Frontier Gift of Love (American Wilderness Series Romance Book 5) (25 page)

“The new pain could merely be a practice contraction,” Rory said.

“That’s what our cook, Mrs. Wrigley, said,” Sam told him.

“However, the pain in her side might be concerning,” Rory added.

“The midwife thinks it’s because the baby may be breech.”

Rory’s face remained impassive, but he turned at once toward the house. “Take me to her.”

“Will you two finish tending to the horses?” Sam asked Stephen and Bear.

They nodded and Sam left with Rory striding swiftly beside him.

When Sam and Rory came back inside, Sam was relieved to see Catherine seated in her chair with all the children and women gathered around her. Sam watched her as he and Rory removed their coats and hats and hung their weapons on the wall racks. She seemed lively and cheerful and friendly banter filled the room.

“Rory,” Catherine said, extending her hand to him as they made their way to her. “Welcome!”

Rory bent and gallantly kissed the back of her hand. “Thank you, my gracious lady. I see you have your hands full here,” he said, sweeping his hand out to indicate the large boisterous group. “It’s a good thing we built such a large home for you and Sam.”

“Indeed. And I’m still grateful for all the help you gave Sam and Bear building it,” Catherine replied.

Riley began licking Little John’s face and Catherine started laughing. The joyous sound of her laughter warmed Sam’s troubled heart.

“We’re going to have sweets and then sing carols,” Martha volunteered. Both Martha and Polly were still clinging close to their mother, who now held Samuel in her lap.

Little John sat on the floor cross-legged, latched on to Riley. “Then Artis and I will show them where all their rooms are,” Little John added.

“Kelly girl, will you please take Catherine’s place and lead this heavenly choir,” Rory said, “while I visit with Catherine and Sam?”

“Of course, Pa” Kelly agreed.

Catherine stood. “What is it Sam?”

“Follow me,” Sam said, leading the way.

Mrs. Wrigley, carrying a large tray of sweets, nearly ran into them.

Sam righted the tray in time to save the delectable assortment of tarts and then told her, “Mrs. Wrigley, this is Kelly’s father Rory McGuffin. Rory this is Mrs. Wrigley, a valuable member of our family who keeps us all well fed.”

“It is my great pleasure to make your acquaintance lovely lady,” Rory told the cook. “Let me take that tray for you.”

Mrs. Wrigley seemed tongue tied, but nodded to Rory.

“Will you and Rory please join us in a moment, Mrs. Wrigley?” Sam asked as Rory took the tray.

“Certainly, Captain Wyllie. I’ll be along shortly.”

He followed Catherine into their bedroom.

“Sam, if you’re worried about me, I’m feeling much better,” Catherine said as she entered the bedroom.

“You may remember that Rory is a physician,” Sam said.

“I had forgotten that. Bear did mention it,” Catherine replied.

Rory and Mrs. Wrigley came in quietly and stood by them.

“Have you had that new pain again?” Sam asked.

“No, I drank Mrs. Wrigley’s tea, napped for a short while, and now I feel perfectly fine,” Catherine said, smiling at them. “Why don’t we all join the others for carols?”

“Mrs. Wyllie?” Rory asked.

“Please call me Catherine,” she said. “We’re family now.”

“Catherine, would you allow me to examine you? I’ve delivered my share of babies and I may be able to help,” Rory said.

“Oh,” Catherine said, gripping her middle, “there it is again.”

“What?” Sam asked, keeping his voice level with some effort.

“That new pain.”

“Describe it, please,” Rory asked.

“It’s the strangest sensation. It’s as if a giant’s hand just grabbed my entire stomach. Like a cramp, only worse.” Catherine took a deep breath.

“Might I suggest that you lie down,” Mrs. Wrigley recommended.

“Should we go get the midwife?” Sam asked Rory.

“Let me examine her first. If I think this is her time, we’ll send for her. Midwifes can be quite helpful during a birthing.”

“I’m not so sure about this midwife!” Sam said.

“Sam!” Catherine scolded. “Besides, I think Mrs. Smith is scheduled to come today anyway.”

“Mrs. Wrigley, please help Mrs. Wyllie remove her gown. Leave her shift on,” Rory instructed.

The women followed his instructions while Sam added more logs to the hearth and he and Rory chatted quietly in front of the fire.

Catherine reclined on the bed and Mrs. Wrigley pulled the sheet over her. “I’m ready,” she told them.

Taking a seat beside her, Rory began his examination. He proceeded slowly and methodically, feeling her abdomen. “Has your baby been active recently?” he asked.

“Oh yes. The midwife asked me to drink a lot of coffee to stimulate his movement, and ever since he’s poked and prodded. I think he’s already using his fists like a Wyllie.”

Sam had to laugh, despite himself, and Rory chuckled.

“Well, that’s a good sign,” Rory said, continuing to place his palms here and there.

“Is he breech?” Sam asked when he could wait no longer. He had to know.

“Indeed,” Rory said solemnly. He gave Catherine a fatherly pat on her shoulder.

Sam swallowed, not trusting himself to speak. As he absorbed the ominous news, there was a firm knock on the door. “Come in,” Sam said.

The midwife entered the room and without greeting anyone, said, “What, pray tell, is going on here? Men should not be attending a woman when she is due to deliver. Both of you, out! Mrs. Wyllie is my charge.”

Sam willed himself to be patient. “Mrs. Smith, we are delighted that you have arrived. We were just going to send someone for you. This is Rory McGuffin, a physician.”

Rory extended his hand to her, but she ignored it. “Hmph. What do male doctors know about a woman giving birth?”

“I know a great deal, Mrs. Smith. I trained at the University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine, the finest medical school in the country. There I studied anatomy, surgery and midwifery. I have virtually memorized De Corporis Humani Fabrica and other well-known anatomical texts. I substantially extended my knowledge of the normal and pathological anatomy of the human body through performing countless operations and even dissection of human cadavers.”

Sam smiled and nodded, impressed and Mrs. Wrigley’s eyes widened.

“Outrageous! Heresy!” Mrs. Smith sputtered.

Undeterred, Rory continued. “And, at the Boonesborough Apothecary, I rely on trusted English and Scottish pharmacy books that include chemicals, plants, and other products from around the world. Along with Dr. McDowell, we provide some of the best medical and surgical care available in Kentucky or any other state for that matter.”

“So you’re a surgeon,” she spat. “Nothing more than a glorified barber or dentist.”

“Mrs. Smith! How dare you speak to a guest in my house that way,” Catherine scolded. “He’s a member of our family!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Wyllie, I didn’t know that. But I wager my experience with so-called surgeons will prove me right.”

“Mrs. Smith, kindly refrain from further disparaging remarks. Surely you can at least be civil,” Sam said. He wanted to toss her out of the house, but was reluctant in case she was needed later.

“My apologies,” the mid-wife told Rory, although she didn’t look too sincere.

“No offense taken,” Rory said. “As I was about to explain, there are several options with a breech birth. The most drastic is surgical removal of the baby.”

A sudden coldness hit Sam’s core. He could hear the women and children singing Christmas carols in the front room. The normally uplifting songs seemed out of place in the tension filled the room.

Mrs. Smith paled and looked as though she might actually swoon. Gasping, she took hold of the bedpost to steady herself.

Sam tried to ignore the mid-wife, but had little success. “The other options?” he asked.

“Oh, another one!” Catherine yelped.

Mrs. Wrigley took hold of Catherine’s hand and patted it.

“This is the third contraction she has had today,” Rory explained for the mid-wife’s benefit.

“Nothing more than practice contractions caused by the full moon. It’s too early for her to deliver,” the woman insisted.

“A woman’s body decides when it’s time, not us,” Rory said firmly. “It may be hours, tomorrow, or even the next day or two, but I believe this child is coming soon.”

Sam’s heartbeat raced in his chest. “What’s the second option?” he questioned, hoping it would be a better choice. Surgery would be extraordinarily risky. He’d heard of other deliveries by surgery to save the babe’s life, but the mother rarely survived. There must be another option. There had to be.

“We can try to turn the babe,” Rory said.

Catherine’s eyes widened and she laid a hand over her heart.

Rory addressed Catherine. “It’s been done. Often with success.”

“That would be unorthodox,” the midwife declared. “Nature should take its course. If you do anything else, you risk killing the babe.”

Catherine turned back to Rory. “You said
often
with success. What happens the other times?” Her voice and hands quivered a little.

“Any number of things that are not desirable,” Rory answered.

“Such as?” Sam asked.

Rory seemed reluctant to answer. “The umbilical cord could be squeezed as the babe’s head moves toward the birth canal. This would slow the supply of oxygen and blood. Worse, the babe’s cord can be squashed, cutting off his air entirely. He would suffocate.”

Catherine’s trembling hands flew to her mouth.

“What else?” Sam asked.

“It could cause premature rupture of the fetal membrane.”

“The sack the baby is in?” Catherine asked.

“Yes,” Rory said, “if it happens before the babe can be delivered, then…”

“Don’t say it,” Catherine cried, her eyes glistening.

Mrs. Wrigley went to Catherine’s dresser and retrieved a handkerchief.

As Catherine dabbed her lashes, Rory regarded her with kind eyes. “All of these bad outcomes are no more likely than turning the baby without complications,” he told her.

“Sam,” Catherine said, holding her hand out for him to grasp. “Whatever are we to do?”

The desperation in her voice rattled Sam, but he would remain strong for her. “We’ll decide this carefully,” he said as he took hold of her hand.

She turned her face away as tears started to spill from her eyes again.

Mrs. Smith crossed her arms in front of her. “I’m warning you, just let nature take its due course. If she’s meant to live, and the babe is, all will be well,” the mid-wife said. “If not, they were not meant to live. Let God’s will be done.”

“That is not God’s will!” Sam shouted. Anger blasted through him with the ferocity of an exploding canon ball. He released Catherine’s hand and pointed at the door. “Get out! Wait in the kitchen until I come for you. And don’t tell our family
any
of this.”

“Well, I never! I ought to slap you silly.”

He waited, challenging her to go through with it.

Her eyes flinty, she stuck her narrow nose in the air, lifted her gray wool skirt, and stomped out.

“I may kill that woman before this is over,” Sam swore as soon as the door slammed behind her.

“I’ve seen worse,” Rory said.

“It must have been in hell,” Mrs. Wrigley said, shaking her head.

“It was,” Rory said.

Sam knew the doctor meant during the Revolution. The war had been long and brutal for both of them and many others.

“Mrs. Wrigley and I will leave you two to discuss this. But I would advise trying to turn the babe as soon as possible. The sooner the better.”

“Rory, Little John or Artis will show you to your room. I told them where to put everyone so we should all fit,” Catherine told Rory as he and Mrs. Wrigley left the room.

Always the gracious hostess and lady, Catherine was concerned about Rory’s comfort even though she faced one of the most difficult decisions of her life.

Lord help him, so did he.

Chapter 25

D
eep in thought, Sam paced the room. Catherine rested against several bed pillows, but neither one spoke for a few minutes as their hearts gripped the enormity of their decision. The three choices facing them were all horrendous.

Surgery would likely save the baby but cause Catherine’s death, either from blood loss or infection.

Or Rory could try to turn the babe, which posed terrible risks for their child’s life.

They could also do nothing and let nature take its course, as Mrs. Smith advocated. But that could mean
both
the babe and Catherine would die.

For Sam, the choice was difficult but clear. It was their only hope.

“What are your thoughts?” he asked, sitting down next to her.

She turned her eyes, still moist with tears, toward his. “I want to save our babe.”

“And I want to save you.”

She closed her eyes and started crying harder. “I don’t want to leave you Sam. Our life together has just begun. But our child must come first,” she sobbed.

“Surgery is too risky. Even if you didn’t die of blood loss, your
incisions could fester and cause a deadly infection. I’ve seen it too many times on the battlefield. Abdominal surgeries are often lethal. No! That is
not
an option. I can’t live without you Catherine. And if you died, Little John would have no mother.”