as she always did when the Lord’s name was brought into conversation. The Church hadn’t been a friend to her when she needed one most. Although she was willing to admit the priest she had asked for help wasn’t a bit like Father Molloy or Reverend Timmons. There seemed to be nothing those two men wouldn’t do for their friends and congregation. But still she was not about to be given a sermon by anyone.

  “Don’t you go all Father Molloy and Reverend Timmons on me now. I was enjoying our chat. I don’t need no lecture.”

  Mrs. Higgins laughed until tears fell from her eyes. “Lord above. I’ve been called some things before but I ain't never been compared to a priest and minister.”

  “You were talking about blessings,” Wilma snapped.

  “I sure was and you know better than most the blessings Clover Springs and its people have given us. Now quit looking like you sucked a lemon and drink your coffee before it gets cold. I made your favorite ginger cookies too.”

  “You didn’t have to go to that trouble for me, Miss Bertha.”

  “You are my guinea pig. I changed the recipe slightly. If you like them then everyone else will too. So don’t go thinking you are someone special.”

  The grin Mrs. H gave her told Wilma just how loved she was. Mrs. H was right. She should be counting her blessings. If anyone had told her a couple of years back, that Laura would be happily married to a good man and they would both be welcome and loved by a whole community, she would have thought they were drinking. Things sure had changed since the death of that no good Johnny. Wilma refrained from the urge to spit at the thought of his name. She hoped he was burning in hell for the way he had treated her girls. Him and his no good friend Coleman.

  “Now what you screwing your face up at? The cookies can’t be that bad,” Mrs. Higgins asked, her hands on her hips.

  “They is mighty fine, Miss Bertha. I was doing exactly what you done tole me to do. Counting my blessings. It was a good day Miss Laura came to Clover Springs. That it was.”

  “It was. Nearly as good as the day you followed her. Now don’t you go making me cry.” Mrs. H reached for a hanky she kept in her apron pocket. “Miss Laura is going to be just fine. She has you and Mrs. Grey and Doc to see to her. Just you wait and see.”

  “I hope you’re right, Miss Bertha.”

  “Woman, would you listen to yourself. What did I tell you about courting trouble? Now why don’t you put your mind to something useful and help me plan some menus. Mister Davy, he thinks I don’t know how to cook anything different. I serve him the same food all the time.”

  Wilma knew a lie when she heard one. Miss Bertha was doing her best to distract her from worrying about Laura. She was concerned too. Miss Bertha might pretend otherwise but she had caught the cook bringing specially cooked delicacies over to Laura’s house more than once. Over the past few weeks, Mrs. H had been fussing over Laura like a mother hen. With care like that, her girl would be fine. Please Lord keep her safe. The prayer sort of took her by surprise, her not being a praying woman but it felt good. Wilma shrugged her shoulders before taking some time to savor her coffee. Miss Bertha was right, there was no point in worrying about troubles coming down the road. They would arrive in their own time whether she grew more grey hair or not.

  The door into the kitchen burst open.

  “Wilma, Ma said you are to come at once. It’s Miss Laura.”

  Wilma pushed the chair over in her haste to escape from the room. She sent an apologetic look at Mrs. Higgins. “Don’t fret, Wilma. Laura will be fine. Mrs. Grey will be here soon to look in on her again. She promised.”

  Chapter 4

  Lorena Grey guided the buggy down the long dirt road toward the Sullivan ranch. Usually, she took time to admire the sprawling ranch house with the mountainous backdrop, but today she was too distracted thinking of her patient. She drew on the reins to stop the buggy. Thankfully, she had wrapped up warm as it seemed even colder out here on the ranch than back in town. She removed her mittens wondering briefly where everyone was. Usually, the ranch was a hive of activity, but it looked deserted. Someone had been chopping wood, a pile of logs stacked against the barn, but had got distracted leaving the axe still lodged in the splitting stump. Even the livestock grazing in the pasture were unusually quiet.

  With a sense of foreboding, she climbed down. Reaching up to take her basket, she heard someone shouting her name.

  Ben came running.

  “Mrs. Grey, I’ll look after your horse. Ma said you were to go straight to Miss Laura’s.”

  “Thank you, Ben.” Mrs. Grey noted the apprehension on the young boys face but didn’t make any comment. In her experience men tended to be more scared of childbirth than the women who endured it.

  She walked briskly toward Laura’s small house. Pushing the door open, she encountered a flushed looking Mary. “Thank God you are here. Laura's pains started earlier this morning but nothing seems to be happening. I thought it was because it’s her first baby but Wilma isn’t happy,” Mary whispered, taking Mrs. Grey’s coat to hang it on a peg. “Laura’s asleep,” She said over her shoulder as she went into Laura’s bedroom.

  Mrs. Grey washed her hands bef
ore following Mary into Laura's bedroom. She didn’t like the color of Laura's skin or the fact that she seemed to be so weak.

  “Is Wilma still here?”

  “She just went up to the main house. She said something about sending Little Beaver to get Nandita.”

  “I met Brian in town earlier today. He said Nandita went to see her people although she should be on her way back. Maybe Little Beaver can meet them. Mary, go find Wilma and ask her to come back. Send someone to town for Doc. I will see to Laura.”

  “She'll be alright, won't she, Mrs. Grey?” Mary’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  “Don’t you start fretting now, Mary Sullivan. I have enough to do without you catching a dose of the vapors.”

  Mary ran like a scalded cat. Mrs. Grey allowed herself a second to pity the young woman before turning her attention back to her patient. She was very worried. She had been afraid Laura's heart wouldn’t stand up to labor. This was one time she wouldn’t mind being proved wrong.

  “Come on, sweetheart, breath through the pain. Take my hand. Soon you will be holding your little one.” Mrs. Grey didn’t look up as the door opened. Wilma came in, bringing some more hot water and something that didn't smell too nice.

  “Thank God you came. That baby isn't facing the right way. You got to turn it.”

  Before Mrs. Grey could answer, Laura raised herself slightly.

  “Wilma...”

  “I is here, honey. You lie back now and preserve your strength. You'll need it to birth your baby.”

  “Wilma…” Laura held out her hand. Wilma put the things she had been carrying down on the unit behind her before taking a seat by Laura’s bed and holding her hand. “Promise me… you'll look after my baby and Paul. He'll need someone.” Laura seemed to use up all her strength whispering her thoughts. Mrs. Grey said another prayer, her eyes filling up just like Wilma’s.

  “Don’t you talk like that, Laura Kelley. You ain't no weak little girl. You a strong woman and your man and child need your strength. You hush up now and keep your mind on holding your baby.”

  Wilma's confident words seemed to soothe Laura's agitation somewhat. She lay back on the pillow, closing her eyes. Wilma took a couple of seconds to push the hair back from her patient’s eyes and wipe her brow. She whispered something to Laura but Mrs. Grey didn’t hear her.

  Mrs. Grey checked her patient again. Wilma was right. The baby was turned the wrong way.

  “What do we do now?” Wilma asked.

  Mrs. Grey saw her own concern mirrored in the dark eyes staring back at her. Before she could answer, Wilma continued.

  “You ever turned a baby before?”

  Mrs. Grey shook her head. “Seen it done by a doctor at a hospital once.”

  “Did they...?” Wilma’s whispered question stopped at the look on Mrs. Grey's face. Her hands shook. “Did Little Beaver go for Nandita? It was her herbs that saved Samuel.”

  “Nandita is at the reservation. What about you, Wilma? Surely in your years with the girls you delivered babies. Didn’t you come across anything like this before?”

  Wilma nodded but her face was grim. “That was a long time ago. I don’t know if I can do it again.”

  “Nonsense. You can’t forget skills like that. This baby wants to be born and it’s up to you and me to see it arrives healthy. I will assist you in whatever way possible. But before we start, we should say a prayer.” Lorena Grey knew Wilma wasn’t a full believer but she had started to attend church regularly. She didn’t care. They needed all the help they could get.

  After the prayer, Wilma rubbed oil into her hands before massaging Laura's stomach. “The feet are coming first,” She whispered, looking fearfully at Laura.

  “You can do it, Wilma.” Please God give her strength.

  “But what if she...”

  “She will if you don’t do anything.” Mrs. Grey’s tone while not harsh was firm. “You can see that. You are her last hope.” She had to get past Wilma’s fear of hurting a loved one.

  Wilma took a deep breath before she attempted to turn the child. The first time she failed, tears running down her face as Laura screamed in agony. “I is sorry, Miss Laura. I don't mean to hurt you.”

  “Try again, Wilma.” Mrs. Grey hoped a firm tone would help focus Wilma. She clenched her hands, hoping it would be less painful for Laura but she knew different. Every time they tried, the chance of success was lowered.

  Wilma tried again and this time something happened. “It worked, Mrs. Grey. It’s coming. You got to help my girl push her child out.”

  Mrs. Grey got behind Laura, holding her up in the bed to help her to push the baby out. With a scream from Laura, the baby slid out.

  Wilma held the baby gently but it didn’t move. She looked up at Mrs. Grey with tears streaming down her face. “We were too late.”

  Mrs. Grey moved faster than her years should have let her. Grabbing the baby, she turned it upside down and delivered a good smack to its bottom. Wilma took a step back as if she thought Mrs. Grey had lost her mind. Maybe she had. Laura had lost so much already having suffered terribly at the hands of her first husband. She and her new husband Paul Kelley were head over heels in love and wanted this child desperately. She wasn’t going to play any part in denying them their happy ending. Not if she could help it.

  The baby wailed but it was a weak sound rather than the strong cry of a healthy child. Then she fell silent again. She laid the girl on the bed as she examined her mouth. Putting her over her knee she gently massaged her back before giving her another smack. The child let out a weak wail of protest.

  “She's live. Miss Lorena, you did it.” In her excitement Wilma called the other woman her first name.

  “She needs her mama. She is very weak. Some mucus was stuck in her throat.” Mrs. Grey cleared the child's mouth as she spoke. Then she moved over to the bed and removed the top half of Laura's clothes before laying the baby gently against her mother. Laura didn't move, she had lost consciousness. The baby inched her way across Laura’s chest. “They need each other now.” Mrs. Grey's tears caused her voice to wobble.

  Chapter 5

  While Mrs. Grey tried to get the baby to suckle, Wilma cleaned Laura's body and applied a layer of the foul smelling concoction she had made earlier. At Mrs. Grey's questioning look, Wilma shook her head. “The afterbirth’s still not come,” Wilma said. “This should help Laura’s womb contract and expel the afterbirth. Then I can use the herbs to help prevent infection.”

  Mrs. Grey kept a close eye on Laura who had yet to regain consciousness. Her pulse was beating but it was slow and erratic. She prayed harder than ever before. She had lost patients. It came with being a nurse turned midwife but this was different. Laura had made a deep impression on her, similar to that of the other orphans who had arrived in Clover Springs. She admired the way the young woman had turned her back on her previous life. She was a wonderful caring teacher and the town loved her. She wasn’t going to lose her without a fight. But she was also a practical woman. She knew from experience most women didn’t survive a birth this traumatic and Laura's case wasn’t helped by her weak heart. Reluctantly, she turned her face to Wilma.

  “Wilma, we best get Paul to come in. We don't know how long he has with them.”

  Wilma nodded, her own tears rendering her unable to speak. She moved slowly out the door to find Laura's husband. Mrs. Grey continued to guide the baby to her mother's breast. She was a firm believer in the strength of Mother Nature. Maybe the baby could reach Laura.

  Paul came in, his eyes dry but his face the color of paste. He moved quickly to his wife's side.

  “Can I touch her?”

  “Definitely. Hold her close and tell her to fight, Paul. Laura is a strong woman. She has everything to live for. A wonderful husband and a fine daughter.”

  “A daughter?” Paul's wonder showed in his voice as he gently rubbed his baby's cheek. “Thank you, Laura darling. I love you so much. We need you. Come back to us please.
”

  Wilma and Mrs. Grey withdrew from the room leaving the little family alone, Paul murmuring words of love to his wife and child. As soon as the door had closed, Mrs. Grey slumped against it, tears running freely down her face. Wilma gathered her close as they cried together. This was how Mary followed by Mrs. H and Davy found them.

  “Oh my God, is she...?”

  The women broke apart. “No, Miss Mary, she's not dead,” Wilma said softly. The “yet” hung unspoken in the room.

  Mrs. Grey daintily blew her nose. “We need to find some milk for the babe in case Laura's doesn't come in properly. Mary, you can see to that. Mrs. H, we could all do with some of your fine chicken soup. Our work here isn’t done. Is there any sign of Nandita or the doc?”

  Davy shook his head. “I sent Little Beaver to intercept Nandita on her way back from the reservation. Aaron has gone to town for Doc and Reverend Timmons.” Davy's voice fell silent as the women gazed at him.

  Taking a deep breath, Mrs. Grey gathered every ounce of strength she had. “Good. Reverend Timmons can christen the newest addition to Clover Springs. Now why is everyone standing around? We all have work to do. Davy, we need more wood for the fire and as much hot water as you can give us. Wilma, and I need a good wash. Nobody is to go near the patients. We cannot risk carrying infection into that room.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Grey.”

  She took one look at Wilma before taking her by the elbow and almost pushing her into the rocking chair in front of the fire. “You did a wonderful job in there tonight, Wilma. You saved them. You need to eat and rest now.”

  “Rest. I can't rest. That’s my girl in there.”

  Mrs. Grey put her hands on her hips. “You do as you are told. I am in charge here.”

  Wilma opened her mouth to protest but closed it quickly again. Mrs. Grey took a cover from the sofa and spread it over Wilma. “Rest your eyes until Mrs. H comes back with some soup. I will go check on our patients. Once you are rested and have eaten, you can take over and I will eat.”