“The baby must not catch even the slightest chill, so I will need something to wrap her in,” she said.
“Her?” Ramona gasped.
Cassia smiled. “Yes, you have a daughter, Ramona.”
Maria left her post at holding Ramona’s legs to fetch the clean towels she’d brought in earlier and sat on the small wooden table. She also grabbed a knife, cleaned it with the whiskey, and set it within Cassia’s grasp.
Quickly Cassia wrapped the baby, also using the towel to ensure a good grip on the child’s body, and turned her one fourth of a circle under the pubic bone. As she was doing this, the right shoulder was delivered. Another contraction helped Cassia to grip the baby under an arm and rotate her clockwise, delivering the left shoulder. Now, just the head remained.
“Push now, Ramona, with everything you’ve got,” she said.
But even with the next contraction, the baby’s head remained inside her mother. Silently Cassia prayed gravity would again help the situation. Up until this point, she had been bracing the baby with her hands, but now she let the child go, dangling a bit from the mother. Surely, with the next contraction, the head would be born. But again that wasn’t the case. Leaning forward, she placed her hands on Ramona’s abdomen. When Ramona had another contraction, she pushed on her stomach just above the pubic bone. The baby’s mouth and nose were finally exposed. Quickly she wiped the baby’s face clean with one of the towels, freeing the mouth and nose the best she could of mucus. With the last contraction, and more pressure on Ramona’s abdomen, the entire head was born. No longer did the baby need the life line of the placenta to breath. After she cut the cord with a knife, the baby gasped and cried…music to everyone’s ears.
She placed the infant in her mother’s arms, then sat back to take a long, cleansing sigh of relief.
Thank you, Lord for linking us strongly to Your grace and getting us all safely through this.
“If you were not here my daughter and her baby would have died.” Maria clasped Cassia’s hand and squeezed it affectionately.
After Ramona was washed and dressed, and the baby cleaned and diapered, Niko and the other children came into the wagon.
“What will we name her, Ramona.” Niko marveled over his new daughter.
Ramona turned to Cassia. “I like your middle name. Rose, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” She moved to sit nearer to the wagon’s door flap for air.
“I shall call her Rose, then,” Ramona decided.
Later, as she sat by the fire eating a bowl of vegetable stew and enjoying the delicious spicy flavor of the gravy, Maria knelt in front of Cassia.
Let me take care of you, now,” the gypsy woman said. With gentle and nimble fingers, she spread a minty smelling salve on Cassia’s ankle and bound it with a clean, cotton strip of cloth. “We will break camp in the mornin’, as we are to move on. But before we leave, Niko will take you home.”
She nodded a response, too tired to argue the fact she needed to leave. She feared her family would believe something fiendish happened to her, most likely assuming she’d been snatched by Becket Attwater. No doubt the deputized men would be gathered and searching the town for her. Gabriel and her parents would be devastated. Brodie would be beside himself. To put them all through such worry made her heart ache. Plus, her clothes were stained with dried blood. But to rip Niko away from Ramona and the baby, just to please her, seemed cruel and selfish.
Maria draped a blue and white, crocheted shawl over her shoulders “My mother makes these shawls.” She knotted the cape in front to cover the blood stains. After Maria set a blanket and pillow for her by the fire, she promptly joined her. “I will sleep with you beneath the stars.”
An elderly woman, thin and rather frail, her pure white braid reaching to her waist, slowly made her way to where Cassia and Maria lay. She also held a blanket and pillow in her hands. “May I join you?”
“Aha, is Papa’s snorin’ botherin’ you again, Mama?” Maria stood to help her mother arrange the blanket and pillow beside her own.
“And the fact he drank too much wine celebratin’ another grandchild’s birth makes him snore even louder,” the old woman confessed.
“This is Cassia, the midwife who saved Ramona and the baby,” Maria said. Then turning to her, Maria continued the introduction. “This is my mother…”
But before Maria could tell the elder woman’s name, the old gypsy interrupted. “Move closer to the fire, Child, so I might see your face clearly.”
She complied, moving closer to the old woman and searching her freckled face.
Maria’s mother gasped, placing a wrinkled hand gently upon Cassia’s cheek. “My eyes deceive me. How can this be?”
“What is it, Mama?”
“This woman…she is Amelia Gregory. But how can this be?” the elder woman said with astonishment. “This woman is young, and Miss Amelia would be…”
Cassia frowned, this time it was her turn to interrupt. “How do you know my grandmother?”
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Your grandmother?” the elderly gypsy woman gasped.
“Yes, Amelia Gregory was my grandmother,” Cassia confirmed.
“Aha, that explains the resemblance.” The other woman’s brows rose. “Then you must be Amanda’s daughter?”
Her frown deepened. “Yes, Amanda is my mother, but how do you know my family?”
“Before I married Marcus Zappone, I was Thea Johnson, your mama’s best friend,” the elder woman claimed.
She reached for Thea’s hand, encasing it within her own. “I have heard many stories about the fun you and my mama had as young girls. She said you would stay often with her family while your father was away trapping and fishing.”
Thea smiled. “Ahh, those were good times. Times I will never forget. Your grandmother treated me with love, respect, and kindness, tried to help me many times by givin’ me clothes and other things a young girl growin’ up needed to have.” She sighed heavily. “But my father was a proud man, didn’t take well to charity, and I was not allowed to reap the benefits of Amelia’s generosity.”
Men and their misplaced pride—like Ned Beachum. “Mama still speaks to this day about your father just up and leaving, and how she never saw you again,” Cassia relayed.
Thea sighed again. “It was the worst day of my life as I loved your grandparents and your mother like family.”
She frowned. “Why did your father leave?”
“I was only seven at the time, and Papa had just returned from one of his trips. Miss Amelia invited him to stay for dinner. If I recollect right, I had taken a fancy to some ribbons Amanda owned.” She shrugged. “I reckon I stole the ribbons, and somehow Papa found out. He was shamed by my behavior, as he was also a God fearin’ man. Amanda knew I’d get a paddlin’ for my deed, as I confided in her many times the way Papa punished me. So she lied and said she’d given me the ribbons. Papa didn’t believe her. Right there and then he turned me over his knee, raised my skirt, and paddled my naked behind in full view of Miss Amelia, her husband, and Amanda.”
“I’m so sorry,” she sympathized.
Tears formed in Thea’s eyes. “The heat of shame washed through my whole body, so much so that whenever I think of it, I can still feel the humiliation. I tried to place my hands over my backside to cover my nakedness, but Papa kept pushin’ them aside, thrashin’ me harder and harder. All I could think of was how I disappointed Miss Amelia. I remember glancin’ over at her and hopin’ she wouldn’t hate me. But her kind, lovin’ face mirrored my disgrace and agony, not scorn. I grew weaker and weaker from Papa’s blows. That’s when Miss Amelia stood and pulled me from Papa’s wrath, held me tight, and rocked me like a mother would a small babe. She scolded him, told him he was never to degrade me in such a way again.”
“Her reaction stemmed from the fact she was abused the same way by her own father,” Cassia explained. “And she never would allow such punishment to befall upon Amanda, nor did my mother ever
reprimand her children in such a fashion.”
“Aha, now I see why Miss Amelia came so strongly to my defense,” Thea mused aloud. “That night Papa packed up what little we had, and we left for California,” she continued. “We settled in a small town called Grover’s Ridge. When Papa went on his fishin’ and trappin’ trips, I stayed alone in the crude, one-room cabin we lived in. I learned quite well how to take care of myself, but I was very lonely. It was the summer I was fourteen that I made friends with a band of gypsies camped near our cabin. I kept their presence from Papa, so I wouldn’t be forbidden to visit them. While Papa was away, they were my saviors, feedin’ me good food, makin’ me laugh. I enjoyed the music, the colorful clothes, and the friendship. When Papa returned he was sick with pneumonia. I didn’t know what to do or how to help him, so I went for Katerina, the gypsy healer. She did all that she could to make him well again, but he was too sick. After Papa died, the gypsy men buried him by the cabin, and the women took me in. I married Katerina’s son, Marcus, when I was eighteen, and so here I be. Now, tell me how my good friend, Amanda has done,” Thea concluded.
Cassia told Thea about Proud Eagle, and her mother’s time living with the Apaches before marrying Joshua Holmes.”
“Strange to think,” Thea reflected, “how we both bridged a gap, her with the Apaches and me with the gypsies.”
“Won’t you come along when Niko brings me home, to see my mother once again?” she hopefully inquired. “I know it would please her greatly.”
“It would please me as well, but it is best I remain here with Marcus. He is too old to be worryin’ over my whereabouts. Besides, as soon as Niko returns, we must leave the area. Stayin’ too long in one place is not wise.” Thea gave Cassia’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “It must be a divine, heavenly plan for your family to bless mine. First with Miss Amelia, being so kind and carin’ to me and all…and now with you, savin’ the life of my granddaughter and her baby. When you finally get home, tell Amanda my heart, my sincere appreciation, and my prayers will always be with her and her family.”
At dawn Cassia woke to the smell of coffee. Maria handed her a cup along with a piece of cornbread. While she ate, Niko readied the wagon. After checking on Ramona to make sure there was no hemorrhaging and little Rose to make sure her lungs were clear, Cassia was satisfied both were doing very well. She gave Maria and Thea a farewell hug and slipped off the shawl.
“No, that belongs to you now, Child,” Thea said. “The colors bring out your eyes.”
After thanking the elder woman and hugging her again, she joined Niko in the wagon, and they were on their way back to Eagle’s Landing.
“I don’t know how to thank you for helpin’ my wife as you’ve done.” Niko kept his eyes on the road ahead. It was a foggy morning, and visibility was extremely poor.
She wrapped the shawl tightly around her shoulders, the morning mist chilling her flesh. “There’s no need for thanks. I just did my job.”
“I haven’t anythin’ to pay you,” Niko continued.
“That’s hardly true, Niko. Your people gave me dinner, tended to my ankle which feels much better, gave me a night’s lodging, a beautiful shawl, and fed me breakfast. There’s no need for further payment.”
As Niko drove the wagon out onto the main road of South Eagle’s Landing, the howling of hounds could be heard in the far distance. He halted the horse, turning to her with a worrisome frown. “The hounds must be searching for you.”
Instantly she knew why he looked so troubled. In truth, he held her at knife point to get her to come with him. In the eyes of the law, he committed a crime. He’d be apprehended, thrown into jail, and convicted of kidnapping. Never would he be able to return to Ramona and the children.
“Go, leave me here.” She turned to climb down from the wagon.
He placed a restraining hand on her arm. “You will not make it far with that injured foot.”
“And you will never make it home if the men guiding those dogs see you.” She pushed aside his grasp.
Niko ran a hand through his hair. “But you are defenseless against danger.”
Niko spoke the truth. She had nothing, no weapon to use in case she came upon a problem. Suddenly the thought of Becket Attwater lurking within the fog sent a rush of fear down her spine. Yet knowing what could happen to Niko if the search party found him, frightened her even more.
“I will be fine as the clinic is not far from here.” She patted her skirt pocket. “And I have a key to get in.” Instantly she breathed a silent prayer of thanks for that key, because today was Saturday and no workers were expected. “I will be able to use the phone, call for help, and stay safely inside until someone arrives. Now, you must go.”
He nodded and came around to the other side of the wagon to help her down, securing her as before until she could stand firmly on her feet. As soon as she was stable, he climbed back into the wagon and drove away. She stood for a moment, watching him disappear into the fog. Outside of the howling hounds, all was still.
Slowly, not to aggravate her sore ankle further, she took careful steps. As she made her way down the block in the fog, the cold morning vapor again chilled her. Adjusting the shawl once again to stay warmly around her shoulders, she continued until she came upon the back path to the clinic. She was about fifty feet from the door when she reached for the leather cord of keys in her pocket. As she fumbled to find the one to fit the lock, she was rushed from behind and knocked to the ground. Stunned, she dropped the keys. In the next quick second, a fist slammed against her jaw. Immediately she tasted blood, her senses reeling from the blow and the sound of the hounds fading.
Her worst nightmare was taking place, and she struggled now to stay conscious and keep her wits about her. Her gaze traveled slowly to the massive presence looming above her. He was tall, broad, a monster in the flesh.
“I won’t be able to give ya all the attention I usually take with them their hounds not far from my trail,” a deep voice rasped. “But just a taste, before I go into hidin’ again, will have to do.”
She fought to clear her vision and focus on the man’s face before her, a round, plump façade with a jutting chin and large, droopy lips. “Becket Attwater!”
He cackled like the crazed human being he was. “At your service, ma’am.”
His black, pig-like eyes leered down at her, sizing her up and no doubt picturing how he’d make her another one of his victims. But she wasn’t having any of it. Frantically, her eyes searched for the keys. They’d fallen a few inches away from her left knee. She’d never make it to retrieve them, hustle with an injured foot to the door, unlock it, and safely barricade herself inside the clinic before Attwater could attack her again. He was too big, strong, and quick. But she wasn’t about to let this depraved man have his way with her either. Not without a fight, anyway.
But what do I have to fight him with?
Then her brother, Gabriel’s words instantly came to mind. Anything can be made into a weapon if you use it right and hold it effectively.
She lunged for the keys, pain radiating down her face to her neck from the blow she sustained, and gripped them between her fingers. When Attwater came down to grab a fist full of her hair, she blindly swung out at him, not caring where she stabbed his flesh.
He shrieked like a wounded animal and jumped back, holding his arm. Blood seeped through his fingers, red droplets raining to the ground. “You little bitch,” he roared. “I’ll make sure you pay double for that.”
She scrambled to her feet, praying her injured ankle held her weight. Pain jotted through her leg as she broke into a run, but she kept on…one foot after another…trying to put as much distance between her and the fiend pursuing her. She screamed as loud as her lungs allowed. “Help, someone help!”
Then he was upon her—reaching for the shawl around her shoulders and tossing it aside. In one fluid motion, he thrust her hard against the trunk of a large tree. His mammoth hands covered her entire throat, as he
lifted her off the ground and squeezed the life from her body. She dropped the keys and struggled for air, her fingers trying desperately to pry his grasp from her throat. Her feet dangled and kicked, sandals flinging from her feet while Attwater banged her head, shoulders, and spine repeatedly against the tree’s trunk. Her vision blurred, and her ears rang as she fought for breath. And then, just as her hands fell to her sides and her body grew numb, the sound of a gunshot broke the silence. Attwater’s hands suddenly released her throat, and he stumbled back. She dropped to the ground in a heap, gasping for air.
“Cassia!” Brodie raced to her side and gathered her into his arms.
She clung to him, coughing and gasping as the air entered her lungs. Tears wet loose tendrils, sticking them to her face.
He pushed the curls from her eyes. “Breathe, just breathe. You’re all right now, honey. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, and I’m never letting you go.”
She could make out his face now, his tears welling in fearful eyes as they frantically surveyed the front of her bloodied blouse. “It’s not my blood,” she choked out. “It belongs…it belongs to…to Ramona,” she managed to say, before everything went black.
Chapter Thirty-Five
When she regained consciousness, she found herself lying on one of the clinic’s examining tables. The curtain was closed around her, and she could hear many men’s voices talking nearby. Every part of her body ached, as did her mind’s eye—playing repeatedly the horror she’d gone through. The ankle Maria so carefully bound was bared, and a cool damp cloth replaced the wrappings. Another moistened cloth gently swabbed her face and neck, pulling her fully to her senses. Slowly she opened her eyes to find Brodie standing over her. It was his tender touch she felt.
“It’s over, honey. Attwater’s dead,” he whispered, washing her neck. His eyes filled with moisture as he gazed upon the bruises Attwater’s hold left upon her flesh. “He had you by the throat, choking you. And I just lost my mind. So I…so I shot him in the back of the head.”
The Last Bloom Page 25