“Take her. You’d make everyone happy.” Caleb’s face flushed. “Except Ma Duncan, but nothing makes her happy.”
“I’ll take your words under advisement.” Charles basked in the information the rest of the day.
They reached Fort Griffin on December 14 and made their way to the quartermaster’s office. The blustery, red-faced Quartermaster Stewart inspected the horses and letter carefully. “Looking a little lean.”
“We brought them two hundred miles. They’ll fatten up soon enough,” Charles said.
Stewart eyed him. “Where’d you get that scar?”
“Cave City, Kentucky.”
“Looks like a bayonet cut. Morgan’s men fought there. You one of them?”
“Yes, sir.” Charles knew to keep his answers short when speaking with Union Army officers.
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Were you on the great raid north into Indiana?”
“Yes, sir. I was captured in Ohio.”
Stewart stared at him. “Did you learn anything?”
“I learned to be careful who I followed, sir.”
Stewart examined the horses once more. “Where’s your allegiance now?”
“To God and the United States of America.”
He grunted. “Watch yourself tonight; not all these soldiers believe the war is over.”
Charles sent Caleb outside the fort to water and forage Bet and Willow while he and the horse master spent time with the six geldings. Afterward, he collected the payment and sought Caleb. Once out of eyesight of the fort, they mounted and rode off at a gallop. Charles wanted to put as much distance as possible between the money and the fort. He’d learned the hard way not to trust a soldier.
Charles thought about the dreadful day Morgan’s raid turned bad. Hounded by Union forces, they’d tried to forge the Ohio River too late in the afternoon. With darkness closing in and Union gunboats firing at them from the river, he’d urged his exhausted horse into the water, General Morgan riding hard behind him.
In the chaos of bullets, screaming horses, drowning men, and smoke, they nearly made it across. The general, however, turned back when it became obvious a large part of the command wouldn’t make it. Charles tried to follow his leader and was captured.
Prison camp at Fort Delaware became his duty station for the rest of the war.
Had he followed the right man? Morgan was charismatic and bold, but he courted danger. A gambler, just like Charles was then. Or was Charles a gambler because of the company he kept?
Maybe Hanks and Stovall were right. Living in an environment and prone to gamble, carrying those dice might be too dangerous for him. He’d never considered that angle before.
Charles and Caleb arrived in Neches six days later, trotting down the main street on a slow Sunday afternoon. Colonel Hanks was locking up the church when they passed, and he waved them over.
“Success? Any problems?”
“A good trip,” Charles said. “Caleb held his own very well.”
“What’d you learn, Caleb?”
The boy opened his eyes wide. “The quadratic formula. Isn’t that what I was supposed to learn?”
The colonel nodded. “School’s not out until Wednesday; I think you’ll fit in fine tomorrow morning.” He and Charles both laughed at Caleb’s surprise.
“Railroad men have been in town this week. They liked your work, Moss,” Hanks said. “They’ll hire you next summer if you want to do some railway surveying.”
Charles couldn’t read Hanks’s face. “What route?”
“They’ve got two in particular to choose from.” He nodded at Caleb. “One’s across the Peck place.”
“No,” Caleb said.
“Your sister will need to make the call.” Hanks looked pointedly at Charles. “She’s been getting lots of advice.”
“How’s that?” Charles asked.
“The widow Duncan’s been entertaining most of the unmarried bucks in the county now the news is out. She has until spring to choose.”
“But she’s pregnant,” Charles said.
“With a baby and also the possibility of a lot of cash. A fellow might be willing to overlook another man’s child if he wins a pretty woman and a pile of money, too.”
“Jenny wouldn’t marry another man for convenience,” Charles said.
Hanks raised his eyebrow. “You’re the gambler. You tell me.”
Charles spurred Bet. “I’ll race you home, Caleb.”
And he took off like a shot.
Chapter 13
Late February
Watching the rain pour down, Jenny thought of all the changes in her life the last nine months. As her time approached, it grew hard to imagine the innocent woman she’d been last spring. With Pa gone and Tom, too, she’d lost her anchor but also her chain.
Which is why she shook her head over the three men who had been courting her since Christmas. Why would she settle for another marriage of convenience? She knew the would-be suitors were waiting for the railroad trustees to make their decision about the tracks. If the railroad wanted her land, she’d get three marriage proposals on the spot.
If the trustees picked the other route, she’d be on her own.
The implications of both options troubled her.
The one man she respected had shut himself away since Christmas. Charles spent most of his free hours working on his lesson plans, hunting with her brothers, and training the yearlings. He’d even built Ma Duncan a new henhouse. The only person he avoided was her.
But that surprising kiss when he left with the horses lingered in her memory. She tried not to think about it when he spoke to her. Surely she hadn’t imagined the warmth in his eyes when he smiled at her?
How would Jenny really know? She’d married a man who smiled at her, and that didn’t work out well.
Charles, though, always came through with what he said he would do. He respected Jenny’s judgment and discussed plans related to the farm and the boys with her. Surely she could trust him? Then why hadn’t he commented on the men who came to court her? Why didn’t he follow suit?
Could she have misread that kiss so badly?
The wind picked up from the southwest and howled around the wooden house, shaking the walls with an intensity that made Jenny fear for the roof. Out the window, a wall of rain separated the house from the barn, but she caught sight of dark figures dashing across the farmyard.
Caleb and Micah burst in the front door, rain dripping onto the floor. “What a gully washer,” Caleb shouted. “It’s turning cold, but we got the livestock in. They’re watered and bedded down for the night.”
“Even little Petal is tucked up tight next to Blossom.” Micah had a soft spot for the three-month-old calf.
Ma Duncan hiccupped. “How my chicks doing?”
“Everything’s buttoned up tight, ma’am,” Caleb said. “They were nestled in their straw.” He reached into the pocket of his slicker. “They even sent a gift.”
“Coo.” She cradled the fresh egg like a jewel.
“Strip off your wet clothes.” Jenny draped their waterproof slickers over the chairs near the stove. “Where’s Charles?”
“He’ll be in at suppertime. He’s got lessons to plan.”
Jenny rubbed at a side twinge. “Let’s hope he doesn’t have to swim.”
“He’ll have to swim to school—the creek was riding high when we rode over it.” Micah grabbed at hot corn pone fresh from the oven.
Jenny peered out the window again. She’d felt restless all week, but that day her bulky body refused to settle down. “Nesting instinct,” Rachel’d said when she visited the day before.
Everything was ready for the baby: clothing washed, a soft basket prepared, medical supplies, gum sheet to cover the bed, hot water, and plenty of wood on hand. Rachel had even given her a bottle of whiskey, explaining, “It’s medicinal.”
She pushed at her aching back. “Bring this baby in the right time, Lord,” Jenny whispered. “After the sto
rm’s gone.”
“You’re like a broody hen,” Ma Duncan said. “If you can’t sit still, why don’t you play that old piano? Do something useful with your energy.”
“How come none of your beaus have come out to see you today?” Micah snickered. “Afraid of a little rain?”
“If they’re afraid of rain, they’re not for me,” Jenny said absently. Something felt wrong.
“You should tell them I’ll own the farm when I turn eighteen,” Caleb said.
Ma Duncan scowled. “It’s mine.”
“Colonel Hanks explained it to you,” he said. “The farm belongs to Jenny since she was married to Tom.”
“That’s not what my Tom wanted,” she slurred. “He wanted me cared for.” Tears dripped down her face.
“You’re here with us,” Jenny said. “You’re safe here on the farm. Tom wanted you to have a home.” He may not have wanted to live on the farm, but he wanted his mother far from her temptations.
The woman hiccupped again and swayed.
Had Ma Duncan found the basket of birthing supplies while Jenny worked upstairs?
“Is that sleet?” Micah asked.
They crowded to the window. Sleet was unusual in eastern Texas, and snow hadn’t fallen in ten years. Jenny shuddered.
The door banged out of Charles’s hand, and frigid air entered with him. He rubbed his hands and joined everyone beside the stove. “Mighty bad night out there. The animals are restless.”
“They’re not the only ones.” Ma Duncan pointed at Jenny.
She handed the plates to Micah and pulled the stew pot off the stove. If Jenny didn’t look at Charles, she wouldn’t have to answer any questions. She felt selfconscious as all four watched her move around the kitchen. Her large belly nearly hit Ma Duncan when Jenny turned to set the corn pone on the table.
“How are you feeling?” Charles’s voice sounded far away, like she had cotton in her ears. Her face felt hot, and the front of her stomach tightened. She couldn’t go into labor now; she’d just ignore the pain and it would go away.
Charles grabbed her right arm above the elbow. “Look at me. Are you having contractions?”
She waved her hand in front of her face. “I’m hot. I’ll sit farthest from the fire so you can warm up.”
She squinted at an ache far down and suddenly wondered if she had lost her bladder. A puddle gathered around both her feet and Charles’s. “You’re all wet,” she said.
“I practically had to swim over from the barn,” Charles said. “I may get stranded in here tonight like on Noah’s ark.”
“The animals are all in the barn.” Another tweak. The baby could not come. It would be impossible to fetch the midwife.
Somewhere outside they heard a crack. “Must have been a tree falling. Cold wind blowing out there,” Charles said.
For one second she allowed herself the luxury of really looking into Charles’s face, and then she dropped her eyes away.
“Is it the baby?” he asked in a low voice. “Changes in weather patterns can bring on labor.”
Jenny turned her head away. “I don’t know. I don’t feel quite right. Have you delivered a human baby before?”
“Of course not, but if you think you’re in labor, I need to go for the midwife before the storm worsens, if that’s even possible.” Charles glanced at the window.
Rain pounded like pebbles against the glass.
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Jenny wanted to believe her trembling words.
“I’m sure it’s not,” Ma Duncan cackled with a brightness Jenny had never heard before. “Baby’s coming, and no one’s here to help but me.” She burped. “What do I know about birthin’ babies? I like them best when they crack out of eggshells.”
Charles stepped closer to Ma Duncan. “What did you say, ma’am?”
She repeated her words.
“I smell whiskey.” Charles stared at Ma Duncan. “Where did you get it?”
“I found it. It’s for my grandchild, but I knew he wouldn’t mind if I took a nip.”
“She’s drunk?” Caleb’s mouth dropped open.
Jenny waddled to the sideboard and peered into the birthing basket. The whiskey bottle was almost empty.
“Have something to eat, Ma Duncan, then we’ll put you to bed.” Charles pulled out her chair and sat her at the table.
She wept. “You don’t want me around. But I’ll be here for my grandchild. You mark my words.”
Jenny took the chair beside her in dismay. The one person who had actually been through this experience could not help her. She looked around the table. Micah was too young. Caleb too rough. That left just one. Charles, at least, had delivered livestock before.
She felt her face flame and buried it in her hands. Jenny couldn’t do this part by herself, but how could the midwife arrive in time? How would they get her?
“I’ll wear both slickers. Good thing Bet knows the way to town even in the dark.” Charles filled his bowl with stew. “I need to eat fast. Are we going to say grace?”
“Please. You pray,” Jenny said.
His deep blue eyes held her with a question before he ducked his dark head and prayed for the food, for her, and for the wild night. “Bring everyone safely to this house who needs to be here. Amen.”
“Is the creek fordable with the buggy?” Jenny asked.
“You’re staying here,” Charles said. “I’ll go for the midwife. Good idea to take the buggy, but it will take longer.”
Uncertainty tore at Jenny. Which man could she risk losing? Caleb or Charles?
Ma Duncan bobbed over the table then slumped across it, pushing dishes and cutlery away. Charles jumped up before his bowl landed in his lap. “To bed with this one.” He slung her over his shoulder and stomped through the parlor to her room.
Jenny touched Caleb’s hand. “Do you think you can ride to town in this storm?”
“You want me to go?” Excitement danced in his face.
If only she could ask Asa; he had been capable of anything. But Asa and Ben were lying in their graves. Caleb was the oldest brother she had now, even if he was eight years younger. “I want you to think about it. There’s no loss if you don’t want to or if you think it’s too dangerous.”
“I rode all the way to Fort Griffin. I can ride to town in the dark.”
Sleet pelted the window. Micah’s eyes were huge.
“What do you think, Micah? Should I send Caleb for the midwife or Charles?”
“I’ll go if you need me.”
He looked so worried, Jenny could only smile. “I need you here to keep the fire stoked and to pray. Can you do it? We may need you to go out to the barn before this is over to tend the livestock. I know you can help us.”
He nodded.
Jenny waited through a spasm and then leaned toward her brothers. “You’re my only kinfolk. You’re the only ones I can ask. If it comes to it, do you have objections to Charles delivering my baby?”
“I’m going for the midwife,” Charles declared from the doorway.
Caleb stood. He was as tall as Charles. “I am. My sister needs you here.”
“Me?”
“I’ve never delivered anything before. Someone needs to stay with Jenny in case I don’t return with the midwife.”
Micah stood beside him. “You’re a man of honor, aren’t you?”
“What?” Charles glanced between them.
Micah’s voice cracked. “We can trust you to help her, can’t we?”
“I’m sure Caleb will return in time,” Jenny said.
Charles opened and closed his mouth several times.
“Get your slicker, Caleb. Take the barn lantern, and go slow.” Jenny caught her breath. “What other information does he need, Charles?”
Charles reached for his slicker. “I’ll walk you out and help you harness up.”
Jenny grabbed his hand. “Charles, please. Don’t play any tricks. Caleb has to go. I need you.”
He gazed at her.
“Jenny, I’m not even a member of your family. This is so wrong. I can’t help you deliver a baby.”
She let him see the fear in her eyes this time. “You have to, Charles. You’re the only person I can trust.”
Chapter 14
Charles did not like the idea of sending a boy out to do a man’s job, even a young man as competent as Caleb had proven himself to be. While he was familiar with anatomy and the birthing process, Charles knew this would be hard, even if he got past the intimate exposure of the woman he now realized he loved.
He shuddered just thinking about the embarrassment. She wouldn’t want to see him after this, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to face her even now. And what if she died?
“Jenny’s right. You’re the best choice. I give you my blessing,” Caleb said.
What was it with this kid?
“Thanks, but you better get back here with the midwife,” Charles said. “Take Bet, she’s used to riding in bad weather.”
“How will I bring the midwife here if I’m on your horse?” Caleb reached for the buggy whip. Charles watched him swallow. Hard.
“Go to Colonel Hanks first. The midwife’s husband won’t let her go out into such a wild night with just you, experienced though you are. Tell the colonel you need his help. He’ll come.”
Caleb stopped. “You don’t think I can do it?”
The words echoed from his past. Ben had asked him the same question before he, too, disappeared into a wild and stormy night.
Sal dragged herself out of the warm straw and trotted over. Charles scratched her ears then shook Caleb’s hand. “If I were still a betting man, Caleb, I’d bet everything on your ability to do this job. You’ve proved you got what it takes to complete a man’s task. Let’s pray, and we’ll trust God to bring you and the midwife in time.”
Caleb sniffed and swiped the hat off his head. Charles put his hand on the boy’s thin shoulder and prayed. While Caleb saddled up Bet, Charles went into his room and found his flint and a candle lantern. It was so dark outside, he wished it would snow to lighten the night. On the long march to Tennessee during Morgan’s 1862 Christmas raid, Charles had ridden through freezing rain, sleet, and snow. He preferred snow.
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