“You see, Jessie, I always had to hide my feelings and real self around you. Jed was always ordering me to watch out for men trying to get their hands on what you’d inherit one day. I knew he liked me and trusted me, but I was afraid of how he would react to me pursuing you. He didn’t want anybody taking you away from him. After your mother died, he was even more possessive and scared about losing you to a man. He didn’t mean to be like that. He loved you and needed you. He felt steady and strong with you at his side. He fired Navarro because he sensed a threat from him, not because he believed your sister.”
“I know, but it doesn’t matter now. Except…”
“Except what, love?” he coaxed her to finish.
“Papa might still be alive if Navarro hadn’t been sent away. I think he was at Mama’s grave alone because he felt guilty over what he’d done. But we can’t change the past. Let’s not think or talk about it again. You don’t have to worry about Navarro’s return or my feelings for him. I’m yours forever, Matt.”
His body ached with desire for her, but he was a mess. He didn’t want to hold her or kiss her until he’d had a chance to clean himself up. “I’ll never doubt that again, Jessie.” He released her and said, “It’s civilizing time. This beard and hair have to go. I need scrubbing head to foot. I’m about as filthy as a pig wallowing in mud, and stink about as bad. I’ll go over the trip with you after I’m clean and fed.”
* * *
Friday, Jessie and her husband sat down to insert the drive expenses and profit into the ranch book. Matt figured and called out amounts for his wife to enter.
“Salaries for the sixty drovers at forty a month, forty-eight hundred. Trail boss at one-twenty a month and bonus, four hundred. Supplies, five thousand. Indian pay, three hundred. No tricks or troubles this time, Jessie. Paying them to cross their lands is a lot better than having them spook the cattle. We lose less time and no beeves this way. Meal and lodging for our boys in Dodge, two hundred,” he said. The seasonal hands had left them after receiving their pay to look for their next jobs. “Feed and holding pens, $8,823. He charged twenty-five cents a day each for four days. That’s the highest so far. Supplies for the return trip, three hundred. Bonuses, four twenty-seven. Total expenses, $20,250.00.”
“That’s wonderful, Matt, less than last time.”
“Thanks, Jessie. We got thirty dollars a head, and we had 8,823 by the time we reached market. Didn’t lose many this trip. Our profit is $244,440. That’ll give us plenty to use until next year.”
“Sounds as if four is our lucky number this year,” Jessie remarked.
“Yep. I’ll assign shifts to give the boys a few days off apiece. They deserve it. They worked hard.”
“Oh, Matt, I’m so excited and pleased. I have so many dreams about our spread.” Her eyes glowed as she spoke. “We’ll give the boys those raises we promised. And I want to add a large room onto the bunkhouse with a fireplace, billiard table, comfortable chairs, and a couple of poker tables. A sitting room will be nice for them, especially in the winter. They’ve been loyal to us for years. I’d like to show our appreciation. I also want to buy more bulls, and some Hereford cows. It’s time we start improving our bloodlines like Papa planned. And we can purchase blooded studs. A hearty breed will sell good to the Army. And I want to raise or buy more hay this year; Fletcher’s grasslands aren’t as good as ours for so much extra stock. We’ll need more windmills here and on the southern range in case of drought. We can keep them shut down until needed. I want to replace the things we lost in the fire. We’ll be so successful. Things are finally brighter than a sunny day for us. And I want to build a new entrance to the ranch, a large arch of stone with a new sign: L/C Ranch; it’ll be our new brand,” she finished, almost breathless from her rush of words.
Matt chuckled at her exuberance. “Whoa, Jessie,” he teased. “Money only goes so far. We can’t do everything in one good year. The next one or two could be bad. We’d better hold plenty back for emergencies and hard times.”
Jessie gazed at her handsome husband who was smiling ear to ear. His brown eyes shone with love, joy, and pride. He looked rested and at ease today. “That’s why I married my expert foreman, to keep me from leaping onto a runaway stallion,” she jested.
“We’ll do it all, Jessie, just not at once. We have plenty to be thankful for.”
“Yes, we do,” she agreed, then reflected for a few minutes on their happy Thanksgiving yesterday. Her parents had always made it a special event. She would continue that family tradition.
“What are you thinking about now? More dreams?” he asked.
“Yesterday, and all our years to come. They’ll be good ones, Matt.”
“I know. I love you, Jessie.”
“I love you, too, Matt.”
Feeling aroused by her adoring gaze and nearness, Matt suggested, “Let’s get finished here, so we can make those dreams come true one day.”
Christmas was a wonderful time for the Cordells and Lanes. Annie and the hands joined them inside the night before to sing and eat and drink. At seven months, Jessie’s pregnancy was showing. The men shared their joy with their bosses at the blessed event. Small gifts were given to the regulars and Annie. In turn, Matt and Jessie were presented with a cradle that Big John had made. The hands had contributed money for the materials and for the covers inside it, which Margaret Anne James Ortega had selected in town.
Miguel and Annie had wed on Saturday, so that added to the party spirit. He had moved into the small foreman’s house with her. Everyone was pleased.
There was more for the family to celebrate. Reports had come in from the Brazel detectives that week. They learned that Jubal Starns had died during a stage holdup on his return to El Paso, so he couldn’t cause future trouble. They discovered that the Fletcher brothers had sold their holdings and moved to England, so vengeance from that distance should be impossible. Mary Louise had moved to Philadelphia, and had sent a receipt for the balance that Jessie had owed her for the ranch. Now the title was free of any threat from her sister and Wilbur’s kin.
Jessie had given Matt a light wool shirt that she had made, and he wore it Christmas day. He presented her with a lovely wool shawl he had purchased in Dodge, feeling the locket was only a return of her property.
When the special day was over, Jessie and Matt stood gazing down at the cradle in the extra room beside theirs. It and her protruding stomach made the baby’s impending arrival more of a reality. The redhead leaned her back against Matt’s body and nestled her head to his neck. Matt’s arms overlapped hers.
When the baby began to kick, Jessie shifted their arms to let him share the sensation. “Feel it?” she murmured in wonder, her hands covering his.
“Yep. He’s getting stronger and busier. Anxious to bust outta his cell, too. I hope it’s a girl who looks just like you.”
“What if it’s a boy who looks just like his father?”
She and Matt both reacted to her slip. She feared from his last two sentences that he was thinking about Navarro again. She hoped and prayed not. “I’m sorry, Matt, but I think of you as his father.”
He smiled, knowing she was being honest. “That’s how it should be, Jessie. I love you and I’ll love the baby. Let’s get you to bed. It’s been a busy season.”
Matt’s soft snoring told Jessie he was asleep. She hoped she hadn’t hurt him tonight with her accidental remark. He was her husband and was with her all the time, and she had come to think of the baby as theirs. Matt was a good man, a special man. Every day she realized how lucky she was to have him. She only wished her parents were there to share the joy of her success, her child, and her marriage. A new year was approaching, and she must put the past behind her, behind them.
But tonight had brought back thoughts of Navarro Breed. She wondered where and how he was. He could be cold, miserable, and alone. She couldn’t forget about Fletcher’s sketch. She wondered why nothing had come of it. Perhaps it hadn’t fallen into the right hands, or more accu
rately, the wrong ones. Perhaps Fletcher had lied about it to scare the skilled gunslinger away. If not for the sketch, perhaps Navarro wouldn’t have left her, or he might have returned by now, at least for a brief visit.
What would Navarro have done if he’d learned about their baby? What could he have done with the law on his back and the threat of a noose hanging over his head? It would have hurt him deeply to learn he had put her into such a bind. Had he forgotten her? Had he met someone else to love, someone with no responsibilities who could run off with him? Had he realized he didn’t truly love her as much as he had thought?
If only he’d sent a letter by now that he was alive and well. Surely six and a half months were long enough to go without a single word. But maybe he felt writing to her was unfair and cruel. He had told her to forget him, to seek a new start with another man, that he could never return. Had he meant those tormenting words? Or had something terrible happened to him on the trail?
Jessie asked herself for the hundredth time if she should contact the Arizona authorities about him. Her letters to the Texas authorities had helped her out of a dangerous situation with the Fletchers. Perhaps she could help Navarro by sending the truth to the Arizona governor, U.S. marshal, and prison officials. If they learned he had been sentenced and imprisoned unjustly and had been forced to escape, it could save his life and clear his name.
But she was afraid to act on her hopes. If they didn’t believe her or if it didn’t change things for him, it could stir up a new search for the fugitive. If the prison was as bad as Navarro said, the men there would want to silence him. It could also spur those lawmen to come here to probe about the desperado, to stir up the painful past. To protect all of them, Jessica Cordell asked herself, shouldn’t she let the matter go?
Chapter Twenty-two
Jessie’s back had ached for hours, since early morning. Contractions hardened her stomach every ten to fifteen minutes, like her insides were twisting into painful knots. She was tense and scared. She’d told Gran and Annie that she suspected her labor had begun, and everything was prepared on this still chilly day in March. All she could do was wait, and try to ease her fears.
Jessie wished Matt would hurry home. He was due back anytime from the range. It was almost four o’clock. Gran had explained the birthing process. She was ready to get started, to see her first child, to get the pain behind her. Her stomach was so large. She had been miserable and uncomfortable for weeks. Getting up and down was difficult now. Sleeping was almost impossible, so she was tired and edgy.
It had been a long wait. Once the baby was born, she and Matt could settle down to their life together. So many times she had desired him, and she was looking forward to their first night of lovemaking. That would make her truly and finally his, something she needed and wanted.
More time passed, and the pains increased in frequency. Each one hurt more than the last. Jessie paced her bedroom floor to distract herself. But each knifing slice through her body reminded her of what was in store. She dreaded the suffering she must endure to bring a new life into the world. She hoped and prayed she would be brave, that the child would be safe and healthy. She groaned, held her distended belly, and gasped for breath. Tears blurred her vision. Standing was hard on weak legs, but sitting was worse. Besides, Gran told her that moving around would help lessen the agony.
Every few minutes, Gran or Annie checked on her. They kept Tom away so his nervous jabbering wouldn’t bother her. Water was kept hot on the stove. Cloths, sheets, cord, scissors, and basin were ready for use nearby.
Jessie glanced out the window and wondered what was keeping Matt. She wanted him there to keep up her strength and courage, to help her keep silent. She wanted to scream with each pain, yet she didn’t want Tom and the men outside to hear her yells. Each time, she clamped her hand over her mouth to keep her torment from escaping. Gran said it could take all day, and Nature was trying her best to prove the woman right.
Jessie was in a loose nightgown and was barefoot. Her hair was braided to keep it out of the way. She grabbed a bathing cloth to wipe the beads of moisture from her flushed face. When Gran entered the room, Jessie murmured through clenched teeth, “It hurts so bad, Gran. They just keep coming and coming.”
Gran patted her hands and comforted, “It’ll be over soon, child.”
Jessie moaned and gripped her stomach, bending forward as if that helped, which it didn’t. Gran spread old covers on the bed and told her to lie down. Jessie crawled onto the bed and curled to her side.
Martha handed her a knotted rag and said, “Bite on this when it strikes.”
Jessie seized it and obeyed; she felt as if she were being ripped apart.
Gran timed the contractions. Five minutes apart. “Let’s get you ready. Won’t be long.” She helped Jessie work up her nightgown to the waist. She covered her bare bottom with a sheet. “I’ll tell Annie to be ready when I shout.”
“Gran, I’m scared,” the suffering redhead confessed.
“I know. Try to think of something pleasant.”
“How can I?” she gritted out as she bit into the cloth and groaned.
Matt hurried into the room. He sat down on the bed, gazed at his wife, and captured her hand in his. Although she gripped his tightly, he felt her tremble. He was worried and frightened by her pale, wet face and flushed cheeks. “We had to pull some calves out of the mud. You doing all right?”
Jessie was about to answer when she stuck the rag into her mouth, closed her eyes, stiffened, and groaned. The labor pain was long, deep, and hard.
“Jessie?” he hinted in panic.
“She’s fine, Matt. You’re just used to seeing and helping deliver animals. We women make a little more noise than they do. Watch her until I get back.”
Matt wiped her brow with his hand. “I love you, Jessie. Don’t worry.”
When Martha came back, he asked, “Have you sent for the doctor yet?”
“No need. The baby’ll be here before he could make it from town. I know what to do, son. Relax. It’ll be a while. Why don’t you get some coffee and food?”
“I can’t leave her like this, Gran.”
“Go ahead, Matt. I’ll be fine,” Jessie encouraged.
Matt obeyed, but reluctantly. When he heard Jessie scream, he dropped his fork and took the steps two by two to get to her side. “What is it?”
“Sorry,” she murmured, breathing hard and fast. “It caught me by surprise.”
“They’re close, Matt. You’ll have your first child soon.”
But hours passed, Jessie’s torment mounted, and no baby entered the world. She had been in labor since eight that morning; it was now eleven. Jessie was writhing in agony. Matt was frantic. Gran was worried.
The older woman bathed her granddaughter’s brow with a cool cloth. Jessie’s hair was soaked, as were her gown and the bedding. She looked pale, weak, and frightened. She had suffered too long without release.
“Matt, I think you should send for the doctor,” Gran whispered.
Jessie halted her rolling motions and stared at her grandmother. “Why, Gran?”
“It’s taking longer than I expected. We might need help,” she admitted.
“Is something wrong with my baby?” Her eyes were large and dark.
“I don’t think so, but he’s being stubborn,” she tried to jest to calm her granddaughter.
Matt kissed her cheek and left to send one of the boys into town.
“Tell me, Gran, what’s wrong,” Jessie persisted during his absence.
“I think he might be turned wrong. He might need help getting out.”
Jessie’s water broke and saturated the area beneath her. Blood flowed onto the wet padding. “What was that?”
Gran reminded her of the birth process. “That’s a good sign.”
The contractions were coming fast and lasting long. Matt lifted Jessie while Gran and Annie pulled the soaked padding from beneath her and placed a new one there. Gently he lowered his
wife to the bed. Gran kept the cover aside to watch for the baby’s head.
Jessie was too dazed and was hurting too much to think of modesty or to realize this was the first time her husband had seen her nakedness.
More time passed, and still the baby refused to be born. Labor was almost one continuous agony now. Jessie was exhausted and terrified. Her braid had loosened itself during her thrashings, and her hair was damp and tangled. Her body was covered in perspiration. Her breathing was harsh and loud. She no longer tried to silence her screams, and her throat and lips were dry from them. She yanked on the loops Matt had tied to the bed at Gran’s instruction.
By noon the next day, the fatigued and alarmed rider returned to the ranch. Matt hurried to meet him. “Where’s the doctor?”
“Not there, Matt. He’s in El Paso getting some supplies.”
While her husband was outside and Annie was downstairs, Jessie asked, “Is my baby going to die for my sins, Gran? Am I going to die, too?”
“No, child. You’ll both be fine.”
Matt returned and gazed at his weakened wife. He feared he was going to lose her. He came to the bed and told the older woman, “If the baby’s breech, what can we do to get it out? We can’t let her go on like this. It’s dangerous for both of them. I’ve turned and pulled out plenty of calves and colts.”
“It isn’t that easy with a woman, Matt.”
“I’ve got to try it, Gran.” Matt moved between Jessie’s legs. He examined her stomach, then tried to push the baby into another position. Matt slipped his fingers inside his dilated wife. He felt a foot. Trying not to increase Jessie’s pain, his fingers gently searched for the other one. Locating it, he shoved it near the first. With care, he tugged on them inside the expanded area. The baby moved downward. Matt prayed he wasn’t injuring the child or his wife. “Hold on, Jessie; it’s coming now.”
Jessie ordered herself to be brave. Those ripping pains grew worse. She felt as if her womanly opening was splitting asunder when the baby’s legs and hips were expelled. She took deep breaths and shoved with all her might to assist the action. She felt Matt’s fingers helping those tiny shoulders outside, but they felt as wide as her own at that trying moment. Jessie pushed and grunted several more times between prayers…and the baby was delivered. With the pain and pressure gone for a time, she gasped for breath and collapsed into the bed. She let go of the grabbing loops and tossed the biting knot aside.
Follow The Wind Page 49