A Cowboy at Heart

by Lori Copeland

  Another figure paced from the pile of smoldering wood toward the tree. Jesse. When he caught sight of her, he altered his path and walked in her direction. Discomfort pierced her, caused by the memory of their last conversation, but she paid it no heed. There were more pressing matters than Jesse’s disturbing questions—questions she could not answer. Had she not thought the same thoughts in her lonely bed at night? Did she not long for a man’s embrace and comfort—perhaps this cowboy’s? Samuel would forever be in her heart, but he was gone. Did the Lord intend for her to live her life alone and barren? Yet to encourage Jesse would be inviting him to live a life without sons and daughters. She could not ask another man to suffer the same disappointment as her Samuel.

  “Is Sarah in labor?”

  “Yes, the baby comes.” She grabbed the handle and began to pump. “It is before her time, and the baby is not yet ready.”

  Jesse’s gaze dropped to the blood-soaked cloths in the basin. “Is she…will she be all right?” He brushed her hands away and took over pumping. Flashing him a grateful look, she turned to the task of rinsing the cloths beneath the spigot.

  “I have only birthed one baby, and it was easy. Mrs. Wagler’s third child.” She glanced up at his face, relieved at the opportunity to confide her doubts. “This is not the same. There is too much blood, and it’s too early. Even Maummi Switzer is worried.”

  “Do you want me to go for the midwife?”

  Katie shook her head. “She passed on last winter.”

  The water from the cloths ran clear. She wrung out the excess and then rinsed the basin before filling it. When blood had flowed from Jesse’s wounds, the doctor insisted on clean cloths and fresh water. He’d scrubbed his hands with lye soap, dipped them in carbolic acid, and made her do the same. Jesse had recovered without contracting the deadly fever that killed so many after wounds such as his.

  Women died of fever too after childbirth, even when the birth was an easy one.

  She looked up at Jesse. “Where is the whiskey I used to clean your wounds?”

  “Gone.” He met her gaze. “Maummi Switzer was afraid I might drink it.”

  So. No carbolic acid and no whiskey. They would have to make do with soap. She picked up the basin and hurried toward the house, speaking over her shoulder.

  “Fill buckets with water, as many as you can find, and bring them to me inside.”

  Her voice came out brusque, and she sent a quick smile of apology back toward him. She didn’t wait for his response.

  The scene she found inside had not changed in the time she was out in the yard. Amos and the girls stood in the same place, staring at the closed door behind which Sarah labored. Katie brushed by them, speaking as she passed.

  “In the bedroom at the top of the stairs you will find bed linens. Fetch them please. And the lye soap in the big chest in the kitchen, the one nearest the door.” Balancing the basin with one hand against her stomach, she reached for the door latch. She turned to give Amos a meaningful stare. “Then you must go outside to wait. Sit in the shade to pray.”

  Rebellion flashed across his face, but she merely raised her eyebrows and let her gaze flicker toward his youngest daughter and son. Understanding dawned. The sounds of childbirth were often disturbing. Because his deceased wife had given birth three times, no doubt he knew that.

  He gave a vigorous nod. “Ja. We will pray.”

  Katie didn’t stay to see if they obeyed. She lifted the latch and entered the room.

  The sickly sweet smell of blood filled the bedroom, even though the window had been open for hours. Sweat trickled down Katie’s back, and she glanced at the limp curtains. Not a breeze stirred tonight. Where was the wind when they needed it?

  A quiet moan escaped Sarah’s cracked, white lips, and her grip on Katie’s hand intensified. But it was feeble compared to earlier. In the long hours since her labor had begun, Sarah’s strength was ebbing away, swept along with the blood that continued to flow from her body.

  “’Tis all right to cry.” Katie dipped the cloth in the water basin and dabbed it against her patient’s pale forehead.

  “Amish women don’t cry.” The hushed whisper was followed by a weak chuckle. “At least not where anyone can hear. Ain’t that right?”

  “There are exceptions.” Katie smiled, though Sarah’s eyes remained shut. “This is one of them.”

  A very slight shake of her head. “I don’t want to upset Amos. He’s here, isn’t he?” Her eyes cracked open wide enough to fix a worried look on Katie’s face. “He’s waiting outside, right?”

  “Yes, he and the others are outside, praying for you and your baby.”

  “My baby.” A sob choked her voice, and her eyes shut again. “Is he okay?”

  Katie was spared answering when another paroxysm took control of Sarah. Fresh, dark blood gushed onto the already saturated bedsheet, and Katie resumed her silent prayer.

  Almighty Healer, there is so much blood. Strengthen her by the power of Your blood, which was shed on the cross for our salvation. Let the babe be healthy.

  She could not bear to consider that Sarah’s child might be otherwise, though the possibilities were high. Based on the date of Sarah and Amos’s wedding, this little one’s arrival was at least six weeks early, maybe more. The swelling during the past two months gave cause for concern. But most alarming of all was Katie’s near certainty that the child had not yet turned in the womb.

  The door opened behind her, and Katie looked with relief to Maummi Switzer. The older woman backed into the room, a laden tray in her hands, and then kicked the door shut with her foot. “The others have eaten, and the younger ones are finally asleep. I have brought bread and cheese for you.”

  She set the tray on the floor in the corner and picked up a mug before moving to take Katie’s place at the bedside. When Katie would have protested that she had no stomach for food, Maummi’s stern glare brooked no argument. Silently, she released Sarah’s hand and stood, vacating her chair.

  “Sarah, open your mouth.” The elderly voice normally snapped with harsh tones, but now it was soft and full of compassion. “’Tis broth to keep you strong.”

  A weak chuckle issued from the parched lips. “Sometimes Amos still calls me Sassy. Not in front of the kids, though.”

  Maummi Switzer put a hand behind her tousled blond head and lifted, the rim of the mug held to her lips. “Drink, Sassy.”

  Katie smiled as she tore off a bite-sized chunk of bread. The soft yellow cheese spread easily with a knife and tasted sharp and delicious in her mouth. She was hungrier than she thought. How long had it been since she’d eaten a few bites of meat and an apple for supper? Several hours.

  “Oh!” Sarah bolted upright in the bed, knocking the mug from Maummi Switzer’s hand. It dropped to the floor, a puddle of broth spreading quickly across the boards. Panicked eyes fixed on Katie. “Somethin’s happening.”

  Katie rushed to the bed and tossed aside the blanket that covered Sarah’s lower half. A glance told her that the moment of birth was imminent.

  “’Tis time.” She hurriedly dunked her hands into the bucket of fresh water at the foot of the bed, scrubbing with vigor.

  Maummi bustled to the stack of linens they had prepared and moved it within easy reach. Poor Maummi Switzer would need to restock her supply of sheets. Between Jesse’s wounds and Sarah’s childbirth, she would have none left.

  Katie’s prayer became a stream of pleas of which she was barely aware as she checked her patient. As she suspected, the babe had not turned as it should have. She caught Maummi’s glance and conveyed her concern with a look. But when she spoke to Sarah, she was pleased that her voice betrayed none of her worry.

  “Sarah, your baby is coming. When you feel the urge, you must push.”

  The woman collapsed against the fluffy pillow, a moan rising from her lips. “I’m so tired I can hardly breathe.”

  Katie could well imagine, after long labor and the amount of blood she had lost. The
blood had stopped flowing, but only, she suspected, because the babe was blocking the way.

  “I know, but you must be strong.”

  Sobs shook Sarah’s swollen body, but she nodded. “I’ll try.” Her eyes widened. “Oh! Oh!”

  Her stomach went rigid, and a tiny purple limb appeared. A foot. Katie swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. The child was coming feet first. She cast a second glance at Maummi Switzer, this one frantic. The woman returned her stare with a wide-eyed one of her own.

  Biting back her panic, Katie turned her attention to the baby. Martha Hostetler had told her that the problem with a child born backward like this one came with the head. The widest part of an infant was its shoulders and head. If the feet and body came first, there was always a risk the head would be too large and the child would be stuck halfway born. In that case there was no possibility that the infant or the mother would survive. Wild, hysterical laughter threatened when Katie considered Amos’s round, melon-shaped skull. If his babe was similarly shaped…

  Another spasm took Sarah, and she nearly rose up off the bed. A guttural groan rumbled from low in her chest, animal like. The other foot appeared, and Katie grasped a tiny leg barely bigger around than her thumb. It gave a feeble kick in protest.

  Come, little one. Do not be stubborn. Your mamm and daed are eager to welcome you.

  The next convulsion came fast on the heels of the previous one. More of the child’s body emerged, and Katie cupped her hands to support the infant’s buttocks.

  “The wee one is almost here,” she said.

  “I can’t.” Sobs choked Sarah’s voice, and she collapsed backward. “I can’t do it.”

  “Du kannst es tun,” Maummi Switzer said.

  “You can do it.” Katie translated, though Sarah appeared to pay little heed. “You must. Your child’s life depends on you.”

  Though she kept her eyes squeezed shut, Sarah nodded and made an effort to raise herself up, her elbows planted on the tick behind her. A flush suffused her face, and she grunted as she strained. Her deep groan became constant, pausing only when she gasped in a breath.

  The baby’s legs jerked, but no more of the little body emerged. Katie cast a frantic glance toward Maummi Switzer. What should she do? She wondered if she should try to pull the child, though Martha had stressed how dangerous such an action would be.

  Wrinkled lips pursed into a tight bow, the elderly woman acted. Moving with a suddenness that surprised Katie, she threw herself across Sarah’s body. Using her torso like a rolling pin, she pushed. Sarah’s groan rose in pitch to become a shriek.

  In the next instant Katie was holding a baby.

  A feeble wail issued from tiny lips. The child’s entire body fit in Katie’s two hands. One palm cradled a skull the size of a large, ripe apple, covered with blond fuzz, and the other cupped the baby’s body. Frail arms and legs waved in the air. Petite lips parted, and the wail gained volume. The infant’s chest inflated with a breath, and the sound became a lusty cry.

  Tears flooded Katie’s eyes. The baby was tiny but, thankfully, looked and acted healthy.

  “You have a girl, Sarah. A perfect little girl.”

  “A girl.” The words fluttered on a breath not nearly as loud as the infant’s cry. “Amos, we have a girl.”

  In the next instant her eyes rolled back and she lost consciousness. Katie saw that the blood flow had increased to a truly alarming level.

  “Take the babe!”

  She snapped the command at Maummi without wasting effort to temper her tone, and the older woman instantly obeyed. Acting on instinct, she snatched a clean bedsheet, ripped it in half, and then went to work trying to save Sarah’s life.

  Jesse jerked awake when his chin touched his chest. He glanced sideways on the porch to see if anyone had noticed. Jonas was dozing too, his head thrown back to rest against the whitewashed side of the house, but Amos sat with his eyes fixed on a distant place in the dark night. The song of crickets filled the smoke-scented air around them.

  Jesse stretched. “How are you holding up?”

  It appeared at first that Amos was so intent on his thoughts he hadn’t heard the question. When he finally spoke, it was as though his voice came from some faraway place.

  “She is a strong woman, my Sarah.”

  The doubt in his words tore at Jesse’s heart. “Yes, she is. Spunky too.”

  A shadow smile flashed onto his face and faded as quickly. “My Alise also was a strong woman.”

  “Care to talk about her?”

  “She died giving birth to Karl.” The words were heavy with grief and worry.

  “Sarah is not going to die.” Jesse spoke with more conviction than he felt. The image of those bloody cloths was burned onto his mind’s eye.

  Lord, don’t let her die. Amos is a good man, and he’s already lost one wife.

  The door opened, and Amos shot out of his chair like a bullet. Jonas woke, and he and Jesse hurried to stand on either side of their friend as Maummi Switzer pushed her way out backward, a small bundle in her arms.

  “Your dochder, Amos Beiler.” She placed the baby in Amos’s ready arms.

  Jesse craned his neck to peer at the opening in the blanket. “A what? Do we need to go for a doctor?”

  “A daughter.” Amos’s eyes filled with tears as he gazed at the infant. “I have a beautiful daughter.”

  Jesse gave his friend a hearty slap on the back. “Congratulations.”

  Amos tore his gaze from the baby and lifted an anxious face to Maummi Switzer. “And my Sarah?”

  The elderly woman’s expression became grave. Jesse’s heart wrenched inside his ribcage. No. Not Sarah.

  Amos wavered on his feet, and his eyes closed against the news. “She lives,” Maummi Switzer hurried to say, her hands extended toward him as if to snatch the child should he should fall. “But she has lost much blood. Maybe too much. Katie has done what she can and Sarah is resting now.”

  “Can I go to her?” Amos’s voice cracked on the words.

  Her expression softened. “Ja. It will comfort her to have you near.”

  Amos wasted no time. Before Jesse could blink, the bundle was thrust into his arms and Amos disappeared into the house.

  He gazed down at the sausage-wrapped infant while Jonas peered over his shoulder. A tiny face lay nestled in the soft folds of the blanket. The nose, no bigger than his little finger, looked like Amos’s in miniature. Though the eyelids were shut tight, they were wide-set like Sarah’s.

  “Is it supposed to be so little?” he asked.

  Maummi Switzer tilted her head, her gaze fixed on the baby. “None start out big, but she is smaller than most.”

  Rosebud lips pursed, and the little features scrunched. The tiny mouth opened, and the child started to cry.

  “Here.” Jesse thrust the bundle toward Maummi Switzer. “She’s not comfortable with me.”

  Chuckling, she relieved him of the nearly weightless burden and tucked the child expertly into a crick in her arm. The crying stopped instantly.

  Jonas glanced at the closed door and asked in a low voice, “And what of Sarah?”

  The amusement vanished, and Maummi’s eyes filled with sorrow. “She is weak. Katie has done what she can, but…” She shook her head.

  Jesse turned away. Amos had already suffered such loss. It was not fair for him to lose more. Not fair for a baby to grow up motherless. And what of the older children? They had lost one mother and now might lose another. How well Jesse knew the pain of a mother’s death.

  The door opened again, and he almost feared turning around lest he see in Amos’s face that she was gone.

  “Where’s my daed?” asked a young voice.

  Jesse turned to find little Karl standing in the doorway, rubbing sleepy eyes with a fist.

  “He is speaking with your mamm,” Jonas answered kindly.

  “Look.” Maummi Switzer bent at the waist to show him the baby. “A new schweschder for you.”

&nbs
p; “I already have two sisters. I wanted a bruder.” The child extended his neck to peer at the bundle. “But a schweschder is good too. May I have some milk?”

  Jesse would have laughed, except Karl looked up at him, his expression curious. “Where is Butch?”

  “He’s in bed, isn’t he?” They had put the boys together into the room where Butch had been sleeping, and the girls in the other room.

  The child shook his head. “Not anymore. I woke up and he is not there.”

  Not there. A visit to the outhouse, perhaps? No, he would have had to cross the porch, where the men had been sitting for several hours. Jesse whirled, scanning the moonlit yard. In the distance the shadowy figure of Big Ed stood beside the makeshift pen he and Jonas had rigged for the goats. But where was Rex?

  “I will search the house.” Jonas headed for the door.

  Jesse stopped him. “Don’t waste your time. I think I know where he went.”

  He stretched his gaze across the dark wheatfield, toward Littlefield’s place. A feeling of dread seeped between his ribs and crept toward his heart. What was that boy up to?

  FIFTEEN

  Jesse tightened his legs around Big Ed’s barrel. The horse lived up to his name. He was half again as wide as Rex, which made Jesse feel as though he were straddling a bull. Though he was a mild-tempered beast, Big Ed was clearly uncomfortable carrying a man on his back, accustomed as he was to pulling a buggy, plow, or whatever other farm equipment Jonas used.

  Jesse shifted his weight on the doubled-up blanket he’d thrown across the horse’s back. His saddle had fallen victim to the fire. Big Ed skittered sideways, dancing like a nervous colt.

  “It’s okay, boy.” Jesse rubbed his neck with vigor. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but we’re almost there.”

  A tangle of nerves twisted in his gut. What was Butch thinking? A stunt like this was so out of character for a timid kid like him. Jesse set his teeth. The fire had obviously upset him more than anyone realized. And no wonder, since savages had set fire to the wagon in which he’d hidden while they slaughtered his family. Jesse should have realized, should have checked on the boy after the others left. But with Sarah’s baby coming early and worrying about Amos, he hadn’t given Butch a second thought.