He motioned for them to follow him. Gordon reached back and took her hand in his. Even in their dire situation, Polly couldn’t ignore the tingly feel of his warm palm against hers. They followed the Indian to a tepee. The man pulled the entrance open and motioned for them to enter.
Gordon led the way inside, pulling Polly in behind him. A fire burned in the center of the room, casting dancing shadows against the hide. Skins were piled against one wall. Polly wondered if they were as soft as they looked.
The man entered after her. A few moments later, one of the women who had assisted Polly during the birthing entered also. She carried two bowls of steaming stew.
The smell of rich meats and spices caused Polly’s stomach to growl. When was the last time she’d eaten? Yesterday noon? Time seemed to have sped by, and in its passing she’d had no chance to eat or sleep. Both actions were demanding her attention now.
Polly offered a wobbly smile and took one of the bowls. She moved to the fire pit and sank down onto a thick fur. Weariness seeped into her bones.
Gordon joined her but didn’t sit. He took the bowl the woman held out for him.
Polly sensed his unease. It hung in the air as thick as the soup she scooped out with the spoon-shaped bone the woman supplied. Polly sipped at the delicious stew. Small bits of spicy meat and vegetables in a rich gravy washed over her tongue. “This is very good, thank you.” She offered another weak smile.
The Indian woman returned the smile and then departed. Polly held her breath as the man stepped closer to them. Once more Gordon blocked her view by stepping in front of her. She leaned to the side and looked up at the Indian man.
He didn’t seem to be a threat. His dark eyes studied both her and Gordon; then he motioned for them to eat. His hand moved in a sweep to indicate that the furs at the back of the room were intended for them to sleep upon.
Polly was surprised when Gordon shook his head. He motioned toward his bowl and then to the furs, shaking his head. The Indian man’s expression showed signs of confusion.
Gordon tried again. He motioned that they would eat, and then he pointed to Polly and the furs. The other man nodded, but the look of confusion remained in his dark eyes.
Polly felt confused, too. She continued to watch as Gordon pointed to her and the furs and then at himself and the tent door.
“What are you saying?” Polly asked.
He spoke without turning to look at her. His eyes remained locked on the other man. “I can eat here with you, but we cannot stay the night alone in here.”
Understanding dawned. “Oh, I see.” A chill ran up her spine and into the hair at the back of her neck. How could he protect her if he left?
The Indian motioned for them to eat. At Gordon’s nod, he turned and left.
“Where will you sleep?” Polly asked, once more wishing she’d not dragged him into this mess.
Gordon eased down beside her. He looked into his bowl. “Right outside the door. I won’t leave you, but I can’t sleep alone in the same room with you. We are going to have a hard enough time, when we return to the wagon train, convincing some people that this trip has not compromised your reputation.”
Polly noted that he didn’t say if they returned to the wagon train but when. His strong jaw worked as he chewed. Determination shone in his eyes, and she could see that his mind was searching for a way of escape.
Someone tapped the flap of the tepee. Gordon stood and pulled it open. Polly tried to see who their visitor was but couldn’t see around Gordon. He returned with a jug of clear water. “It seems our every need is being considered. I don’t believe they plan on harming us.”
“It seems the only reason they took us was so that I could help deliver the baby. Do you think they’ve been watching our train long?” She yawned.
Gordon picked up his bone spoon again. “It’s possible, but I think they just grabbed the first woman they could in hopes that she could help. This camp is small and filled with young adults. Other than the baby, I’ve not seen any children and no elders.”
“Lucky for them, they found the midwife’s apprentice.” Polly finished the stew and set her bowl aside. She stood and looked in the pile of skins for a small, clean piece of soft rawhide.
She felt Gordon’s puzzled gaze follow her as she found what she was looking for. She poured water into a bowl and dipped the hide into it. Would he allow her to clean his wound?
“What do you mean ‘apprentice’?” He tilted his head to the side and allowed her to wash away the blood from his temple.
Polly chewed her lip. “I’m not a real midwife, Gordon. I’m just an assistant. My Mamadele is the real midwife.”
Gordon enjoyed the sweet way she said his name, almost as much as the sensation of her light touch upon his brow. She reminded him of a butterfly unsure where to land. The tremble in her voice shook him. Was it insecurity that caused her to snap at him from time to time? He had to reassure her. “Polly, you have been a midwife since the night you delivered Laura Joy for Mrs. Edwards.”
She gnawed at her bottom lip as she set the rag in the bowl. “That’s a nasty cut. I’m afraid it might scar.” She rinsed out the small hide.
He hated that she moved away from him. A wide yawn escaped before she could cover it. Her bonnet hung down her back, and her hair had come loose sometime during the day.
Polly had proved that she was a strong woman. She’d not slept in thirty-six hours, and yet she’d stayed with the mother until she was sure both of her patients were safe. Gordon continued to admire her hair. He wanted to run his fingers through the silky-looking strands. The thought startled him, and he cleared his throat. “Well, I need to go so you can get some sleep.”
Polly walked to the pile of hides. She scooped up an armload of skins and passed them to him. “I am pretty tired.”
Her soft smile caused his heart to melt. The more he got to know Polly Schultz, the more he wanted to know her better.
She bent over once more and scooped up another armload of skins. “I am moving my bed closer to the door, to be closer to you.” She walked to the left of the entryway and dropped her skins. “Why don’t you take those out and come back in for more. There are plenty here, and I don’t want you to get cold.”
Gordon grinned while he did as she instructed. He dropped the skins on the right-hand side of the door so that they would only have the tepee wall between them and then reentered for another load.
For a brief moment, he couldn’t find her. He turned in a complete circle looking for her. And then he saw her. She’d curled up on the furs and snuggled down. She resembled a kitten, purring away. So sweet and beautiful. Gordon knelt down and covered her with a soft skin. Her bonnet lay off to the side, and her hair was fanned out on the furs.
Polly smiled in her sleep. Gordon sat back on his heels and studied her face. What sweet dreams was she having? Was she reliving the birth of the Indian baby? Or perhaps another child’s birth?
That simple smile melted another part of his heart. Gordon frowned. At the rate he was going, Polly would have his heart before they even got to Oregon.
Chapter 9
Polly awoke to the sun shining through the top of the tepee. She stretched and yawned, enjoying the sensation of soft furs under her body. Her feet hurt as she pushed up and stretched again. How long had she slept? She combed her fingers through her hair, pulled it up, and repinned it into a neat knot at the back of her head. Small tentacles of hair slipped free and brushed her cheeks. Since there was nothing that could be done about that, Polly picked up her bonnet and tied it under her chin. She then brushed off her dress and limped toward the door.
The scent of wood smoke filled her nostrils as she pushed back the flap. The two women from the day before were sitting outside the entrance sewing rawhide together into what looked like shoes. They smiled at her and indicated she pick up a bowl and scoop out whatever was in the pot over the fire. Polly’s stomach growled. She looked in the pot and saw that it held some type of mush mixed with b
erries.
After scooping out the mush, Polly sat down beside one of the women. The sun was almost in the center of the sky. Her gaze scanned the camp in search of Gordon as she ate. When she didn’t see him, she turned her attention to the women.
They smiled and chatted with each other. After she finished her breakfast, Polly stood to check on the new mother and her baby. When the women didn’t try to stop her, she walked across to the birthing tepee. The flap had been tied back, and Polly realized that the woman inside could see her approaching. Still, out of politeness, Polly knocked on the hide wall as she’d seen the others do, and at the woman’s answer, she entered the room.
The young woman sat at the back of the tepee. Like the other women, she seemed to be sewing something. Her son lay on a pile of furs beside her. His small chest rose and fell gently as he breathed. His big brown eyes watched as Polly approached. Polly smiled and motioned toward the child.
The woman picked up her son and held him out to Polly. Polly took the babe and cuddled him close. Black hair topped his little head and his eyes were alert and dark. She touched his toes and fingers. Would she ever have a child of her own? The question had floated to her every time she held another woman’s baby. God willing, she told herself.
She handed the babe back to his mother, who laid him down on the furs and smiled. She indicated that Polly sit across from her. She picked up her sewing and continued working. Polly watched but wished she had something to do with her hands as well.
As if the woman could read her mind, she stopped sewing and picked up two pieces of hide and handed them to Polly. Then she threaded a needle of bone with what Polly assumed was thin muscle from an animal. The other woman showed her how the two pieces fit together and then motioned for Polly to begin.
As her hands worked, questions ran through her mind. Where was Gordon this morning? When would they leave? Were they prisoners? It didn’t feel like they were. They seemed to be able to move around at will. But then again, where would they go if they were free? They didn’t know where they were—at least she didn’t.
Her gaze met the woman’s, who smiled and nodded, then went back to her sewing. The questions continued to circle in Polly’s mind. Had they just been brought here to help with the birthing of the baby? Would she ever see the Bentzes again? Or the green hills of Oregon?
Gordon followed the brave to the corral to where the horses mingled. A black stallion reared back and neighed his greeting. The white strip down its forehead flashed in the morning sun. “Beautiful.”
The brave nodded and said something in his language. For the hundredth time, Gordon wished he could understand him.
A teenage boy hurried toward them and said something to the Indian. Gordon listened to the low speech as they conversed for several minutes. The odor of horse dung and churned-up dirt filled the air. A flock of geese flew overhead, their honks filling the skies.
Soon the wagon train wouldn’t be able to get over the mountains. The chill in the air felt good now, but within a few weeks, it would turn cold.
The boy ran toward the corral. Dread filled Gordon. What if he and Polly weren’t able to catch up with the wagons? Then what would they do? He felt a surge of hope when the boy returned with three horses and handed the lead ropes to the brave.
In turn, the Indian man passed two of the ropes off to Gordon. He admired the sleek coats of the animals. Both were mares—one with a brown coat and the other black. A quick look at their teeth and legs confirmed they were both young—not yearlings, but not much older than five.
Gordon looked back to the man. He’d swung up on the black stallion’s back. His dark eyes indicated that Gordon choose one of the mares and do the same.
Sitting bareback astride a mare felt much different than riding on a saddle. Gordon clutched his knees tightly around the brown horse’s middle as they rode back to camp. The black mare followed easily behind him.
Once in camp, the women pointed to the birthing tent. They rode up to its entrance, and the brave called out words that Gordon didn’t understand. His heart pounded as he waited to see what would happen next.
Polly stepped through the flap, a confused look on her face. She looked from him to the brave. He admired the way she held her voice steady as she said, “Good morning, Reverend.”
The brave indicated she should mount the black mare.
Gordon offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Good morning, Miss Polly. It seems we are about to take a trip.” He slid off his horse and offered her his hands as a stirrup to help her onto the mare.
Polly nodded and slipped her small foot into his hands. He steadied her as soon as she was astride. A light pink filled her cheeks as she tried to pull her skirt over her exposed legs.
Gordon quickly looked away. Both of the Indian women were hurrying to Polly’s side. He stepped back as they held up a large hide tied to look like a large sack. Polly took the bundle and smiled. They nodded and patted her leg.
The Indian man indicated it was time to go by leading the way. Gordon quickly swung onto his own horse. He turned to Polly. “You follow him, and I’ll follow you.”
“All right.” She waved to the two women and gently touched her heels to the mare’s sides. The bag sat in front of her, and she balanced it between her arms while holding on to the reins.
Two other braves joined the leader, spoke for a few moments as they walked their horses, and then veered off to the right and the left of them. Gordon stayed alert as they traveled.
“Where do you think he is guiding us?” Polly called back to him.
Gordon eased his horse up to ride along beside her. “I’m not sure, but I’m praying we’re headed back to the wagon train.”
“As am I.” She shifted on the mare’s back and the bag slid. She attempted to catch it and barely succeeded.
“Here, let me take that.” Gordon reached across and took the sack.
Polly smiled. “Thank you. My arms were getting tired.”
He placed the bag between his arms like he’d seen her do and wondered what could be in it. “You’re welcome.” It wasn’t very heavy—perhaps it was simply several furs tied together. But why had they given them to Polly?
They continued to ride in silence most of the day, and Gordon spent much of it praying they were headed toward the wagon train. A breeze rustled through the drying grasses. When they were traveling with the wagon train, the constant wind blew sand into their eyes. This was much more pleasant. Gordon raised his head and inhaled the fresh air. They topped a rise, and the brave stopped.
Gordon motioned for Polly to wait as he moved his mount up beside the Indian’s. Below them he could see the thin line of the wagon train. He breathed a prayer of thanks. The Indian motioned that they should ride side by side the rest of the way. Gordon nodded.
“The train is below, Miss Polly,” Gordon called over his shoulder. “We are going to ride down together. Would you be so kind as to ride behind us and in the middle?”
“All right.” Polly nudged her horse forward until her mount’s head was between the two men.
They proceeded down the hill. The wagon master and scout broke ranks from the train and headed in their direction. When they came within calling distance, the wagon master asked, “Reverend, is all well?”
“Yes sir. It is.”
The wagon master motioned to one of the men, and the wagons began circling up for the evening. Then he and the scout continued toward them. “What happened?”
Gordon looked back at Polly. Her head was down, and she did not raise it to answer the wagon master’s question. So he did. “We went to the river for water, and this gentleman and a few of his friends met us there.”
“Did they harm you?” The Indian brave’s and the wagon master’s gazes were locked.
Gordon thought of the cut on his head and the headache he’d sustained from it. “Not enough to mention.”
The scout moved forward and spoke to the Indian man in his native tongue.
After several long moments, he then turned to the others: “He says his wife was having trouble bringing forth new life, and this woman helped her.” He directed his question to Polly. “Is this true?”
She raised her head. “Yes, it’s true.”
The Indian began speaking again. The scout nodded.
“He is bringing in a couple of his men,” he told them.
At the men’s nods, the Indian motioned with his arm, and the two men who had left them earlier returned. A deer draped each of their horses’ hindquarters. One of them dismounted and pulled the deer from his horse and shoved it onto the back of Gordon’s.
The Indian spoke again, and the scout said, “He says thank you for bringing his son into the world. In payment you can keep the horses and the deer.”
“Thank you,” Gordon replied.
He looked to Polly, who nodded and said, “Yes, thank you.”
The Indian men turned their horses and rode away. Gordon sighed. The adventure was over. Polly watched them leave. Under the bill of her bonnet, her brown bangs and the hint of auburn in them shone under the fading sun. Was that the only adventure Polly and he would experience together? Or did God plan more in his future with the beautiful young woman?
Gordon silently lifted a prayer for the latter. He was in love with Polly Schultz and prayed she felt the same.
Chapter 10
Polly felt as if the air were being squeezed out of her every few minutes. The women of the wagon trail hugged her tight and long. She missed not being around Gordon but knew the men had whisked him away to hear the details of their capture.
“Polly, I don’t know what I would have done had you not returned,” Idella proclaimed again. “I told Gustaf that we had to bring your things with us, just in case you found your way back. Praise be to God that you did.”
“Was it horrible, Polly?” Mrs. Edwards asked as she cradled Laura Joy close.
Mrs. Bentz indicated that Polly should sit down on one of the wooden crates that surrounded the campfire. She did as asked and then answered, “At first I was very afraid. I didn’t know what they wanted, and then when we got to their camp, I could hear a woman screaming in one of the tepees. Honestly, I didn’t know if she was being tortured or what.”
The Midwife's Legacy (Romancing America) Page 11