by Linda Ford
Buck rode up, stopping only long enough to call out orders. “Get the animals hitched. It looks like more rain coming. We need to get across before that happens.”
The men hurried to bring in the mules. Around camp, the teamsters brought in the oxen. Shouts rang out as they yoked the big animals.
Breakfast was hurried, eaten mostly on the run.
They lined up the wagons in preparation for crossing. Luke and Gil stood at the bank, guiding the wagons forward.
Warren’s was first, Judith clutching the wagon seat beside him as they drove down the slope and straight into the water.
Donna Grace strained forward as the wagon began to float.
Her sister grabbed her hand and squeezed so hard it was all Donna Grace could do not to protest. She felt the same surge of fear, wondering if Warren and Judith would make it. Even worse was the knowledge they would soon follow. If their wagon tipped they would be thrown into the rough water. Donna Grace was not a strong swimmer at the best of times. Would her huge belly impede efforts to swim? Or would it make her more buoyant?
She didn’t want to find out.
“Will they make it?” Mary Mae asked as the current caught the wagon and it swayed perilously.
“I hope so. I pray so.” Dear God, help them cross safely. Each second stretched out slowly enough to make her head pound. She realized she had forgotten to breathe, and sucked in air.
Then the mules reached solid footing and pulled the wagon to the far bank.
Reverend and Mrs. Shepton were next in line. The reverend stood, his hat held to his chest and prayed for safety for each and every one. For a moment, the cavalcade was quiet and then the reverend’s wagon drove down the bank and into the water. The wagon twisted.
Mrs. Shepton squealed. The reverend prayed loudly.
Mary Mae and Donna Grace clung to each other. Luke charged into the water, ready to aid the Shepton’s. Fear stirred hotly inside her. If the wagon tipped over on top of him, he could drown. If he caught the mules to guide them, one of them could—
Her grip on her sister’s hand grew so fierce Mary Mae protested and tried to free herself.
The mules reached solid ground and pulled the wagon to the far bank.
Donna Grace relaxed her hand and Mary Mae curled and uncurled her fingers. “You almost crushed them.” She eyed her sister. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Would Mary Mae hear the tremor in Donna Grace’s voice?
“I understand why you’re frightened, but we can’t stay here. We must cross.”
Donna Grace nodded. Let Mary Mae think her only source of worry was crossing the river. She’d never guess seeing Luke in danger frightened her more.
And no amount of telling herself she didn’t worry any more about him than Warren or Gil or Buck, settled her thoughts.
“It’s our turn.” Luke climbed up to the bench. “Hang on tight.” Donna Grace doubted anyone could pry her hands from the wooden seat.
He turned to Mary Mae in the back of the wagon. “Hold on.”
Luke flicked the reins. They tipped forward, the wagon pushing the mules as they descended the slope. Donna Grace caught her breath and closed her eyes as they entered the water. The mules were soon up to their heads. The wagon floated. It twisted to the side and then jerked. Donna Grace was thrown forward. Luke caught her and pulled her back. “Hold on.” He let her go, his hands busy controlling the mules.
Donna Grace hung on and prayed. The wagon surged forward, carried along by the faithful mules. She promised herself she would personally thank them when they were safely on solid ground again.
The jostling started another spasm but thankfully Luke’s attention was not on her. After what seemed an eternity, they reached dry ground. The pain ended.
Luke studied Donna Grace. She wondered if he saw tension lines about her mouth and eyes.
“We’re safely across. You can be breathe again.” He rubbed her shoulder.
He’d taken the strain in her face as fear over the crossing.
She took in a refreshing gulp of air.
He withdrew his hand making it hard for her to let her breath out. He looked back. “I have to see to getting the freight wagons across.”
“Of course.”
“You’ll be okay?”
“Why would you think otherwise?” She would not interfere with his work.
“Would you admit it if you weren’t?”
She had told him too much and now he saw her every reaction as evidence that she heard an echo of her grandfather’s words. So she’d let him believe he was right. “Not likely.”
He laughed. “You think you need no one. Maybe someday, you’ll be willing to admit you do.”
“About the same time you stop trying to outrun your dreams.”
Their gazes burned with acknowledgement that they had reminded each other of the reason this marriage and their time together was based on hurtful things in their past.
Warren had unhitched two mules as Donna Grace and Luke talked and he led one to Luke.
“If you and Donna Grace are done fighting, let’s go.”
Donna Grace and Luke spoke at the same time. “We aren’t—” They stopped in unison.
Behind Donna Grace, Mary Mae giggled. “Sounded like an argument to me too.” She and Warren grinned at each other.
Luke met Donna Grace’s eyes. “I don’t intend to defend myself to my brother.”
“Nor I to my sister,” Mary Mae said.
The flash of amusement in Luke’s eyes and the way they warmed make Donna Grace duck her head.
Luke swung to the back of the mule. He and Warren rode across the river.
Mary Mae, Judith and Mrs. Shepton went to the bank to watch as the men doubled hitched oxen to the first wagon.
“I’ll stay here.” Donna Grace sat in the wagon where she could watch, but where she was out of sight.
It was noon before the crossing finished and Buck allowed them a brief time for lunch. “I’d like to make a few miles yet today,” he said. The sky had clouded over, but the rain held off.
“I think I’ll ride in the back,” Donna Grace said, as they prepared to leave. No one asked as to her reasons, which saved her from trying to come up with an excuse. She had no intention of telling them the truth.
Mary Mae opted to ride with Judith for which Donna Grace was grateful. The pains were coming more frequently, but if she rode alone in the back, no one need know. This being her firstborn, she expected it would be some time before the baby would make an appearance.
The contractions increased in frequency and severity throughout the afternoon. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as they grew stronger. She feared if Luke heard her or guessed her condition he would insist on stopping.
She would not be responsible for causing delay.
In an attempt to divert herself from her discomfort, she focused on the canopy above her. The rain had left ugly water streaks on the canvas. She shifted her attention to the trunk. Inside were the baby items she would need in Santa Fe. Please, baby, wait until then. Santa Fe, she admitted in a cloud of dark defeat, was weeks away yet. This baby wasn’t going to wait. Perhaps she’d known it all along, but hadn’t wanted to admit it.
A tear escaped and ran into her ear. She dashed it away. All she wanted was a safe place for the baby. Maybe she thought she would find such a place for herself as well, where she would be valued, even if she was a nuisance at times.
But from now on, meeting her baby’s needs was the only thing that mattered.
The next contraction took her in a grip that made her want to scream.
Luke stopped the wagon and turned around. “What’s wrong?”
Had the scream left her throat? She hadn’t meant for it to. “Drive on,” she ground out.
He continued to watch her, and try as she might, she couldn’t lay calm and still when the next one hit. She rolled her head back and forth and wished for it to stop.
“How long has thi
s been going on?” His tone held judgment and impatience.
The pain passed and she gave him a look as full as impatience as his. “There’s nothing to be gained by stopping. Drive on.”
He studied her a moment. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” He flicked the reins and they continued.
“Obviously I don’t,” she muttered. “Or I wouldn’t be in this situation.”
He chuckled. “Nice to see you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
She hadn’t meant for him to hear her. “It wasn’t meant to be funny.” She barely managed to get the words out between her gritted teeth.
How long did this go on? How much more could she endure?
“Are you okay?” Luke asked.
She couldn’t answer as one contraction transitioned into another. Her whole body consumed by it. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed.
Warm hands brushed her hair back.
“You’ll soon have a baby.” Mrs. Shepton knelt beside her. How had she gotten into the wagon?
Donna Grace concentrated. The wagon was no longer moving. Before she could protest at Luke stopping, her mind was diverted by a baby needing to be born.
She heard nothing but Mrs. Shepton’s calming voice. She knew nothing outside the confines of this small space and the demands of her body.
Luke’s insides felt scalded as he listened to Donna Grace. She wouldn’t thank him for stopping, but he couldn’t go on with her in such distress. Was she having the baby or had she injured herself in her fall? He didn’t know, and knew she wouldn’t tell him. The woman was so afraid of being a nuisance, she would suffer alone, rather than admit she needed help.
He snorted quietly. As her husband he had every right to make a few decisions for her good, whether or not she liked it.
So he had stopped and signaled the reverend to join him.
“She needs your wife,” Luke said. Mrs. Shepton would soon assess the situation and decide what needed to be done.
Mrs. Shepton poked her head out of the wagon. “Your wife is in labor. You won’t be able to go on until she delivers.”
Donna Grace called out. “I can travel.” Her words ended in a groan.
Mrs. Shepton shook her head to indicate to Luke that travel was out of the question, then ducked back inside.
Luke had no intention of going on. The trail was rough. No woman in Donna Grace’s condition should be subjected to the bouncing and jerking.
Buck rode up and inquired as to the reason for the delay. He listened as Luke explained.
Buck looked at the line of wagons passing them. “I need to get to the next stopping place where there will be water for the animals. You catch up as soon as you’re able.”
Luke nodded at the wisdom of Buck’s words.
Warren offered to stay, but Luke said someone needed to see to their wagons. Mary Mae wanted to stay too, but Mrs. Shepton had said the less commotion around Donna Grace, the better, so she went on with Judith, her face wreathed in worry over her sister.
Luke wished he could offer Mary Mae encouragement, but after listening to Donna Grace’s moans and cries for the past two hours, he was wrung out.
Her sounds of distress continued, but now with Mrs. Shepton offering encouragement.
The reverend took Luke by the arm. “Son, it could take quite a while. There’s nothing you can do now except wait, and keep water hot. Maybe make some tea.”
Luke built a fire and put water to boil, his actions so automatic he couldn’t have told anyone what he did.
His mind was consumed with listening to Donna Grace.
She cried out.
He jerked upright and headed for the wagon.
The reverend caught his arm. “You can’t go in there.”
He shook off the man’s grasp. “She’s my wife.”
“My wife knows what she’s doing.”
Luke faced him, frustration boiling within him. “Can you tell me she’s never lost a mother or child in birthing?”
The reverend shook his head. “I wish life was that simple.”
“Then how am I supposed to stand by and not do anything?” He took a step toward the wagon and stopped. What could he do? Besides stand by and wait helplessly, wanting nothing more than to make the cries stop.
The reverend removed his hat. “There is one thing you can and should do. Pray.” He waited expectantly until Luke removed his hat and bowed his head. Luke could not have repeated a single word the man spoke apart from the Amen, but remembering that God was present calmed his agitation.
He paced the length of the wagon and back. Over and over. The sounds of Donna Grace’s distress making his ears want to bleed.
The reverend perched on a stool and watched him.
The shadows lengthened. “Night will soon be upon us. We best prepare.”
The two wagons alone provided little protection. Making them as safe as possible was one thing he could do and he welcomed the task.
He had the reverend move his wagon against the Clark wagon. They unhitched the mules and took them to grass. He filled a bucket with water and carried it to the animals.
The reverend looked into their larder and pulled out biscuits and cold bacon and handed some to Luke. “Eat up.”
He ate mindlessly. “How long does this take?” He nodded toward the wagon.
“As long as it takes.” The darkness closed in upon them. The reverend lit a lamp and handed it to his wife.
Luke sat with his head in his hands. If he could take Donna Grace’s place, take her pain, he would. Instead, he sat there like a bump on a log, unable to do more than keep a fire going.
Wolves howled in the distance. He could also guard her against wild animals and evil men. He threw more wood on the fire, thankful they’d had time to lay in a store of firewood. He got his rifle and held it across his knees.
Donna Grace screamed, raising the hair on the back of Luke’s neck.
Mrs. Shepton murmured encouragement.
Donna Grace groaned.
He strained toward the wagon, trying to decipher the muted sounds.
A thin wail rent the air.
Luke came to his feet. “Is that a baby?” Not waiting for the reverend to reply, he dashed to the back of the wagon. “Is that a baby?”
Mrs. Shepton chuckled. “Congratulations, Papa. You have a little daughter.”
“Can I see her? Can I see Donna Grace?”
“Soon. We aren’t quite done. I’ll call you when it’s time.”
A little girl? Luke couldn’t stop grinning. His wife had given him a little girl. His wife? He went to the edge of the light from the campfire and stared into the darkness. How had he let his thoughts and feelings drift so far from what he and Donna Grace had agreed to?
The baby cried again and he turned to watch the flickering light against the canvas of the wagon. Donna Grace was his wife until such time as a judge said otherwise, and this little girl would have his name. It was all that mattered at the moment.
He remained there, watching and waiting, his heart beating hard against his chest as he listened to the sounds coming from the wagon. Donna Grace murmuring, perhaps to the baby who gave a thin wail.
Mrs. Shepton called to her husband for a basin of water. The reverend seemed to know what she needed, and took it and some towels to his wife.
Luke continued to wait, near to bursting with so many things—pride, relief and an overwhelming desire to see for himself that Donna Grace was okay.
Mrs. Shepton handed the basin back to her husband, and accepted his help down from the wagon. She smiled at Luke. “Your wife and daughter are ready to see you.”
Wife and daughter. The words sang through his veins as he carefully climbed into the wagon. The lantern sat on a trunk throwing light across Donna Grace’s features—all golden and bright, her smile wide. In her arms lay a tiny bundle.
He fell to his knees beside them. He touched Donna Grace’s forehead, felt the coolness as if she’d recently washed.
The edges of her hair were damp and he smoothed back the strands. “Are you okay?”
She chuckled and tipped the baby toward him. “Isn’t she beautiful? Perfect?”
He studied her. Dark eyelashes like half-moons upon her cheeks. Her little rosebud mouth moved as if dreaming of milk. Fists curled at the side of her head. So tiny yet so complete. A lump formed in his throat and refused to dislodge. His heart threatened to explode from his chest. “She’s beautiful. She looks like her mama.” His gaze went to Donna Grace. “You are beautiful.” Their gazes held, hers brimming with joy. He couldn’t say what she saw in his, but if she saw half of what he was feeling, she would know just how special and perfect she was.
The baby smacked her lips and they looked at her and chuckled.
“Can you tell Mary Mae to come and meet her niece?”
“They went on ahead.”
She grabbed his arm. “You stopped? You shouldn’t have.”
He smoothed her brow. “We’ll catch up.”
“You know I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.”
He studied her a moment. “I think you should stop saying that. Isn’t our little daughter going to hear it, and think you mean she’s an inconvenience?” He caught the tiny hand and stroked unimaginably small fingers, marveling at how perfect she was in such miniature proportions.
Donna Grace pulled the baby closer. “I will never say it again. My baby is not an inconvenience now or ever.”
Her response triggered a protectiveness as fierce as it was unfamiliar, and he realized he meant to defend this little girl from any criticism or dangers. “Do you have a name picked out?”
“I think Elena Rose after my mama and my friend, Rosa.”
Luke smiled. “I like it. How about you, little Elena Rose. Do you like it?”
The baby cracked open one eye to explore the sound of his voice.
Donna Grace and Luke shared a joyous laugh over the wee girl.
“Your wife needs to rest,” Mrs. Shepton called.
“My wife,” he whispered and leaning down, caught Donna Grace’s lips in a tender kiss. Even knowing he shouldn’t have done it, and didn’t have the right, he regretted it not one tiny bit and escaped the wagon as Donna Grace fumbled for a protest.
