Silver Belles and Stetsons

by Caroline Clemmons

  “Take the bed.”

  “Thank you, but I couldn’t take your bed, the sofa will do.”

  “You can have the bed, I’ll sleep on the sofa. It’s closer to the fire.”

  “You’re too tall, your legs will hang over the edge.”

  “I’ll manage, I’ve slept in worse places.” There was a savage thrust to his jaw, a bitter mask came down over his face. Fear surged through her. He looked like he hated the world and everyone in it.

  “I’ve got linen, would you mind if I put a sheet on the bed?”

  “No.” He waved his hand about. “Do what you like.” He gave a sudden roguish grin. “If it’s got lace and all that other frippery on it, you can be sure it will keep me away.”

  She used her hands to lever herself up, and waddled over to her luggage. The black trunk held her linen and a few clothes. She had lost several boxes when the wagon crossed the Missouri River, and they had to lighten the load. She had been lucky to save the two trunks. Denis had been ruthless, tossing anything and everything out.

  She leaned down over the black trunk to unfasten it. Pain speared into her stomach, and she clenched her teeth to stop any sound escaping. Terror overwhelmed her in case she had started labor. Would Zac cast her out if he knew?

  Please God, not now. At least wait until I get into town.

  She grabbed up the sheet and pillow case, also a patchwork quilt, and her nightgown. Stumbling over to the bed she noticed that the mattress was old, but clean enough, as were the two grey blankets.

  It was a struggle to make the bed up. Somehow she accomplished it. She was now almost too exhausted to bother changing out of her gown, but a loose nightgown would be more comfortable.

  “You can change your clothes, I won’t peek,” Zac said.

  The way she felt at the moment she didn’t care whether he looked or not.

  ***

  Zac watched her struggling with the buttons on her bodice. He wasn’t adverse to undressing pretty young women, but hesitated to offer any help. Probably get my face slapped. The thought amused him.

  The woman was an enigma. Tiny and fragile, her big blue eyes stricken and haunted looking, yet she had displayed plenty of courage. She hadn’t complained once about the rough ride here, even though it must have been mighty uncomfortable. The track was badly rutted in places.

  Her back was turned to him. When the gown shimmied to the floor, her skin, where it wasn’t covered by her camisole, was milky white, flawless. He couldn’t stop staring at it. When the camisole came off, his manhood stirred. Sonofabitch, he must be desperate for sex if a very pregnant woman could arouse him.

  He enjoyed sex, the same as any other hot blooded male, but only with slim, pretty girls from the Golden Nugget saloon in town. He liked variety, just so they wouldn’t get any ideas about there being any chance of a permanent relationship.

  Having given his heart once to a woman, he had paid a high price for his foolishness. Where had it got him? Jail time. Convicted for a crime that was never committed.

  Closing his eyes, he forced the memory to the darkest, farthermost corner of his brain. Rafe had been dead by the time he got himself into trouble with Kitty McDonald and the law. If Rafe had been alive he wouldn’t have inherited this place, and Kitty wouldn’t have thought he was rich. She wanted to get her greedy hands on his non-existent wealth, and committed perjury to do so. Hate rose up in his throat until his mouth was flooded with bitterness.

  He opened his eyes to find Holly, wearing a flowing white nightgown, climbing into his bed. If she hadn’t been so heavily pregnant, he might have tried his luck with her. Suddenly, he wondered about her husband. She certainly wasn’t the typical grieving widow. What was her story? Why should he care about what she had felt for her husband anyway? None of his business.

  Chapter Three

  Rain lashed against the window, the wind intensifying with every passing minute. Late afternoon and it was already dark. Thank goodness the cabin was solid enough to withstand the fiercest storms. Rafe’s meticulous attention to detail and his skill as a builder saw to that. The cabin was only vulnerable on three sides, the back firmly set into the hillside.

  A loud thunderclap was followed by lightning, then came a tremendous roar, followed by a bang. One of the trees had been blown over. He felt the vibration as it crashed to the ground.

  Holly screamed and tried to get up, brushing at the curls tumbling over her face. She was as white as death, her eyes glistening with tears.

  “Nothing to be frightened of.” He swung to his feet. “A tree has been hit by lightning, that’s all.”

  She held her knuckles to her mouth, and rocked from side to side. Perspiration broke out on her forehead. “Zac, I think the baby is coming.”

  He stepped over to the bed. “It can’t be.” His gut clenched as he stared down at her. “Not out here.”

  She cried out again, then started sobbing with pain and fear. “I’m being ripped apart.”

  He wasn’t squeamish, but delivering a baby? He had delivered calves and foals, but never a human. He jumped when she let out an ear piercing scream.

  “There’s no need to panic.” Who was he trying to reassure? Himself or her?

  “In the brown trunk,” she panted. “Everything I need.”

  He rushed over to the trunk and fumbled with the fastening. He’d rather face a marauding band of outlaws than this. Nothing that had ever happened to him before had prepared him for birthing a baby. He picked the trunk up and carried it over to her.

  “Tell me what to get out.”

  “Sheepskin mat, put it under me so I won’t soil your mattress.”

  He pulled it out and stood holding it in his hands. It was quite thick, and a sheet had been sewn around it.

  “Put it under…” Her face contorted with pain as a contraction tore through her.

  Shocked, he watched as her stomach seemed to buck. He took a deep breath and leaned over her. She rolled over, and he positioned the mat under her before gently rolling her back on to it.

  “I’ll go wash my hands, and make sure there’s plenty of hot water.”

  While she writhed and sobbed, he washed his hands. Filling a couple of saucepans with water, he placed them on the fire. He was surprised to notice a slight tremor in his hands.

  “What do you need?” Normally he didn’t like talking, but it seemed to have a calming effect on him now.

  “Towels, I cut up some sheeting, too. Scissors to cut the cord.”

  “Cord?”

  “Umbilical cord.”

  She was panting now, perspiration soaked her forehead, and dribbled down her cheeks. She rolled her head from side to side, moaning and groaning. Tears mingled with the perspiration.

  He grabbed a strip of ripped up sheet and dashed over to the dish of water on the table. Soaking the rag, he squeezed out the excess moisture before taking it over to her. Her eyes were closed but flickered open when he laid it across her forehead. Her face was so full of pain and fear it moved him.

  “Zac.” She clutched his hand. “What if something happens to me? What will become of my baby? Promise me on your word of honor, that you will keep it safe.”

  His heart slammed against his rib cage with sickening force. “It won’t come to that.”

  “If it does, on your word of honor…”

  “I have no honor left, but I’ll make sure your child is taken care of.”

  “Not in a foundling asylum, a kindly married couple. Please.”

  She was in a pitiful state and he didn’t know what to do to relieve her pain and distress. He hated feeling useless. “All right, I promise.”

  “Babies drink milk.” Her voice was so husky he could barely hear it against the noise of the howling gale buffeting the cabin.

  He got up and lit the lamp as a precautionary measure. Bringing her over a mug of water he supported her shoulders as she gulped it down. She looked feverish now, her cheeks red, eyes over bright.

  What el
se could go wrong? A gal in labor in his cabin. He gnashed his teeth. Now she was coming down with fever. He would do the best he could for her, but feared it wouldn’t be enough.

  “Coffee?”

  “No, thank you.”

  He walked over and poured himself a mug. It was going to be one hell of a long night. “Try to sleep,” he said gruffly, surprised that he could feel pity for her. He didn’t think he had any pity left. Working on a chain gang certainly didn’t encourage sympathy for one’s fellow man. It was dog eat dog, survival of the fittest. Four years out of his life because of a lying, scheming whore of a woman. And the townsfolk thought he was no good.

  Holly slept now. He crept over and rested the back of his hand on her forehead. Her skin still felt hot, slightly clammy. He prowled the room. He could just about kill for a whiskey, but denied himself. He needed to keep his wits about him.

  Books! Rafe had been to university in England and was well read. He grabbed the threadbare cushions off the sofa and tossed them on the floor, exposing a wooden cupboard. Maybe there was a medical book in there. He vaguely recalled Rafe showing him one when he was a child. Medical Bible he had always called it. They had kept to themselves, only going into Forked Creek every couple of months or so. Rafe had schooled him at the cabin. No wonder he was easy prey for a predatory woman like Kitty.

  On their infrequent visits into Forked Creek, they always stayed with Flo. He hadn’t realized until he was about twelve or thirteen that Rafe and Flo shared a bed. Flo had always treated him well, still did. He felt confident she would look after Holly and her child.

  Rifling through the books in an old metal trunk, he unearthed Shakespeare, books on architecture and engineering. At the bottom of the cupboard was a red covered book with a title of Home Medicine. He shoved the other books back, closed the lid, and covered the box with the cushions. The place was drab and shabby, but it suited him, comfortable, functional and isolated. No point spending money on it as he didn’t spend much time here.

  The townsfolk in Forked Creek were convinced he was no good. Didn’t stop them from wanting his help when liquored up cowpokes rode in looking for trouble, or when the sheriff needed an extra deputy to form a posse.

  He didn’t mind riding shot gun when gold bullion was shipped out of Deadwood. He was only away for a week or so, and the money was good. More importantly, he didn’t have to go anywhere near Forked Creek.

  Holly slept, but she was restless. What was it about this gal that brought out his protective instincts? Sonofabitch, he didn’t want to go there. He hadn’t cared about anyone in a coon’s age, except for Flo.

  She wasn’t classically beautiful, but there was something fetching about Holly O’Leary, the pale skin, the huge doe eyes. Maybe it was her air of vulnerability. From what he could see, her breasts were small. He must be loco thinking like this. He liked well-endowed women with tits that filled his hand. This gal was trouble with a capital T, and he wanted her out of his cabin and his life, pronto.

  Flipping through the medical book, he found the page he wanted. Well, he didn’t want it, needed it if Holly and her child were to survive the night. Christmas, well, that baby had been born in a stable, his cabin was a step up from there. He gave a humorless laugh.

  Birthing A Baby. He read the instructions on what to do. Similar to delivering a calf, but there were diagrams also. Sonofabitch, he couldn’t do this. Not to her. His stomach muscles clenched. Heat surged through his body. Even a husband shouldn’t have to do this kind of thing for his wife.

  He swung his legs on the sofa and closed his eyes. He was used to sleeping rough, so a too small sofa shouldn’t bother him.

  A scream rent the air. Zac shot upright, and leapt to his feet, his back protesting as he did so. It was pitch black outside, but the embers of the fire glowed red. Fumbling with the lamp, he stumbled over to the bed, and was shocked to see Holly standing up hanging on to the bed head.

  “I’ve wet all over your floor.”

  “Your waters have broken,” he said, using his newly acquired knowledge. He caught her as her knees crumpled. “Is your nightgown wet?”

  She clung to him. It was wet, even by the lamplight he detected the damp, pink patch. “It is, do you have another one?”

  Her hands clutched his shoulders. Tears coursed down her cheek, he felt their warmth against the skin of his neck. He laid her back down, sideways across the bed so she was within easy reach.

  “I’ll get a towel to put under you, and you can change your nightgown.” He rummaged through the trunk until he found a towel and nightgown. It might be better to leave the clean night attire until after the birth.

  He congratulated himself on his quick thinking. Another scream quickly wiped the smirk off his face.

  “It’s coming. It’s coming.”

  He dashed back. She was grasping her knees, and he could see her pushing. Nothing happened. Sonofabitch. He dropped to his knees.

  “Wait for the next contraction then push as hard as you can.”

  “Am I going to die?”

  “No.” He tried to inject confidence in his voice. She was suffering badly. For the first time in his life he felt compassion for another human being.

  Alternatively, he wiped her forehead and waited to guide the child out into the world. How much more could a little gal like her stand? She was bleeding. He wiped the sweat from his brow on the sleeve of his shirt.

  ***

  Holly knew she was going to die. This was God’s punishment for her sins. She was past caring that Zac could see all her private parts. She only wanted the pain to end.

  “Keep pushing,” he said.

  “You promised to care for my baby if…”

  “You’ll be caring for it yourself soon.”

  “No. I’ve sinned.”

  He brushed the damp hair back from her forehead. “I don’t believe that. You have the look of an angel.”

  The pain eased. She didn’t even feel the urge to push anymore.

  “I…I stayed with my husband knowing he cheated on me with other men.”

  A massive contraction tore through her. This was the end. She was being torn apart. A loud wailing scream shot from her mouth.

  “It’s coming.” Zac gave a jubilant yell. “I can see the head. One more push darlin’ that’s all.”

  Holly closed her eyes, and with her failing strength, pushed.

  “Got it.”

  She felt a whooshing sensation, then the excruciating pain was gone. A baby’s cry rent the air.

  “You’ve got a fine little gal here.

  “Can I see her?”

  “I have to cut the cord, then I’ll clean her up a bit, get all that birthing muck off her face.”

  “Thank you, I’ll never be able to repay you for what you did for us.”

  It felt like an hour, but couldn’t have been more than a minute or two, and she was holding the towel wrapped baby in her arms.

  “I…I.” Red tinged his cheeks. “Um, need to attend to you.”

  “I’m sorry you have to do that, but I’m too tired.” And she was. Too weak and exhausted to help Zac do things that no man should have to do for a woman. When he was finished, he stood, picked up a blood soaked towel, stepped over to the fire, and threw it in. Two logs of wood immediately followed.

  He walked over to the dish on the table and washed the blood off his hands. She was incapable of doing anything but cradle her baby, and watch him.

  The wind had eased, the darkness chased away by the dawn. He came back to the bed and stood staring down at her. “Here, you need to put on a clean nightgown.” He handed it to her. “Give me the baby.”

  Holly reluctantly relinquished her. “She’s the best Christmas present I’ve ever had. I’m going to call her Merry, because she was born on Christmas Day.

  He held the baby in the crook of his arm. “I’ll get you something to eat. You need to regain your strength.”

  He handed her the nightgown, and she fumbled with
the buttons on the one she was wearing. Her hands shook. She felt weak and exhausted.

  With a grunt of impatience, he placed the baby near the foot of the bed. He undid the buttons with such ease she knew he had performed this task many times before. He lifted the garment over her head, and as he stared at her breasts, his eyes darkened, his jaw clenched.

  Flinging the soiled nightgown on the floor, he slipped the clean one over her shoulders.

  “Thank you. Don’t burn the other one. I’ll wash it as soon as I can.”

  He kicked the garment under the bed and turned away.

  “Zac.” He swung around. “Would you put the baby somewhere safe, I’m so tired, I don’t want to roll on her.”

  “Have a drink first. The baby is asleep now, but she’ll probably need feeding when she wakes up.”

  Holly drank the mug of water he brought over, and closed her eyes. She felt like she could sleep for a hundred years.

  Chapter Four

  The crying baby woke Holly. She blinked several times. It was daylight. Zac was holding Merry against his shoulder, and walking up and down.

  “Bring her here please, I’ll feed her.”

  “You’re awake, good. This little gal is mighty hungry. Her little mouth is opening and shutting like a stranded fish.”

  He brought the baby over, gently placing her in Holly’s arms. “I dressed her as best I could.”

  When Holly lifted the blanket away she was surprised to find Merry wearing one of the lace trimmed nightgowns she had so lovingly sewn. He had cut a towel in half and wrapped it around her legs and bottom.

  “You haven’t done this before have you?”

  His face darkened, and he swung away. “No, I haven’t.” He spat the words out. “I don’t want to ever have to do it again, either.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes at his harshness. He had been kind while she had been in dire need, but now the danger was over, he had reverted to his grumpy, surly self. She tried the baby on her breast, and little Merry sucked strongly. I have you my darling. She patted the baby’s head. And that’s all I care about.