White Nights (18 page)

“Oh, sweetheart, you’d better not do that.”

“I want to. I want you to love me again.”

His eyes widened with surprise and then hooded beneath the need coursing through him. “Are you sure? It won’t be too much?”

“Never. I don’t think I can ever have too much of loving you.”

James freed himself, then lifted her skirts and urged her over him. “Then you take charge this time. Take me as deep as what’s comfortable so I don’t hurt you.”

Delight shone on her face as she lowered herself over him and rode, taking him to heights he’d never imagined.

When Gunner arrived the next morning to take charge of her wagon, Eirica couldn’t help feeling disappointed that James hadn’t come. But she knew he had to oversee the cattle. He’d stayed with her until nearly dawn, talking, kissing and just holding her while she dozed in his arms. She fought back a yawn.

Today was going to be a long day, but last night was worth some weariness. She smiled to herself. James had been incredible. The loving they’d shared, the heights they’d traveled, had been beyond her wildest imagination and she couldn’t wait to make love to him again.

Eirica fell into step with the other chatting women but couldn’t keep focused on their conversation. Dreams of James, of their love and the promise of a future filled with love and laughter, played over and over in her mind. When she heard a horse approaching from behind, she turned, her look hopeful, but it wasn’t James, only Wolf riding his monstrous black beast. Her shoulders sagged.

Yep, it was going to be a long day.

Alison called out to the wagon master and asked if she could ride with him. He stopped and looked to Eirica for permission, which she gave. Alison was becoming as horse-crazy as Kerstin, Anne’s daughter.

Wolf settled Alison in front of them, then glanced down at the women. He winked at Eirica. “By the way, congratulations, Eirica. Welcome to the family.”

With a look of pure devilment directed at his wife who had stopped and was looking from Wolf to Eirica, he rode away, Alison clutched firmly in front of him.

Jessie watched him ride off with a frown, then rounded on Eirica who resumed walking, trying to control her laughter at the very pregnant silence behind her. It didn’t take long before Jessie, Coralie, Anne and Sofia caught up and crowded around her. Their questions came fast and furious.

“James did it, didn’t he? He finally proposed?” Jessie walked backward in front of Eirica, her green eyes alight with excitement.

Deciding to play it out, Eirica said, “Actually, he stated his intentions a long time ago—right after we left Independence Rock.”

“And you two didn’t say anything?” This from Coralie.

“I told him no.” Rounded eyes and open mouths greeted that news.

Having fun, Eirica brushed her palms down her apron. She waited a heartbeat. “Last night, I told him yes.” Happy shouts mingled with congratulations and set the tone for the rest of the day.

That night, three women huddled in a small circle in Coralie’s tent, sewing frantically by the light of a lard-burning lantern. Sofia, Catarina and Rook entered, with Catarina holding high another lantern to brighten the cramped area.

Rook set a small trunk down on the floor, then eased himself down, perfectly at ease among the women. Sofia opened the trunk and pulled out a pile of tiny new baby things, each made by the assembled women. Some were sewn, some knitted. The bounty included a couple of small blankets and quilts.

Coralie tied a knot and held up a small gown. “There, finished.” She opened a leather pouch she’d acquired in trade with a group of Indians they’d encountered along the Platte River. From inside, she pulled out two more simple gowns, each a little bigger. “Here’s three more to put in the trunk.” She set them on top of the growing pile.

“What about you, Jessie?” Anne asked.

Jessie grinned broadly and placed her contribution into the middle. No one made mention of the lopsided hems or that one sleeve was obviously shorter than the other on one gown.

Anne, Catarina and Sofia each drew their contributions from their sewing baskets and added them to the growing pile.

“Oh, my,” Coralie breathed, fingering the exquisite lace Anne had fashioned and stitched along the yoke of one small sacque. Sofia’s and Catarina’s also had lace and ribbons. “I’ll never be able to do this.”

Sofia laughed. “You will learn, both of you. All it takes is practice.”

Both Jessie and Coralie groaned, but Coralie was determined to be able to sew such fine garments. But there was one skill she had—one her grandmother in Boston had insisted she learn—embroidery, and she was very accomplished in her stitches.

Biting her lower lip, she glanced toward a corner where one more package lay hidden. She wanted to surprise everyone and planned to give it to Eirica when they presented the rest of the infant clothes and blankets. It never crossed her mind that Eirica’s baby would be anything other than a girl.

After carefully packing the bounty back into the trunk, the women got out their quilt squares. Now there was a wedding quilt to sew, along with finishing the baby quilts each had started.

Three days later, Wolf’s group reached Fort Bridger, originally built by Jim Bridger. The fort was a heavenly sight to the weary travelers. The surroundings held abundant clear sweet water and good grass for the livestock. There was also a beautiful view of the mountains to the south and the high, wide blue skies.

Two days of rest were declared. Wagons needed repair and oxen with lost or worn shoes could be taken to the blacksmith for shoeing. The beasts were unable to stand on three legs, which made shoeing them on the trail nearly impossible. Letters hastily written were mailed and those with money restocked low provisions. The two days also afforded a much-needed break from the monotony of travel.

Here, Mormon emigrants, many with handcarts instead of wagons, split off to head toward the Great Salt Lake or California. Those bound for Oregon headed northwest and rejoined those who’d taken the sublet cut-off. Talk among men concentrated on trail conditions and choices in cut-offs. Women gathered to talk, exchange trail recipes and trade excesses of one food for something of which they’d run out.

Six days after leaving the fort, the emigrants arrived at the abandoned Smith’s Trading Post. The structure had originally been established by Peg Leg Smith in 1848, on the east bank of the Bear River.

The very idea of amputating one’s own leg left Eirica shivering. She’d heard the tale of how the man had done just that, then dressed it and fitted a wooden leg and socket in the stirrup of his saddle so he could ride.

“How could someone do that, cut off his own leg?” Eirica handed James an armload of bedding to put into the tent.

“Survival. People do what they must.” Taking the blankets and quilts from her, James ducked inside and laid them down, then came back out.

Above them, the blue of the sky faded. Eirica scanned the area. Her children sat nearby petting the pregnant Sadie, who lay on her side, panting. Eirica felt for her. The dog was huge. Lara reached out to touch the dog’s side, then giggled when she felt one of the unborn pups move. The white wolf lay next to his mate, good-naturedly tolerating Eirica’s children, even Ian, who tended to be a bit rough.

An odd shiver ran up her spine and her gaze shifted to her surroundings. Several times over the last few days she’d felt as though she were being watched, but had never found anyone looking her way.

Mistaking her shiver for cold, James drew her against him. “How about if I cook dinner and watch the children while you rest.”

Eirica sighed with longing, tempted to take him up on his suggestion. “What about the cattle?”

“I’m off tonight.” He glanced down at her, his expression filled with love and concern.

“You’re worrying.”

“Yeah, I don’t want you to be alone in case the babe comes.”

“James, look around.” She indicated the people and wagons crowded on each side of them. “I’m hardly alone.”

He looked at her sheepishly. “Yeah, but I won’t be here.”

A warm glow settled in her heart. It felt heavenly to know he cared. “I am tired.” An image of him joining her made her sigh. “Too bad you can’t join me.”

James put his hand to his heart in mock dismay. “Woman, you’ll be the death of me. Give a guy a rest.”

Eirica swatted him, knowing he’d purposely restrained himself the last two nights because he was worried about sending her into labor. And in truth, she didn’t have much energy. Still, it was nice to just sit or lie together. If he weren’t on guard duty, he rolled his bedding beneath her wagon, giving her a sense of security in knowing she only had to call out if she needed him. And usually, he lulled her to sleep with either his mouth organ or guitar.

James led her to the tent. Before she entered, he kissed her, long, deep and slow. “Dream of me.” With a wink, he returned to the fire to check on the bread baking in the Dutch oven. He faced the children so he could keep an eye on them.

Again, that feeling of being watched overcame her. She made another sweep of the area but as before, nothing struck her as worrisome.
I must be tired.
Lying down, she closed her eyes. In minutes, she was asleep.

From his vantage point between the two large wagon parties, Birk watched James cook supper, then play with his children. He ran his hand up and down the smooth barrel of the shotgun. Hatred and rage filled him, urging him to get rid of the man who dared to touch his wife. But there were just too many people around. Soon. Soon, he’d have his revenge.

His glare fell to his three brats. He hated kids: hated the mess, the noise and most of all, he resented their intrusion in his life and the fact that with them around, he wasn’t the focus of his wife’s attention. No, he had no use for them brats.

He absently fingered the chain around his neck and narrowed his gaze, a plan forming. Well, now, maybe he shouldn’t be so hasty. He might have a use for them after all. Thinking and planning, he headed back to his camp where Zeb waited.

Nearly a month and four hundred miles after leaving Independence Rock, the emigrants arrived at Fort Hall. The fort, abandoned a scant year ago, stood upon the level bottomland of the Snake River with miles of good pasturage surrounding it, making it a good place to spend a night or two. Like Fort Laramie, the good-size fort was built of unburnt brick.

In the distance, snowcapped mountains were constant reminders of the need to make haste lest they find themselves still on the trail when the first snows fell. In all, the travel-weary emigrants had come twelve hundred miles in three and a half months.

They arrived at the fort in early afternoon, which allowed the animals a few extra hours of rest and plentiful grazing. Wolf chose an area several miles from the fort, downriver. Anyone who wanted to explore the fort had ample time to do so that afternoon, as Wolf didn’t plan to stop for long. Tomorrow they’d continue onward.

Eirica watched Sofia and her family along with Jordan, Coralie, Elliot, the Svenssons and Wolf and Jessie leave for the fort. She smiled at the sight of Elliot and Catarina walking side by side, their shoulders occasionally touching. She had a feeling there’d be another wedding when they reached Oregon.

As much as Eirica longed to see some of the trail sights, her condition left her just too exhausted at the end of the day to do anything not required of her. With an afternoon of having to do nothing but rest stretching out before her, she sighed with gratitude.

Even her children had gone to the fort. Only Rook and James remained behind with her. Rook had declared that he wanted some peace and quiet without any jabbering females driving him crazy, and James, worrying over her as usual, had refused to leave her alone, even though she’d assured him she’d be fine.

Where he’d disappeared to, she didn’t know, but she knew he was probably giving her a chance to rest and recoup. Today had seemed particularly rough to get through. Though they hadn’t traveled nearly as many miles or as long as usual, each step had seemed harder than the last—today, each cry or whining comment from her children making her want to snap. By the time they’d stopped, all she’d wanted to do was lie down and cry. Even James and his fussing had gotten on her nerves.

Her muscles ached and she felt tired—incredibly tired, which worried her. Rubbing her lower back, she feared it wouldn’t be long before the baby came. Oh, Lord, she sure wished she could put this off. Back home, she’d had her ma or a midwife to help her deliver, along with a nice soft bed with sheets; everything she needed, including privacy. But at least this time she’d have Anne and Sofia. Rounding the wagon, she saw James setting up the tent and felt some of her worry and anxiety ease. He hadn’t abandoned her totally. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve him, but she thanked the good Lord for her good fortune.

Pressing her hand into her back, she continued to rub the low ache. If her babe was coming, it would be hours yet, maybe even a day, but not much more than that. With the fear of birthing foremost in her mind, she set about preparing the evening meal. There was just so much to be done yet.

James hadn’t started a fire—it was hours until they’d eat—but she could fill the kettle with water and get the bread ready to bake. Fetching the cast-iron pot from the wagon, she went down to the river. As she lifted the heavy kettle out of the flowing water, a sudden and sharp pain radiated from her lower back around toward the front of her extended belly. Her womb grew hard with the contraction.

Eirica gasped and dropped the pot. It landed with a splash. She held her swollen abdomen until the searing pain passed. Biting her lip, she quickly refilled the kettle and struggled back to camp with it.

“Eirica, are you crazy? Let me have that! It’s far too heavy for a woman in your condition.” James took it from her.

Before she could crossly remind him that women in her condition carried water and wood and saw to their normal chores each and every day of their pregnancy, another spasm of pain struck. The intensity of it left her breathless. She stopped and hunched over, resting her hands on her knees.

James cursed a blue streak, dropping the pot of water in his haste to reach her. “Oh, God, sweetheart, it’s the baby, isn’t it?”

Eirica nodded and straightened when the pain faded. She took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths. None of her other children had come this fast. “James, I need Anne or Sofia. Now.”

He glanced frantically around. “Fine time for everyone to disappear on us. Let’s get you back to camp and settled first.” He wrapped one arm around her waist to help her return to camp.

She only managed half a dozen steps before another contraction hit. This time, she was forced to hold on to James, her fingers biting into his arms.

As soon as the contraction eased, he once again urged her forward. “Dammit, woman. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

Irritated, she glared at him. “The pains just started. They never came this fast and hard with the other three—”

She broke off abruptly and glanced down. James followed her gaze. He swore again when he saw the puddle of water between her feet. Muttering beneath his breath, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her into the tent, set her down on her feet, arranged the bedding, then stood. “Let me help you lie down.”

Pacing back and forth, she shook her head. “No. Not yet.”

Agitated, James surveyed the small enclosure. “Wait here. I’m going to fetch more water and get it boiling. I think Rook started his fire already. I’ll be right back.”

Eirica panicked and grabbed his arm. “James, what about Anne?” Her voice ended on a strangled scream. Once more she bent over. Immediately, James wrapped his arms around her, allowing her to clutch his shoulders as the contraction crested.

When the pain subsided, he tilted her chin up. “I don’t think you have time, sweetheart. Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

Her eyes widened. “James, don’t think me ungrateful, but have you ever delivered a baby?”

James grinned. “Hundreds.”

At her puzzled and disbelieving look, he shrugged. “Cows and sheep, couple of horses, but what’s the difference? Now, do whatever it is you women do to get ready. I’ve got to get some supplies and then I’ll be right back.” With a quick kiss to her forehead, he left the tent and ran smack into Rook.

“—Eirica’s in labor.”

“—Sadie’s in labor.”

The two men stared at each other in horror, then glanced wildly around. No one materialized to come rushing to their aid. They were alone, on their own. A muffled scream from the tent and a frantic bark from Rook’s campsite spurred both men who ran in the same direction—and back into each other.

“—Out of my way.”

“—Damn.”

“Out of my way. I need boiling water. Eirica needs me.”

Rook followed James back to his camp, cursing his broken arm. With a growl of frustration, he whipped off his sling while James set the kettle over the fire, next to one Rook already had going. James used another pan to scoop some of the boiling water out then carried it back to the tent. To add to the confusion, Wahoska paced nearby, growling low in his throat each time Sadie whimpered in the back of the wagon.

James ran back to Eirica’s tent. Inside, he found a pillow and tore the case off. Feathers from the worn ticking floated in front of his face. He blew them out of his way as he tore the fabric into hand-size squares and dipped them into the water.

Kneeling beside Eirica who’d removed her dress and was on her knees, he stared down into her wide, pain-filled blue eyes. “You’ll be fine, sweetheart. You’ll be fine.” Silently, he prayed for the truth of his words. He just couldn’t lose her, not now. Not when they had a future together and so many dreams to make come true.

But deep inside, fear clawed at him. Too many things could go wrong and he knew squat about delivering babies. Why had everyone abandoned them, today of all days? He didn’t have any more time to dwell on his situation. Eirica’s contractions suddenly hit, one on top of another. Glancing around the tent, he found an old quilt nearly in rags and put it beneath her. Then he waited, soothing her, rubbing her back and holding her when pain wracked her body.

“Do you want to lie down, sweetheart?”

She shook her head. “No,” she gasped, holding on to him as if afraid he’d leave. “Oh, God, James, I can’t do this.”

He smiled at the desperation in her eyes. “Sure you can. You’ve done it three times.”

“Different,” she gasped. “Not like this—”

A low guttural moan tore from her throat, a sound James had never heard before. Nor had he ever seen the intense look on another human’s face as he saw on hers. Every vein stood out as if she were holding her breath and straining.

Then he realized she was. She was pushing. “Oh, God. Oh, God,” he muttered over and over, torn between holding her and worrying over the babe. What was he supposed to do? Panic ran wild through him.

Suddenly, the tent flap opened and Rook burst in, dropping a length of cloth. Without any concern at the sight of her half-naked state, he grabbed Eirica’s other arm. “I heard. My wife made that sound before she gave birth. I’ll hold her while ya catch the babe. It won’t be long now. Git that cloth. I took it from Sofia’s wagon. It’s clean.”

James grabbed the toweling and waited, holding Eirica as she alternated between pushing and panting.

“Ah, lass, yer doing fine,” Rook coaxed, urging her to rest between pushes. He grinned. “We has two pups so far. That ol’ rascal wolf is prowling like any respectable man whose mate is birthin’.”

Eirica smiled weakly but held on, long past the point of being embarrassed. Right now, it wouldn’t have mattered if the whole damn camp crowded in to watch. Another urge to push assailed her, stronger. “James, it’s coming. The babe’s coming.”

Her breath ended in a gasp as every ounce of effort went into pushing the babe from her womb into James’s awaiting hands.

“A head. I see a head. Push, sweetheart, push. I see it.”

The awe and joy in his voice gave Eirica the strength she needed for that final push. With a sound between a groan and scream, it was over. Her knees shook and her body shivered, but all she cared about was the baby.

Frantic, she glanced down, unable to see anything. Then she saw James wiping the baby roughly and using one of the wet cloths he’d dipped in the pot of warm water to wipe the tiny nose and mouth, inside and out. Holding the infant upside down, he stroked the baby’s back. Then she heard it. The most beautiful sound in the whole world. Her daughter’s first cry.

Eirica sagged against Rook, who hugged her. “’Ere, give the babe to me. You git yer woman settled in that bed and I’ll go wash the wee lass here and bring her back.” A sharp bark made him smile. “I gots ta check on Sadie, too, then I’ll be right back.” He wrapped the squalling infant in the towel and left, the protesting baby’s wails sounding like music to Eirica’s ears.

She instructed James on the rest of the birthing process. After it was over, she and James held each other. As he murmured praise and words of love, Eirica felt a stronger bond forming between her and James. He’d done every bit as good as any woman or midwife, and it didn’t even bother her that Rook had come in to help. This was what family and love was about, and she reveled in it.

True to his word, Rook returned with the fussing baby, clean and wrapped in a newly laundered towel for a blanket and beneath that, one of his flannel shirts. “It’s clean,” he smiled, handing the baby to James. “She’s a beauty, lass, jest like her ma.” Then the cook left, a wide grin splitting his whiskered cheeks.

James stared down at the baby. From somewhere deep inside his soul, a strong protective urge rose as he studied this small, so incredibly tiny, human that he feared he’d crush her. He tested the weight of her in his palms; she couldn’t be more than five or six pounds. Awed at the wonder of helping to bring this life into the world, he felt incapable of speech.

He pulled back the corner of the towel. A shock of golden-red hair covered the infant’s head and when she opened her eyes, he was struck by their incredible blueness. He touched one soft, downy cheek. Her rosebud mouth rooted for nourishment and finding none, she screwed her face up into a look of outrage to let the world know she was displeased with her reception.

James vowed right then and there to love and protect this child. In that instant, he’d bonded with her as if she’d been his own flesh and blood. He went down on his knees next to Eirica, who lay propped against the pillows and extra bedding. She’d changed into her nightshirt while Rook had the infant. James had removed the soiled bedding and replaced it. “I think somebody wants her mama.” He carefully placed the squalling infant in Eirica’s outstretched arms and watched her unwrap the baby. Together, they checked toes and fingers, then James helped her lift the baby to her mother’s breast.

It was just going on dusk when the happy group returned from the fort. They’d explored the area, talked to emigrants who were camped inside the abandoned buildings, and in general, they’d all had a good time.

Coralie carried Ian who’d fallen asleep. She smiled softly and glanced at Jordan. By the end of winter, she and Jordie would have their own baby, the start of their own family. The thought both excited her and made her sad. She wished her father could be there. He’d be a grandfather, and she wanted him around to spoil her children.

Behind her, Jessie, Anne, Catarina and Sofia talked while Anne’s and Eirica’s girls ran on ahead. The men brought up the rear, carrying on about what the fort must have been like before being deserted. They were also discussing the growing number of Indian attacks in the area. Coralie shuddered, refusing to think about it.

When they neared the camp, Jessie caught up with her. “Men.” She stopped before she could continue with her disparaging comments about their morbid conversation and cocked her head to one side. “Listen, do you hear that?”

The rest of the group stopped to listen.

“Sounds like a baby,” Jordan commented.

The women gasped and cried out, “Eirica!” in unison.

“Land’s sake, Jessie, poor Eirica’s by herself,” Anne cried.