Prairie Hearts

by J. B. Marsden

  “Where are the young’uns?”

  “Josh took them out to play.”

  “I want them to see their new brother.”

  James, holding a squirmy Permelia, looked to Carrie, who nodded. It was too soon to know whether this babe would prosper.

  The boys and Gerta ran into the cabin straight for the small bundle lying in Laura’s arms.

  “Don’t be yelling. Your momma’s been through an ordeal,” James admonished.

  They immediately quieted.

  Josh was the first to touch the babe’s head. “He looks kinda puny, Momma.”

  “Aye. He needs special loving to grow strong.”

  Gerta, wonder in her eyes, crept into the bed next to Laura and cautiously patted the babe’s face. “Dolly?”

  “No honey. This is your new brother.”

  “Bwother. I like him.” She smoothed the babe’s hair and jabbered with him. His eyes opened. “He looked at me, Momma.”

  “What’s his name?” Sam asked.

  James placed Permelia on the floor near the toys where she promptly played with blocks. “Your momma and I thought hard on what name to give a boy. We decided on Adam.”

  “Like in the bible?” George asked.

  “Just like Adam in the bible.” James gathered the children for their very late breakfast of porridge. “Leave your momma to rest with Adam. She’s mighty tuckered out.”

  Emma did some knitting from her bed, worried about Laura’s early birthing and whether Carrie could midwife without her to encourage and assist.

  After fixing herself a midday meal, she dutifully returned to bed. Pondering her conversation with Carrie about having a wee one in the house, she couldn’t shake a sense of her foreboding. How would they explain the presence of a child in the household of two women? She hated the idea of having to explain how she’d become pregnant. Of course, their friends knew the story, but new pioneers arrived every month, and she imagined herself the center of strangers’ gossip. They couldn’t make up a tale of a lost or dead husband. She dreaded how she and Carrie would handle all that, not to mention the other problems they talked of a few nights ago.

  But then she imagined holding a wee babe to her breast, stroking its hair, and singing lullabies she learned from her mother. Watching the child take its first steps, say its first words, learn to read by candlelight with their primer.

  In all these images, the child was a girl with her own dark hair and Carrie’s sweet disposition. But how could that be? Carrie had nothing to do with this child. More like it may have Conner’s disposition. Be bent toward rages and violence. Be unable to forebear the cuts of life, with its disease and death. But that was the old Conner. He was reformed. A gentler man. Given to real support for Dolly. Grateful for their help when Dolly miscarried. He was the rightful father.

  Oh, what should we do?

  Her eyes drooped with these thoughts that turned into a dream that their babe came out snarling. She woke suddenly in a panic, then remembered it was but a dream.

  Carrie came into the bedroom, tiredness seeping from her every pore.

  “How did Laura fare?”

  Carrie slumped down beside the bed and told the tale of Adam’s birth.

  Emma’s eyes got wider by the minute. She let Carrie reveal the complete story before asking any questions, knowing how taxing a time Carrie, Laura, and the babe had had. “He will live?”

  Carrie rubbed her eyes and sighed. “I don’t rightly know. He suckled and slept when I left. The young’uns crowded around wanting to pet him.” She stretched her shoulders. “I didn’t come straight here, but hightailed it to Moose’s. Nancy’ll go to stay with them down at Moss Creek for a while, Laura being too weak to do much yet. Nancy knows the older boys and loves ’em, so she was the most able to do it. Susannah and Elizabeth have their own little tykes to look after now. Neither of them can take on extry work.

  “Then I went by Conner’s. I asked Dolly to come help us while you’re abed. She’s coming three days a week starting on the morrow, to clean house and such. I figured with her around, you’d be more likely to rest like I asked you to.” She gave Emma a sheepish look.

  Kenning Carrie’s ploy, Emma didn’t know whether she liked it or not. “That’s sneaky to ask Dolly to come by.”

  Yawning, Carrie shrugged. “Can’t be helped. I know you. I bet you got up while I was down the trace.”

  Not returning Carrie’s gaze, Emma shrugged. “Mayhap. I got up only long enough to eat something. Have you had any food today?”

  “Scoot over, honey. I’ll eat anon. I’m beat to a frazzle. I’m gonna take a little snooze, then do the milking. Them goats and Millie are full to bursting since I didn’t get to them first thing.” She lay down and snuggled next to Emma and slept.

  Emma tenderly ran her fingers through Carrie’s untidy braid. She whispered, “I’m so proud of you,” then kissed her temple and went back to the knitting she’d started earlier.

  So, Dolly would come to them.

  Carrie had the gardens to plan, as well as taking care of the chickens, Millie and the goats, making calls to the sick, chopping wood, and toting water.

  Dolly was as good as her word, cleaning, doing the laundry, churning butter, and tending to Emma Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. She also brought eggs whenever they had extra. “From my husband,” she said every time.

  Emma hated that Dolly had to be there. She huffed and sputtered, stewed and pouted. She cajoled, nuzzled Carrie’s neck, and tried all her wiles, to no avail. Carrie would not budge.

  She sighed yet another day, with birds twittering, the sun shining brightly into the cabin windows, and her, docilely knitting or darning from bed, while Dolly whirled around gaily wiping down, sweeping, or cooking, and all in Emma’s home.

  Her cabin had been invaded and she was treated like a babe, all due to the ghost of Mabel Good, a woman now long dead, who held thrall over Carrie’s memory of Mabel not losing even one woman under her midwifing care.

  First, Emma was skeptical. She expected a midwife to be a help, but to never lose one woman? Hardly to be believed. Second, Carrie was overprotective, she was sure of it. Emma’d never cajoled any woman to stay abed amid the frets of small children, husbands, and all the work they entailed.

  “I reckon all’s set to rights for this day,” Dolly said, wiping her hands on a rag with a big smile. The supper bubbled on the hearth. “Here’s your tea.”

  Emma squeezed out a polite smile for her but wanted really to wipe that sunny look off the woman’s face. It wasn’t Dolly’s fault, after all. She did a good job. The cabin gleamed after the thorough spring cleaning she and Carrie’d done. They washed curtains and wiped down walls, scoured floors with whetstones, aired bedding, stuffed mattresses with fresh shucks, swept the fireplace, and then scrubbed it, too.

  Emma conceded her bulk would not have let her kneel on the floor or stoop over the cauldron on wash day. But heaven sakes, to have to watch it go on from her open bedroom door and not be able to lift a finger…It was more than could be borne some days.

  Poor Carrie. She tried her best not to complain, yet Emma spat out the odd snappish comment. Darn her, Carrie didn’t flinch and didn’t give an inch. In return, Emma received doting strokes on the cheek and cooing words. Emma had to just put up with it.

  Her brightest spot in her dull existence came the day when Laura brought the children for a visit. They all piled into the cabin. She was never so glad to have a break from the unending monotony of lying abed, even if they did all chatter like magpies, wanting to show her their new brother.

  She gasped a little to see the very tiny Adam, all red and wrinkly, chewing on his fist.

  “He’s eating reg’lar every day. Has grown a few pounds. Hasn’t cooed much, but sets up quite a holler.”

  “Aye,” Sam added. “He cries a lot. And he eats all the time. Then he sleeps. And cries again when he wakes up. Just like Permelia did.”

  Laura placed him, bundled against
the chill of April, into her arms, all baby warm, smelling of lavender soap and milk. Petting his head, so small it fit in her hand, she stroked his very black, thick hair. “He looks like Carrie.”

  “No he don’t…doesn’t, Aunt Emma. He looks like Poppa,” Sam announced. “Aunt Carrie’s a girl and he’s a boy, so he looks like Poppa.”

  “I see your logic.” Emma smiled indulgently.

  “You go on outside now.” Laura patted his rump. “Where’s Carrie?”

  “She’s trading down at Moose’s. Maple syrup.”

  “Her sweet tooth will eat you out of every bit of honey, you watch her now.” They laughed easily. “Dolly doing a good job, I see. The cabin has that spring-cleaned look about it.”

  “Those two made me crazy with their cleaning. Top to bottom, not one corner was missed, I tell you.”

  “I got the same down to my place until last week. Nancy Mumford like to make me dizzy spinning around dusting, cooking three meals a day, doing laundry and such. I’m pretty good now, but for a while I was weak as a kitten. I lay there nursing the babe, cleaning him up, and both of us sleeping in between. I was plum grateful for Nancy, even if it did grate on me to have her doing my work.”

  They heard Maisey trot into the yard, followed by boots on the step. Carrie swept into the cabin on a warm breeze.

  “Hey, Laura. A right nice April day. Emma, let’s get you out to the sun.”

  “Oh, thank heavens.”

  “Wait until I’m there to help you. Don’t want you falling over on me. You’re too chunky to heft anymore.”

  Laura took Adam and corralled Permelia, who was now fourteen months old, toddling with Gerta holding her hand.

  Carrie brought out a chair and a shawl for Emma, then gently led her to sit in the afternoon sun.

  “Oh, pure heaven.” Emma gave Carrie a hard stare. “I’ve been a prisoner in my own home. That sun feels so good on my face.”

  “Put this on.” Carrie handed her the wide-brimmed bonnet she used for gardening. “No skin will get red on my watch.”

  “Oh, you’re a sentinel?”

  “A what?”

  “Never mind. Thank you, darling. This will keep me from getting too much sun.”

  Carrie sat on the step near Emma’s chair and canted her head back, sighing. “Good to feel warm again.”

  “Dolly came and went today. Was not much needed doing.”

  “Aye, I met her walking along the trace. She’s bulked up a bit since she lost those young’uns and her babe. Poor woman. But I ken her good housekeeping,” Laura said.

  “I think giving her me as her special project has helped her out of her own blue mood.”

  “Mayhap. She does smile more, now I think about it. She made supper?”

  “Aye.”

  Laura let the girls toddle around the yard. “I wonder, has Dolly said anything?”

  “What do you mean?” Emma said.

  “Have you thought about Conner’s babe going to them? To Dolly and Conner. Their own babe?”

  Carrie looked at Emma.

  “Dolly hasn’t mentioned any such. But what do you think we should do, Laura?” Emma asked.

  “I can’t get into your business.”

  Carrie spoke. “I think Conner is a new man. Or mayhap the man he was afore his troubles with Pet and his young’uns all dying on him. I feel more and more certain the babe would prosper with them.”

  “You do?” Emma asked, sitting up straight.

  “James’s been down to visit Conner every week, pert’ near. He claims Conner’s come around to be a God-fearing man. Claims him a friend. Conner takes care of his little farm now, pays his debts on time, works from sunup to candle-lighting and hard, and doesn’t touch a drop of liquor. James went with him to get a new heifer from Dixson. Dixson let him have it on credit and James spoke for him.”

  “He did?” Carrie said. “Well, I’ll swan. Dixson’s pretty shrewd. I reckon if he did that, Conner must’ve come around to Dixson’s liking.”

  “Aye…Well, we best get along home,” Laura said. “Boys,” she shouted. “Time to go home.”

  They waved off the Stratton clan.

  “How did Laura look to you? And Adam?”

  “He’s so small. But he eats well. Laura had more health in her cheeks and Nancy ended her caring for her yesterday. I was glad to see her and Adam. Gerta and Permelia have grown so much.”

  “Good thing the older boys help. Laura has a brood on her hands.”

  Carrie eyed Emma. “Should we talk to the Conners? We need to decide anon.”

  “Aye, we do, sweeting.” Tears fell down Emma’s face. “I…This babe inside me. It’s so hard.”

  “Aye, honey. Aye.”

  Over supper, Emma decided to broach her confinement. “I am not bleeding, sweeting. Please let me do something. This life in bed, I’m so sick of it.”

  Carrie pondered. “Well…I reckon it would not hurt if you were up when Dolly was here. You could help her out. No churning. No heavy loads. No running around outside. No hard toil that may set you to bleeding again. And only for an hour or two at a time.”

  Emma rolled her eyes and huffed, then conceded that any time out of bed was better than none.

  In the waning days of April and into the first half of May, Carrie plowed the garden. She sowed peas and planted onions while Dolly watched Emma like a hawk, keeping her to washing dishes and peeling potatoes.

  Charles Winters plowed fields and the cycle of agriculture on the prairie began again.

  Unlikely as it seemed, Emma grew ever larger, and she could hardly maneuver, sleep, or make love with Carrie. But Carrie kept her word as well, making Emma as comfortable as possible, doting on her but careful not to smother her with tending and fussing. Emma’s time was near.

  Dolly and Conner arrived at the appointed time the last Friday in May for a talk.

  Carrie led them into the cabin and they all sat at the table. Carrie poured tea.

  They talked of the warming weather, plans for planting, and the need for rain.

  “I heard you got a new heifer?” Carrie asked.

  “Oh, aye. A fine one. Dixson’s,” Conner answered.

  The talk lulled.

  Emma looked to Carrie, braced herself, and spoke. “Dolly and Conner, Carrie and I have…We want to ask you.” Emma blinked tears. “We asked you over today to talk about something important. We’ve been pondering very hard about this babe I’m carrying.” She inhaled deeply.

  Dolly frowned. “Are ye well, Emma? Does the babe fare well? You’ve been abed some days now…”

  Carrie said, “She fares well. The babe is fine.”

  “Thank heavens. I fretted about it.”

  “I have as well,” Carrie said. “No, it’s not about how the babe fares. It’s about the babe itself, going into the future.”

  Dolly nodded, blinking. “Aye. The future.” She grasped Conner’s hand on the table.

  Conner said, “It’s my fault you had this trouble to begin with. I’m sorely grieved. We want to do whatever we can to atone for this.”

  Emma sipped tea. “This may come as a surprise…We hardly can believe we’ve come to this place ourselves, Carrie and I. We think it best for us and for you. For all of us…You may want…” Emma wiped her eyes.

  The cabin was silent. Conner and Dolly stared at their teacups.

  Carrie went on. “We, Emma and me, would have a hard time taking care of a young’un, with our travelling to sick and injured and to women giving birth at any time, day or night. We’d be hard-pressed to look after a wee one. And there’s the chance of making it sick, bringing home bad air from the sickbeds we tend and all.” Carrie cleared her throat.

  Emma said, “We’ve pondered it a while. What we have to say may be…” Emma closed her eyes briefly, then added, “We want to offer the babe to you to raise.”

  Dolly looked to Conner. Her face brightened. She whispered, “Oh. Aye. It ain’t no surprise. Conner and me…We talked about
asking you, but it didn’t seem fitting.”

  Carrie gazed at Dolly. “You pondered this babe as well?”

  “Oh, aye. Conner felt so bad when he heard about Emma’s…We both been praying for his forgiveness. For a way ahead. A happy way ahead for you, Carrie and Emma. It don’t…The whole business is so…”

  Conner said, “I want to make things right.”

  They were silent. The fire grate popped. Birds tweeted loudly.

  “You’ve lost so much,” Carrie said.

  Dolly’s tears streamed down her cheek. “Aye.”

  “Would you…Do you want this babe as your own?” Emma’s let her tears flow and choked.

  Dolly sniffed. “I can never have another babe. We…would love to rear this babe.” She wiped her nose. “If you think you can give it to us.” Her eyes held hope.

  Carrie pursed her lips. She spoke with a husky voice. “It goes hard for us, this decision. But…it seems fitting you raise this babe. You will never have young’uns of your own. It ain’t right for God to take so much from you. And this babe will make you happy, we can see.”

  Conner said, “Thank ye, Carrie. Thank ye. We love children. I promise we’ll be the best ma and pa we can be. I know I ain’t give you much chance to depend on me, what with…” He hung his head. He raised it and looked Emma and Carrie squarely in the eye. “If we can make amends by raising this babe, we’ll make it our life.”

  Dolly said, “Conner’s back to his old self. I hope you ken. I’m so happy about it.” She wiped her wet cheeks. “I thank God for ye. For ye being so open-hearted. For all you done for us. And for me.”

  “Aye,” Conner said.

  Emma inhaled, blinked her tears away, and poured out more tea. “How will we go about this?”

  They talked then of how the days ahead might proceed. Dolly would continue to tend to Emma until the time came. The babe would go live with them when it was weaned.

  A week after the talk with the Conners, Emma woke, her back throbbing. Carrie stayed her rising from bed and tended to milking and other morning chores. She persuaded Emma to eat a small bowl of porridge and drink weak chamomile tea.