by J. F. Collen
Nellie glanced at the birthing woman as Mrs. Rafferty uttered her name again. “Ugh!” Nellie involuntarily exclaimed. She gazed in horror at the scene in front of her, at first not sure what she was seeing.
The baby was entering the world bottom first. Nellie stepped forward to lend a hand as the midwife instructed her. At last, the careful handling of Mrs. Rafferty facilitated the shoulders, and then the head, entering the world right after the baby’s legs and bottom, without undue loss of blood. The midwife called for the scissors Nellie had recently sterilized, and she cut the cord and successfully tied it off. She handed the baby to Nellie who wrapped the slimy newborn in the soft linen furnished by Mrs. Rafferty as instructed, and began to gently rub the baby.
“We need a cry!” Mrs. Rafferty said. “Is she breathing?”
Nellie looked anxiously at the wizened bundle in her arms.
“Strike her on the bottom!” Mrs. Rafferty said, busy still stemming the mother’s bleeding. Nellie scrutinized the warm little wrinkled face nestled in her arms.
“Now,” commanded the midwife. I cannot strike her! Nellie thought. She lifted the baby up to her shoulder and dutifully gave her a firm pat on the back. The baby uttered a small sound—she was breathing!
Nellie gasped in relief. “She is breathing! She is alive!” Nellie practically shouted. The baby wriggled as if confirming her statement. Nellie stepped carefully over to the mother, cradling the precious cargo, and put the baby on the woman’s breast.
“Well now that’s just the remedy this mother needs, Cornelia dear. The little one on her breast—mother and child introduced to each other at last! You’ve good instincts me love.”
Nellie beamed.
“Our task is not complete. We now count fingers and toes, we check oxygen levels by looking at fingernail color....” Mrs. Rafferty took Nellie step by step through the medical procedures and pronounced mother and child in the best of health.
Another wave of adrenaline, spurred by the excitement of the event and spiked by the praise, bolstered her spirits and confidence, and carried her all the way through clean up. She assisted Mrs. Rafferty in settling the grateful mother to nursing. The pair soon slipped into slumber.
Everything tidy, the miracle of the birth floated her out of the tent, and onto the path to their campsite.
Nellie bounced along next to the midwife; nearly empty baskets lightly resting on their arms, chattering questions so fast, Mrs. Rafferty finally dissolved into laughter at the futility of answering. The midwife gave her a hug, shushed her to not awaken the sleeping members of her party, and bade her get an hour of sleep before the dawn preaching started. Nellie realized she had gone through the whole night without sleep, and with nary a thought of the early evening unpleasant encounter in the woods.
Was that just last night? she wondered.
Cautiously, she lifted the flap to the Van Cortlandt’s tent and crept inside. Someone had converted the sitting room into an overflow bedroom. As Nellie’s eyes adjusted she saw two canvas curtains, separated by a narrow hallway, rising, and falling in succession with the sound of disparate snoring. More snoring emanated from slumbering figures on the chairs. Nellie saw two sleeping forms on the floor. She recognized Augusta’s beautiful hair done in a sleep braid and laid down on the bedding arranged next to her, up against the side of the tent. She tried to close her eyes and relax, even though still fully clothed all the way down to her shoes.
It seemed that seconds later Augusta was hovering over her, touching her shoulder teasing her to wake up.
“I’ll wager my evening was just as adventuresome as yours.” Augusta laughed into her ear. “Come, arise, and disclose your escapades! I will match your stories with mine.”
Nellie’s eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright. She looked around in confusion at the tent’s metamorphosis. Transformed back into one large room, the tent was unrecognizable. With the canvas room dividers rolled up to the ceiling, exposing three beds cheerfully made with colorful comforters, sunlight streamed in from an opening in the back of the tent.
“There was another birth?” she asked in confusion.
It was Augusta’s turn to look confused. “A birth?” she scratched her head. “Oh goodness, I heard a babe was born. Mother was up with the sun, directing the cooking of flapjacks on the open campfire and gathering all the gossip.” She turned to Nellie in horror. “Oh goodness, do you think my early evening absence at our campsite was noticed? Oh goodness, that mitigates some of the delight in my exploits. Oh goodness....”
“Oh mercy, Augusta! Will you stop saying ‘Oh goodness’?” Nellie burst, clutching her aching head. “Yes, they did notice your absence, but I arrived just in the nick of time, and said I supposed you were at the young people’s campfire singing psalms, and I would join you there. On my journey to find you, I had a chance encounter with Midwife Rafferty. She could not find Clara, so I went to assist with the birth.”
“You accompanied the midwife? If that don’t beat the Dutch! How did you learn such a skill? I am so jealous! All I do is stitch and sing. I can’t even learn more grammar, Latin, or the classics the way my brothers do.” Augusta put her hands on her hips and looked perturbed.
“That is a whole other subject!” Nellie said. “I have been surreptitiously learning the secrets of medicinal herbs for two years. Birthing was exciting and awful at the same time. The baby was breech. It was very difficult. Midwife Rafferty is an amazing healer. There was so much blood, so much bile, so many bodily fluids....”
“Ugh! Say no more!” Augusta put up her hand and turned away. “If blood and bile were involved in the study of Latin I should cease to desire to study it!”
Nellie opened her mouth to say more, but Augusta again put up her hand and said, “Upon reflection, I realize I quite emphatically do not have any desire to participate in such a repugnant event. Perhaps not even when forced to—to obtain my own children. My word, such distasteful unpleasantness! Is it possible to hire someone to perform that task in my stead?”
Nellie giggled.
“But my goodness,” continued Augusta, “you must have had quite the experience. It is little wonder you slept soundly through the conversion of our little tent to its daytime form.
“And I thought you lingered later than me because Hannibal Rufus Calhoun cornered you.” Augusta winked knowingly at Nellie.
“He executed just that maneuver,” said Nellie. Augusta smiled.
“Fie on Hannibal Rufus!” Nellie exclaimed, her face revealing her distress. “I never want to hear that name again. No, no, don’t press me for details right now—it is not important. I see you are bursting with news of an adventure of your own.”
“I never could hide my true feelings from you Nellie!” Augusta said with a happy sigh.
“Nor would I ever desire that you do. Come, come, where were you into the wee hours of the night? Surely, your eyes would not dance with such sparkle from campfire singing alone.”
Augusta squealed. “Goodness no! The harmonies around the fire launched me into the most romantic evening of my life! I have met the most wonderful gentleman—he hails from the same learning academy as your beau Obadiah.”
Nellie blushed at the implication and looked down. Augusta picked up Nellie’s chin, forcing her to look in her friend’s eyes. “Spill the beans,” her friend commanded.
The traumatic events of the evening before merged together and swam before Nellie’s eyes. She shook her head and picked a hopeful thought to communicate to her friend. “Obadiah may very well be my beau! I happened upon him last night when I could not locate our campsite. He is not only charming, but has a wonderful sense of direction, and a logical problem-solving mind.”
“Cornelia Rose, what bizarre praise from an incurable romantic,” said Augusta, giggling.
The girls readied themselves for the day’s events in the back of the tent, in a small space made private by curtains. Gasping at the coldness of the water fetched by Augusta’s brother,
they freshened up and changed into clean blouses. Nellie joined Augusta in happy chatter, determined to keep the unpleasant incident with Hannibal Rufus from her thoughts.
Chapter 9 – Rescue Me
Campwoods, August 1848
The high of the night’s amazing, dramatic birth and the thought of future romance with Mister Wright propelled Nellie through breakfast with her host family. She chattered gaily, her heart full of happy energy.
But the task of stilling her body to sit erect, displaying proper posture, for the preaching lowered her defenses against fatigue. Sleep crept over her even before the day’s preacher warmed up to his theme. Nellie felt her head bobbing and jerked it upright, squirming in her seat. She looked anxiously at Augusta sitting next to her.
“At what time did you retire from your day’s labor?” Augusta whispered.
Nellie gave a giggle, and then clamped her hand over her mouth. Exhaustion made every twist of the tongue seem humorous. Augusta looked at her uncomprehendingly.
“It was night labor, not day labor, and it was not my labor, but the birthing mother’s.” Nellie giggled.
Augusta gave a patronizing squeeze to Nellie’s arm. “Always observing the clever turn of words, my friend. Methinks law or literary works might be better suited to you than science.”
“Playing with words is merely a trifling fun. Midwifery is my calling,” Nellie assured her.
“Mayhap your linguistic skills will serve you well when one of your suitors is called to the bar. You could match wits with the most erudite of men.”
“Instead of ‘quid pro quo’ it would be ‘quip pro quo,’” agreed Nellie.
“Precisely! You have proven my postulation,” said Augusta, giving a most un-ladylike snort. “Now if you can contain your interruptions, might I suggest that you retire to the campsite for an hour of rest?”
“You may suggest—but Augusta! You are familiar with my peccadilloes! I would sooner forfeit my best pair of gloves than miss an hour of the meeting. Is it not almost time for the first sitting of dinner?” Nellie tugged at a stray strand of hair and pulled herself erect into her best posture. Shoulders back! she could hear her mother say. In less than a minute she found herself slumping forward again, eyes closing.
Nellie pulled out her pocket watch and Augusta giggled at the expression of dismay on Nellie’s face. “Two more hours! That will never do!”
Augusta giggled again. She took out her fan and waved it in front of her face. “The heat alone could disengage a lady’s attention, without the added burden of blue-under-the-eyes fatigue.” She put the fan over her mouth and whispered conspiratorially to Nellie, “Come, as quietly as possible, let us make our way toward the shop-tents. I declare my spirit will find salvation more easily in a perambulation around stores crammed with fine wares than in this state of bored stupor, listening to this preacher.”
Nellie stifled her own giggle at Augusta’s sacrilegious twisting of their purpose here. But truth be told, the exhaustion from her sleepless night was relentless. She knew even if she stayed to listen, she would not hear a word of the news of salvation, but would continue dozing in her seat.
They stood and crept over toes and petticoats toward one edge of the open auditorium. They were only moderately disruptive of those seated in their row, and perhaps the people settled directly behind them, until Augusta lifted her eyes for one last look at the preacher a moment too soon and knocked a squirming toddler off her seat.
The child screamed. But the wideness of Augusta’s petticoats prevented her from seeing exactly what had gone wrong. Flustered, she inadvertently worsened the situation by stepping on the prone child’s hand.
The screeching escalated. All heads turned and the young ladies flushed crimson at the ruckus they had created. Thinking quickly, Nellie scooped the child up into her arms to comfort her, but that sudden movement, culminating in coming face to face with a stranger, only further distressed the girl. She drew in her breath and unleashed an earsplitting scream. Nellie winced, while the child kicked and beat Nellie’s head and shoulders with both fists.
“Unhand my offspring!” commanded a stern voice. Nellie looked down to see a bulky man with a huge bulging neck straining to rise from his seat to grab his daughter. Augusta snatched the kicking child from Nellie’s hands and dumped her on the lap of the man. He struggled under the little girl’s weight, knees groaning, his efforts to gain his feet thwarted. With a loud grunt, father and child toppled under the edge of the pew in a tangled mess of legs and ribbons. Augusta and Nellie bent down, determined to assist them back to the bench, but the man roared, “Be gone!”
In utter shame and embarrassment, the girls straightened and turned to run away, tripping over each other in their haste to leave.
Rrrrrrriiippp!
Augusta stepped on the back of Nellie’s dress.
Nellie looked over her shoulder in dismay, but they did not stop. Not until they entered the safety of the tall pines beyond the amphitheater did they pause for breath. Nellie pulled the back of her dress around and held it up in her hand.
“Oh Goodness!” said Augusta.
“Now don’t start that again!” said Nellie and suddenly they both burst into laughter. “You should have seen your face when you could not see the little girl, but you knew you made it worse by stepping on her,” said Nellie between giggles.
“Or your face when you looked down at the man with the bulging neck!”
“Or your face when they tumbled off the pew!”
“Or your face when you turned after we heard the loud ripping noise.”
“Yes sir, it was most amusing in-deed,” the southern drawl behind them immediately returned both girls to sobriety.
“Hannibal Rufus Calhoun!” Nellie exclaimed. “I thought you left this morning to return to Louisiana.”
Hannibal Rufus stepped out of the shadow of the conifer pine, and pulled Nellie’s hand to his lips. She snatched it away and stepped back. “Not when my prize was yet to be obtained.” He laughed and bowed in front of her.
Augusta stepped closer to Nellie, sensing the trepidation in her friend.
“I see before me two fair Northern beauties, so clearly at a disadvantage, having just caused quite the spectacle. It would be most foolish to not turn this situation to my advantage,” he said slyly and smoothed his mustache with his gloved hand.
Nellie and Augusta exchanged nervous glances, and backed further away. Unfortunately, that was exactly what Hannibal Rufus anticipated. He was inching them deeper into the silent pines. He leaned in closer, blocking the small gap in the underbrush out to the preaching area with his tall frame. Suddenly thrusting his arm forward, Nellie found herself pulled closely to his chest, her cheek pressed into one of his large brass buttons.
She struggled to pull away but Hannibal was surprisingly strong and held her tight. Luckily, he was also trying to detain Augusta with his other arm, so the two wriggling girls pulled together to detach themselves.
Nellie looked around anxiously for an alternative escape route through the thorny bramble around them. She twisted to the right and Obadiah appeared at her elbow. She rubbed her eyes. Am I imagining him? Is he a mirage? she wondered.
“Ah, there you are my fine damsel...appearing perpetually in distress,” he said.
“Is this fellow, I certainly don’t presume he merits the title ‘gentleman’, disturbing you ladies? Or perhaps one of you are desirous of this questionable attention?” Obadiah asked.
“Yes!” said Nellie.
“No!” said Augusta.
Obadiah looked momentarily taken aback.
“Yes, to your first question and indubitably no to your second!” Nellie hastily reassured him. With a surge of confidence and well-being, engendered by Obadiah’s appearance, she felt herself smile.
“Be gone you bounder!” Obadiah said, raising his voice, and stepped closer to Hannibal, his face grim and his fists clenched.
“Stand you down, Yankee, you have no
business interfering with my woman,” Hannibal said and stepped closer.
Obadiah held his ground, and met his glare. “Do not advance further, I am quite certain neither of these fine young ladies are ‘your woman’.” Obadiah looked back at Nellie to motion her to slip away. Hannibal Rufus took advantage of his opponent’s averted gaze to punch him in the face. Obadiah reeled sideways, knocking into Augusta, who tried to catch him but they both tumbled to the ground.
“Just as I thought, who is to stop me?” said Hannibal. Wearing a grim smile, he grabbed Nellie and pulled her toward him again. She dug in her heels and tried to hold on to a low branch.
It gave Obadiah enough time to scramble to his feet and say, “We Yankees do not crumble to a dandy’s sucker punch. I am of far stronger mettle.” He moved forward, fist cocked to cuff Hannibal.
Nellie gazed in horror at Obadiah’s bleeding mouth, then down at Augusta sprawled on the ground at his feet. Hannibal stepped backwards, dodging Obadiah’s threatened punch; Nellie felt him drag her with him.
“And Yanks always travel in packs,” said a voice behind the trapped Nellie. Hannibal suddenly found himself on his knees, the hand not pulling Nellie twisted behind him in a dead lock. “Or do they not teach you Southerners that?”
Nellie burst free from her captor.
“Nathaniel!” screamed Augusta. “Oh goodness, you are a sight for sore eyes! How fortuitous that you should appear.”
Nellie scurried behind Obadiah.
“By the sword you have excellent timing!” Obadiah said, taking off his cravat and tying it around Hannibal’s hands. The two ‘Yankees’ looked down at their captive.
“You have tampered with the wrong woman’s affections!” Obadiah said, grabbing Hannibal’s shoulder. “On your feet! I am taking you to the Sheriff.”
“I refuse to go. I have done naught off form,” declared Hannibal.
Nathaniel scoffed. Obadiah pulled the necktie on Hannibal Rufus’ hands tighter. Hannibal winced.
