Netty rose and slowly crept over to the mare. “Easy girl … easy.” She slowly held out her hand displaying a piece of carrot from her overcoat, a cache she kept stored in her pockets for the cows. The mare nimbly crept forward and greedily snatched the carrot. Netty released her lead rope from the branch it was hitched to. She looked around for the mare’s tack, spotting her blanket but no saddle. How can that be? Locating the mare’s bridle was not easy either. For some reason, it lay in the strangers hands. Perhaps he tried to leave the woods before he got sick, she thought. She noticed the absence of a firearm. Who is this man? He surely is not prepared to survive. Walking the mare over to the stranger, she ordered her to stay. Pulling the stranger into a sitting position, she grasped his hands and tried to pull him up to a standing position. She realized this was not going to be easy. She had to make him stand so she could get him over the saddle blanket. She could then lead his mare to the cow path and back to her cabin. Fighting gamely, she finally got him to stand, but could not get the mare to hold still long enough to lean him against her side and boost him up. Once, in his delirium he muttered the name Maggie. It must be his wife, she thought. She must be very worried. Netty was determined that Maggie would get her husband back in good condition. The thought of her being party to making another woman a widow upset her. Especially a woman as young as Maggie must be.
Continuing her struggle, Netty soon realized she needed help. The closest farm was five miles away. She did not think the stranger would survive being exposed to the elements for the amount of time it would take her to bring back assistance. She decided to risk bringing Baby back to help her. It was the only way.
By now, Netty sweated with exertion, her clothes soaking wet. She worried about getting sick herself, something she could not afford. Netty let her memory wander as she hurried down the cow path to the cabin. It was very odd, but she could not recall having as much as a sniffle since arriving at the farm. She frequently caught all manner of illnesses in the last decade. Being big and fat certainly had not helped. Back then even her heart consistently had palpitations. Funny how she just realized the palpitations had stopped. It must be because she lost so much weight. She recognized her muscles felt like rocks. That is what constant work did to you, she thought proudly as she reached the barn where the cows waited to be let inside.
Bursting into the cabin she called out to Baby.
“Sister upset?” her mind queried. Grabbing one of her own sweaters, she quickly wrapped Baby up, explaining what she needed.
“A Brother—in the woods.” The whisper sounded curious. Grabbing Baby’s hand, she opened the cabin door. Baby stopped, disengaged himself from the sweater and slipped his tiny golden hand back into hers, whispering in her mind.
“Come, Sister.” Mystified, Netty realized she had never seen Baby outside in the snow for long. She accepted the fact that he did not feel the cold quite the same as she did. But it was night now; and freezing. Having no time left to ponder on the latest Baby surprise, she swept them over to the barn where the herd still waited. She let them in, securing the door. They would need to help themselves to the hay tonight. And milking would come much later than usual.
Netty and Baby hurried back to the field, searching for the stranger. He was right where Netty left him, his mare nuzzling his face. Netty looked at Baby expectantly. Nothing happened. She then took Baby’s glorious tail and held it up in the air; still nothing. Why does Baby not fix him? Looking into Baby’s swirling eyes for an answer, she felt pressure in her mind as the golden aura flashed and the whisper shouted.
“It is forbidden.” Wow, Netty felt shock and frustration, rubbing her forehead. Since when does a whisper shout? Thinking Baby must have his reasons, she decided she would not question why. That question must wait for a more opportune time. She would just care for the stranger the old fashioned way. This time, pulling him up on his feet was easier with Baby’s help. Baby then held the mare’s reins as Netty soothed her and levered the stranger up across the saddle blanket. They slowly worked their way through the snow back to the cabin.
Arriving safely, Netty slipped the stranger from the saddle blanket, asking Baby to take the mare to the barn and bed her down with the herd, making sure he fed and watered them all. That was a big responsibility for Baby as Netty had never required him to do anything on his own without her being nearby. Glancing back toward the barn, she saw little Baby shuffling and bobbing along as he led the huge mare by her reins to the barn. What a sight, thought Netty, her heart swelling with laughter and affection.
Grasping the stranger under his arms, she yanked him into the cabin a few inched at a time. Pulling him over to Baby’s straw mat, she laid him down carefully, noting the ice and the snow were melting from his face. A nice face she thought in passing. Pulling off his overcoat and his shirt, she decided to remove everything. Quickly she took a towel and rubbed him down. His body trembled with chills. She modestly toweled around his manhood as Baby startled her, peering around her skirt.
“Wet Brother on my bed, Sister,” her mind whispered.
“Yes Baby, this man is very sick. You must heal him. We can then send him home to his wife who misses him and is probably very worried.” No whisper came to her head.
She covered the stranger with a blanket and put a pot on the fire to start a healing broth. While the broth simmered, she went to the barn to check on the livestock and do the milking. Entering the cabin after her chores, she quickly poured the fragrant broth into a bowl for the stranger. While it cooled, she took stock. He had no firearm, no money (she thoroughly inventoried his belongings) and few supplies that would normally be necessary to survive in this weather. She also discovered a huge swelling over his right ear. As she undressed him, she discovered his left side sported a huge black and blue mark that she knew would be very tender to the touch. She began to wonder if he had been bushwhacked and robbed. If so, the fact that he lived showed Lady Luck favored him well. Usually they would just shoot their victims and take everything. Noticing the broth was now cool, she carefully tried to spoon it into the man’s mouth. It was a toss-up what got the most, the man’s mouth or his neck. But his shivering seemed to have abated. She put the bowl aside, realizing he might be in better condition than first thought.
Covering the man tightly, she went for another blanket, hearing him murmur Maggie as she tucked him in. As she watched him dozing more fitfully, she realized she must now take the time to pin down Baby. Tired of putting it off for so long, she prepared to formulate the questions. The appearance of the stranger merely exacerbated her need to know. She glanced at Baby who made himself comfortable on a rug in front of the fire, his mysterious tail glinting as it lay wrapped around his chubby abdomen. Sitting down next to him, she took a deep breath and asked.
“Baby, where do you come from?”
“Oolaha,” the whisper casual.
“Oolaha; what is Oolaha? Is that a name? The town near your woods?”
“I do not understand, Sister,” the whispered aura stated.
“I asked you where you came from. Where did your family live?”
“Oolaha.” Again, the whisper came. Netty, feeling frustrated, changed the subject. Taking Baby’s hands in hers, she looked him directly in his amazing eyes.
“Why do you not want to heal him?”
Softly, hesitantly, the whisper said, “It is forbidden.”
“Who has forbidden it?”
“The Elders, the Womb.”
“But you told me you were an Elder, Baby. And you healed me.”
“A grave error, Sister.” The aura of golden colors in her mind flashed intermittingly.
“A mistake, Baby? I’m a mistake?”
“No, no,” the whisper protested. “Sister is my Sister! Sister will be my Sister forever. Just Baby and Sister; forever and forever and forever and forever and forever and forever.” The whisper sang; golden colors so bright her mind flinched.
“Shush, there, there, Baby, it will be
fine.” Netty could not follow anything Baby said, but it clearly upset him. So, she just gave up. Baby filled her new life with such happiness and she filled her life with such hard satisfying work that she decided the mystery could wait. Checking on the stranger one last time, she scooped Baby into her arms and wearily went off to bed. As her eyes shut, she felt Baby cuddle up to her tummy, as always. Closing her eyes, her last thought echoed with praise and thanks to God for gifting her with such a precious creature; her confusing, beautiful Baby.
The next morning Netty rose quickly, instructing Baby to stay in the bedroom for today, trying to impress upon him the necessity for secrecy. She quickly lit the fireplace and started a kettle for hot water. Checking on the stranger she saw he was still sleeping. Quietly, she tiptoed back to her bedroom to change. As she washed up, she looked at herself in the mirror and did a little daydreaming. The stranger’s handsomeness woke some mighty strange feelings within her, even in his present condition. She realized he was probably married, but wondered how attractive a man might find her. Oh, silly, she thought. Laughing to herself, she dipped her wash cloth in the water, wringing it out. She reached down to scrub her bottom as she wondered what to make for lunch.
“Ow … my gosh.” Trembling she reached behind her and felt something emerging from her tailbone. It was a lump the size of an apple. Fearfully, she pressed down on it, expecting it to burst. No, it felt solid but spongy and swollen. She felt some mild pain, but using a hand mirror, she did not see any redness. Nervously, she worried about getting sick. She just could not afford it. So much has to be done on the farm, even in the winter. Only a minor miracle helped her manage to accomplish this much on her own. Ruefully, she realized her good health might fail her, putting an end to her good fortune.
Her mind now preoccupied, she said goodbye to Baby with a hug and returned to the other room to discover the stranger conscious and beginning to move. Turning his head toward the noise of her bedroom door shutting, he stared at her.
“Who are you? Where am I?” Netty stood speechless as the stranger’s unwavering gaze invited an explanation. His eyes shot guileless ice blue beacons at her, creating an unexpected moment of vulnerable intimacy. Transfixed and a bit flustered, she brought a chair to the straw bed and sat down before him.
“My name is Netty Doyle. I found you in my field. You were unconscious and feverish so I brought you and your mare to my cabin. Your mare is in my barn. She is safe and well fed.” Netty shifted uncomfortably in her chair, the stranger’s gaze causing her to fidget. “I found very little at your camp site. Perhaps you could tell me who you are?”
The stranger struggled to sit up. Blushing beet red, he turned to her.
“Where are my clothes, madam?” Netty blanched, bounding to the other side of the fireplace to remove them from the rope line where she hung the laundry in the winter. Apologizing, she returned to the stranger and set his clothes next to him on the bed. She dropped her eyes before addressing him again.
“Who are you, sir?”
The stranger smiled, a lazy grin belying the formal tone of his voice.
“Forgive me, Mrs. Doyle, my manners are not normally so poor. I must thank you for rescuing me. My name is Wil. Wil Capaccino. My family hales from the town of Boontown in Norris County.” Netty cringed visibly at the mention of Norris County. Mr. Capaccino seemed not to recognize her name. Doyle was a common Irish name but Robert was well known throughout the county. With visible relief, she noticed Mr. Capaccino’s eye lids sinking. Within minutes, his soft snore resounded through the cabin.
The morning passed quickly with Mr. Capaccino waking periodically to take some broth and fall back asleep. Netty itched to hear more from her accidental guest. She could tell from the cut of his clothes and the calluses on his strong hands, his living was forged with hard work. The manner of his speech showed him to be educated, but of the country classes. Just like her. It somehow made her feel more comfortable. She was not a huge judge of character but she sensed an honesty and sweetness in him.
Netty wondered how long it would take him to gain his strength. By the looks of his health, she thought he would be up and on his way in a few days. Some of her gratifying meals were bound to help. Netty’s main concern centered around Baby. If he must stay cooped up in her bedroom for long, he would surely be getting hungry. He needed to get outside to eat. Thinking of Baby eating made her remember dinner. She would make her famous bean stew with fresh butter milk biscuits. And if they had enough flour left, she would make an apple cobbler, just the way her mama did. After all, they did not have company for dinner very often. Well, never actually. Smiling, she bustled around the kitchen until the sound of Mr. Capaccino’s voice drew her to his bedside.
“Eh, Mrs. Doyle, I need, uh, I mean I need to, ah, where is your outhouse?”
“Mr. Capaccino. You are much too weak to go out in the snow just yet. I can prepare something that will make do.” Crossing the room, she picked up a blanket and returned to his bedside. She looked down on his face, bright red with embarrassment, and said, “Mr. Capaccino, I have already seen everything you have.” Handing him a jar, she held the blanket up as he relieved himself. Taking the jar from his hand, she went to the door and dumped it off her stoop.
After preparing a hot bath for Mr. Capaccino in her pig iron tub in the corner of the cabin, she helped him rise from the straw bed. She saw he was still unsteady but able to creep to the tub with her help.
“Mrs. Doyle, if you please?”
“Of course, Mr. Capaccino.” Modestly turning away, she found busy work in the kitchen. “Mr. Capaccino, I would be very pleased if you could join me for some tea and corn bread muffins when you are finished there.”
“It would my pleasure, madam. Something sure smells good.”
Netty hurriedly set the table for the two of them. She slipped into her bedroom to give her radiant lush hair a quick adjustment, sweeping it up again into a ponytail. Running to her bed, she lifted the covers to find Baby relaxing.
“Sister’s face is red. Does Sister need my help?”
“No, Baby, everything is just fine. I will be talking to our guest until bedtime. Will you please stay here? This is where you will be safe.” Netty then remembered. “Baby, do you need to eat? I can try to figure a way to sneak you out the door?”
“No Sister, tomorrow will be fine.” And with that, Netty skipped out to the kitchen.
She came upon Mr. Capaccino sitting patiently at the kitchen table, smiling expectantly at her. Her stomach did a flip flop as she quickly joined him. He had shaved his beard and regained some healthy color in his cheeks, making him look like an eager young boy. But as Netty well knew, he was clearly a man. Netty slowly poured the tea and passed the plate of muffins.
“Mr. Capaccino, can you now please tell me what happened to you? What were you doing on my land?”
“Mrs. Doyle, can you find it in your heart to call me Wil? I fear you know me much more than I intended.”
“Of course Mr., ah, Wil, and you must call me Netty,” she said shyly, unable to meet his eyes.
“Well, Netty, I was just passing through. Thought I would take a shortcut to town. My mare and I ran out of provisions. I do believe we became a tad lost. Seeing a fire through the woods, I thought to hale my fellow travelers.” He shook his head ruefully. “Next time, I sure plan to exercise more caution. The ambush did not take long. As I rode into the clearing, I got yanked off my horse so fast I jerked the reins right out of her mouth. They sat me on the ground with a rifle on me as they divvied up my money and my gear. I think the plan was to take my horse and shoot me but they were frightened off by a voice in the nearby field. I assume that may have been you, Netty. One of the bandits clubbed me in the face as he ran. Luckily, they left my horse and a lantern. The fire was of no use. Having placed it under a snow covered tree, the heat loosened the snow and quickly smothered the flame. We survived the night praying for your voice again. Hoping you would find us. I don’t know how long
I was out, but my wish came true. You saved us, Netty.”
“Oh, Wil … how terrible.” Placing her hands over his, she sighed, “And your poor wife, Maggie, she must be beside herself.”
“Maggie? You know about Maggie?” Wil burst out laughing. He was laughing so hard, Netty jerked her hand back in surprise.
“No, no, Netty.” Still laughing, Wil announced, “I am so sorry, I am not married to Maggie. She’s my horse. She is my girl, though.” With unexpected relief, Netty refilled their cups and got up to stir the evening stew. Attempting to hide her embarrassment, she changed the subject.
“Wil, would you care to check on Maggie after dinner tonight? I have to go to the barn to milk the cows, anyway.” Netty neglected to turn them out to pasture this morning, being preoccupied with her guest.
“I gratefully accept your offer, Netty. And if you do not mind, I think I need to lay down now.” As Wil rose, Netty rushed to help him. Waving her off, he made his way carefully to the bed on his own. Easing himself down on the bed, Netty heard him take a deep breath.
“I must be really under the weather. I had the dangest dreams last night. I dreamed I saw a golden deer, or was it a cat? What a fantastic creature. Its eyes contained rainbows, Netty. Is that not a crazy dream?”
“That is what happens when you are sick with delirious tremors,” Netty held her breath. Wil did not question her explanation. He would only be here for another day or so and be on his way, Netty told herself. Her secret will be safe.
Later, over a long hearty dinner, Wil and Netty got to know each other. Netty explained how she inherited the family farm, omitting gruesome details, while Wil shared his dreams for his future. After dinner Netty allowed Wil to clear the table. He seemed to be gaining strength, rapidly. The dishes were soon stacked and put away.
Baby Page 6
