These Healing Hills

by Ann H. Gabhart

  Still, a man shouldn’t get away with sending his boy to shoot another boy without some justice being served. Even if the boy that got shot was ready to sweep it all under the rug. The thing was, Woody could have died. Some things shouldn’t be forgiven without some kind of repentance. Ben didn’t think Homer Caudill was sorrowful about anything he’d done.

  He glanced down at the Bible, where it had fallen open to Colossians 3. His father had underlined verse 13. Forbearing one another, and forgiving one another, if any man have a quarrel against any: even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye.

  Ben ran his finger over the verse. It’s not that easy, Pa.

  He could almost hear his father speaking inside his head. Ain’t nobody ever promised easy.

  Ben blew out a sigh. Pa was right. Ben had just been to war and lived to come home. No sense starting another war here on his home ground. The law would catch up with Homer Caudill.

  Outside, Rufus barked and then Bruiser started in. That started up Sadie’s pup inside.

  Ma looked up from her stitching. “Somebody must be out there. Coming on a day like this. I hope it’s not trouble.”

  Ben stood up. “I’ll go see.”

  “Ma.” Becca was up, leaning on the doorframe into the bedroom. “I’m having pains.”

  Ma shoved aside the quilt at the same time somebody banged on the door.

  Ben pulled open the door to a man with a scarf wrapped around his head and snow on his hat. Before Ben could say anything, the man pulled his scarf down and stared across the room. “Becca.”

  “Carl, is that you?” Becca moved a couple of steps toward the door.

  “I’ve come home to you.”

  Becca gasped, then grimaced and grabbed the back of a chair.

  Ma was beside her at once with an arm around her. “Don’t hold your breath, honey. The pain will pass in a minute.”

  Carl’s eyes got wide, and Ben pulled the man inside before he could think about running back down the hill. “You’re about to be a father. Get on in here and dry out so you can be some help.”

  Becca straightened up as the pain eased. A tear slid down her cheek as she looked at Carl. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted our son to have a daddy.”

  Carl shrugged off his wet coat and kicked off shoes that were soaked through. He squared his shoulders and headed across the room.

  “I’m ’bout froze, Becca, but if’n you was to smile at me, I know my heart would warm right up.” Carl reached out to brush the tear off Becca’s cheek.

  “Your hand’s like ice.” Becca grabbed Carl’s hand and held it between both of hers.

  “I ain’t worried about that till I see you smile so’s I know you ain’t holdin’ it agin me being gone so long.”

  “For a truth, I wasn’t sure you’d ever come back.”

  Becca and Carl stood in the middle of the room paying no mind to Ben and the rest of the family watching them. Carl didn’t even seem to notice Sadie’s pup jerking on his pants leg. They were focused on one another as more tears flowed down Becca’s cheeks.

  “But I had to. My Becca is here. If’n only she’d smile for me, I’d kiss away them tears right in front of her ma.”

  Becca laughed, but then she gasped as another pain grabbed her. Carl started to hold her, but Ma stepped between and pushed him back.

  “No need getting her soaked. Woody, get Carl some dry clothes.” Ma looked at Ben. “Best go for the nurse and don’t be tarrying none.”

  “Right.” Ben grabbed his coat.

  “Take the horse. No sense getting stuck in that vehicle and having to walk.”

  “Yes’m.”

  The ice-encrusted snow crunched under Ben’s feet as he made his way to the barn. His mother was probably right. The truck might slide off what passed for a road up the mountain. Captain was the better way.

  Francine was on the porch of the center with Jeralene when he rode up. She rushed over to his horse before he could dismount.

  “Becca?”

  “Ma says it’s time.” He slid down off Captain to stand beside her.

  She looked around at the snow-covered ground with a worried frown.

  “The horses can make it,” Ben said.

  Her eyes came back to his face. “Yes. No need worrying about more until we have to.” She turned away from him, but not before he noted her worried look hadn’t eased. “I’ll saddle up and be ready in a few minutes. At least the sleet has stopped, but it’s still treacherous walking.”

  As if to prove her words, she slipped and nearly lost her footing. Ben stepped closer to take her arm. “Hold on to me.”

  Francine grabbed his arm as she slipped again. “I was ready for snow, but not this ice. And it’s not even January when Betty says it’ll be worse.”

  “Sometimes we have January weather in December.” He hoped that if she noticed he sounded out of breath, she’d think it was due to how he was stomping through the snow and not the real reason. Her leaning so close against him. He wanted to put both arms around her and just hold her there in the middle of the snowy path. But he needed to think of Becca now.

  With his help, Francine was riding out of the barn in minutes. The mare stepped gingerly into the snow at first, but then got more confident of her footing. After Francine got her saddlebag, Ben led the way on Captain. Sarge trailed behind Francine’s mare.

  The horses’ hooves breaking through the ice crust made too much noise for them to talk. Better to concentrate on making it up the hill as fast as they could anyway, since they were at the edge of darkness. But the snow glistened in the fading light to keep night at bay.

  When they passed the truck, snow was piled around the wheels and ice lay heavy on the windshield. As soon as the weather cleared, he needed to get that road cut through the trees to the house and build some kind of shed for the truck.

  Maybe Carl could help with that. Carl being home might be a path opening up, the Lord making a way. Carl didn’t like mining and factory work, but could be he would like keeping the farm going while Ben went off to school.

  He glanced back at Francine as they rode into the yard. Maybe more paths would open up. Given more time.

  38

  Fran worried all the way up the hill, even though worry did no good at all. Better to think about what to do if the baby hadn’t turned and was going to present a breech birth. She should have sent Becca on to the hospital yesterday. She wasn’t due for a couple more weeks, but babies had a way of coming when they were ready. Now with the snowstorm, well, there was plenty to worry about.

  The concern heightened when she saw Ben’s truck snowed in. She couldn’t see how anybody could make it down the hill in that without sliding where they didn’t want to go. Thank goodness the horses were surefooted on the trail, but that might not help Becca.

  If only Betty were still here riding beside her. She might have handled such situations in her years as nurse. But Betty was in New York. The lives of Becca and her baby were in Fran’s hands.

  Don’t go borrowing trouble. Grandma Howard used to tell Fran that when she started worrying about something.

  Prayers, that was what was needed. Every time she delivered a baby and especially this time.

  At the house, Woody came out to take Jasmine to the barn after Fran dismounted and pulled the saddlebag off.

  Fran stopped Ben when he reached for the saddlebag to carry it inside for her. “You better dig out your truck. Becca may need to be in the hospital if the baby is still breech. That would be safer for both her and the baby.”

  Ben looked back at the trail they’d made through the snow to the house. He didn’t say it wasn’t possible to get to the hospital, even though she saw the uncertainty on his face. Instead he got back on his horse. “All right. Send Woody if you need me before I get back.” Woody had already gone toward the barn with Jasmine.

  “Do you think the truck can make it down the mountain?”

  “It will if we need it to.” The uncertainty was gon
e.

  Fran didn’t watch him ride back down the trail. Instead she hurried up the porch steps, where a man she didn’t know opened the door.

  “I’m Carl.” He looked a little panicked. “You got to help Becca. She’s punishing bad.”

  “So you’re her husband?”

  “That I am.” The man glanced toward the bedroom at the sound of Becca crying out. He looked ready to cry himself. “I can’t stand her hurting like that. You gotta help her.”

  Fran took off her coat and touched his arm. “I’ll do what I can. You best find a shovel and go help Ben dig out his truck. Just in case we need to take her to the hospital.”

  He looked relieved to have something to do as he grabbed a coat off a chair by the fire. Sadie was in the kitchen with a fresh towel for Fran to dry her hands after she scrubbed them with the lye soap.

  Sadie stared up at Fran with wide eyes. “Is Becca going to die?”

  “Having babies isn’t easy, sweetheart. That’s why they call these pains before birth ‘laboring.’ But with the Lord’s help, Becca will have her baby soon.”

  “She says it’s going to be a boy, but Ma says there’s no way to know for sure till the baby comes.” A guilty grin lifted the corners of Sadie’s lips. “I hope Becca’s wrong and it’s a girl.”

  Fran hugged the girl. “Whichever it is, you’ll be a fine help taking care of the baby. Now you have a job to do.”

  Her grin faded. “What’s that?”

  “You need to keep Buttons out of the bedroom and practice telling Priscilla the stories you’ll be telling Becca’s baby soon. Can you do that?”

  Sadie’s smile came back. “Yes’m. Ma told me to stay out here by the fire. I’ll make Buttons sit with me. And Sarge too.”

  In the bedroom, Mrs. Locke held Becca’s hands. “I think it’s harder watching her than having my own.” She pulled a hand free to stroke Becca’s hair.

  “I’ve heard other mothers say the same.” Fran plastered a smile on her face as she leaned over Becca. “How do you feel, Becca?”

  “He’s wantin’ out, Nurse Howard. Can’t you do something to make him come faster? Get this punishing pain over and done.” She stiffened as another pain seized her.

  “Let me see what’s happening and we’ll do what we can.”

  The exam showed just what Fran feared. A breech presentation. A difficult birth, especially with a baby the size Becca was carrying.

  She kept the worry out of her voice and off her face as she took Becca’s hand. “You remember how I told you the baby needed to turn. Well, that didn’t happen. You need to go to the hospital where a doctor will be at hand to help you.”

  “Can’t we just send for the doctor to come here?” Becca said. “I don’t see how I can go anywhere.”

  “That might take too long. Better to go in Ben’s truck.”

  “You think that’s what has to be done?” Mrs. Locke spoke up.

  “It’s best for Becca. And for the baby.” Fran met Mrs. Locke’s gaze straight on.

  “It won’t be no easy trip.”

  “No, ma’am. We’ll need blankets to keep Becca warm and some sort of pallet for her in the back of the truck.”

  Mrs. Locke stood up.

  “Ma, you got to go with me.” Becca reached for her mother’s hand.

  “Don’t you worry, child. I’ll be with you ev’ry step of the way.” Mrs. Locke patted her hand. “Now rest best you can whilst I get things ready.”

  The Lord surely watched over them as they carried Becca on the pallet down the hill to the truck. Nobody slipped in the icy snow. Ben and Carl took the lead positions, with Woody and Mrs. Locke on the back. Fran hustled along beside Becca, who stoically bore up under the trip. The pains were closer together and Fran prayed they would have time to get to Hyden.

  Woody headed back to the house to stay with Sadie and keep Sarge from following them. Carl got in the cab with Ben while Mrs. Locke and Fran climbed in the back to tuck quilts around Becca.

  The sky had cleared and the moon on the snow made it nearly light as day. Fran kept her hand on Becca’s abdomen to gauge her contractions as they slid down the hill.

  Mrs. Locke held her daughter’s hands and moved her lips in silent prayer. When she noticed Fran looking at her, she said, “I’m praying hard we make it down this mountain.”

  The truck fishtailed as she spoke and both Fran and Mrs. Locke held Becca to steady her. Ben got the truck back on what passed for a road. For a few minutes, Fran thought they might make it. But then Becca’s pains were stronger as her body began to push out the baby.

  “Tell Ben to stop.” Fran looked at Mrs. Locke. “This baby isn’t going to wait for the hospital.”

  After the truck stopped, Fran pulled a baby blanket out of her saddlebag and handed it to Mrs. Locke. “Put this up under your coat to get it as warm as possible.” She turned to Ben and Carl, who climbed out of the truck to stare at her. “Make a tent with these quilts to keep Becca warm.”

  Fran warmed her hands under her armpits as she knelt beside Becca. “I’m going to help you, Becca, but you’ll be doing the work. Work you can do.” In her head, Fran added for herself, You can do this.

  Moonlight filtered through the quilts as Fran positioned Becca and prayed the girl would be able to push the baby out quickly enough.

  “Go ahead and scream if you need to,” she told Becca. “That might help.”

  “Me a-screaming ain’t gonna be the first thing this baby of mine hears,” Becca gasped. “Ma, sing my baby here.”

  “Surely I can do that.” Mrs. Locke leaned close to Becca under the quilts.

  “Toora, loora, loora. Toora, loora, li.

  Toora, loora, loora. Hush, now, don’t you cry.

  Ah, Toora, loora, loora. Toora, loora, li.

  Toora, loora, loora. It’s an Irish lullaby.”

  Mrs. Locke’s clear, sure voice somehow calmed Fran as well as Becca. Grandma Howard used to sing that same lullaby. Then Ben’s voice joined in with his mother’s, and after another minute, Carl added his shaky voice. The sound of their voices sent a sweet shiver through Fran that had nothing to do with the cold as she guided Becca’s baby into the world. As if they’d all been listening for it, they fell silent at the first thin wail from Becca’s baby.

  “It’s a girl.” Tears of relief rolled down Fran’s cheeks. “A beautiful, healthy, strong girl.”

  Becca’s mother pulled the blanket from under her coat to wrap around the baby. “Keep the baby warm, Mrs. Locke, while we finish what must be done here. Are you all right, Becca?”

  Becca was crying too. “I knew she would be a girl. I knew it all along. I’m calling her Carlene Ruth.”

  “I’ve got a little girl.” Carl jumped up and down and made the quilts flap. “I’m a daddy!”

  “Stop that, Carl.” Mrs. Locke’s voice was sharp.

  The man stood still at once.

  Becca shivered. She needed somewhere warm. A few minutes later, the afterbirth passed, Fran pulled the quilts down tight around Becca and looked at Ben. “How far to the hospital?”

  “A good ways, but we’re not far from the center.” Ben pointed toward the creek glistening in the moonlight ahead of them.

  “Go there then.”

  They slid the rest of the way down the hill and then spun back up the rise to the center. Ben and Carl carried Becca into the clinic area on the pallet. Mrs. Locke followed with the crying baby. A good sound since the cries were strong. But Becca was shaking with the cold, her lips trembling and pale.

  Jeralene came from the extra bedroom with a lamp. Ben poked up the fire in the clinic’s stove.

  “Make some tea with extra sugar, Jeralene. And fix a hot water bottle.”

  Fran shrugged off her coat and let it land in the floor. Carl knelt by Becca.

  “Rub her arms, Carl. We need to get her warm.” Fran massaged Becca’s legs and feet until her skin turned pink again and her teeth stopped chattering.

  When Jeralene bro
ught the tea, Fran raised Becca’s head to let her have a sip.

  Becca swallowed. “Moonshine might work better.” The smile in her eyes was good to see.

  “The tea will have to do.”

  Becca twisted to look for her baby. “Is she all right?”

  Her mother spoke up. “She’s a right pretty child. Takes after her mother.” She peeled back the blanket from the baby and laid her beside Becca. Carl gently traced his new daughter’s cheek with his fingertip.

  When Fran looked up at Ben smiling down at Becca and her baby, her heart made a little sideways jump. She mentally shook herself and got back to business. “If you men will step into the other room, we’ll make sure all is as it should be.”

  Later, after the baby was weighed and bathed and Becca was warm and comfortable on the clinic cot with Carl and her mother watching over her, Fran went out on the porch to clear her head. She stared up at the stars and thanked the Lord for the baby’s safe delivery.

  The door opened and Ben stepped out behind her. “My family has a new reason to be grateful to you.”

  “No, no.” Fran glanced back at him, then turned her gaze back to the stars. “I should have had her go to the hospital yesterday. Things could have not turned out well.”

  He moved up beside her, his shoulder brushing hers at the porch railing. “But things did turn out well. The baby is fine. Becca is fine.”

  “But that could have happened at your house without that icy ride down the mountain.”

  “You did what you thought best. That’s all anybody can do.”

  Fran looked over at him, but now he was staring up at the sky. “I guess you had plenty of times in the army where you could only do your best.”

  “I didn’t save all of them. I wanted to, but I didn’t.”

  “Not didn’t. Couldn’t.” Fran put her hand on his arm.

  He turned his eyes back to hers. Her breath caught in her throat as he stared down at her.