Bride from Shenandoah (Brides of the West Series Book Eleven)

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Bride from Shenandoah (Brides of the West Series Book Eleven) Page 7

by Rita Hestand


  She tried to smile. She waved goodbye to the chief and the braves sitting beside him. She'd remember these people for a long time.

  "Wasn't that sweet of him to give me that necklace?" She asked Joe.

  "Yeah, that's the word for it. Sweet!"

  She beamed.

  "What tribe are they?" She asked as they walked his horse for a while.

  "Kiowa." Joe told her as he mounted and shot her an arm to help her up behind him.

  She put her arms around him and held on. The intimacy of the act, didn't escape her. If they hadn't gone through that ceremony and kissed, it wouldn't have phased her. But they had. Joe had a strong, broad back.

  "I'll never forget them…" she murmured as she laid her head on his back. "Why did he give me the necklace?"

  "They consider you big medicine. It is a great honor for a chief to bestow it upon you. They won't soon forget you either. You know, you are a strange little creature. You weren't really afraid of those people were you?"

  "Afraid? They are just people. Why should I be afraid? I mean I didn't enjoy being strung up on a pole, but I didn't fear them because I figured if they really wanted to kill me, they could have already done it."

  "They are Indians."

  "So are you, so you tell me. Does anyone in the wagon train know you are a breed?"

  "A.J., that's all. I'd prefer keeping it that way. If you don't mind. It can cause a lot of trouble on a train of people. Not everyone is as open minded as you."

  "Are you ashamed of it?"

  "No, but some might not like it. Most white people don't like Indians out here, including breeds. Sometimes especially breeds."

  "I didn't know that. But I don't understand why." She said trying to see his face. "I don't understand why you call yourself a breed. You're a human being, that's all, like any other."

  "Do you know what a bastard is?"

  "Of course, someone without a father, illegitimate."

  "That's the same for a breed, basically. It's how the white people think. To an Indian, a baby, is just that a baby."

  "To me, too!" She said clearly.

  He stopped the horse and turned so he could see her.

  "What?" She asked when he stared.

  "I underestimated you, you are different." He turned back around and they were on their way again, except an eagle flew above them, as though following them. Joe glanced up at it and smiled.

  "Twice we've seen the eagle. He's a beautiful creature. Were you complimenting me when you said I'm different? Or making fun of me?" She sighed and laid her head on his broad back. It felt nice and normal being this close to him. She couldn't explain that for anything.

  Since he was being decent this morning she thought she would have a talk with him now before they returned to the train.

  "It was a compliment." He chuckled.

  "Look, what you said yesterday, about my being your responsibility. Please, just forget it. I release you from that. I've got to marry Matt Hudson. I've got to do this for my family. I owe them…you can understand that, can't you? Only, I want you to know something. What you did back there…well, let's just say no man has ever done anything that grand for me. You certainly didn't have to. It was quite noble actually. I won't forget it. I know you don't like me, and that's all right, I just wanted you to know I appreciate what you did."

  He shrugged. "It's unlawful to marry two men…"

  "But…we weren't really married…I mean–were we?" She asked as a worry wrinkle fretted right in the middle of her forehead. "Tell me!"

  "Yes…we were. By Indian law." He said simply. "I am married to you, as I am part Indian. You are my wife. But whether you are married to me, I don't know…I guess that's up to you."

  "If you took it that seriously, why on earth would you marry me?" She gasped. "You don't even like me."

  "Because up until they put that white blanket on us, I had been living a white man's life. But that brought out the Indian side of me, that I wasn't sure I even had any longer. You tend to forget some of it, when you live with one side so long. And I couldn't exactly leave you to a tribe of people that you knew nothing about, to marry and live, any more than I can let you marry this Matt Hudson whom you say you don't love."

  She slid down from the horse, nearly knocking herself down. "Love has nothing to do with marrying Matt Hudson. I have to marry him. And I don't love him. I never have." The way she said it, had him stopping and looking directly at her. "I didn't say I wanted to…I have to!" Then she jumped down and ran, as fast and as hard as she could.

  He followed her and when he realized he couldn't stop her on horseback, he got off and ran to catch her.

  She was sobbing so hard when he almost fell on top of her. They both hit the ground hard with a thud.

  "Hey," his voice coaxed. "All it means is…you're not alone in this anymore. Don't cry…" His voice softened as he rolled her over and looked into her face. He stood her up and held her in his arms and let her cry."

  But she wasn't crying, she was sobbing her heart out. They stood there in the dusk of day, and he let her cry as long as she needed. He wasn't sarcastic, he didn't judge her, but he was there for her. And strangely it was a real comfort. The first comfort she'd had.

  When she finally stopped she looked up at him, as though seeing what a good person he was for the first time.

  "I'm sorry…" She apologized.

  "I guess you needed that." He said softly. "I'll help you out of this, we'll figure it out. I didn't realize this man Hudson upset you so. I wasn't really sure how you felt about him until now."

  "Upset me. Since I was a child, he's grinned and leered at me. I feel so dirty when he looks at me. I was always afraid of him. That's hasn't changed, but I will marry him and he will leave my father and brothers alone. I'll see to that. But he'll never have my heart, even though it probably won't matter to him at all."

  "Does he love you?"

  "Of course not, he…lusts after me."

  "And you'd give into his demands?"

  "If there was another way, I'd take it. I've tried to figure it out. I didn't want to quit medical school, but I felt I had to do something and quick. I've been a spoiled rich girl all my life. And yet we've never been rich. I took everything my father had to pay the mortgage and my mother's medical bills. And then me going to college. It's my turn to stand up and be a responsible person and take care of what needs taking care of. My brothers always told me how selfish I was. Now I see that. My father needs taking care of, and my brothers. They gave me so much…. it's the least I can do for them. I owe them more than I can say. Can't you understand, I'm indebted to them."

  Joe's jaw set, and his eyes narrowed, "You're married to me, now. It's too late. But I'll figure something."

  She looked at him strangely.

  "What tribe are you from?"

  "Arapaho." He said quietly, pulling a weed from her hair and looking her over.

  "Mother or father?"

  "Father…my mother was a captive." He told her.

  Her mouth opened and she stared. "How long was she with him?"

  "She stayed…because she loved him and she had me a year later. He took her before they were in love, but she grew to love him for the way he treated her." He said in a low whisper. "When I grew older she sent me to the missionary schools. Then I became a scout for the army. Now, I'm a scout for a wagon train. And strangely married to you."

  They got back on the horse, and she laid her head on his back and held onto his middle. It soothed her being this close to the man. A good man. Despite the fact that he didn't really like her, she found great comfort in being close to him.

  "When we get back, are you going to tell them that we're married…"

  "No…"

  "Why?" She raised her head.

  "I'm a breed, you don't have to acknowledge the marriage. But I will…in here," he touched his chest.

  Millie was so touched, she couldn't speak. She didn't understand this complicated man. He bar
ked at her most of the time, he rarely smiled, but dear God the man could kiss! And the sweet things he said he'd do for her made her heart grow warm. And that mere gesture that he'd acknowledge her as his bride, in his heart warmed her like nothing ever had. How odd that only yesterday he had not liked her at all, and today they were married.

  Millie felt a closeness with this man and she couldn't explain. She wished in a way she was free to decide for herself what she wanted. But she wasn't. Even though he didn't like her. She felt it, it moved her and she squeezed him tighter, trying to let him know that she didn't care how he was raised or what he was. But her effort met silence. At least until he put his hand on top of hers. A simple gesture, but so reassuring. She smiled and laid her head on his back again.

  When they got back to the train Mrs. Granger was right there by her side, wanting to know what happened.

  Joe tipped his hat, sent her a strange glance and left.

  The others crowded around to hear her story. She left out the marriage ceremony and most everything concerning Joe except he saved her.

  She went back to driving the team and kept quiet.

  Chapter Seven

  "I thought since he went after you that he'd at least take supper with us, every once and a while." Mrs. Granger said, watching Joe talk to A.J. "I thought maybe the two of you would get to know one another. Become friends at least."

  "I think we got to know each other a little. He's a remarkable man, Wilma, you were right. And I think we understand each other pretty well. I have a lot of respect for the man."

  "I'm glad you noticed that about him, Millie."

  "Hard not to." Millie looked at him too, differently now. Something pulled at her when she looked at Joe. She didn't want to identify that feeling, for he'd gone back to being himself again, and it was like it never happened. Maybe it didn't happen, maybe it was all in her mind.

  He was terribly busy keeping peace with the Indians as they were going through a patch of land that Kiowa and Cheyenne dominated. She wondered just how much danger he was in every day? Was keeping peace with these warring Indians tearing him apart. Because he was Indian?

  Millie didn't understand Joe, and oddly she wanted to. He'd been so compassionate with her at the Indian village, but now, he was a stranger again. It was like it never happened. And yet it had and it changed the way Millie looked at him, thought of him. It changed something inside her. She wanted to understand, but he made it hard when he avoided her like the plague.

  It was almost like the Indian side of him acknowledged her and liked her and the white side rejected her. Maybe that was the answer. He was pulled into two different directions.

  They were leaving Kansas and heading into Nebraska Territory, toward Fort Kearny, south of the Platte River banks. It was a welcome site to the travelers of wagon trains and supply shipments between Ft. Leavenworth and Ft. Laramie. It offered ammunition supplies and small escorts by the army.

  The Platte was a very flat and shallow river, that ran even with the ground. There were very little banks along it's sides.

  Millie went back to worrying about Matt Hudson. At night she'd whimper in her sleep. What she wasn't telling anyone was how afraid of the man she was.

  She still wore the beads the Indians had given her and was proud of them. The other women thought her very brave, but she gave Joe all the credit for her rescue.

  It seemed he was more determined than ever not to seek her out. That brief encounter with Joe was like a dream, it hadn't happened. But it had, she kept telling herself!

  About a day and a half before they arrived at Ft Kearney, Wilma came running up to Millie

  Mrs. Newton was eight and a half months pregnant when she went into labor. Millie had met her once during a prayer meeting they had one Sunday.

  "You've got to help her; she's having a terrible time of it. Something is wrong, but I'm not sure what."

  Millie stared at the worry on Wilma's face and nodded. "All right, let me get my bag and you can take me to her."

  There were children gathered about the outside of the wagon and her husband was holding her hand when Millie and Wilma arrived. "She's having such a hard time…" he cried.

  "I'm trained in medicine, if you will let me help?" Millie explained.

  "A woman doctor?" The man nearly shouted.

  "Not much different than a mid-wife, now is it?" Wilma assured him.

  "Well…I…"

  But Mrs. Newton reached a hand to Millie, "Please, can you help me?"

  "I'll do my best. I need you both to leave and let me examine her." She told them.

  She heard Mr. Newton all the way out the wagon, "I sure hope she knows what she is doing."

  "Don't mind Fred, he doesn't realize that women have been birthing babies a long time before doctors have." Mrs. Newton cried, squeezing Millie hand to reassure her that she trusted her.

  "She does, now calm down and I'll make you some coffee, it's liable to be a long night…" Wilma was saying right outside the wagon.

  The children gathered about and to distract them all, she soothed them with a long story about a bear. It kept them intrigued.

  A.J. and Joe passed by, "What's going on?"

  "Mrs. Newton is having her baby tonight it would seem. But she's having a difficult time. So Millie is looking after her."

  "Millie, that girl that rides with you?" A.J. demanded to know.

  "It's all right A.J. she's a trained doctor." Wilma defended.

  "She is?" A.J. stared.

  "Yes."

  "You should have told me. That's good to know." A.J. said.

  Joe nodded, "When I found her in the Indian camp, she had to pull the chief's tooth and she did that mighty well. She knows what's she's doing, A.J."

  "Very well, keep us informed." A.J. told her and they walked off together.

  When Millie came out, Wilma poured her a cup of coffee. "How is she?"

  "The baby's turned wrong, I’m going to have to turn it. Thanks for the coffee, I'll need this." She smiled.

  "Can I see her?" Mr. Newton asked Millie.

  "For a bit, then we're going to have to turn the baby." She told him.

  "Turn it? It ain't turned right?" He asked with a worried frown.

  "No, but I believe I can turn it, so the labor will be normal."

  "God I hope she doesn't lose this one, she's been so depressed losing the other two…"

  "We're going to do everything we can for her, now don't you fret." Millie assured him.

  He nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Thanks doc…"

  Wilma watched Millie closely. "Is everything going to be all right?"

  "It should. How many pregnancies has she had?" Millie asked her.

  "She has five kids, lost the last two."

  Millie stared. "Do you know why?"

  "No…she just told me she had lost the last two. She didn't seem to want to talk about that, so I didn't press her on it."

  "When I go back in, I want you to come with me and sit and talk to her while I work on her to turn the child. It will take her mind off what I'm doing, as it is rather painful at this point for her pregnancy. The baby is moving down into the birth canal but the wrong direction."

  "What ever you need." Wilma nodded

  When they went back inside the wagon, Millie motioned for Wilma to sit on the opposite side of Mrs. Newton and she began to manipulate the baby's position with her hands on her abdomen. It probably seemed strange to Wilma, Millie saw her glance at her, but this was how she was taught by a special doctor at the school to turn a baby for birthing. Millie was gentle and kept at this for a long time. Wilma watched in awe as Millie worked meticulously to urge the baby's movements. Millie never faltered, she worked for a long time, her hands ever urging the baby to respond. Her fingers moved along the edges of the baby's position and encouraged it to move. But the movements were slow and it was taking some time. The baby seemed responsive to Millie's coaching and in a little over two and a half hour, Millie w
as confident that the baby was in a better positon for birth. Mrs. Newton seemed to relax as Wilma spoke soft words with her all that time. At one point the labor had stopped and they waited to see how she would do.

  Millie went outside, allowing Mr. Newton time with her.

  But when he came out he asked her, "Is everything alright?"

  "Yes, her labor stopped, we're waiting to see if it starts back. it should, her water broke, and the baby is in position."

  "What happens if it don't?"

  "Then it isn't time for it to be born. But this far along, I expect it will start again. Especially since her water's broke, it would be best if she started again. Dry birth is much harder. If she doesn't go into labor, she'll have to lay in bed until the baby comes."

  In a few hours the pains began again, this time harder and closer together. It was daylight now and Millie had a few cups of coffee keeping her going.

  When Millie finally relaxed Wilma looked at her. "Now what?"

  "Now, we wait for the hard contractions to start and birthing. It's more in God's hands now." Millie told her. "As it should be."

  After hours of waiting and Mrs. Newton screaming and screeching for a long while, the baby began to crown.

  Wilma brought her a cup of coffee, but Millie was unable to stop and drink it. "I'm afraid I'm going to be busy for a bit, can you keep it warm for me?"

  "Of course…" Wilma looked at how tired Millie looked.

  Everyone gathered about the wagon waiting on word of the baby. In moments there was a slap and a cry and everyone knew the baby had been born. Strangely enough even Joe seemed to stop off and ask about the baby and mother.

  Mrs. Newton had a rough time, but the baby was born that evening at six, Millie laughed, "He came right at supper time. Guess he knew when it was time to eat." Millie mopped her brow, cleaned the baby and wrapped him in a beautifully knitted blanket then handed him to the mother who was beaming with pride. "I'll send your husband in. But first let me get you cleaned up a bit."

  "Thank you Millie, I'll never forget you." Mrs. Newton beamed.

  Millie came out of the wagon a bit later and walked over to where Wilma had the coffee warming by the fire.

 

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