High Plains Promise (Love on the High Plains Book 2) (15 page)

The following morning Wesley slipped out of the house while his wife was still sleeping. He didn't want to continue arguing with her about whether he should go. He had said what he intended to say. He made his quiet way through the early morning stillness to his mother's house, the bank, and then to the train station where he purchased a ticket to Dodge City. He would be there well before noon and have time to gather himself before he confronted the man who had made his childhood so difficult.

Allison woke up feeling sore and grumpy. She had an ache in her back, another in her hip, and her shoulder was more than half numb. Bright sunlight seemed to assault her senses. She hauled her heavy body into a sitting position.

“Mama Allie?” a little voice chirped from the bedroom doorway. “Mama Allie, I'm hungry.”

The mention of food made Allison's stomach heave. “I'll get you something in a moment, baby.”

“Please hurry. My tummy is rumbling.”

Allison groaned. “As quick as I can,” she replied. Smoothing a scraggly wisp of blond hair out of her eyes, she gripped the bedpost and used it to haul herself to her feet. Her calf knotted in a painful cramp. She whimpered, flexing her foot to sooth the ache. She reached down, trying to dig a knuckle into the charley horse, but couldn't reach past her enormous belly.

The muscles of her abdomen tightened as well. Allison clung to the post, waiting helplessly for the pains to stop. They did, eventually.

“Mama Allie!” Mellissa yelled, hurtling into the room.

“Missy, stop!” Allison shouted. The little girl pulled up short, her lip quivering. “I can't pick you up, baby. I'm sorry.”

“Why are you so fat, Mama Allie?” Melissa asked.

Allison cautiously released her stranglehold on the bedpost and took a step. Her calf ached, and so did her back, but she moved forward anyway. “Remember how I told you I'm going to have a baby, Missy?” she replied. “That baby is right here.” She patted her belly. “Any day now you'll have a little brother or sister.”

“Oh.” Melissa considered this. “What's for breakfast? Can I have cinnamon rolls?”

“Sorry, I don't have any dough ready for that,” Allison replied. “I can try to make some for you for tomorrow. How about eggs?”

“I hate eggs!” The child stuck her nose in the air, so that her messy golden hair fluttered down her back. Allison sighed. The food games her stepdaughter played sometimes exasperated her to the point of exploding.

“I can offer you oatmeal with cinnamon,” Allison said, “but nothing else.”

“I s'pose,” Melissa replied, apparently acquiescing to Allison's exhausted expression.

Allison descended the staircase, groaning along with each wooden tread. In the kitchen, she stirred the oatmeal with one hand. The other was fisted against her lower back. The ache was so intense she wanted to cry. Not to mention the smell of the oatmeal made her want to vomit. Plunking a bowl in front of Melissa, she splashed cool milk on the hot cereal and staggered out of the kitchen to use the necessary.

“Hello,” a voice called from the other room.

“Becky?”

“Yes, Allie. Where are you?”

“Just a minute,” Allison replied. She settled her nightgown back around her. “Um, James didn't come with you, did he?”

“No,” her sister replied. By the sound, she was now standing outside the bathroom door. “He's at the shop.”

“Good.”
I can come out in my nightgown if only Becky is here.
Opening the door, she saw her sister standing before her, dressed in a pretty calico dress which only strained slightly around the curve of Becky's pregnancy. “Hi there. How's my favorite nephew?” Allison pressed her hand to her sister's belly.

Becky took in the sight of Allison, swollen and disheveled, still wearing her nightgown. “You look like hell,” she said bluntly.

“I know,” Allison replied. “At least I'm consistent.”

“Tell you what. Why don't you go get dressed? I'll play with the munchkin for a while.”

Allison tried to smile, but she could feel it was little more than an unhappy grimace.

“Actually,” Becky said, “maybe I should just take her with me. Would that help?”

“Becky,” Allison said, “you're an angel.” Tears of gratitude stung her eyes. Then another vicious cramp tightened down her spine and she cried out softly.

“On the other hand, maybe I should stay. I don't think you should be alone. Honey, are you in labor?”

“I have no idea,” Allison replied, leaning her head weakly against the door frame. Her swollen feet throbbed. “Is Mother at home?”

“Sorry,” Becky replied, smoothing a strand of hair out of Allison's face. “She and Dad went out of town, remember?”

Tarnation. I
did
know that. Why can't I think straight?
“It's hard to remember anything,” Allison said. “My head feels like it's stuffed with cotton.”

“I know what you mean,” Rebecca replied. “I'm not looking forward to this winter.”

“At least it won't be so HOT for you,” Allison replied, panting.

“Are you having pains?” Becky laid a hand on her sister's belly. “I can't tell if you are or not.”

“I don't think so. It's my back that hurts.”
Hurts is an understatement. It feels like a fist clenching down on it.

“Help me out here, Allison,” her sister pleaded. “I don't know what to do. Should I get the midwife?”

Allison met Becky's worried blue eyes. Just then another spasm gripped her lower back. “Owwwww,” she whimpered, clutching the aching muscle. “I don't know!”

“I can't, I mean I don't… I'll get help. Come on, Melissa!” she grabbed the toddler, who had just wandered into the room, and hurried out the door.

The intense, painful sensation eased and Allison moved cautiously out of the door frame of her water closet, hoping to make it to the sofa before anything else happened. One slow, painful step at a time, she inched her way into the living room. About halfway across the open space, her muscles locked again. With nothing to grab, she crumpled to the floor, rocking on her hands and knees while her pelvis ached and throbbed. Somehow, being in this position helped, so she stayed. The clenching returned, but this time, it felt right to lower her chest to the floor, so she did. It eased the horrible pressure considerably, no matter that she looked like an idiot. She sighed, shifting her hips to one side and then the other. If this was labor, she wanted no part of it.

A strange swooping sensation rolled through her body. It was forceful enough to take her breath away. The next time her body tightened, it was clearly coming from her belly. It hurt, but not as intensely. Cautiously, Allison raised herself up from the floor. She didn't want to sit, but leaning against the arm of the sofa helped. Shifting her weight from foot to foot, she struggled to remain calm through what she now realized was the beginnings of labor pains.

Wesley looked out the window of the train, taking in the golden stalks of autumn grass which waved across the landscape from horizon to horizon. Endless, the grass, eternal. Like life. Everything changed. A person, like a blade of wheat, was born, matured, and eventually shriveled and died without disturbing a blade no more than ten paces away. Each lived out its own existence, mostly alone, mostly not affecting those nearby. Some were cut short, disease or natural disaster truncating their lives, but even those who arrived at maturity were cut down in their time. And no one was unique or different. All experienced much the same existence. Like a grain of wheat, he'd propagated again, spread his seed and borne fruit. Or maybe it wasn't
again
. Who knew? Allison was right that it didn't matter whose Melissa really was. She was his by his choosing. His legally. What difference did the rest make at this point?

A new thought occurred to Wesley. Out of all the boys she'd fooled around with, Samantha had chosen him to be the father of her baby, to provide the home they needed. In a twisted sort of way, it was flattering.
Allison would say to keep that with my other good memories of her. Maybe she's right.
And he'd done the same with Allison; chosen her to be the mother of his child, and to provide the home he needed. And she'd risen to it the best she could, given her all, even her heart, to keep him happy.
You repaid her about as well as you were repaid.

Depressed by the similarities, Wesley turned his attention back to the winter wheat.

“What are you doing?”

Allison, in the midst of yet another pain, didn't immediately respond to her mother-in-law's arrival. She hummed a little, low and deep, not quite a groan, but almost. She'd been doing that for a while. It gave her something to think about, and helped her take her mind off her discomfort.

At last Allison lifted her head to take in Wesley's mother. Her steel-gray, curly hair was escaping its pins, hovering around her head like a halo. Her eyes, also metallic in color, peered suspiciously through wire-rimmed spectacles. Her thin lips compressed into a sour expression.

“I'm in labor,” Allison explained simply. “I'm all right so far, but would you please go and get the midwife?”

“Bah,” Mrs. Fulton dismissed the request with a wave of her hand. “It's too soon. You don't need that yet.”

Another cramp tightened Allison's belly and she moaned. This one was harder than any previous pain, and it had come faster too. She concentrated on turning her moan into a hum, like she had before. It still worked, but not as well. This was a definite change over the previous hour.

“Please,” she begged. “Please go get the midwife.”

“Soon,” Mrs. Fulton replied. “And in the meanwhile, stop that infernal racket. Don't you know you'll wear yourself out moaning and groaning? You've barely started. It gets much worse than this.”

“Wonderful,” Allison muttered. Another pain seized her and she leaned against the arm of the sofa, rocking her hips and trying not to make a sound.

An hour later, Allison's contractions were right on top of each other and had strengthened to the point where her soft toning no longer sufficed to distract her. She still tried, but at the peak of each one, the pain overcame her concentration, making her cry out sharply.

As the contraction waned, she whimpered, panting. “I can't do this, Mother. Please go get the midwife.”