Soiled Dove (19 page)

Loretta felt helpless as she watched Clare struggle with the calf for what seemed like an eternity. She whispered to the heifer and rubbed her sides and belly waiting for something to happen. “Should I go find Ino?” she finally asked.

“No time. Get a rope from the stable. Do you know how to make a slip knot?”

“Yes.”

“Get a rope and tie the knot, then give it to me and saddle my horse. Can you do that? And hurry. I don’t know how much longer this calf can last.”

Loretta ran down the walkway of the stable and found a coil of rope. Quickly making a slip knot she ran back to the heifer and handed it to Clare, who had removed her arm from the heifer. Blood, mixed with slimy-looking mucus covered Clare’s arm as she flexed her fingers and shook circulation back into her arm. She applied lard to her arm again and rubbed it on the rope. “I found the back legs,” she explained.

“I’m gonna put this rope around them and use my horse to pull this baby out of there. It might already be dead, but I can’t afford to lose the heifer, too. I’ll be ready here real quick, so get the horse.” She reached out with her cleanest hand and squeezed Loretta’s shoulder. “You’re doing good. Okay?”

Loretta nodded and returned to the stable. She found a saddle and stood on a bale of hay to get it onto the horse’s back. It took her a few more minutes to get the bit and reins on and she hoped she had done it correctly as she led the horse toward Clare. As soon as she saw them, Clare withdrew her hand from the heifer and looped the end of the rope around the saddle horn.

“When I tell you, back him up real slow. I’ll guide the calf out.” Clare returned to her place behind the heifer and inserted her arm once again. “Slowly,” she said with a nod.

Loretta backed the horse up and watched Clare for a signal. A few seconds later, Clare stopped her to adjust the calf’s position. When Loretta resumed backing the horse, she watched as a wet red blob suddenly appeared and fell to the ground, covered with the same bloody, gelatinous substance she had seen on Clare’s arm. Clare removed the rope from the calf’s back legs and tossed it aside as Loretta wrapped the horse’s reins to a pole near the lean-to. Loretta fell to her knees and wanted to cry when there was no sign of life from the calf. Clare pulled a rag from her hip pocket and wiped the sticky substance from its head. To Loretta’s horror, Clare lowered her face and placed her mouth over the calves’ nostrils and sucked out a disgusting looking substance, first from one nostril and then the other, and spit it on the ground.

Clare stood quickly and grabbed one hind leg and one front leg. “Grab the other side,” she ordered as she looked at Loretta, who did as she was told, despite her paled expression. “I can’t take a deep enough breath to suck it all out because of my damn ribs, but we have to clear more of this shit from its lungs. We’ll have to pick him up and try to sling it out. If that doesn’t work there isn’t anything else we can do.”

They swung the calf’s lifeless body in an arc front to back. “The next time his head is up, swing him backward with all your might,” Clare instructed calmly.

They repeated the swinging motion two or three times before Loretta saw fluid running from the calf’s nose. “It’s working!” she laughed.

Loretta’s arms felt as if they might fall off her shoulders and she knew Clare had to be twice as exhausted as well as in pain. The heifer watched them intently as they swung its baby forcefully twice more.

Its legs began to move slightly while Clare wiped it down and cleared as much mucus from its mouth and nostrils as possible. She untied the heifer, which immediately nudged the calf to get up and began licking it body to remove the remainder of the sticky substance from its body.

Clare limped to a barrel of rain water next to the lean-to and plunged her arms and head into the barrel, scrubbing off the blood and afterbirth. Her arms ached and she was certain she had re-damaged her ribs. She also knew she would fall asleep as soon as she found a horizontal position anywhere. Hell, at that point the ground looked pretty damned inviting.

She rubbed the muscles of her right arm that had been nearly crushed by each of the heifer’s powerful contractions as she led the animal into an empty stall in the stable. She was a mess and knew she smelled horrible. She ran a hand through her wet hair and released the heifer into a stall. Loretta carried the wobbly calf and set it down carefully next to its mother. She found another rag and spoke softly to the calf and its mother while she cleaned more of the slimy substance from the calf’s face. She giggled as the calf tottered around on new legs and tried to keep from toppling over. Clare smiled at the scene and rested her chin on her hands as she leaned against the top rung of the stall. She knew the calf couldn’t have survived without Loretta’s help.

Loretta glanced up and saw Clare. “Isn’t he beautiful?” she said, casting her a brilliant smile.

Clare couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen that kind of excitement and joy on someone’s face.

“Yep. I’ll leave them in the stable for a night or two so they can rest. Then they can join the rest of the herd.”

“Already? Most women don’t recover that quickly.”

“It’s a heifer, Retta. Not a person.”

“Are you sure she’s all right?”

“We’ll know by morning. I’ll have Ino check on them when he gets in.” Clare looked down at herself and sniffed. “I have got to get a bath. Looks like you might need one, too. I’m afraid your dress is ruined,”

she said, glancing at Loretta.

“It’ll be all right. What are we going to name him?” Loretta asked as she patted the calf that had begun to stumble comically around the stall.

“We don’t name our animals,” Clare said. “But if you want to, I don’t guess anyone would mind.” She made her way slowly outside, untied her horse’s reins, and began leading him back to his stall. Clare unsaddled her horse and checked his food before closing and latching the stall. She was brought up short by the sight of Loretta hugging the calf and speaking softly to him. In its own way it was sweet and Loretta reminded Clare of a child who had been deprived of gentleness and kindness.

“They’ll be all right,” she said to Loretta.

Loretta stepped away from the calf and helped Clare spread hay on the floor of the small stall. She patted the heifer that seemed grateful for a chance to rest. As the heifer chewed a mouthful of hay, her calf found its own nourishment as he nuzzled against his mother’s udder. Just like a man, Loretta thought, but kept it to herself.

Clare shuffled out of the stall and latched the gate.

When she turned to leave, Loretta grabbed her by the arm. “You’re bleeding,” she said.

Clare looked down and saw the bright red stain across her upper abdomen. “Must have torn a stitch out. It’ll be okay.”

“Go inside and let me check it. If it isn’t cleaned up you could get an infection.”

“I’ll take care of it later.”

“No. Now!”

“You don’t give orders here, Mrs. Langford.”

“Why are you so damn afraid of letting someone help your sorry ass, Miss McIlhenney?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Clare mumbled. “Make it quick. I have work to do.”

Loretta heated a pot of water and found a reasonably clean cloth to wash Clare’s wound out.

When she carried the water and cloth into Clare’s bedroom, Clare was sitting on the edge of her bed.

“You’ll have to remove your shirt and lie down,”

Loretta said.

“For what?” Clare reached down and pulled the tail of her shirt up, revealing her abdomen below her breasts.

“Because I can’t see the cut or all the stitches.”

Loretta smiled. “Believe me, you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before. So don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” Clare grumbled. “Certainly not of you.”

“I’m tougher than I look,” Loretta said. She placed her hands on Clare’s shoulders and pushed her down.

She unbuttoned Clare’s shirt and pulled the right side away from the injured area of Clare’s abdomen. She soaked the cloth in warm water and squeezed out most of the excess water before folding it and laying it across the cut. She moved to the end of the bed and began tugging off Clare’s boots.

“There’s nothing wrong with my feet or legs,”

Clare protested.

“You need to change these filthy clothes and take a bath. It will be easier if I help you undress.”

“I can undress myself! Just clean the damn cut.”

Loretta removed the damp cloth from the stitched area of Clare’s abdomen and dipped it in the warm water again. Gently she began wiping away the blood from around the injured area. She rested a hand on Clare’s lower abdomen and examined the stitches.

“It looks like you pulled more than one out and the bleeding is coming from the new torn skin. Let me get some scissors.”

“For what?”

“I should remove the pulled stitches. Then I’ll clean out the wound and bandage it. Since it’s partially healed that should hold it until you see Dr.

Wayne.”

Loretta left the room and returned a few minutes later with a small pair of scissors. She placed her thumb and index finger on either side of the line of stitches and clipped away three of them. When she was satisfied, Loretta lightly patted Clare on the stomach.

“I’ll get a tub of hot water ready while you undress. Soak for about fifteen minutes and then I’ll put a bandage on. Call me when you’re out of the tub.”

Clare nearly screamed when the hot water in the bath hit the re-opened wound, but eventually the stinging sensation on her raw skin faded away. As she soaked away her aches and pains she tried to think of a way to avoid Loretta’s soft touch in the future. She couldn’t afford to enjoy the sensations Loretta’s gentle finger created. Those feelings had never led to anything but heartache.

TWO DAYS LATER, Clare sat on Dr. Wayne’s examining table and through gritted teeth endured his poking and prodding. When he snipped the final stitch below her breast he said, “I would’ve thought your ribs would be a little further along than they are.

Have you been resting and not putting any unnecessary strain on them?”

“Yep,” Clare answered.

“Somehow I don’t think that’s the total truth, Clare.”

“It’s a ranch, Doc. Things happen that can’t always be controlled.”

“If you keep doing whatever it is that can’t be controlled, you’ll still be healing when Christmas comes. I want to see you again in about a month.

Maybe by then you’ll be able to take a deep breath without grimacing so much,” he said as he patted her on the shoulder. “Keep the ribs wrapped for support.

You can put your shirt back on now.”

Clare slipped her arms carefully into the sleeves of her shirt and stood up. She refused to use her cane to walk and tried to appear as normal as possible. She stepped onto the boardwalk outside the doctor’s office and strolled toward the dry goods store. By the time she made it down the street to the store she saw Ino carrying a large, squawking crate which he set carefully into the back of the buckboard.

“What the hell is that?” she asked when she was closer.

“A bunch a chickens, wire, some provisions, seed, and a few other things Miss Loretta needs for her cabin,” Ino said as he shoved the crate onto the bed of the buckboard.

“How much longer before we can leave?”

“We’ll be ready after we grab a beer.”

Clare nodded and wandered into the dry goods store. She looked around until she saw Loretta near the back of the store looking through bolts of fabric.

When Loretta saw her approaching she smiled.

“Did you get everything you need?” Clare asked.

“Yes, and thank you. What did Dr. Wayne say about your ribs?”

“They’re healing.”

“Did you tell him about the calf? I’m sure you re-injured your ribs.”

Clare shifted her weight uncomfortably. “No need to tell him about that. It couldn’t be helped.” She reached across Loretta’s body to feel a piece of fabric between her thumb and index figure. “Nice fabric,”

she managed, distracted by her closeness to Loretta’s body.

“When I get paid I’ll get some and make a lighter weight skirt for summer.”

“Summer will be over in another couple of months. Get what you need. I owe you for ruining your other dress with that calf anyway.”

“You don’t owe me for that. I was just doing my job,” Loretta protested.

“I don’t pay you to tend cattle.” Clare looked at the other bolts of fabric and picked one up. It was dark blue with gold and silver stripes. “This would work well for curtains. Maybe you should get this to cover the windows in your cabin. I trust my men, but they’re human.” Clare picked up the bolts and carried them to the front counter. Horace stared at her when she dropped them on the cutting table. “It’s for my housekeeper,” she explained brusquely. “Get whatever else you need and we’ll wait for you at the saloon,” she said to Loretta.

Chapter Twelve

LORETTA WIPED HER forehead with the back of her hand and readjusted her straw hat. She leaned on the handle of her hoe and surveyed the long rows that made up her fledgling garden. After nearly a month, the seeds she’d planted had broken the ground and were stretching toward the sun. She picked up a nearby canteen and took a long drink of cool water. Every day after Clare and her hands ate their noon meal and returned to work, Loretta donned her hat and grabbed her hoe, determined to keep unwanted grasses and weeds from invading the garden.

She squatted down and closed her hand around a fistful of warm dirt. She brought it close to her nose and inhaled its scent, smiling. Memories of working with her father in the rolling fields on their Ohio farm seemed as fresh as they were when she was a child. Those had been the most uncomplicated, happiest days of her life. Until now. For the first time since leaving home she felt at peace.

She hiked her skirt up slightly and carried the hoe to a small shed located behind her cabin. When she finished her work and had a little free time, Loretta enjoyed exploring more of the property surrounding the main house and outbuildings. She walked through her garden, looking around to make sure she hadn't missed any stray weeds and set off across a grassy area toward the stream that ran behind the cottage. Although the stream couldn't be seen from the house, Loretta heard the water tumbling over rocks and boulders long before she saw the falling water itself. She remembered the spring house her father built to cool the butter her mother churned along with other perishables.