Owen Family Saga Box Set: Books 1-3

by Ward, Marsha

  The size of the stallion’s “thing” had been truly impressive, but Jessie hadn’t thought much about it through the years. The only time she’d seen the result of such an encounter was when a pregnant cat had sped into the house through a carelessly opened door and given birth to its kittens behind the stove. She’d watched the cat’s convulsive expulsions of slimy sacs, one by one, each followed by a barbaric eating of that kitten’s protective coating. She shuddered at the remembrance. Surely a human birth was more, well, humane?

  Jessie sat down to one side of Hannah. What did Ma want her to do? Was this baby going to have red hair and a grizzled, bearded chin, dripping tobacco juice? A feeling of dread settled on her. Would Hannah turn away from such a baby and let it languish from neglect? Surely Robert wouldn’t allow that.

  Jessie looked at Robert, tucked away behind Hannah, supporting her body with his own. What’s goin’ through his mind? He’s said over and over how this baby is his own, no matter what. Will he be able to follow through on his talk? I hope so. He’s a good man. Hannah’s been lucky to have him. Steadfast, that’s what he is. Would James be steadfast, stand by me if I was in such a fix? No, I mean Ned. Would Ned do that?

  “Jessie, hold this towel.” Mrs. Bingham’s demand cut through Jessie’s thoughts.

  She took the piece of flour sack and let it dangle between her hands. Her sister was doubled over again, cupping her belly with white hands, gritting her teeth and grunting. Is this why they call it labor? She’s doin’ a lot of work. Ma had her hands down by Hannah’s private place, mopping at something. Ah! That’s blood! Waves of nausea hammered at Jessie’s body, threatening her consciousness, but she kept above the black pool by wrapping the cloth tightly around one hand and biting her lip.

  What is Ma doing now? Jessie quit biting herself and craned her neck. It looked like Ma was holding a head, a tiny head covered with blood and a white gooey substance.

  “Now push!” Ma said to Hannah.

  Hannah took three quick breaths and bore down, her face turning from white to crimson with her effort. Jessie watched in amazement as Ma’s hands suddenly contained not only the wee head, but a baby’s body, followed by a long twisted cord that seemed still attached to Hannah’s nether regions.

  “I need more hands,” Mrs. Bingham said in a grumbling voice. “Jessie, that towel!”

  Jessie leaned forward and gave the cloth to Ma, who wiped up the blood on the baby’s face, scooped something out of its mouth, and tapped it on the chest.

  The infant let out a squall that filled the tent. It continued crying as Mrs. Bingham fired instructions at Robert and Jessie.

  “The string, Mr. Fletcher. Here and here.” Robert tied twine around the cord in two places, pulling it tight at Mrs. Bingham’s direction. Then he picked up a pair of scissors.

  “Now?”

  “Yes, cut.”

  Jessie turned away, bile rising in her throat.

  “Give me that blanket beside you, girl.”

  Jessie fought down the acrid gall and found the blanket.

  Ma wrapped the child, swiping at its little face once again. She held out the bundle to Robert. “He is your true son, Mr. Fletcher. See how his hair grows?” She touched the infant’s forehead tenderly. “Now Hannah, you have a bit more work to do.”

  A few moments later, the afterbirth came, and Ma started tidying up.

  “Can I go, Ma?” Jessie asked, and without waiting for an answer, got up and flung herself through the tent flaps and into the sweet, cold air of the late afternoon.

  Chapter 27

  James looked up as Jessie stumbled out of the tent door, her face white and drawn. What’s amiss? he wondered, and caught up to her in three strides. Hannah had stopped screaming, and he was sure he’d heard a baby cry. “Jessie?” he asked, touching her arm.

  She shook him off, rushing toward a circle of trees, when she bent double and wretched. James dug out his handkerchief and pressed it into her hand. “Does your sister live?” he asked. “Is the babe well?”

  “The blood,” Jessie choked out. “It unnerves me.” She paused to wretch again, and James held her arm to keep her from falling.

  “All is well?”

  She heaved, and vomit splattered the ground. After a moment, she spit out, “Do I look well?”

  “With the birth, I mean.” James stifled a chuckle at Jessie’s heated tone. She looked pathetic, but he wasn’t going to mention that fact. That was Ned’s concern.

  Jessie took a breath and mopped her mouth. “The boy is born. Hannah lives.”

  “Thank God,” James said, just as the hand he’d been expecting clamped down on his shoulder.

  “Turn her loose,” Ned growled.

  James did so, and Jessie staggered a step away. He turned to Ned, making his face into a bland mask.

  “Why were you touching her?” Ned barked.

  “She would have fallen,” James answered. “A man doesn’t like to see that happen.”

  “That’s my lookout.”

  “You weren’t looking out for her.” James felt a churning in his gut. Nemesis!

  “You got in the way.”

  “You weren’t around.”

  At that jibe, Ned swung, hitting James on the cheekbone and knocking him backward. “Leave her be!” he shouted. “She’s my girl.”

  James shook his head to clear away the ringing. He’d known Ned was spoiling for a fight. He shouldn’t have pushed him toward it, even accidentally. But Ned had thrown the first punch, and hush! James was ready to oblige him. He put his head down and charged, butting Ned in the stomach. They both went down, rolling on the ground, fists flying. Jessie shrieked.

  ~~~

  Mrs. Bingham laughed, a great trilling sound that filled Hannah’s senses with relief. “All our worry was for naught, Hannah. He’s a splendid boy, the spitting image of his papa.” She gathered up the soiled cloths. “You had a short delivery, for a first-time birth,” she added. “That’s another blessing to give thanks for. God’s compensation, I’ll warrant.” She got to her feet and went to the doorway. “What’s that row?” she asked, and turned back with a shake of her finger and a word of command, “Rest!”

  “Robert!” Hannah exclaimed as her mother left the tent. “Show me the baby.”

  He touched the child on the tip of its nose, then handed the bundle to Hannah, who took the infant into her arms. “Oh!” she said, wonder filling her breast. “Oh, he’s so tiny.” She looked at his hands, made sure five fingers sprouted on each one; inspected his feet, his legs, his obviously male parts. “He’s a boy.” She glanced at Robert, blinking away tears.

  “Yes.”

  “And look at his hair. There’s so much of it. Just like yours. Oh, Robert! He does look like you.”

  Robert stroked the baby’s forehead where the hair grew in a point like his own widow’s peak. He nuzzled Hannah’s neck and whispered in her ear. “I am the father of our babe. There is no doubt.”

  Hannah looked sideways at him and nodded, joy leaping in her soul. She turned her attention to the wiggling infant. “What shall I do with this howling boy?” she asked. The feelings of her heart expanded to enclose the three of them in a soft cocoon of love. Then her body shook as great peals of relieved laughter came from her throat.

  “Feed him,” Robert said, and chuckled. “You know he’s hungry.”

  ~~~

  “Poacher!” Ned shouted, his fists flailing at James.

  “Turncoat!” James replied, catching Ned on the ear.

  “Get up!” Jessie screamed. “Stop it this minute!”

  James got to his feet, dragging Ned up from the ground. He punched him again, and Ned reeled backward. James followed, ready to pound him with another well-placed fist, when Mrs. Bingham shoved between them. Her stiff arm stopped James in his tracks.

  He pawed the dust out of his eyes and watched Ned come to a halt, his face wary.

  “You men!” Mrs. Bingham’s voice sounded like a clap of thunder. “Ac
ting like little boys, rolling in the dust, fighting each other like heathens! You will stop it this instant. There’s a baby to think about, and y’all are causing nothin’ but turmoil.”

  James winced at the vitriolic burn of her words. Of course she was right. He hadn’t meant to lose his temper. There was just something about Ned that rubbed his fur the wrong way.

  “Shake hands, now. There’ll be no more antics like these,” Mrs. Bingham scolded.

  James held out his hand. Ned briefly touched it, his eyes challenging James against gripping it in amity. James shrugged and turned away. Ned’s bad humor is Jessie’s concern now, not mine, he reflected as he walked toward his horses. Even so, his stomach churned at the thought of Jessie’s having to placate an angry man.

  ~~~

  “Do you feel anything growing?” George whispered, his hand caressing Heppie’s stomach. He lay on his side in their bed under the wagon, propping himself up on one elbow.

  “I just feel sick,” she said, snuggling beside him. “Not now, but sometimes.”

  “Did your sister feel sick?”

  “Oh, all the time,” she answered. “She tried to hide it, but she did, and she had this…smell. I hope I don’t get like that.”

  “We’re all smelly,” he said, kissing her ear. “We can’t help it much.”

  “George! Do I smell?”

  He chuckled. “Don’t I?”

  “Well, yes, now that you speak of it.”

  “Think of this. Every day we travel, we get closer to a bathtub. And regular weekly baths.” He kissed her nose.

  “That tickles.”

  “Does this tickle?”

  She took a quick breath.

  “How about this?”

  She moaned. “I don’t think … you’re supposed … to do that!”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want to faint.”

  George drew back. “You’re cruel to bring that to mind, Heppie. I didn’t faint on purpose!”

  Heppie let out her breath in a short puff. “I wasn’t thinkin’ of that, George, but you were such a sight, topplin’ over like a great felled tree. Good thing you landed on the dry goods.” She giggled.

  George lay back. Heppie cuddled up to him.

  “You stopped,” she whispered.

  “Yep.”

  “Don’t.”

  He said nothing.

  She poked his chest. “George.”

  He turned his head. “What?”

  “Don’t stop.”

  George sighed. “I can’t do nothing now, Heppie.”

  “You can’t?”

  “Nothing takes the air out of a man’s sails like knowing his wife is makin’ fun of him.”

  “I wasn’t, George.”

  “Sounded like it.”

  “I wasn’t even thinking about that time. When you tickled me like that, it took my breath away.” She curled closer to him, and her voice sank to a murmur. “I felt like I was up in the trees, floatin’, kinda hangin’ there, breathless and all quiverin’ and losing control of myself. George, don’t stop. Even if I faint, don’t stop takin’ me up to that place in the trees, where—”

  He turned and kissed her, impeding the movement of her lips. After a moment, he whispered, “You like that?”

  “More. Do more.”

  George chuckled. “You won’t talk about fainting?”

  “Don’t stop.”

  “I don’t reckon I will.”

  Chapter 28

  Several days later, James was leading the Bingham party down the road when, ahead, he saw a train of wagons winding its way along the trail toward him.

  “That’s odd,” he said aloud to the dog. “We ain’t met other travelers for a long while.”

  James looked to the south. Off in the distance a hawk soared in an afternoon updraft, looking for a meal. To the north, snow-covered peaks loomed on the horizon.

  When he looked west again, James could see that the party coming toward them wasn’t making any progress. A few minutes later, he realized that one of the wagons in the band lay toppled on its side. He turned his horse and bellowed toward the wagons. “Robert, George, Ned! Come quick!” He put the black mare into a canter down the road.

  As he drew near, James saw several men working to pull the wagon upright. They had unhitched the team, tied ropes to the side of the wagon, and were using the animals to haul on the ropes to get it back on its wheels. Although the animals strained at the lines, the vehicle didn’t budge.

  James rode on to offer his assistance. He could see several women standing to the side, small children hanging on their skirts or aprons. Older children stood around in knots or helped with the upset wagon. Arriving in earshot, he heard screams coming from the vicinity of the wagon. Someone was caught underneath. James reined in the mare, got down, and led the horse to where the animals were sweating and straining to right the wagon.

  “Add my horse,” he said to one of the men. “She’s strong.”

  “Thank you. We’re obliged,” a man said, and took over the task. James strode around to the other side of the wreck to see if he could help in the lifting effort. A woman knelt there, tears streaming down her cheeks as she crooned to the young woman caught under the wagon.

  “Laurie Sue,” she said over and over. “Laurie Sue, we’ll get you out. Please, don’t scream, Laurie Sue. Think of Zion. Praise God for your blessings. Laurie Sue, don’t cry.”

  James found a place among three other men and put his shoulder under the wagon box. “Push,” cried a man, and James heaved with all his strength. He was aware that Robert and George had joined them. They all gave a second mighty heave, and the wagon tilted skyward. With a great rattle and a cloud of dust, it settled back on its wheels.

  Laurie Sue had stopped screaming, and the woman on her knees wailed, “She’s gone. Lord have mercy, she’s gone to Jesus.”

  James bent to raise the woman up, but she struggled until another man came and took her in his arms. “Eliza, hush. Hush your cryin’, honey. We’ll join her to us in Zion.” Tears muddied the man’s cheeks.

  What does he mean, “join her to us?” James wondered. He retrieved his horse, whistled for the dog, and would have mounted and left, but another man hailed him.

  “Stranger, wait up, there.” A tall thin man with high cheekbones and a wan smile approached James. His black hair was worn slicked back from his forehead, and he smoothed it down before he put on his hat. He offered James his hand. “I’m Jeffrey Julander, leader of this company. We’re obliged for your help, and that of your friends.” He nodded toward Robert and the Heizer brothers, who had come over to stand near James. “Will you stay and partake of supper with us tonight? It appears we’re obliged to camp until we can have a service for our sister and bury her.”

  “My condolences about your sister.” James blew out his breath, and turned to the other men of his party. “What do you say, Robert? Are we ready to camp? We’ve come a goodly lot of miles today.”

  Robert nodded. “We have. Is there water nearby? We need to fill our barrels.”

  Mr. Julander answered. “We’ve been following a river up from the south. It runs alongside the trail over there.” He gestured toward a thin ribbon of water.

  Robert nodded, satisfied. “I reckon we can join you for supper, Mr. Julander. I’m also sorry for the loss of your sister.”

  Mr. Julander pumped the hands of all the men, and said, “Laurie Sue isn’t my blood sister. She’s my sister in the gospel. We all belong to the same church, and we call each other Brother and Sister. You can call me Brother Jeff, if you’ve a mind to.”

  James shrugged. “If that’s what you’d rather we name you, I can get my mouth around it.” He looked back toward the river. “There’s a flat piece just along there, if you want to pull your wagons off the road. We’ll camp the other side of you.” James made as though to leave, then turned back to the man. “You’d better check that wagon for damage before you try to move it. It might fall in
to a wreck and block the whole road.”

  “We’ll do that. See you at supper.”

  ~~~

  James rode behind the Heizer brothers and Robert to the Bingham’s halted wagons. When Mrs. Bingham saw them coming, she inquired about what was going on.

  George said, “The party coming this way had a misfortune.” He pulled on the lobe of his half ear. “One of their wagons overturned, and a young lady was … well, wounded mighty bad. They’ll have services for her tomorrow.”

  “Services? You mean she’s dead?”

  George nodded. “That’s right. She didn’t make it through.”

  “Merciful heavens! Let’s get down there and help them poor people. They’ll need a warm meal and a pot of tea to steady their nerves.” She arranged herself on the wagon seat, and said to Luke, “Let’s go, boy. Time’s a-wasting.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Luke got the team underway, and the rest of the party followed.

  When the Binghams arrived, they found the Julander camp already set up, with fires going and bubbling pots hanging from tripods.

  James sought out Brother Jeff and introduced Mrs. Bingham and the rest of the party to him.

  “We’re obliged for the help your men gave us this afternoon,” Brother Jeff said to her. “We’re beholden and would like you to partake of our meal with us.” He beckoned to a tall, calico-clad woman with fine dark eyes. “This is my wife, Becky Julander. Mrs. Bingham, ladies, she can show you where we’re going to serve the food.”

  Mrs. Bingham nodded to Mrs. Julander, looked around the tidy camp, and turned back to Brother Jeff. “Mr. Julander, you seem to have matters under control.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We’ve been practicing a good long time now. We’ve come from Mississippi.”

  “Why, we’re from Virginia, ourselves.”

  “Is that a fact? Come with me, ladies,” Mrs. Julander said, and Mrs. Bingham and the women moved off after her.

  James said, “Your people aren’t weepin’ and wailin’ like I expected they would.”

  Brother Jeff pursed his lips. “It’s hard to lose a friend, that’s for sure, but we have a bright outlook with our faith and our teachings. I’d like to tell you a bit about them after supper.” He motioned to the other men. “You gentlemen are included in the invitation.”