Dangerous Heart

by Tracey Bateman

  Then she opened her mouth. “Okay, but God hasn’t ever answered any of my prayers before,” she muttered. “I don’t see why He’d start now.”

  Grant looked at Yellow Bird, then back at Ginger, and cleared his throat softly. Ginger nodded a little as though she understood his meaning and brightened marginally. “This is probably my lucky day, though,” she hastily—and poorly, in Grant’s opinion—tried to amend.

  “Grant, there isn’t a lot of time,” Miss Sadie urged.

  With a nod, Grant closed his eyes. “Let’s pray.” They bowed their heads and he began to speak. “Lord, give me wisdom and mercy to bring this baby safely into Your beautiful world. Show me how to dislodge this child and bring it forth. Amen.”

  Ginger gave a tug on Grant’s shirt. “I have an idea that might work.”

  “What is it?” he asked, barely listening.

  “I once saw a farmer trying to help out this old cow.”

  “Ginger, please,” Miss Sadie said with weary annoyance. “Just hush. Your storytelling isn’t helping Yellow Bird.”

  “It might, if you two would just listen to me.” Ginger’s voice held her own frustration. Grant glanced at her and met her gaze. Fear grazed her brown eyes, and he felt himself responding to her need to be heard.

  “All right,” he said, “but hurry up.”

  “The cow was having a rough go of it, and Mr. Murdock reached in and turned the calf, gave it a yank, and it came out.”

  Grant rubbed Yellow Bird’s rock-hard belly, hoping the baby would dislodge itself from wherever it seemed to be hung up. “Well, a calf isn’t a baby.”

  “I know that,” Ginger said, scowling. “Don’t you think I know the difference?”

  “I’m sure you do and I know you want to help, but right now, I need to concentrate.”

  Yellow Bird shifted on the pallet. Sweat glistened on her neck and forehead. Grant knew she had to be in excruciating pain, still she barely made a sound.

  Ginger, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to keep quiet. “Why can’t you just hear me out? That calf was good as dead, and Mr. Murdock saved it.”

  “Please, Ginger! I’m doing my best.” All the fire left Ginger’s eyes, and she nodded quickly, stepping back to give him room to move.

  The thought of reaching inside the Indian woman and turning the child scared him. Terrified him, in fact. He caught Miss Sadie’s gaze. Dark circles surrounded her eyes and the lines on her face seemed more pronounced than he’d ever noticed. “You know, as unlikely as it seems, you might give Ginger’s suggestion a try, Grant,” she said. “I’ve seen it work before.”

  Still, Grant hesitated. How could he bear it if the child died in his hands, along with Yellow Bird? “It’s risky.”

  “But not impossible,” she countered. “And at least it’s better than sitting here doing nothing, while Yellow Bird and her baby die.”

  Grant’s stomach churned at the image. “You’re right. It’s not impossible. With God, all things are possible.”

  But his thoughts flashed to another young mother he couldn’t save. The memory caused his hands to tremble. Of course, his wife, Sarah, had only been in her third month of pregnancy, and her death wasn’t related to her condition. Still, Yellow Bird’s situation brought back all of his fears and insecurities. His inability to save the love of his life had been the reason he stopped practicing medicine in the first place.

  Struggling against a desire to walk out of the tent and turn his back completely on the entire wagon train, he forced himself to study the pain on Yellow Bird’s face. He had to be strong and do his best. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be God that failed; it would be him.

  “Yellow Bird,” he said softly, caressing her sweat-soaked brow. “Your baby is not able to come any further because he isn’t in the right position. I am going to try to turn him and pull him out. It will be painful, and there are no guarantees. But we have to try. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, and another contraction rocked her small body. “If you do nothing, my child will not live.”

  “That’s right.” He made no mention that she would likely die, as well. But he figured she knew, and there was something to be said for keeping hope alive.

  Yellow Bird gripped his hand and lifted her shoulders off the pallet. She gave him a hard, pleading stare. “Please, doctor. You must try.”

  Grant sprang into action. The young woman was growing weaker by the minute. “Ginger, Miss Sadie, get on either side of Yellow Bird and don’t let her thrash about too much.”

  “Me?” Ginger’s voice sounded faint. “I’ll go get Toni or Fannie. I’ll be right back.”

  “There’s no time!” Grant grabbed the white-faced girl by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Ginger! You have to be strong. I know you don’t like illness or blood. But you cannot faint, is that clear?”

  “Who said I was going to faint?”

  Good! Some of her spunk was showing.

  Grant tried to ignore the sound of Yellow Bird’s groans as he felt for the baby’s head, and then the shoulder.

  He looked up at Miss Sadie. “Hold her.”

  Slowly he tried to turn the baby. Still, with the next pain, the baby didn’t descend any farther. “I have to try to turn him the other way,” he said more to himself than the women. He could hear his panic. “Lord, please,” he whispered.

  “Pray, Ladies.”

  Ginger prayed the same two words over and over like a mantra. “Please God, please God, please God, please God—” Finally Grant’s nerves could take it no longer.

  “Ginger! Stop!”

  “Well, you’re the one that told me to pray!”

  “Can’t you pray something else?”

  Yellow Bird let out a scream of pain that pierced the interior of the tent.

  “It’s the only prayer I know!” Ginger resumed her petition. “Please God, please God, please God, please God.”

  As Grant turned the infant counterclockwise, he felt the shoulder begin to dislodge. Hope sprang up inside his heart, and he found himself joining in Ginger’s prayer. “Please God, please God, please God.”

  Moments later, a healthy boy slid into the world with lusty cries that brought a slow, exhausted smile to his mother’s pale lips.

  “Would you look at that?” Ginger said, excitement and wonder in her tone. Miss Sadie wrapped the baby and tried to give him to Yellow Bird. The young woman had fainted. “Ginger, take the baby,” Miss Sadie said. “I need to help Grant take care of Yellow Bird. She’s bleeding too heavily.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” Ginger said, the fear in her voice so thick Grant could almost reach out and touch it.

  “It’s okay,” Miss Sadie said with uncommon gentleness that surprised Grant. “There’s nothing to it. You’ll do just fine.”

  Miss Sadie slipped the baby carefully into Ginger’s arms. A soft gasp caused Grant to raise his head just for a second. His stomach jumped at the sight of the young woman holding Yellow Bird’s baby. Ginger’s lips parted slightly, and her eyes widened as she looked from the infant to him.

  He would have never thought this possible. For all of her spit and fire and annoying behavior, Ginger Freeman could be as soft as any woman when holding a baby.

  Later, as he went about his daily rounds, he couldn’t escape the image of her eyes, moist and filled with wonder, and her lips, soft and slightly parted, as she stared at the miracle in her arms.

  Two

  Ginger’s back ached from sitting next to Yellow Bird on the hard ground all day. Grant had warned that the Indian woman was still bleeding a little more heavily than he liked and should not be left alone. And that was fine with Ginger. She wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on anything else today anyway.

  On the pallet in the corner of the tent, Miss Sadie stirred from a nap and sat up. A yawn and a stretch later, she shook her head. “I must have dozed off. It’s been a long night.” A frown creased her brow. “What are you still doing here, Ginger?”r />
  “Grant said we should keep an eye on these two.”

  Miss Sadie let out an exasperated breath. “I don’t think he meant literally sit next to her and stare at her while she sleeps. Why don’t you go make yourself useful somewhere instead of hovering? Mercy’s sake, if she wakes up sudden-like, you’ll scare her to death.”

  The sting of Miss Sadie’s words cut Ginger to the core. How could the old widow have the gall to suggest that she wasn’t being useful? Hadn’t she brought the doctor’s bag and stayed when they prayed and let Yellow Bird grip her hand until she was almost sure the tiny woman was going to squeeze her fingers right off? And hadn’t she been the one to suggest turning the baby? Grant had even thanked her, and Miss Sadie herself admitted that God had spoken through Ginger. If the Almighty had thought her special enough to voice His wisdom through, then maybe Miss Sadie ought to start showing her a little bit of respect.

  Now that it was all over, she’d dedicated herself to watching over the new mother and her tiny babe so Miss Sadie could take a nap. The implication that she was in the way just galled Ginger more than she could say. Ungrateful old woman!

  She jerked her chin and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not going anywhere until Doc says Yellow Bird is out of the woods.”

  “Trust me. I’ve delivered enough babies to know that she’s come through the worst of it. Yellow Bird and Little Sam are both going to be fine.” Miss Sadie muscled her way around Ginger and placed her hand on Yellow Bird’s forehead. She gave a satisfied nod. “No fever, praise the Lord.”

  Relief poured over Ginger, and her mind echoed the praise heavenward, though she’d rather die than admit it. “Well, that’s good. Right? No infection?” Even though Yellow Bird had lost more blood than she should have and was therefore weaker than most new mothers, Grant had assured her that as long as no infection set in, Yellow Bird should make a full recovery.

  “Look, Ginger, honey,” Miss Sadie said, her tone conciliatory. She obviously realized the bullying approach hadn’t worked. Now she was being nice. Too nice. And Ginger wasn’t a bit fooled. She stayed planted on the ground with her arms folded. “I said I’m not moving until Yellow Bird wakes up.”

  “I’m awake.” The soft sound of Yellow Bird’s voice barely penetrated the tent.

  Ginger’s protective nature took over. “You shouldn’t be, Yellow Bird. Doc says you need your rest.”

  Miss Sadie let out a huff. “How could she not be, with all your yammering?”

  Ginger ignored her and kept her attention on her friend. Fever or no fever, as far as Ginger was concerned, the pale face was cause for worry.

  “You feelin’ okay?”

  Yellow Bird gave a weary nod. “I am fine.” She looked lovingly at the tiny creature lying in the crook of her arm. “Is he not beautiful? My heart sings a new song.” The baby stirred at the sound of his mother’s voice and let out a faint mewing noise.

  Ginger’s heart lurched. “Is he okay?”

  Yellow Bird’s lips curved into a smile. “He is hungry.” She adjusted and pulled at a leather thong at her shoulder, loosening the top of her buckskin dress.

  Ginger’s face heated as the baby latched on and began nursing with greedy, sucking noises.

  She cleared her throat and rose to her feet. “I have things to do.”

  “About time,” Miss Sadie muttered.

  “I’ll be back later, Yellow Bird.” Without awaiting a response, Ginger opened the flap and stepped outside into the chilly autumn twilight.

  Blake Tanner, the wagon master had called a halt for one day in the aftermath of this morning’s attack, followed by the birth of Yellow Bird’s baby. A baby’s birth wouldn’t normally be grounds for losing a day of travel, especially when the group was already a month behind schedule, but Ginger had overheard Grant telling Miss Sadie that Yellow Bird might not live through a hard day of traversing the deep wagon ruts in the worn trail ahead.

  The concern in Grant’s voice had sent a wave of fear through Ginger. She’d never had a real female friend except for Toni Rodden, but Yellow Bird had earned Ginger’s respect when she’d helped save Toni from being kidnapped and sold to a Cheyenne war chief. Was it any wonder she had ignored Miss Sadie’s annoyance and refused to budge from Yellow Bird’s side while her life was in danger?

  Filled with excess energy, Ginger headed for her horse, Tulip. She knew from experience that the only way to release her frustration and relax was to ride at breakneck speed until she felt herself calm down. Tulip released a breath in anticipation as Ginger cinched the saddle tight and climbed on the mare’s back. Besides, after the Almighty had been so good as to answer her prayer about Yellow Bird, she figured she owed Him a little bit of conversation.

  “Ginger!” Grant Kelley stormed toward her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Ginger’s stomach tightened at his tone. He would be telling her she couldn’t go. Well, she wouldn’t stand for it. “For a ride. Not that it’s any of your concern.”

  “Didn’t you hear Blake’s orders that no one is to ride off alone today?” His eyes blazed.

  Ginger sent him a fierce scowl. “I didn’t hear any such thing.”

  “Well, he said it. Besides, after this morning’s attack, you shouldn’t have to be told. It’s almost dark. You wouldn’t get a mile from here without night setting in. Use your head.”

  “I always use my head.” And she resented the implication that she wasn’t. “The moon and stars are bright. I’ll find my way just fine.” Ginger jerked her horse around. After all, she had ridden on her own for two months before joining up with the wagon train. And evaded detection from Grant and his scouts during that time. She could take care of herself.

  “You aren’t going anywhere, you stubborn woman. Blake’s orders. Besides, you know what he said last time you rode off without permission. Do you want to take a chance on forcing his hand?”

  Ginger shifted uncomfortably in her saddle. She did remember. Blake had irrevocably announced he’d leave her behind at the next fort if she disobeyed orders again. In this case, the fort in question was Fort Boise, and they’d be there in a few short days. She had no intention of being left behind. Still, how could she stay cooped up inside camp when the wide open beckoned after such a long and difficult day?

  Besides, she hadn’t heard Blake say anything about folks staying in camp and not riding off alone. And she wouldn’t even consider the likely possibility that he actually had given that order. Admitting the possibility meant she had better stay put. Glancing across the plain, she hesitated, but only long enough to make a firm decision.

  A gentle nudge to Tulip’s flank was all it took for the mare to bolt and run, leaving Grant in a cloud of dust, his face mottled in anger. Ginger grinned as she put distance between herself and the wagon train. Even if Grant saddled up and rode hard, he’d never catch her. She didn’t care a bit. Let him be mad. Grant was a bully and always tried to tell her what to do. He might not remember her. After all she had been only eleven years old when they’d last met. But she remembered him well, and he would soon find out that she had her own bone to pick with the doc. The folks of this wagon train would discover that Grant Kelley wasn’t everything he pretended to be.

  After a few minutes, her head began to clear. She looked up into the gathering darkness and figured now was as good a time as any to have that conversation with the Almighty.

  She cleared her throat. “Uh…” This was strange. How did Toni and Fannie and Blake and just about everyone she knew just talk into air without thinking anything of it? “You know I’m not much of one to talk out loud to a person that probably isn’t even there. But just in case…I’d like to thank You for bringing Yellow Bird’s babe and keeping them both alive.”

  That was about all she could muster. And even at that, her face was as hot as July at the very thought that someone might have heard.

  She began to regret her hasty actions in riding off. What if Blake really had ordered
everyone to stay in camp? It sounded like something the conscientious wagon master would say. If he got wind of her disobedience, it might be the final straw for him. Not that Ginger deliberately got herself into trouble, but it just seemed to find her when she least expected it. She slowed Tulip to a trot and finally to a walk. “I think I might have messed up again, girl,” she said, leaning forward and throwing her arms about Tulip’s neck. “But Grant is like a burr in my saddle. And I know you know what that’s like. Why can’t he stop acting all high-and-mighty all the time?”

  If only he knew why she’d joined the wagon train in the first place, he’d be a lot more careful how he treated her. That was for certain.

  Why hadn’t she done what she had come to do? For seven years, all she had wanted was the satisfaction of seeing Grant pay. It had taken her that long to convince Web to let her do it, too. So why, after more than two months of traveling with the wagon train, hadn’t she?

  These folks on the wagon train…they were different from the band of thieves and thugs she’d grown up with. The thought of doing what she’d come to do and returning to the band of outlaws waiting for her return didn’t sit right. As a matter of fact, it filled her nightmares. The only explanation was that all this talk about God had somehow sunk in more than she’d ever thought possible.

  As the child of a prostitute and an outlaw, Ginger had never heard about Jesus until arriving on the wagon train. God was simply a curse word, except her ma used to cry and pray to Him when she was drunk. It hadn’t occurred to Ginger that the life they led was wrong. Gambling, drinking, and outlawing. That was her world until a few months ago. Life in the train had changed her. And not just on the inside, either. She’d started taking regular baths. Toni had forced her to initially, but now she actually enjoyed being clean. She attended when Sam Two Feathers preached, and she was even starting to understand and look forward to the meetings. God was becoming real instead of myth, and prayer seemed more than drunken petitions. Going back to her former life filled her with dread. And not only dread, but out-and-out fear. Given the choice, she wouldn’t return.