New Beginnings (New Beginnings Series)

by Doreen Winona Logeot

  Sam asked, “What happened to the boy?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “I don’t make other people’s sorrows my business.”

  “You should, you know.” The doctor didn't give Sam a chance to respond and continued. “Willie and his father were breaking a beautiful black and white pinto filly. William had bought her as a weanling a couple of years before when the crops were good and they made a substantial payment on their loan. The filly was doing very well and Willie had taken her out for a ride, but suddenly a rabbit darted out in front of them. She spooked and Willie fell, catching his foot in the stirrup, and he was dragged. William had to shoot the horse before he could get the boy’s body. I wasn’t sure if Sara or William would survive their loss.”

  “That must have been around the time William started coming into the saloon more often,” Sam said, then more to himself, he added, “if only I'd known.” They both sat in silence for a moment, looking into their drinks. Then Sam asked, “Why would Sara get with child again?”

  Doc Brown stared, wide-eyed, at Sam. “Sara is expecting another child?” After Sam nodded in response he said, “That’s very unlikely. Sara was so scared of losing another baby ... she was very careful ... then when Willie died ... well, you know yourself William spent more time in the saloon than at home. When is the baby due?”

  “She said Christmastime. What is it, about nine months from conception to birth?” Sam asked. This thought had crossed his mind before. “I figure she conceived about a week before William died.”

  The doctor busily did some figuring on a paper he had retrieved from his bag. “Average dates start at the beginning of a cycle, conception is generally two weeks later, but in the end work out to an average of two hundred and sixty-six days, about a week short of the nine months.” He continued writing his numbers for a moment, and then looked up at Sam who returned the stare.

  “Maybe her dates are off.”

  “That’s not very likely. Sara could be a doctor herself. Only she has the facts, but she can’t stay out there alone.”

  “I tried to ask her about coming to town for the winter, but she walked away. She is very stubborn.”

  “Yes, that’s certainly one of her faults and one of her strengths.” The doctor stood up from the chair. “Well, nothing we can do about it tonight, and I better get home while I still can,” he said, taking one last shot of the smooth imported whiskey. He called to Mary as he opened the sitting room door and she quickly came with his hat and coat. “Don’t concern yourself with it, Sam. You’ve got to get that leg healed and back to business. Sara has lots of friends in town. We’ll see she is well taken care of.”

  Sam returned a feeble, one-sided smile to the doctor. It was much too late for him not to be concerned.

  He lay in bed that night, not able to sleep. It seemed she was in his thoughts constantly. Finally, he made a definite decision. She had welcomed him into her home, even as a stranger, and helped him when he needed it the most. Now he would do the same. He looked at his pocket watch, which sat on the night table and saw it was only a little past three in the morning. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment then stood up and looked out the window. “Damn,” he remarked a little louder than a whisper, winter had hit with a vengeance.

  Chapter Four

  The storm continued for three days and drifts of snow were three to four feet deep. Sam watched the weather closely those days, quite anxious to get back to Sara’s home to help her. He tried to keep himself busy with bank records, but his manager, Tom Sutton, was doing such a fine job there wasn’t much to be concerned with. Tom handed him a file of delinquent loans, to be taken care of soon. Most were paid in the fall after crops were harvested and sold, and it was nearing the end of October. The file remained unopened, pushed aside on Sam’s desk.

  From the bank, he made his way through the blizzard, walking back to the saloon and entering through the front doors. The business was bustling during the days the storm raged. It was amazing how the town’s men could brave their way through a tempest to be entertained with cards, drink, and a pretty lady. Normally, this would have made Sam happy, but today it only made him eager for the storm to end. He seldom became involved in hands of poker himself, as he was the type to gamble only in business when everything seemed to be in his favour. On occasion, he enjoyed the company of the saloon girls, after all, their main objective was to please the men, and they were good at it. The law of the times of course did not permit prostitution, but as there were brothels in town, Sam’s saloon was of little concern to the law. Under the guise of dance hall girls, they could supplement their income with some private business. Of course, this could only be used to the bar owner’s advantage as it created more patrons and was easily hidden from disapproving souls. Sam had absolutely no intention of finding himself a woman, in his eyes they were only a bill of expense, and he had all he really needed, right here, close by.

  Today Katrina, Sam’s favourite, greeted him with a drink as soon as he came through the doors. Normally, on Sam’s cue, she would be sitting on his lap as soon as he sat down. Today though, because of his wounded leg, she pulled a chair close to his. Sam, trying hard to put Sara out of his mind, pulled Katrina in under his arm and put his hand up to Edward, the bartender, to bring her a drink. It had been a few weeks since he paid any attention to her, which really wasn’t uncommon and she anticipated an evening of delight. He decided to sit in on a hand of ‘Five Card Stud,’ with Katrina still hanging onto his arm for good luck.

  After several hands of poker and as many shots of whiskey he felt his luck was not to be at cards and led Katrina up the saloon stairs to one of the rooms above. He never invited any of the girls into his home as it didn’t feel right to him. She was always willing to please and knew exactly what Sam liked when it came to satisfying him. He was quite eager to be alone in the room with the pretty woman. Tonight was his night, a night to go back to the time before he was shot … a night to live life selfishly. With just enough to drink so his mind was involved in only what was in front of him, Sam took full advantage of it. He found great pleasure being with Katrina and her area of expertise. For a while he did forget about the rest of the world and thought only of himself and his enjoyment … for a while.

  Later he lay in bed beside the young harlot, her breathing even and shallow. He slept only a little and found what he had done wasn’t as he expected. Instead of feeling better he, in fact, felt worse. Never before had he felt the loneliness that crept over him now and he really didn’t like the feeling. He slowly got out of bed, being careful not to wake Katrina, and quietly dressed. Before leaving the room he placed a few bills on the night table, and for a second, thought this possibly could be the last time he would be doing this.

  He descended the stairs to the bar room below, holding onto the railing tightly as he had left his walking stick at the poker game. Few men still remained as it was near four in the morning by the large grandfather clock in the corner. Two of the younger men had a little too much to drink and were sleeping soundly, their heads resting on the tables. Eric sat in a chair leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed as he waited. Sam knew he treated Toby to a night with one of the girls. The boy may have problems but he was still a man with needs. Sometimes he had to channel his frustration, otherwise at times he could be a nuisance to the town women. Eric took good care of him and the girls, if paid enough, were eager to comply and it was often a good reason for the boy to get cleaned up.

  Without a word to anyone, Sam stepped out the door, pulling his collar up around his neck. The storm had finally ceased and the stars and full moon shone brightly in the sky, making any trail visible. It turned colder and made him think of the small stack of firewood beside the iron cook stove. Had there been enough for this storm? He didn’t think to look the other day. He realized the images entering his mind would not stop and there was no more waiting and wondering.

  He walked around the saloon to his home, stopp
ing only to put on his heavier clothing. Before he had gone out the door he wrote a short note to Mary, saying he would be away. He didn’t mention where he went or when he would return. At the moment he didn’t know how much time it would be. He took his rifle down from the gun rack inside the entrance, checked to make sure it was loaded and walked out the door to the stable.

  The black gelding greeted him as he opened the smaller walk-in door. He led the large horse to the alleyway saying, “Well Dickens, you up for a bit of journey?” The animal answered back with a light whinny, and put his head down into the bucket containing a few oats. Sam gave his horse a quick brushing and proceeded to saddle-up. His leg still gave him a lot of pain, but he refused to give in to it. The rifle case was attached to the saddle, and the 50-calibre Hawkins placed inside, along with his walking stick. Next he fastened the saddlebags, which held a few emergency provisions in place, behind the seat. Feeling he was ready, he checked his pocket watch which read twenty after five. Soon the town would be starting to stir, even though it was still over two hours to daylight. He led Dickens outside, closing the larger front doors behind them. Sam proceeded to try to mount the horse that stood a good seventeen hands high. He found it was almost impossible to put all of his weight onto his right leg, to place his left foot in the stirrup. He carefully looked around to make sure no one was watching and pulled an old bench leaning against the stable wall, out of the snow, using it to step up. This seemed rather unusual to the horse and he tried to sidestep away, but with a quick jump Sam got his foot into the stirrup and swung the other leg over the saddle. He had to secure his foot into place with his hand and he was ready to be on his way.

  As he rode down the main street of town, he heard the saloon doors open and saw Eric and Toby leaving, the bigger man’s arm wrapped around the boy’s shoulders. He could hear them laughing and Toby shrieking in excitement. Most words Sam couldn’t understand, but he caught “perdy lady” and “feel’n good.”

  He continued riding down the street and could see the coal oil lanterns were lit in the doctor’s home and his wife, Lily was moving toward the back door with a bucket of water to be discarded. Sam waited for a few minutes. When he saw the door open and the splash of water instantly coming through it, he called her name. He was hoping he wouldn’t have to get down from the horse and was relieved she heard him. She poked her head out the door. It wasn’t unusual for someone to be waiting for them to rise before asking for help, but generally the person was standing near the door. Once before, she accidentally doused a man with dirty water as he waited. Her eyes had to adjust to the darkness for a moment to see who was calling her.

  Sam spoke up, “It’s Sam Fielding, Mrs. Brown. Tell the doc I’m heading out to the Gardiner farm. Hope he can follow later with a cutter to bring Sara back to town.”

  By this time he could see the doctor walking at a fast pace through the house toward the back door, buttoning his shirt and pulling up his braces as he went. Sam quickly turned his horse around and kicked him into a trot through the soft snow. Behind him he could hear the doctor shout, “Your leg really isn’t healed enough for this, Sam … Damn!” he concluded when his patient continued to ride away.

  During the blizzard the wind blew most of the trails clean, although in places drifts could be five or more feet high. The big horse was strong and well-adapted to this kind of weather and seemed to enjoy his outing. He stayed at a steady pace occasionally having to jump through a drift. Sam pulled his collar around his neck and cheeks, the only part of him not covered were his dark eyes watching the trail ahead.

  They crossed a large hill as it was starting to break day, and he could see the Gardiner house in the distance. He couldn’t see any smoke rising from either the chimney or the stovepipe. He kicked his mount into a canter. His leg was starting to throb, how he looked forward to a hot drink of the willow bark tea. The closer he got to her home, the more it didn’t look right. The snow settled close around the house and other than the odd rabbit trail, there was no sign of anyone.

  The hitching post was buried deep in a drift. Sam quickly dismounted, sliding into the soft bank, and left his horse untied. He pulled his walking stick from the case and pushed his way through the white barricade to the porch that was also piled high. Without knocking he urgently pushed the door open, not knowing what he would find.

  His eyes instantly fell on Sara, sitting on the floor, her head resting on the bed. The quilts were pulled around her and all he could see was the top of her hair and her eyes. Frost formed around the edge of the blanket where her breath dampened it. Without moving her head, she looked toward him as he came through the door. He saw her suddenly draw in a deep breath as her head pulled down into the quilts and a sound of immense pain came from the bundle.

  Forgetting his own injury, he stepped quickly over to her, dropping his hat and gloves on the floor as he went. He pulled the quilts open and found her bent over, first holding her breath against the pain, then quickly letting it out in a loud moan. He could see her nightgown was thoroughly saturated with a blood-tinged fluid, which was starting to freeze. When the pain seemed to subside, he pulled the blankets back tightly around her, removed his own coat and covered her with it.

  Without a word he stepped to the stove, opened the iron door and found the ashes completely grey and cold. A pile of logs and kindling sat nearby, which he quickly stuffed inside. The matches sat on top of the warming oven over the stove and he proceeded to light the fire. As the teakettle was half full of what was now ice, he placed it directly over the heat. He turned back at Sara and saw her watching him through exhausted eyes.

  Again she drew in a breath and her head pulled down into the covers. This time he knelt beside her and held her, trying hard to absorb some of the pain. Never before had he felt the fear running through him, not even the few times he watched the muzzle of a gun facing him. Out loud he said quietly, “God, don’t let the doc be too far behind me.” The words he spoke startled him for a second, he couldn’t remember ever saying a single prayer in his life before.

  Slowly her head came back up out of the covers and she looked at Sam sitting beside her on the floor, her eyes appearing too heavy to stay open. He was surprised to see the corners of her mouth turn up into the slightest bit of a smile, as she weakly said, “I knew if I asked, you would come.” Her head rested back on the bed, her eyes closed and her breathing seemed to go even and shallow and he knew she was asleep. Already the room was starting to warm, the frost melting off the quilts.

  Sam pulled himself up onto the bed, completely ignoring the pain in his leg. He reached for his walking stick and stood, leaning heavily on it. He looked around the room to find anything he could use, but seeing nothing, he pushed aside the old rocking chair and opened the door to the next room. What he saw made him hesitate a moment. A larger bed, complete with a beautifully carved head and footboard was made up as if it was used every day. A small cradle sat beside the bed, also looking like it was ready to use. A neatly folded stack of blankets, including two from the Hudson’s Bay Company, sat on a trunk at the foot of the bed along with a small pile of towels.

  He heard Sara pull in a deep breath again and turned to go back, but he saw this time she stayed asleep, still leaning against the bed. He continued with his search by looking through the small wardrobe, which was filled with mostly men’s and boy’s clothing. At one end he found some women’s items and rifled through them until he found a nightgown. When he pulled it out of the closet he realized it looked to never have been worn. He placed it on top of the pile of blankets and towels and went back into the other room, which was warming well. Except for one blanket, he placed everything on top of the warming oven to absorb some of the heat. He bent to remove the coat from Sara, placing it over a chair. He looked at her and took his own deep breath, thinking to himself, ‘What in the world am I going to do?’

  Again she pulled in a deep breath of pain, this time her eyes opening wide. Her mouth opened, but no sound came fr
om it, until she breathed out in a moan. He sat down beside her on the bed and placed a hand on her cheek, and found it to be very warm, as with a fever. Her hand came up, she placed it over his, and he felt it tremble against him.

  “Sara?” he questioned, as she looked back at him, “I don’t know what to do, what should I do?”

  Her eyes stared back into his and he could see they were as blue as the summer’s sky. “Let me die.”

  This shocked him into motion. It angered him. As he grabbed both her shoulders he answered, “I didn’t ride out here in the cold and the dark to let you die!” He pulled her up on the bed beside him, still wrapped in the quilts, then hugged her close to him. He knew the fight in her was nearly gone, but he would not let her die, no one took anything or anyone away from Sam Fielding!

  He felt how she shook against him and he knew he must get her out of the wet gown and bedding. He had never done anything like this before. So many things since he met her were new to him, most of them frightening. He wrapped one of the clean blankets around her as he discarded the two quilts, this way he helped her sit beside him on the bed, hanging onto both ends of the blanket with one hand and unbuttoning her nightgown with the other. As the gown fell open he saw her pregnant body and he couldn’t help himself as he placed his hand on her bulging belly. She looked at him and placed her hand again over his, saying gently, “It’s dead, you know. That’s why it is so early.” He felt the muscles tighten as another contraction started and she leaned into him, holding on. She whispered as it ended, “I wanted to be alone … I’m glad I’m not alone.”

  After he removed the wet gown, he wrapped her tightly in the blankets. The shaking ceased after a while and she seemed to sleep, still taking a deep breath as the pain came over her, but staying asleep all the while. He didn’t know what to do and he was scared. He saw death before, once his own hand caused it, but never before did he not know what to do. With moist eyes he prayed, “Please don’t let her die. She’s a good woman. Please don’t let her die.” In the distance he could hear the sound of sleigh bells and he knew Doc Brown was on his way. Sometimes in the past he heard those bells and was annoyed at their merry sound. The doctor said they gave a bit of cheer to the winter months and today Sam felt that cheer. As he moved toward the door, he said a simple “Thank you.”