Courage to Love (Flynn Family Saga) (9 page)

Maggie swallowed hard.  “Thank you, Samantha.”  Her voice was hoarse.  “But I couldn’t.”

“You must.”  Samantha squeezed her arm.  “And it’s the least I can do after all the trouble I caused you.”

“She’s a beautiful mare, Samantha.  I—I kind of coveted her ever since Henry bought her in St. Jo.”

Samantha laughed.  “I didn’t know you were human enough to covet, Maggie.”

Maggie smiled ruefully.  “That’s not all I covet.”  She rubbed her belly.  “I envy you your waist.”

Samantha’s laughter halted abruptly.  She looked eastward, back the way they had come.  “I’d trade a slim waist for my baby any day.”

Maggie touched her shoulder gently.  “I’m sorry.  I wasn’t thinking.”

Samantha smiled wanly.  “You’ve got a lot on your mind right now.”  She sighed.  “Good night, Maggie.”

“Good night, Samantha.”  Maggie turned and watched the desert for any sign of Flynn, but the moon-drenched sand remained stubbornly empty.

*  *  *

By morning, another eight horses had died.  Maggie rubbed her gritty eyes.  She tried to keep them open, but she was too exhausted.  She lay down in the shadow of the lead wagon and fell into a troubled sleep.  She dreamed that Flynn was shivering from the venom of snakebite.  She dreamed that he was dying.  She woke with a start.

“It’s about time you woke up, sleepyhead.”  Flynn’s lazy drawl was the sweetest sound Maggie had ever heard.  She sat up so quickly that she hit her head on the underside of the wagon.

Laughing, Flynn pulled her out from under the wagon.  He handed her a canteen that was heavy with water.

Maggie took a sip.  The water was warm and tasted like tin.  She had never tasted anything more delicious in her life.  “Billy?”

“Safe and sound and as proud as a peacock.  You’d think he found the spring all by himself,” Flynn grumbled.

Maggie grinned.  “Well?  Did he?”

Flynn shook his head.  “No.  But he was a big help, Maggie.  Ben should be proud of him.”

“Is there enough water for the whole train?”

Flynn nodded.  “We’ll need to go back with a wagon to fill all the water barrels, but there’s plenty.”

Maggie shut her eyes.  “Thank God.”

Flynn touched her shoulder.  “I took Wakta to the picket line, but I didn’t see Patches there.”

Maggie opened her eyes.  Tears blurred her vision.  “He’s dead, Flynn.”

Flynn put his arms around her and rested his head on her hair.  “I’m sorry, Magpie.”

Maggie nodded.  Her throat ached too much for her to speak.

Flynn sighed.  “Well, at least we found water before anyone else died.”

Maggie nodded again.  “Samantha Worthington gave me Henry’s extra mare.”

Flynn stepped back.  “The chestnut mare?”

Maggie nodded.

Flynn whistled.  “That’s a beautiful horse, Maggie.”

Maggie nodded solemnly.  “I know.”

Flynn drew her close again.  “She really has changed.”

“Yes, she has.  They all have.”  She put her arms around his waist and rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder.  She allowed herself a few moments to enjoy the feel of him.  Then, she sighed.  “Well, I’d better get the next expedition ready.  We need that water badly.”

Flynn nodded.

*  *  *

When they reached the Humboldt River, it was full.  Maggie breathed a sigh of relief.  That night, she held a dance to celebrate.  She couldn’t fit into her green gingham dress anymore.  So she wore the dress Kate had made for her in the hope that one day she would be with child.  She danced one waltz with Flynn, but it left her breathless.  Her baby wasn’t leaving her much room to breathe.

Then, Mary Ellis cried out and clutched her belly.

Maggie took her arm and started to lead her back to her wagon.

Peter tugged on Maggie’s sleeve.  “What’s wrong with my Mama?  Is she going to die?”

Maggie turned to him and shook her head.  “No, Peter.  She’s just going to have her baby.”

As she climbed into the back of the Ellis wagon, Maggie prayed fervently that she had told Peter the truth.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

Maggie examined Mary carefully and smiled.  “That baby of yours is in a hurry to get born.  Will you be all right if I get my things?”

Mary nodded and bit her lip.

Maggie went to her wagon, picked up her grandmother’s medical bag.  By the time she got back to the Ellis wagon, sweat beaded Mary’s face, and lines of pain made her look older.  Maggie heard the rattle of pans and knew that Frank was outside, boiling water.

She smiled.

Then, she settled in for the vigil.

Near dawn, the baby crowned.

Maggie took Mary’s hands.  “I know you’re tired.  But I’m going to need you to push.  Can you do that?”

Mary nodded.

The next contraction came, and Maggie squeezed Mary’s hands.  “Push!”

Mary pushed.  Her face reddened, and sweat trickled down her face.  Again and again, she pushed.

And then, a little boy came into the world.

Maggie cleaned his eyes and nose and mouth.  Then, she swatted his tiny rump.

He cried lustily.

Tears filled Maggie’s eyes.  She looked down at the tiny creature in her arms for a moment, and then she handed him to Mary.

Mary’s hands trembled with exhaustion, but she smiled happily.  “It’s a boy!”

Maggie nodded.  “What are you going to call him?”

Mary looked at her shyly.  “We’d like to call him Robert, if your husband wouldn’t mind.”

Maggie smiled.  “I think he’d be honored.”

She stayed with Mary for a few more minutes.  Then, she went outside and brought back David Ellis.

David climbed into the wagon.  He was pale, and he looked worried—until he caught sight of his son.  He smiled and held out his hands.  Reluctantly, Mary relinquished her son into his father’s care.  The two sat side by side, marveling at the gift in David’s arms.

Silently, Maggie left the wagon.  Outside, she bowed her head and cried.

“What’s wrong, Magpie?”  Flynn touched her back gently.

Maggie shook her head.  “Nothing.”  She raised her head and drew a deep breath.  “After so much sorrow and death, this little one means so much.”  She lifted her chin.  “They want to call him Robert.”

Flynn nodded.  “I know.”  He drew Maggie into his arms and rested his chin on the top of her head.

That night, Maggie wrote another name in Sam’s Bible.  “Born, July 28, 1873, Robert David Ellis.”  She closed the Bible and smiled.  Flynn put his hands on her shoulders.  He led her to the blanket they both shared.  They couldn’t make love anymore, but the feel of his arms around her was enough.

Maggie closed her eyes and slept deeply, dreaming of the child that grew inside of her.

*  *  *

By the time they reached Dixie Creek, Maggie had given up trying to ride.  She found it harder and harder to sleep.  Flynn was away from the train often, looking for water.  Dixie Creek was completely dry.  So was Pine Creek.  The Humboldt fell lower and lower until it was a bare trickle of mud.  By the time they reached the Reese River, their barrels were almost empty again.  But the Reese was a little higher with water from the mountains, and they filled their barrels one last time.

Finally, they reached the Trinity Mountains.  Maggie stared at them in wonder, as she did every year.  There was very little snow on the peaks, and that worried her.

And then, Maggie’s water broke.

Panic seared along her nerves like hot lead.  “Ben, get Abby!”

Ben looked at her lap and nodded.  He galloped back to Abby’s wagon.  He brought the older woman forward, riding pillion.

Maggie grasped Abby’s hand tightly.  “It’s too soon!”

Abby grinned.  “Babies come on their own timetable, not yours.”  She patted Maggie’s hand.  “You’re a strong, healthy girl.  You’ll be fine.  Now get inside the wagon.”

Frank climbed onto the seat.  “Do you want me to stop, Maggie?”

“No, Frank.  Keep going.  This may take a while, and I don’t want to hold up the train.”

Frank clucked to the horses, and the wagon lurched, just as another contraction squeezed Maggie in a vise of pain.

*  *  *

Night came, but the baby didn’t.  Sweat poured down Maggie’s face.

Ben climbed into the back of the wagon.  “How are you holding up, Maggie?”

Maggie tried to smile.  “I’m fine, Ben.”

He grinned.  “In a pig’s eye.  Just wait until you hold that baby in your arms, though.  You’ll forget all about the pain.  Or at least that’s what Emma says.”

Another contraction racked her.  “In a pig’s eye,” Maggie muttered.

Ben laughed.

“Any sign of Flynn?”

Ben shook his head.  “But if he’s smart, he’ll stay away until the baby’s born.  You’re a lot less likely to kill him then.”

Maggie laughed.  “Get out of here, Ben.  Abby’s an old hand at this.”

“Yes ma’am.  Abby, you let me know when we need to stop the wagon, you hear?”

Abby nodded.  “Don’t worry, Mr. Brewster.  I will.”

He nodded and left the wagon.

Maggie shut her eyes as the next contraction gripped her.

*  *  *

Morning came, but the baby didn’t.  Abby left the wagon, and Maggie heard the sound of Ben’s voice outside.  “Yes ma’am.”

Abby climbed back into the wagon.  Maggie heard the sounds of the other wagons as they rolled away.

“Abby?”

“I need you to you concentrate on bringing that child of yours into the world, Maggie.  As long as we’re with the other wagons, you’ll worry.”

Maggie laughed shakily.  “You’re right.”  She gasped as another pain ripped through her belly.

The pains came closer together, and Abby began to look worried.  The contractions kept coming, hard and fast, as the sun rose higher in the sky.  The wagon was hot and stuffy in the noon heat.  Maggie lay, panting and sweating while Abby tended to her.  “Can I have just a little water, Abby?  Please?”

Abby hesitated.  “Just as sip, now.  Just enough to moisten your mouth.”

Maggie nodded.

Abby held the canteen up to her mouth.

Maggie shut her eyes and thought of the mountain where Emma and Ben lived.  She thought of the smell of the pines and the cool breeze.  She smiled.

And then, another contraction hit her, hard.  Maggie cried out in pain.  Abby held her hand, but Maggie wished with all her heart that it was Flynn who sat beside her, holding her hand.

Then, another contraction racked her, and she forgot about everything except the pain.

*  *  *

Night fell, and still the pains kept coming.  Worry began to gnaw at Maggie, worry about her baby.

“The first one always takes a long time, child.  Babies are tougher than you think.”  Abby smiled and smoothed back Maggie’s damp hair.  “And so are their Mamas.”

Maggie smiled wanly.

And then, another contraction twisted inside her, and she screamed.

By dawn, she was exhausted.  She lay in the cool air, panting.  “Abby, is Flynn back yet?”

“No, child.”

“This is taking too long!”

“Hush, child.”  Abby moistened a cloth and wiped Maggie’s face.  “It won’t be long now.”

But the day came and went, and the contractions continued, and still the baby refused to come.

By nightfall, Maggie was nearly out of her head.  Abby gave her a little water.  Maggie sipped it and closed her eyes.  “Abby, am I going to die?”

Abby looked away.

Tears burned Maggie’s eyes.  “I wish Flynn would come back.”

“Me too,” Abby whispered.

“Abby?”

“Yes, child?”

“What day is it?”  Maggie’s voice was hoarse from screaming.

“August 26th.”

Maggie looked away.  “Too soon.  Too soon.”

*  *  *

The hours crawled by.  Maggie stopped caring if she lived or died.  She stopped caring about anything.

The sun rose, heating the interior of the wagon.

Maggie didn’t care.  She just wanted the pain to stop.

Then, she heard the sound she had been listening for days, the sound of a horse, running hard.  Flynn climbed into the back of the wagon and took her hand.  He smoothed her hair back from her face.  "Maggie."  His voice was hoarse with emotion.

Maggie’s tears trickled down her cheeks.  “I’m scared, Flynn.”

“I know.  Here, chew on this.”

Abby eyes the leaf suspiciously.  “What is it?”

“Something the Lakota use when a baby won’t come.  I’ve seen it work, Mrs. Barrett.”

“All right.”  Abby sounded doubtful.

Maggie put the leaf in her mouth and chewed.  It was bitter, and she made a face.  Abby handed her the canteen again.  She drank greedily.  Then, the next contraction came.

“Out!  Shoo!”  Abby pushed Flynn toward the back of the wagon.

Maggie smiled.  She had seen him stand up to the Major, but he backed away from Abby as if she were a grizzly.

Another contraction came.

Abby checked her progress.  “Well, I’ll be.  All right, child.  Push!”

Maggie pushed.

“Again!”

Maggie lost all sense of time.  She simply waited for the next contraction and pushed.  Dawn light filtered into the wagon.

“One more time.  Push!  Push hard and keep pushing.”

It hurt.  It hurt more than anything else that ever happened to her, but she wanted to see her child.  She wanted to hold it in her arms.  And so, she pushed.

And suddenly, the pain stopped.  She was sore and tired, but the awful pain was gone.  Maggie lay with her eyes closed, panting.

And then she realized that the wagon was silent.  Her eyes opened.  “Abby?”

Abby didn’t answer.  She stood with her back to Maggie.

“Abby, where’s my baby?”

Still, Abby didn’t answer.  She heard the sound of slapping and then silence.

Maggie struggled to sit up.  “Abigail Barrett, if you don’t show me my baby right now, I’ll come over there and take it.”

Abby’s shoulders slumped.  “All right, child.”  She turned.

A baby lay in her arms.  Its tiny face was blue.  It was still and made no sound.

A single sob tore from Maggie’s lips.  “Let me—let me hold it.”

Abby sighed.  She came over to Maggie and handed her the tiny bundle.