The child turned to her, eyes narrowing with suspicion, and Matilda remembered then that the last time she’d sent her away to stay with another child her mother had died while she was gone. ‘I’m going to be fine,’ she said, forcing a wide, cheerful smile. ‘I think the baby will come very soon. Now, run along because I really need Mrs Jacobson.’
Tabitha wriggled off the bed and dressed in just a couple of seconds, sitting down on the back of the wagon to put her boots on. ‘I shan’t stay away,’ she said, looking back over her shoulder and frowning at Matilda. ‘I’m coming back to wait outside. I want to be the first to hold my little brother.’
Matilda tried to get up once Tabitha had run off. She had put everything that was needed in a wooden box and tucked it down at the head of the bed. She managed to roll over to get on her hands and knees, but then another pain came and she had to stay in that position.
She was still struggling to get the box out when Mrs Jacobson arrived. She was a big, stout woman in her early forties, with iron-grey hair, and she wheezed as she climbed up into the wagon.
‘What in tarnation are you doing, Mrs Jennings?’ she asked, finding herself presented with Matilda’s rear view. ‘That’s no position to have a baby in!’
Matilda managed to rasp out her explanation and the woman climbed right in, yanked the box out and laid Matilda down again. She lifted up her night-gown, laid gentle hands on her belly just as another pain came, and nodded.
‘He’s in a hurry, I’d say,’ she said knowledgeably. ‘So we’d better get ready for him. I’ve never delivered one on me knees afore, but there’s a first time for everything.’
The woman was very confident, and quick. In no time she’d laid the India-rubber sheet under Matilda, a cotton sheet, then thick brown paper, and found a pail for the afterbirth. She had brought with her string and a tin with browned flour in it, which she said was for the baby’s cord. She laid this with a knife and a clean white sheet to wrap the baby in on the wooden box and placed it by the bed.
‘I’ve just got to go and get someone to boil up some hot water,’ she said. ‘If you feel the urge to push before I get back, go ahead.’
She was hardly out of the wagon before another pain came, and it was so violent Matilda cried out. But even as the white-hot pain engulfed her, she remembered Tabitha might be right outside, and she bit into the pillow instead.
Pain after pain came, each one stronger to the point where she felt she would surely die. She felt fluid running out of her and began to cry, but suddenly Mrs Jacobson was back and she wriggled up beside her and laid a cool hand on her forehead.
‘You haven’t had an accident,’ she said softly. ‘That’s just your water’s breaking. I bet with the next pain you’ll want to push.’
She was right. The sensation came and there was no ignoring it, for she could almost feel the baby urging her to help him out. She pushed so hard she was grunting like a pig, and the older woman got right in front of her on her knees, took her two feet and held them up against her shoulders.
‘With the next one bear down hard on me,’ she ordered her. ‘Give it everything you’ve got, and then some. Remember my knees aren’t what they were.’
Another pain came and Matilda did as she was told, pushing so hard she was afraid she’d push Mrs Jacobson right out of the wagon. But she remained as sturdy as a rock, and encouraged her all the way.
‘I can see the top of his head clearly,’ she said, her voice rising with excitement. ‘He’s got dark hair. Now, think only of him and push him out.’
Matilda took a deep breath as the next pain came, then held it in and gradually released it as she pushed, her hands gripping the side of the bed.
‘That’s it, he’s coming,’ Mrs Jacobson said gleefully. ‘You’re a tough one and no mistake, he’ll be here before anyone even wakes up.’
The sun was coming right in through the back of the wagon now and the thought flashed through Matilda’s mind that anyone walking past would view the whole thing. But she didn’t care, all she was concentrating on was bracing herself for the next pain and delivering him quickly.
She pushed again with every ounce of strength and it felt as if she was being torn apart.
‘His head’s here now,’ Mrs Jacobson crowed. ‘Don’t push any more, honey, just pant and let him come of his own accord.’
Matilda rallied herself enough to prop herself up on her elbows. To her amazement there was his little head covered in dark hair sticking out between her legs. Another pain came and she panted, sliding down again on to the bed as she felt a warm, slippery, fluid sensation.
‘It’s a little girl!’ Mrs Jacobson yelled in excitement. ‘I could have sworn it would be a boy, but that shows how much I know!’
Matilda reared up again to see her baby in the older woman’s hands. She was dark red, plump and glistening in the early morning light. For a moment her stillness frightened Matilda, and she was just about to ask what was wrong with her when a loud, angry cry burst out, and she kicked out her little legs with some indignation.
‘Bless her,’ Mrs Jacobson laughed. ‘A little fighter, just like her mother.’
Placing the baby on Matilda’s belly, she explained she was ‘just dealing with the necessary’. Matilda neither knew nor cared what that meant. The pain had gone, she had a strong, healthy daughter. She would call her Amelia, Lily’s second name, the sun was shining, in a few weeks she’d be with Cissie. All was right with the world.
‘She’s made of stern stuff, that one,’ Mrs Jacobson informed Captain Russell an hour later. ‘Never made a peep, except to cry with joy when she took her baby in her arms. I hadn’t even got the water boiled up. But I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I expect you’re just like my man and think having a baby is like shelling peas.’
‘I know it isn’t,’ he said, looking towards the Jennings’ wagon and wishing he had the right to go in there and tell her how proud he was of her. ‘I just thank the Lord she was spared the suffering most women have. She’s had more than her share already.’
For a moment the two of them just stood there smiling at one another. Until this moment they’d passed no more than a few dozen words with one another on the journey, with nothing more in common than that they both wanted to get to Oregon quickly and safely. Mrs Jacobson was plain, fat and prematurely old from farming and bearing nine children, and her only ambition was that her children should have a better life than the one allotted to her.
He was ruggedly handsome, lean and tough, born into wealth he’d walked away from. He took each day as it came, and he had no ambitions for he’d seen too many die without fulfilling theirs. But they were now linked by shared admiration and his affection for Matilda, and he was euphoric that she’d come through the perils of childbirth safely.
‘Go and see her,’ Mrs Jacobson said, suddenly aware that the Captain’s eyes were misty. ‘Seems to me that you two loners have a lot in common.’
James stood at the back of the wagon, his hat in his hand. Matilda was lying propped up by pillows, the baby in the crook of her arm. Her blonde hair was loose, falling over her white night-gown and the baby’s head like a bolt of gold satin.
Over the years he’d seen many women just after they’d given birth, officers’ and men’s wives, relatives, and on wagon trains. But never before had he seen such serenity in a woman’s face, or felt such a surge of utter tenderness.
‘Well done,’ he said, suddenly shy in the face of such beauty. ‘I just came to offer my congratulations. I hear you managed like you always do, practically all on your own!’
She smiled, and her eyes were as blue as the sky above. ‘That’s not true. I couldn’t have managed without Mrs Jacobson.’
‘She’s like a dog with four tails,’ he said. ‘You’d think after nine of her own she’d have nothing left to say on the subject. But she’s off now, informing everyone. I guess we’d better lay over for a day and let everyone rejoice.’
‘I do
n’t think anyone will do that but me and Tabby,’ she said.
‘You’re wrong there,’ he said, hauling himself up on to the back of the wagon. ‘You’ve won yourself quite a little place in a great many hearts. Don’t know quite how you do it when you call folks arse-wipes and the like, but seems you have. Now, can I have a look at the little ‘un?’
She nodded and turned the baby round in her arms.
James didn’t want just to look, he wanted to hold the baby himself. He got up into the wagon and crawled on his knees right up to Matilda, taking her baby in his two hands.
‘As pretty as her mother,’ he said, holding her up and kissing her nose. ‘My wish for you is that you won’t be so hoity-toity!’
Matilda giggled. It was so funny seeing such a tough-looking man holding a tiny baby. ‘Oh, she’ll be that,’ she said. ‘I shall train her from the start, and to shoot straight too.’
He smiled, perched on the edge of the bed, his knees sticking up awkwardly, and cradled the baby in his arms, looking carefully at her. Her skin was darker than her mother’s and her hair as black as night. ‘She doesn’t favour you,’ he said, smoothing her hair tenderly. ‘I guess she takes after her pa.’
‘I hope she inherits his nature too rather than mine.’
James half turned towards Matilda, saw the tears in her eyes, and still holding the baby with one arm, with his free hand patted hers.
‘There’ll never be a better time to tell you that I know who he was,’ he said in little more than a whisper. ‘Don’t worry, no one knows but me, and from what I heard he was an even finer man than you let on. I’m only telling you now because I reckon you need someone to share that secret with right now and maybe talk about him. Am I right?’
He saw her face stiffen momentarily, then gradually soften, and a large tear rolled unchecked down her cheek.
‘We were to be married. He went to St Joseph just to find a minister and he got shot.’
‘That’s what I heard,’ he nodded. ‘I’m so sorry I tried to rile you back at the start of the trail, I guess I was just an arse-wipe too. But you got a friend in me, any time you need one. You got all my respect.’
‘Thank you, James,’ she whispered.
‘What, no Captain?’ he said in mock horror.
‘You can’t go on calling someone Captain when they know all your secrets,’ she said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. ‘And you’d better give me back my baby and clear off, before folks start wondering about us.’
Two weeks later, as the Indian guide held the canoe steady on the banks of the Columbia river, James gave Tabitha a kiss and helped her into it. ‘Be good, look after Matty, and God bless,’ he said.
It was raining hard, he could see the river was rising, and he couldn’t bear to think about the danger ahead in the Cascade rapids. But Matilda was adamant she must press on to her friend’s home, or be forced to spend the whole winter in The Dalles, and Carl had hand-picked the guide because he was the most experienced man in the territory.
James turned to Matilda then. She looked so small and frail under the India-rubber cape, her eyes were full of fear, yet she was still forcing a smile.
‘Thank you for everything, James,’ she said shyly, looking down at the baby tucked beneath the cape. ‘I really don’t know what we would have done without you. We’re going to miss you.’
James moved forward, kissed first the top of the baby’s head, then Matilda’s cheek. There was so much he wanted to say, but he was choked by emotion and the words he’d rehearsed last night just wouldn’t come.
‘I’ll miss you too,’ was all he managed to get out, cursing himself for losing his nerve now. ‘Trust White Bear. He may not speak English but he’s a good man, and no one knows the river as good as he does.’
‘Write to me?’ she said, looking right into his eyes and lifting her free hand to touch his cheek.
James nodded. But as he glanced around him he saw all the others who had come to see Matilda off. They had said their farewells under the shelter of the trees, and he knew he couldn’t delay her any longer. ‘Good luck,’ he croaked, and taking her arm, helped her into the canoe, bending down to arrange her cape snugly round her. He turned then to Tabitha. ‘I’ll take good care of Treacle,’ he said. ‘He’ll be on the raft with your wagon, guarding all your things.’
He thought it strange that he could manage to reassure a child about a dog, but that he couldn’t tell her mother that he’d fallen in love with her.
White Bear leaped nimbly into the canoe, picked up his paddle, pushed off, and the canoe moved swiftly out into mid-stream.
Behind James a chorus of goodbyes came from the other members of the wagon train. Some ran along the bank waving and shouting out last-minute messages.
James just stood there, watching the little craft skimming through the water. His heart was as heavy as the sky over head.
At four on a misty and chilly autumn afternoon four weeks later, Matilda was driving the wagon up a narrow, badly rutted muddy track. To both her right and left were meadows of tall waving grass, to her left the ground sloped down to a small brook. Ahead of her she could see a small log cabin and behind it dense woodland. The leaves were falling fast now, the ground covered in a blanket of red, gold, orange and yellow, and there was a smell of woodsmoke in the air. Nothing had ever looked more beautiful.
‘Is that Cissie’s house?’ Tabitha said, holding baby Amelia tight to her chest.
‘Well, it said “Duncan” on the board down there,’ Matilda said with a chuckle. ‘And it surely feels like we must be at the end of the trail.’
These last weeks had been a further test of her endurance. White Bear was an experienced guide, but it had rained constantly, the rapids were terrifying, and between being scared out of her wits, soaked to the skin and using all her ingenuity to keep little Amelia and Tabitha safe and dry, Matilda could only pray that they wouldn’t be drowned so near to their journey’s end.
At night they camped out in a crude makeshift tent in dense forest. Insects bit them, they heard wolves howling, imagined bears setting about them, and each time the baby woke yelling for more food White Bear would peer into the tent. By day Matilda knew this was out of concern for her and both her children, but in the darkness his silent movements and unintelligible language brought on panic and she wished she had defied James and insisted Treacle came with them. Tabitha caught a bad cold, turning hot then cold with fever, but still smiled bravely as if they were on a Sunday school picnic.
After so many terrifying patches of white water, long climbs down over rocks, with little Amelia strapped to a board on her back like an Indian papoose, Matilda ached all over for a bath, dry clothes, a warm bed, a cup of hot, sweet tea, and another English-speaking adult to reassure her it would soon be over. Only grim determination and the knowledge that if she broke down they would be lost, kept her going.
But they made it to Oregon City. The minister and his wife there took them in and at last she could have a real bath, dry napkins properly, feed Amelia in comfort, and pamper Tabitha as they waited for the wagon, oxen and Treacle to come down on a raft.
Autumn came in with a vengeance, bringing endless rain and cold winds, but safe in a real house, sitting by a fire, with the baby safe in her arms and Tabitha glowing with health beside her, Matilda could only thank God for getting them there.
It was still raining hard when the wagon arrived and many of their belongings had been damaged by river water, but Treacle’s delight to see them again was so very cheering. Matilda had only the sketchiest of maps to the Duncans’ house, drawn by the minister, only Treacle as a protector, but her old enthusiasm and optimism were back. The rain had finally stopped, the countryside was beautiful, and even the oxen seemed to sense they were nearly there, picking up a little speed.
‘There’s someone up there,’ Tabitha exclaimed suddenly. ‘He’s got red hair. Is it Sidney?’
As the boy began to move towards them, Matilda laughed. ‘It
is,’ she said, waving her hand at him. He faltered, peering at them and shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun. ‘It’s me, Sidney,’ she yelled at the top of her voice. ‘Matty!’
‘Matty!’ he yelled back with a tone of disbelief, then ran back to the cabin like a hare, screaming out for Cissie. The moment she appeared in the doorway with a baby on her hip, he turned again to run back down the path towards Matilda.
No reunion was ever sweeter than the moment Sidney held up his arms to help her down and she fell into them laughing and crying at the same time. He was firing questions at her that she couldn’t yet answer, and all at once Cissie flew down the hill, her child jiggling on her hip.
She stopped short by the oxen, looking up at Tabitha holding the baby in her arms. ‘A baby!’ she said incredulously.
Matilda nodded and reached up to take Amelia from Tabitha.
‘Where’s Giles?’ Cissie asked.
‘He was killed, Cissie,’ she said, hardly able to get the words out. ‘Just after my last letter. Before we could even get married. I had to come to you. You were the only person I knew would understand. I couldn’t warn you, a letter would have taken as long as me to get here. Is it all right?’
Cissie just gaped at her in shock for a moment. Suddenly her green eyes brimmed with tears, and shifting her own plump little dark-haired girl more firmly on to her hip, she held out her free arm for Matilda. ‘All right?’ she whispered hoarsely. I’d have been madder than a hornet if you hadn’t come to me. You just come on in, all of you’s, and tell me all about it.’
The log cabin was just one main room with Cissie and John’s bed in a curtained-off area, and a smaller bed and a cot at the far end, but after the wagon it felt like a mansion. There were two small windows, a plank floor, a table and benches, and a real stove. Cissie proudly informed them that John had made the furniture, and they were the only people around to have real glass windows and a stove. He was at the place where he was building his sawmill, Peter was with him, and they would be back around seven o’clock for supper.
Never Look Back Page 45
