Suddenly the tiny chest heaved, and the little mouth opened and drew air into the lungs. The baby made a soft mewing sound like a newborn kitten.
“Is it dead?” Rachel’s weak voice reached him.
“No, by gawd! It’s not dead! It’s breathin’, lass!”
He crossed the room and placed the tiny bundle of flesh on a towel. He rubbed it briskly, moved the tiny arms and legs, then turned it and rubbed its back until the dead blue that had covered its body moments before turned to bright pink. “Ya got a fine girl, lass!” Fain said happily. He continued to chafe the tiny arms and legs and laughed with delight when the little muscles responded. Tiny hands flayed the air, a cry of protest came from her mouth, and she opened large, beautiful blue eyes. It was a living miracle. Fain’s heart leaped with joy and a huge grin split his face. He knelt beside Rachel, holding the wriggling, wailing little body in his hands. “Look-a there, lass! Look-a there at what ya got! It’s the purtiest little mess I ever did see!”
“Wrap her up, Fain,” Rachel said through her smile.
Berry held a blanket to the fire and warmed it. Fain wrapped the baby and cuddled her against him while he stood with his back to the bed. Berry removed the soiled sheets and slipped a clean one under Rachel. She brought a pan of warm water and washed her face, then cleaned her thighs and covered her. Berry felt drained, hardly believing it was over and Rachel was doing so well. She moved from the bed and made room for Fain. As he knelt beside Rachel and placed the baby in her arms, they looked at each other as if somehow they had created this small miracle between them.
“Has she got . . . ever’thing?” Rachel asked anxiously. Her fingertips stroked the fuzz of blond hair.
“Yep. She’s got the right number of ever’thin’. I counted ’em!” His bright eyes danced from Rachel’s face to Berry’s. “Now all ya got to do is put a name on ’er.”
“She’s Berry’s sister. She should name her.”
Berry was so relieved to see the calm, happy look on Rachel’s face that she didn’t know whether to cry or to laugh. She marveled that Rachel could even lift her head to look at the child. Color had come back into her face and her eyes had lost the flat, dull look that had been in them for weeks. She looked tired, worn out, but the drawn, haggard look had miraculously disappeared. Berry watched Fain’s face as he looked at Rachel and the baby. It was a wholly tender, loving look. Even in her confused state, she grasped the fact Fain was in love with Rachel. A lump thickened her throat.
“Fain should name her. I don’t know what we’d’ve done without him. I didn’t know what to do . . . when she didn’t breathe.”
Rachel’s eyes swung to Fain’s. “She’s right. You gave her life. You name her. It’s something she’ll have for the rest of her life.”
Fain looked at the baby. Cautiously he ventured to ask, “Are you sure, lass?”
“I’d be obliged and . . . honored.”
“Wal then . . . if’n it suits you, I’ll name her Faith. I was a twin. It was Fain and Faith. My sister was scrawny and weak. I was the big strong one. This one’s goin’ to make it, lass. Did you hear her acryin’?” His chuckle was soft and affectionate.
“‘Faith’? I like it. Don’t you, Berry?” It was impossible to tell by Rachel’s face that half an hour ago she had been almost out of her mind with pain.
“It’s a beautiful name. One I’d’ve liked to have for my own. I used to wish for a name like Rosemary, or Caroline.”
“Oh, honey. Berry Rose is a pretty name and suits you so well.”
“I guess my mama thought so.”
Fain stood and stretched. He felt wonderful now that it was all over. “I’m hungry as a bear. How about you, lass?”
Rachel turned away from his inquiring eyes. Sudden awareness of the service he had performed for her turned her face scarlet. “I’m too tired to eat,” she murmured and cuddled her daughter to her.
“It’d be better if you sleep. That youngun’ll wake hungry and squallin’.” He laughed happily. “Well, little gal, shall we take on midwifin’?” he said teasingly to Berry.
“I don’t have no bag of herbs and no hot peppers,” Berry said saucily.
Fain’s laugh was so loud that the baby woke with a startled cry, then promptly went back to sleep.
“There’s nothing wrong with her ears,” Rachel said with a shy grin.
Fain went to the door and flung it open. Israel and a young man squatted beside the door. “We got a fine girl baby,” he announced proudly. “C’mon in ’n’ take a look.”
A grinning Israel followed a slight-built young man into the room. He looked scarcely older than a boy. His face was smooth, his eyes a clear amber, his hair as fair as the dried grasses in the dead of winter. He was no taller than Berry, and as he approached her their eyes met and held. She nodded and he solemnly returned the greeting.
“Lawdy!” Israel said in awe when Rachel held the blanket away from the baby’s face. Then he backed away, shaking his head.
“Her name is Faith.”
The young man moved closer and peered down at the baby. “Congratulations, ma’am. She’s beautiful.” He spoke in a soft, cultivated voice with a strong English accent. “‘Faith’ is a commendable name. One she’ll live up to, I’m sure.”
“She will if she’s anything like her sister.” Rachel’s eyes found Berry at the end of the bed. “I’m Rachel Tompkins, and this is Berry Rose Warfield.”
“It’s a pleasure, ladies. I’m called Fish.” There was nothing pretentious or dandy about the man. He seemed extremely shy.
Berry stirred uncomfortably and tried to smooth the damp ringlets back from her face. In the silence that ensued, her heart throbbed with weariness.
“My stomach’s about stuck to my backside. How about servin’ up some of that stew you was a-cookin’, Fish?” Fain’s voice was controlled now. He was speaking softly, and he chuckled. “Wonder how ol’ Simon’s doin’ with the ol’ hag and the gal. He’s goin’ to be madder’n a hornet when he gets back. He’s always hated night ridin’. He must-a had his back up or he’d not’ve struck out with them till daylight.”
“The old woman was crying and carrying on and the girl was begging to stay the night. But Simon put the woman in the saddle and the girl up behind her. He rode off leaving a trail of curses.” Fish smiled. The smile made him look even younger.
When the men went to the door, Israel stooped to pick up the soiled bedclothes and the rags filled with the afterbirth. “Ah’ll put this in a tub o’ water till mornin’, missy.”
“Thank you,” Berry murmured. “I’m so tired I’m not sure I’ve got good sense.” She followed the black man to the door. “They’re asleep already,” she whispered.
“Y’all sit, missy. Ah’ll bring ya somethin’ Mistah Fish is cookin’ up.”
Berry looked up into black eyes that were so changed from the hopeless, dull eyes of a few days ago. They were bright, interested eyes, and there seemed to be pride and dignity in the tilt of his head and confidence in his voice.
“Thank you, Israel, for . . . ever’thing you’ve done to help us. We . . . we couldn’t have made it without you. It took courage to go into town and find Mr. Witcher’s man. I want you to know I’m sorry for the way my pa treated you.”
“Aw . . . missy . . .” Israel stammered. To hear these words from a white woman was far beyond anything he’d ever imagined. He bobbed his head up and down in the familiar gesture.
Berry laughed. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” She sobered. “We’ve got to get us a shelter built before winter, get us in a garden, and you’ve got to learn to shoot so you can hunt for us. And . . .” Berry broke off, laughing again. “I’ll not worry your mind with all of that now. We’ll stay here until Rachel’s able.”
“Yass’m.” Israel shifted from one foot to the other, but his smile broadened as he went out the door.
Berry pushed the door partially shut and blew out all the candles except the one that threw a fa
int light over Rachel’s bed. She sank down in a deep chair. Fatigue washed over her like a heavy wave. There was the distant rumble of thunder from the storm that had swept around them. The night air was cool. Should she build up the fire and keep the room warm for Rachel and the baby? This was Berry’s last thought before she fell into a sound, dreamless sleep.
Chapter Eight
The sun was lighting the eastern sky and daylight was seeping through the trees when Simon rode into the yard, dismounted, and unsaddled his tired horse. He too was tired, and irritable and anxious to know what had happened while he was away. He turned the horse into the poled enclosure, measured out a scoop of grain, and poured it into the feedbox. He stood beside the horse for a moment and wondered once again how he had allowed himself to become involved in the affairs of these two women.
There was no activity around the double cabin. The entire homestead was quiet except for the scolding of Fain’s pet crow, which sat on the wood-chopping stump. Israel and Eben, a black freedman who worked for Fain, were hunkered down before a cookfire at the edge of the clearing where the Warfield wagons were parked.
Simon headed for the small log house set back in the trees. It was a ramshackle affair put there by a settler years before who had decided that frontier life wasn’t for him and had given up the land to return East. Simon changed course abruptly, swung on his heel, and went to the big cabin. He would find out for himself how the women had fared.
The door of the cabin was ajar. He pushed it open and went inside. In the dim light he could see Berry asleep in the chair and Rachel on the bed. She was so still that he felt a shiver of dread slice through him. He placed his hat on the table and went closer. A baby was sleeping in the curve of her arm. Her eyelids fluttered open.
“It’s all over?” He bent low to whisper.
“Yes.” Rachel folded back the blanket so he could see the baby’s face. “A girl.” Her look was tender and filled with love.
Simon looked down at the baby. She was red and wrinkled and reminded him of a dried persimmon. My God! he thought. She’s been through all that pain and agony to get this! He was silent for a moment, trying to find words. Finally he said cautiously, “She’s got lots of hair.”
“Fain says she’s got ever’thin’ she’s suppose to have. We’ve named her Faith.”
“Biedy’ll be fit to be tied when she gets here and finds out she’s missed out on all the doings.” He smiled and small lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes. He glanced toward the chair where Berry was sleeping.
Rachel caught the look. “She’s tired. She’s not had much sleep for two nights. She was cross today because she was worn out . . . and after what happened at the wagon grounds.”
“I’ll put her on the bunk. There’s no reason why she can’t sleep the morning away, if you can last awhile without her help.”
“I’ll get by if you’ll lay that stack of cloth over where I can reach it.”
Simon knelt in front of Berry, removed her shoes, and held her slender foot in his hand. He noticed her carefully mended stockings and the worn thinness of her dress. His mind flashed to the fine stockings and soft kid slippers in his storehouse in Saint Louis. His eyes searched every feature of her face. He had not had this opportunity to look his fill of her face before. He thought of her laugh tinkling like a wind chime and her eyes flashing brightly. He felt the same unfamiliar feeling, the urge to protect and cherish her, that he had felt the night he kissed her. It was not a purely unselfish emotion that possessed him. He wanted to love her in every way a man could love a woman and to satisfy his own lust as well. What’s wrong with that? he questioned his conscience, then tried to put the thought from his mind. It was all happening too fast. Did he want his life, his peace of mind, his future tied up with this slip of a girl?
He scooped her up in his arms as if she weighed no more than a small child. Her head drooped to his shoulder and her breath came warm and moist on his neck. Wisps of her hair clung to his rough cheeks. She smelled like warm sweetened tea, but like hickory smoke, too. Her body was soft and light and he carried her easily to the bunk at the end of the room.
“Simon . . . ?” The word came out on a breath. Her head fell back on his arm when he lowered her to the bed. She opened drowsy, green eyes. “I’m not asleep.”
He remained hunkered down beside the bunk, his arms still around her. “Playin’ possum, huh?”
“I’m sorry I called you a . . . mule’s ass.”
“Well, that’s something for a stubborn little mule to admit.” He chuckled. “That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble someday.”
“It already has. Simon . . . ? Thanks for coming to find us. I didn’t think you would . . . didn’t think you wanted to be bothered.”
“I came as soon as I heard about your pa.” Simon felt trembly on the inside. His arms were still around her and he was terribly conscious of the thinness of her dress between them. He felt the warmth radiating from her and drank it in like a man thirsting for water in the desert. He had tried to ignore the realization earlier, but it kept coming back to him, washing over him like a wave—he was beginning to care for this woman!
“I didn’t know what the old woman was like or I’d not have brought her here.” He wanted to say something, anything, in order to be with her for a little longer.
“The old woman acted plumb queer. At least I never heard of such as she was doin’ to Rachel. The girl was pretty.” Berry’s eyes were wide open and looking directly into his. She thought she felt his arms tighten but couldn’t be sure.
“Uh-huh.”
“What’s her name?”
“Della. That’s what her pa called her.”
“Where is their homestead?”
“On down the river. They were just camping by the creek for a while. The old woman’s man was sickly. They’ll be moving on in a day or two.” Simon hoped that what he was saying was making sense because his mind was really on his desire to kiss her moist lips, now slightly parted.
“Do you think their land is anywhere near ours? Rachel will be able to travel by the end of the week. We’ve got a lot to do before winter.”
“Berry . . .” It was the first time he could remember saying her name aloud. “Forget about taking up land. You couldn’t possibly improve on a homestead enough to get title even if the land commissioners would allow it.”
“They wouldn’t even know about it, if some busybody didn’t tell them.” Her green eyes turned frosty, and the hand that rested on his chest fell away.
“The gossip would reach them. Every man within a hundred miles would know two young unmarried women were alone on a homestead,” he said in flat tones. “How do you think you’re going to protect yourself from the likes of Linc Smith back there in the back of nowhere?”
“I’ll shoot him!” Berry said staunchly.
“I can find a place for you to stay in Saint Louis. Ernest Wenst, who works for . . .”
“No!” Berry pushed against his chest to move away from him. His arms held and his hand moved to her chin to hold it in place while he glared at her.
“You stubborn little fool!” Simon raised his voice. In his anger he forgot about Rachel at the other end of the room.
“Don’t wake Rachel,” Berry hissed through clenched teeth because his fingers tightened on her chin.
“If you cared so all-fired much about Rachel you wouldn’t be so determined to drag her off to a homestead where she’ll either starve or be taken by rivermen or Indians.” He said the words as if they were curses. “You listen . . . little miss stubborn know-it-all. I’m not running after you again. I’ve got a business to look after, I’ve got my land, and I’m going to go upriver with . . .”
“Get your hands off me, you . . . mule’s ass! I never asked you to run after me! Get your hands off . . or I’ll hit you in the mouth!”
“You do and I’ll pound your butt so hard you won’t sit on it for a week! Better yet . . .”
He
closed her mouth with his. His face shut out the fury in her green eyes and his arms crushed her to his chest so that there was not a hair’s breadth between them. His kiss was long and deep, and slow heat seeped into her body from her mouth to the tip of her toes. The pressure of his lips opened hers and she gave herself up to the shivers of excitement as his tongue slipped inside. She forgot to struggle, forgot Rachel at the end of the room, forgot how angry she was. She remembered only the sweetness of his last kiss and how she had yearned just for this. The fingers that left her chin closed warmly, caressingly over her breast.
Small fires began to build in that private part of her that ached to be fulfilled, and unaccustomed wetness seeped from the apex of her being. His tongue penetrated the sweet hollow of her mouth, exploring, tickling, stroking her lips, teeth, and the roof of her mouth. Berry returned the caresses freely, her inhibitions lost in the wave of longing she felt for him. Her hand moved up his arm to his shoulder and on to press against the back of his neck. Inquisitive, slender fingers combed the soft texture of his hair and circled the curve of his ear. He raised his lips a little away from hers. She opened her eyes to find him looking down at her with a hot intensity that made her heartbeat quicken even more. His eyes were so dark, so close, she could see hers reflected there. She smiled.
Simon gazed long and hard into eyes that shone like shimmering green pools, at a soft red mouth, parted and puffed from the pressure of his. His fingers were moving gently on the nape of his neck, causing feelings of possessive, rueful tenderness to wash over him. He lowered his mouth and placed small, light kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her eyes. His emotions were in an uproar. He wanted to shake her and he wanted to make love to her in a way he had never loved a woman before.
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