It had taken several days to dig the grave site in the frozen ground for the slain men. It was so cold the men could only work in fifteen-minute shifts.
Joel voiced all their fears when he innocently remarked, “How come they can only work for fifteen minutes when Isaac and John are out in the wind all the time?”
Emmie wondered the same thing. The snowstorm would subside for a few hours, and then the snow would swirl down again in a blinding curtain. The soldiers had done all they could to keep a ten-foot trench dug around the stockade. If they had allowed the drifts to pile up, the Indians could have walked right over the tops of the logs in the stockade.
Normally today they would be wrapping presents and preparing food for a feast on Christmas day. She sighed and slipped out of bed to get the fire going, then pulled on her warmest dress, the worn blue wool one, and quickly combed her hair and washed her face in the cracked bowl on the stand by her bed.
She could try to make Christmas a little festive for Joel and Sarah. She would go to Jacob’s and check on Gabrielle, then see about what she could use for a tree. There were none on the fort grounds, but maybe Joel could find her a branch or something. Joel had been staying at Jacob’s for appearance’s sake, so Morning Song could take care of the baby. The added benefit of her staying at Jacob’s was her safety. There had been a few pointed remarks flung her way by some of the survivors of the massacre.
Emmie had caught Morning Song staring at Jacob with a longing expression a few times and hoped the young woman wasn’t headed for heartbreak. Jacob was still too buttoned up by grief to notice another woman.
By the time Sarah and Rand came into the kitchen, the room had lost its chill. Emmie looked up as Sarah sat next to her and pulled the teapot over to pour a cup of tea. Rand sat next to Sarah to pull on his boots.
Emmie studied Sarah’s drawn face. “You look as though you haven’t slept all night.”
Sarah sighed. “I’m feeling a bit poorly. My back hurts strangely. The pain seems to come and go.”
Emmie narrowed her eyes and looked Sarah over. “I think perhaps Dr. Horton ought to take a look at you. It could be the baby.”
Rand reared his head abruptly. “The baby? It isn’t time yet.”
“Not quite,” Emmie said. “But it’s not unusual for one to make his appearance a few weeks early.”
“I’ll get the doc.” Rand grabbed his greatcoat and hurried out the door.
Sarah put her hand to her back. “I did wonder. But I didn’t want it to be the baby yet. I’m afraid, Emmie.” Tears pooled in her eyes as she looked up. “I don’t want to leave Rand and my baby. What if something goes wrong?”
Emmie’s chest felt heavy, and she shook her head. “Don’t talk like that. Nothing is going to go wrong. Now you go get undressed and climb into bed so the doctor can check you.”
Sarah nodded and went to the bedroom. A few minutes later Rand and Dr. Horton opened the door and hurried inside. Both were red faced from the biting wind. Rand’s brown mustache and the doctor’s beard were coated with snow. Dr. Horton tapped on the bedroom door and went right in.
Rand stared blankly at the shut door, then sank onto a chair. “I’m so afraid, Emmie. What if—?” He broke off his words in midsentence.
“Sarah is strong. She’ll be fine.” Emmie had to cling to that belief.
They sat in silence until the doctor opened the door and came back into the kitchen. “The baby’s coming. Unfortunately Sarah is having back labor, so she’ll be uncomfortable. It may help to rub her back, or she may not want you to touch her. It varies from woman to woman. I’ll check back in a couple of hours. If the situation changes, send for me.”
He left a small bottle of laudanum with them in case the pain got worse. When the door closed behind him, Emmie and Rand went to the bedroom.
Sarah bore a wan smile and held out her hand for Emmie. “You were right.”
Emmie squeezed her hand. “The doctor says it will be a while yet, so try to rest while you can. We all may have a wonderful Christmas present after all.”
“Oh, I hope it doesn’t take that long.” Sarah moaned as she burrowed deeper under the covers.
Rand and Emmie tiptoed out of the room and shut the door behind them. “I’ll run over and tell Jacob and Joel,” Rand said. “Morning Song will want to be here too. And we may need her.”
Emmie nodded. “It wouldn’t hurt for Jacob to keep you company.”
Rand grimaced. “He may not be able to stand it after losing Amelia.” He went toward the door. “If Sarah wakes up and asks for me, tell her I’ll be right back.”
She sighed and sat at the table. A thousand “what ifs” rang in her head. What if she lost both Isaac and Sarah? She shuddered at the thought. Even losing one would devastate her. She just couldn’t think about it. She stood. She would keep busy and the day would soon be over. The baby would be here and soon there would be news of Isaac.
By the time she had cleaned the kitchen, Rand was back. Jacob, Morning Song, and Joel were with him. Jacob had baby Gabrielle wrapped up in a buffalo robe, and her blue eyes peered up at her surroundings as soon as her father unwrapped her. Joel carried John over and set him down to play by a bucket of toys on the rug near the fire.
Morning Song took off her cloak and hurried to the bedroom to check on Sarah. “She is still sleeping,” she announced when she came back out. “That is good. She will need strength.”
Emmie walked over to Jacob and held out her arms for the baby. Jacob kissed his daughter’s fuzzy head, then handed her to Emmie and went to sit beside his brother. Everyone seemed quiet and subdued, and Amelia’s spirit seemed to hover very near. Emmie knew no one could forget the terrible outcome of Gabrielle’s birth. As she cuddled the baby, her own baby moved for the first time in her womb. She gulped and pressed a hand to her stomach.
Tears pricked her eyes as she thought about what the future held for her and her baby. Everything was such a mess.
Through the long day Sarah’s pains gradually intensified. Joel kept little John occupied while Morning Song and Emmie took turns caring for Gabrielle and tending to Sarah.
Dr. Horton popped in several times to check on Sarah’s progress. “It will be a while,” he kept saying.
Rand and Jacob grew quieter and more strained as the day wore on. Several times when Emmie came out of the bedroom, she saw them with their heads bent in prayer. The wind, howling around the corners of the house and whistling through the cracks around the doors and windows, put everyone on edge.
After supper Sarah’s labor began in earnest. With Rand on one side and Emmie hovering behind him, Dr. Horton tried to give her a small dose of laudanum.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to risk any harm to the baby.”
He snorted, but he put his bottle away without protest.
Sarah did not let out one cry when the pains came but only gripped Emmie’s hand tighter. An occasional soft groan passed her lips. By ten o’clock the doctor had settled in with them for the night.
“It could be any time,” he said finally.
Morning Song fed Gabrielle one last time and put her down for the night, then pulled up a chair beside her friend’s bed. “Baby will come soon now.” She and Emmie took turns bathing Sarah’s face with a wet cloth and rubbing her back during the contractions.
Just after midnight on Christmas day, Sarah gave one last mighty push, and a tiny baby boy slid into the world. He squalled in protest when Dr. Horton wiped the mucus away from his nose and mouth. Emmie grinned at the strong, lusty protest. She wrapped him in a bit of flannel and laid him in Sarah’s arms.
Sarah stroked a fin
ger down his cheek. “Isn’t he beautiful? He looks just like his daddy.”
“I’ll get Rand now.” Emmie closed the door behind her and found Rand just outside the door. Joel and John were asleep on a rug by the fire. Jacob sat at the table with his head in his hands. He and Rand looked pale and haggard.
“You have a beautiful son,” Emmie said with a smile. “Do you want to see him?”
“How’s Sarah?” Rand asked urgently.
“Tired, but just as beautiful as ever.”
“Thank God,” Jacob murmured.
Rand shot through the door, and Sarah cried out and held out her arms to him. He went down on his knees by the bed and buried his face in her hair. She patted him and winked at Emmie, who closed the door behind Morning Song and the doctor.
Jacob’s knuckles were white as he gripped the table. “I have to go now.” He grabbed his greatcoat and ran out into the howling wind.
“Wait, Jacob,” Emmie called, but he just kept on going. She blinked back tears—there was such pain and grief in his eyes.
Morning Song looked at the door for a moment, then bundled the baby up. “I go home with the baby.” She wrapped her cloak around her. “Send John home with Joel in morning.”
Emmie was too tired to protest at the way it would look if Morning Song spent the night at Jacob’s alone with him. He probably wouldn’t be there anyway but would likely be at Amelia’s grave site.
Rand opened the door and stepped into the kitchen with his small son in his arms. “He seems big and healthy in spite of coming early.” He glanced around. “Where’s Jacob?”
“He had to leave. I think it was too much for him.” Emmie hurried to him and held out her arms for the tiny scrapper. “I think he needs to be cleaned up a bit.”
She had readied some warm water and strips of soft flannel. She had Rand pull the kitchen table close to the stove to keep the baby warm, and she quickly cleaned the little one and popped him into a gown. He was awake but made no protest at her ministrations. She wrapped him in a flannel blanket and handed him back to his father, who took him eagerly.
Rand gazed down into the face of his son with a look of awe and pride. “Sarah says he looks like me. But I don’t see it.”
Emmie laughed. “Then you must be blind. Look at that nose. And he has your dimples.”
Just then the baby yawned and moved his mouth in such a way that Rand saw his dimples for the first time. “Ma will be so excited to hear about him.”
“Maybe your family can come for a visit soon. This may be all it takes to heal the breach with your father.”
A shadow darkened Rand’s brow. “I wouldn’t hold my breath. Pa is determined that I give up what he calls my foolishness and come back to the farm. Ma says he doesn’t mention my name.”
“A grandchild can change everything.”
“Maybe.” Rand shrugged.
There was a sound from the parlor, and Joel came flying into the kitchen. His reddish-gold hair stood on end as he slid to a stop in front of Rand and the baby. “Let me see.”
Rand grinned and pulled back the blanket to reveal the baby. “Meet your new nephew.”
Joel gave a sigh of awe. “Can I hold him?”
Rand passed him over to the young boy. “He’s going to be pestering you unmercifully before you know it.”
“I’m going to be the best uncle there ever was,” Joel promised in a hushed tone. “I’m going to teach him all kinds of things, like where the best fishing spot is and how to play baseball.” He looked up from his perusal of his nephew with a sudden look of alarm. “How’s Sarah? She’s all right, isn’t she?”
Rand nodded toward the bedroom door. “See for yourself.”
Joel carried the baby to the bedroom as Emmie opened the door for him. Sarah looked asleep, but she opened her eyes as soon as Joel stepped into the room. She smiled when she saw her brother with her baby. “Did Rand tell you what we named him?”
Joel shook his head. “I forgot to ask,” he said with a sheepish look.
Sarah laughed. “His name is Joshua Joel Campbell.”
Joel gaped, and his chest swelled. “Man alive. If that don’t beat the dutch.”
Rand clapped a hand on his shoulder. “If he turns out as good a boy as his namesake, we’ll be very pleased.”
Tears welled up in Joel’s eyes at such praise from the man he adored. “I’ll try to be a good example.”
Sarah yawned, and Emmie saw her weariness. “It’s time for the new mama to get some rest.” She shooed everyone out of the bedroom and put little Joshua in his cradle.
Sarah smiled sleepily at her as Emmie plumped the pillows and straightened the covers. “I did well, didn’t I?”
“You did very well.” Emmie kissed her forehead. “We’re all very proud of you.”
Sarah smiled again and was asleep before Emmie could leave the room.
EIGHT
Two days into the new year, Emmie sat at the kitchen table up to her elbows in flour as she kneaded bread while Sarah nursed the baby. Emmie froze as the bugle sounded the long roll that meant troops had been spotted. Her hand to her breast, she held her breath as she rose and listened more closely. The bugle sounded again and she bolted toward the door.
“Stay there,” she told Sarah as she threw her cloak around her and ran out the door. From every home, people poured out the doors with looks of dawning hope. Jacob ran past her and she grabbed at his arm.
“Fresh troops are almost here,” he told her. “Phillips or Isaac made it through!”
Tears of relief flooded her eyes as she ran to stand beside Frances. Even Jessica and her mother were out. Jessica saw her stare and turned away. The troops flooded through the gates. They all looked nearly frozen. Most had frostbite patches of white on their cheeks, their mustaches and beards were thickly caked with snow and ice, and they all wore a look of intense suffering. Desperate to find Isaac, she looked frantically through the milling men and horses, but there was no familiar grin or shock of auburn hair.
Colonel Carrington stood off to one side, talking to the major who had led the men. After several minutes, he came to where the women were. “Phillips made it through on Christmas day. It has taken this long for them to get through the blizzard.”
Emmie caught at his arm. “What about Isaac?”
Colonel Carrington shook his head. “I’m sorry, my dear. He never showed up at the fort.”
Emmie caught her breath. She clenched her hands beneath the folds of her cloak. He must be mistaken. Of course Isaac made it through. He was wrong. She searched the colonel’s face, but she saw only compassion and understanding.
She took a step back. “No, you’re wrong.” She turned and ran across the parade ground. She’d find Rand. He’d know the truth. She found him giving directions to the men assigned to unpack the stores of supplies the troops had brought.
“Rand, I can’t find any news of Isaac.”
He put an arm around her and drew her off to one side. She looked up into his brown eyes and saw grief.
She put her hands on his chest and pushed. “He’s not dead. I’d know if he were dead. He promised he’d come back. We’re going to build a life together. Our own home . . .”
Rand pulled her to him and held her. “You’re strong now, Emmie, and you’ve got to face the facts. He didn’t make it. He was a brave soldier, and he’d want you to be brave now too.”
She wept against the rough wool of his jacket, but everything felt unreal. Isaac couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t accept that. “I promised I’d wait, and I will. He’ll come back. You’ll see
.”
“Let me take you home.” Rand led her across the parade ground as she walked woodenly back to their quarters. Sarah glanced up as she came in and stood with a cry. She held out her arms and Emmie flew into them.
His face grim, Jacob stepped out from behind Rand. “Our marriage can go forward, Emmie. I’ll make sure you and your baby are all right like I promised Amelia.”
She shook her head. “No, Jacob. You released me. I’m going to wait for Isaac to return.” She ignored the pity in his eyes as he turned away.
Isaac stirred and licked his lips. He was so thirsty. He sat up and stared at the fireplace across the room. Where was he? The last thing he clearly remembered was pitching into a snowbank. He had vague impressions of the dark face of an old man that swam in and out of sight and dim memories of tossing and crying out feverishly.
A door opened and the man in Isaac’s dreams came through it. He was short and husky with a beard clear to his chest and black matted hair. He wore a faded red flannel shirt, stained and patched in numerous places, and trousers so dirty it was hard to tell what their original color had been. He squinted at Isaac, then spat a stream of tobacco juice on the floor.
“Awake, are you?” He scowled. “What in tarnation were you doing wandering around in a blizzard?”
Isaac struggled to swing his feet over the edge of the cot. “What day is it?”
“Don’t believe in answering questions? That ain’t polite.”
“I’ve got to get to Fort Laramie. It’s a matter of life and death.” Isaac stood and swayed weakly. He leaned against the wall until his head stopped spinning.
“It was pert’ near your death. You was as close to freezing to death as I’d ever seen. And the fever that followed about finished the job. It’s a ways to Laramie. What’s so all fired important? I can see you’re a soldier.”
A Journey of the Heart Collection Page 33