The Prairie Doctor's Bride

by Kathryn Albright

  She also decided to get chalk so that Tommy could use his slate more often. Usually, she tried to conserve his pieces of chalk, but since he couldn’t move around much because of his injury, it would help to occupy him.

  While she collected her items, the door opened a number of times. She kept her nose to her business, uneasy that the store was more busy than usual. She’d chosen Wednesdays for her weekly trip into town particularly because it had always been the quietest day. Guess that was changing with all the women arriving on the train. That meant a good opportunity for the Gallaghers and their mercantile to make a heap amount of money as the women set up their new homes.

  Two women entered the store together and struck up a conversation with Mable. They were close to Sylvia’s age, although she had never seen them before, so she suspected that they were the Betterment Committee’s brides. Mable acted all sugary sweet to them, just like she did if the mayor or the banker came into the store. As the woman chatted, completely ignoring her and talking on and on about the fashions back East, Sylvia became painfully aware of her place as an outsider.

  They weren’t leaving anytime soon and she had another stop to make at the blacksmith shop. After waiting a goodly time, she squared her shoulders and marched up to the counter, laying her items out. “I’m ready, Mrs. Gallagher.”

  The two ladies stopped their chattering and turned to stare at her. Guess she was a sight. She’d worn her best blue dress. It was clean, but she knew the hem was frayed and one button was missing on the bodice. Instead of Thomas’s work hat, she had worn a bonnet. It was a simple cloth one that matched her dress. Adele had made it for her.

  “Hello.” She smiled tentatively.

  Mable pursed her lips, making it clear that she did not appreciate the interruption. She set her glasses low on her nose and looked over what Sylvia wanted to purchase. “I cannot sell you that,” she said and picked up the white thread, tossing it to the side.

  The one thing that Adele had asked of her! “Why not? It was in the bin.”

  “I promised all the white thread to Mrs. Taylor. She is busy making dresses for the weddings that are coming up. There will be five weddings and so she needs enough thread for five dresses.”

  “Surely she doesn’t need all the white thread,” Sylvia said. “When are these weddings to take place?”

  “You would know if you attended church. They will happen on Sunday in two weeks’ time.”

  The two other women watched the exchange with interest.

  “I have ordered more,” Mrs. Gallagher said. “It will be in at the end of the month.”

  “Maybe Mrs. Taylor would gladly give up one.”

  “Well, that’s not really my problem now, is it? You’ll have to take that up with her yourself. I promised all the white thread to her and I keep my promises.”

  The way she said the last inferred that Sylvia didn’t keep her promises. In front of customers! Sylvia’s cheeks burned with humiliation.

  She waited while Mable tallied up the bill. Once her account was square, she took her supplies out to the wagon, including the goat milk. Again, it took her two trips in and out of the mercantile. As she was leaving for the last time, Mable called out to her.

  “If you expect to see Martha Taylor now, you won’t find her at home. On Wednesday afternoons, she closes her shop and rides out to visit the Cresswells at their farm.”

  It seemed Mable enjoyed delivering bad news. It reminded her why she hated to come into town. She always left in a sour mood.

  At least Brett had always been cordial to her. She drove down the road and stopped at the blacksmith’s shop. The large door stood open, and although his fire was hot, he wasn’t inside. She decided to wait. When ten minutes had passed, she finally walked next door to the livery.

  Wally Brown was cleaning the dirt and rocks from one of the stable horses’ hooves—a tricky maneuver considering he still wore his cast. The once white apparatus was now dingy and dirty.

  “How do, Mr. Brown,” she said.

  He dropped the hoof to the ground and straightened. “How do yourself, Miss Marks. What can I do for you this fine day?”

  His kind welcome smoothed over her recent encounter at the mercantile. “I’m looking for Mr. Blackwell to fix my mule’s harness.”

  Wally stepped outside and eyed the ragged tear in Berta’s leather harness. “I’d fix this for you easy enough without my cast, but I don’t think I can as yet. You’ll find Mr. Blackwell at his house over yonder.”

  “Thank you for your help.”

  She walked around the side of the livery and over to the two-story house and knocked on the door. A second later it swung open and two wide-eyed boys stared up at her. “You ain’t the doc,” the taller one said.

  “Of course not. Why would I be?”

  “Ma needs the doc.”

  “Hurry!” A woman’s voice called out from somewhere deep inside the house. “Hurry!” The last sounded like a sob.

  Sylvia’s pulse quickened. What was happening? She rushed past the boys and up the stairs. The woman sounded like she was in wretched pain. Sylvia took one look and by the woman’s swollen stomach realized what must be happening. She’d been in the same place seven years earlier. “Mrs. Blackwell? I’m Miss Marks, come to help. Though most folks call me Sylvia.”

  Mrs. Blackwell looked up at her, a sort of helpless, hopeless fear in her eyes. “It’s too soon!”

  Sylvia swallowed, fearful too, but knowing she had to be strong and sure for the woman. That was how Adele had treated her at Tommy’s birth. “Well, then, we’ll do the best we can and the good Lord will handle the rest. Now, let’s see what needs a-doin’.”

  The woman looked uncomfortable, lying catawampus in the bed. Sylvia helped her straighten out and then eased her forward while she stuffed the pillows behind the woman’s back for more support. “How close are the pains?”

  “I don’t know. Too close. My name is Fiona.”

  Sylvia smiled. “Nice to meet you, Fiona. Has your water broke yet?”

  A tear squeezed out of Fiona’s eye. She nodded, her lower lip trembling. “Just now. That’s why I know it’s time. Brett went for Doc Graham.”

  “I saw the doc not too long ago on the street. I’m sure your husband will round him up and get back here as fast as he can.”

  “Is Ma goin’ to be all right?” the taller boy asked from his stance halfway up the stairs. He looked unsure as to whether he should come closer.

  “What’s your name?” Sylvia asked.

  “Wyatt, ma’am.”

  “Well, Wyatt, I’m going to help your ma until the doctor comes. How about you watch out for him at the door with your brother? Let me know as soon as you see him coming.”

  The boy nodded and then, as his mother whimpered, he skedaddled down the stairs.

  Sylvia found some folded sheets in the cabinet in the hall and brought them back into the room, closing the bedroom door behind her. She rushed to the bed as another pain gripped Fiona.

  “You did better that time,” she said, hoping it encouraged the woman.

  “It helps, knowing you are here. I didn’t want to be alone, but I had to be strong in front of my boys.”

  “I’ll look out for them once the doc gets here.” She folded the sheets and pushed them under Fiona so that she’d have a dry place to lie. Then she poured some water from the pitcher and handed her the glass. “Here. Sip this.”

  After Fiona had had a drink, Sylvia set the glass aside. By Fiona’s breathing, another pain was already building. Sylvia dipped a cloth into the water and wiped it over her forehead and cheeks, pushing back the strands of hair that clung to the sweat on her brow. “That’s better. This baby will come into the world and see her mama looking pretty as a peach.”

  Fiona gripped Sylvia’s hand as the pain worsened. When it passed and she’d
relaxed, she smiled up at Sylvia. “You said ‘her.’ Do you think she will be a girl?”

  Sylvia offered another sip of water. “That’s what you want, ain’t it?”

  “Yes, although I suspect Brett will want a son.” As Fiona said the word, she closed her eyes. “It’s all happening so fast. I don’t know how you came to be here, Sylvia, but thank you.”

  Heavy footsteps sounded downstairs and Sylvia started to rise. “That must be the doc now.”

  Fiona gripped her hand harder. “No. Stay. I—I want a woman with me. Someone who understands.”

  “But—your husband—”

  “I’m here,” Brett said, rushing to his wife’s side. “I brought the doc.”

  Sylvia glanced over her shoulder to find that Nelson was already there. Both he and Brett looked surprised to see her. She didn’t figure explanations were important at the moment. “Her water broke, Doc. And she says the pains are coming closer. They look to be strong.”

  “If you will move aside, Miss Marks, I will examine her.”

  “I want her to stay,” Fiona said. “I want her to stay with me.”

  Sylvia moved back, unsure what she should do. She wanted to help this woman in her time, but she didn’t want to be in the way. “I—I could watch the boys, if you wish.”

  “No,” Fiona ground out as another pain gripped her middle. “Here. I want you here.”

  Brett Blackwell’s face drained of all color.

  “Brett, don’t you dare pass out on me!” Nelson said. “Sit down!” He looked directly at Sylvia. “Close the door. Mrs. Blackwell doesn’t need an audience.”

  She jumped at the order. He meant for her to leave? She glanced at Fiona. Her eyes were closed, but she had said she wanted a woman with her. Sylvia understood about that. It was how she felt when Tommy was born.

  Conflicted as to whether to stay or go, she walked to the door, where the two youngsters peeked in with wide-open eyes. They looked to be close to Tommy’s age. “Come on, boys. We’ll get things ready for your new brother or sister.”

  She took them downstairs to the kitchen. She learned their names—Wyatt, the older one at eight years, and Rhett, who was six—and sent Wyatt out to pump a bucketful of water from the well. She sat Rhett down at the table and gave him the chalk that she’d bought for Tommy, telling him he could draw on the tabletop. It wasn’t a fancy table and she figured she could wash off the chalk pictures easy enough. It would give both boys something to do while things were happening all around them. When Wyatt returned with a full bucket, she set a pot of water on the stove to warm and filled the tin pitcher for coffee.

  All the while, she listened for the squall of a newborn and sent up a prayer for a healthy baby and mother. She wanted to be with Fiona, but after all Nelson had done for her and Tommy, she also wanted to do as he asked.

  Ten minutes later, Brett thundered down the steep stairs. He might be a huge bear of a man, but at the moment, his face was a greenish pasty white and he looked like a feather might knock him over. If he passed out, there would be no helping a man his size and it would scare the boys.

  “Oh, my, Mr. Blackwell! Sit down!” She pulled out a chair for him. “I’ll get you a cup of coffee.”

  He sat down but waved off the offering of coffee. “I don’t feel gut.”

  She slid into the last chair at the table, watching him closely. “I see that.”

  He placed his big paw of a hand on her forearm. “Doc Graham vill take gut care of my Fiona. I vill see to the boys.”

  Did he mean that she was to leave? She swallowed. “All right.”

  “My wife asks for you. She says she needs you there.”

  Her heart thudded in her chest. Tears welled and burned behind her eyes. No one besides Tommy had ever needed her before. “Well, of course. I’ll go up right now.”

  She poured the hot water into a bowl and carefully carried it up the stairs. Birthing was a messy business and eventually something or someone would need a good washing. She balanced the bowl carefully on her hip as she entered the room and then shut the door behind her.

  Nelson gave her a quick nod as she pulled up a chair to Fiona’s side. The woman looked spent, but when Sylvia took her hand, Fiona gripped it hard and smiled a tired smile up at her. “How is Brett?”

  Sylvia leaned forward. “He made it downstairs to a chair. He’s a bit shaky. But he’s watching the boys—” She hesitated, then smiled. “Or maybe they are watching him.”

  “My Brett is a good man.”

  “Yes, he is,” she murmured, marveling at how calm Nelson was. They were both good men. “We are here for you, Fiona. You’ve done it twice before, right? Your body knows just what to do.” She chuckled. “Guess that’s why it’s so anxious to get going. You can do it.”

  “All right, Mrs. Blackwell,” Nelson said. “If you feel the urge to push, go ahead. Nice and easy. Your baby is almost here.”

  Fiona arched her head back, straining, and then brought her head forward with the effort of pushing.

  A thin, reedy cry split the air.

  “Oh! Oh!” Fiona cried out. “Let me see! Let me hold it!”

  Nelson cleared the mucus from the baby’s pale face with a towel and then placed the infant on Fiona’s abdomen. Quickly, Sylvia covered the baby with a cloth and began rubbing the moisture away. She stopped when she dried between the baby’s legs.

  “Why, Fiona, look! Look! It’s a girl!” Sylvia cried out. “You did it! You have your girl!”

  “And she is a big one for being a month early,” Nelson said. “Looks like she will do fine. Baby girls tend to be fighters.”

  Fiona gathered her daughter to her, holding her close as tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. Wonder and awe filled her gaze. “A girl! Who would have thought I’d have a daughter?”

  It had been a long time since Sylvia had seen such love in a mother’s gaze, but she knew how it felt. It was the same as when Tommy was born. It reminded her of the love she’d felt for her tiny son.

  She took away the damp blanket and snuggled another dry one around the baby. “I’m glad to see you prepared for all this with all these cloths and fine blankets. Why, just look at her! She’s already peeing! Don’t that beat all?”

  She grabbed another blanket and discarded the soiled one. “What name have you chosen for her?”

  Fiona looked at Sylvia through her tears. “I was afraid to hope for a daughter! I thought choosing a name would ensure that I had a son, so I didn’t choose.”

  “Well, it looks like you and Mr. Blackwell have some deciding to do,” Sylvia said.

  “Miss Marks, would you hand me that empty basin?” the doc said, indicating a bowl on the bureau. “Push once more, Mrs. Blackwell. A gentle push is all...”

  Sylvia hurried to give it to him, watching with awe as Fiona expelled the afterbirth and then fell back onto her pillow. She took the basin from Nelson, covered it with a cloth and set it aside.

  “This birthing is a messy business, ain’t it? I’ll have you cleaned up in no time. Here, take a sip of water. You look done in. Pretty—but done in.”

  She used the water she’d brought up the stairs to wash off every bit of Fiona she could and then found the woman’s hairbrush on the bureau and brushed her hair back while Fiona held on to her new daughter and counted her fingers and toes and marveled at her nose and her delicate ears.

  When Fiona settled onto clean dry sheets and began to nurse the baby, Sylvia suddenly felt as though the woman’s need for her had dissipated. She backed up to the door.

  “Thank you,” Fiona said. “Having you here eased my fears. You’ve been a big help.”

  “I was glad of it. When I had my son, my neighbor came to be with me. We women, we have to help each other in times like this.”

  “Ahem.” Nelson cleared his throat. “If you are ready, we wil
l get Mr. Blackwell.”

  Fiona nodded.

  Nelson stood and stretched his back. His gaze sought Sylvia’s and held. “Why don’t you do it?”

  Her? He wanted her to do it? It would be an honor to tell Mr. Blackwell and the boys. She hurried down the stairs, knowing they were all anxious to hear the news.

  She told Brett Blackwell only that his wife and baby were doing well, not whether he’d had a girl or boy. She figured that was Fiona’s gift to him. She did hold the boys back for a minute so that the man could have a moment with his wife and new baby alone.

  “Can we go up now?” Wyatt whined.

  “It’s time, I reckon.”

  As the boys scrambled up the stairs, making a beeline to their mother, they passed the doc on his way down. Nelson stopped at the bottom of the stairs with the table separating him from her. He had a strange look on his face as he addressed her. “Mrs. Blackwell urged me to thank you for her again. Between her cooing over her daughter, she is singing your praises.”

  Sylvia was still glorying on the inside. “It was a wonder. A new life. I was glad to help, glad to be a part of it.”

  “I believe you were.” His green eyes captured hers. “I must ask, Sylvia... Have you ever done this sort of thing before? And I’m not talking about with your sheep. I’m talking about with women.”

  She shook her head. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “Not at all.” A smile spread across his face. “You were extremely helpful. I’m just astounded it came so naturally for you.”

  She shrugged as if it was a small thing. It wasn’t. Inside, all that she’d seen, all that she’d done and the words Nelson said to her swirled together in an exhilarating state of fulfillment. “I’m just happy the baby and Fiona are fine. That’s the important thing.”

  She looked about the small kitchen. Maybe she should make more than just coffee. “Seems like she’s got plenty of help now, unless I could get her something to eat.”

  “That isn’t necessary. Fiona expected Hannah White to be with her in her time. She wants me to inform her now. Hannah lived here for a short time with the Blackwells and knows her way around this kitchen.”