Deborah Camp (8 page)

Copper leaned back in the chair. “Yes, for a while. I’m going to stay near home today.”

Tucker rinsed the dishes in a pan of warm water. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling poorly this morning?”

She ran a hand over her humped stomach. “I’m going to water the horses and fetch some for us,” she said, pointedly ignoring his concerned question. She pushed up from the chair with a grunt and shrugged into her poncho. Grabbing four parfleches, she toted them outside.

Last night, she’d had only two twinges, both sharp and quick. Nothing since dawn, although she felt tired deep in her bones. Every step was an effort, every movement a feat. She took the horses with her to the swift creek that snaked near her cabin and let them drink. When their thirst was slaked, she filled the parfleches and draped them over Hauler’s back. Instead of walking on the return trip, she rode Ranger, her strength depleted.

Back at the cabin, she was glad to find Tucker busy cleaning the shotguns. That he was looking
for activities was a good sign, especially since she fully expected to deliver soon. Those twinges had been a warning.

“This is an old one,” Tucker said, running his hands over the scratched butt of a Hawken. “It’s in good shape, though. Sometimes I think the older weapons are more dependable than the newer ones. Most of the army-issued rifles are put together with horse glue and spit, I swear.”

“Took that off a dead man.” She felt his quick glance. “Some greenhorn who wandered up in these mountains and froze to death. I took his gear and buried him that spring.”

Tucker eyed her for a moment, then gave a shrug and peered down the double-barrel. “Nice of you to bury him. I imagine quite a few folks wander up here to meet their ends.”

Stripping the bedclothes from her bunk, Copper replaced them with older, more threadbare linens. She located two lengths of rope, each about ten inches long, and tied them to the posts on either side of her pillow. She made loops in the other ends; loops big enough to stick her hands through when the time came.

She straightened from her bent position over the bunk and the pain knifed through her. She gasped, froze, and felt tears scald her eyes. For a few moments she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but remain inert until the pain passed. Distantly, she heard Tucker’s voice, but she couldn’t understand him or answer him. The pain subsided gradually like a hot sun slipping behind a cloud. Copper righted herself by inches and wiped moisture from her eyes. That’s when she saw Tucker standing before her, his green eyes wide with concern.

“What? Talk to me! You’re not … oh, God in heaven. Tell me you’re not having that baby. Sweet Jesus. Oh, Christ. You are, aren’t you? It’s coming. Oh, God … damn it all! Why did I let you stay
here when I knew good and well you should be at the fort!”

“Quit your whining. I’m the one in pain. Besides, I’m not having the baby just yet. I’ve had these little twinges since last night. Probably will be another day or two before anything happens.”

“Last night … you’ve been in labor since
last night?
” He staggered and almost lost his balance. Gripping the cane tightly with both hands, he managed to hang onto his equilibrium. “Will you listen to reason, Copper? We can’t do this alone. We need help. There must be a woman near here who’s been through this. What about the Indians? They’ll help you.”

“They’d just as soon kill me and the baby,” she said. “I told you, I’m a witch to them. My baby is bad medicine, too.” She scrutinized him, noting his chalky complexion and the beads of perspiration on his forehead. “You look wobbly. Take a rest and store up your energy. I’ve more chores to do.”

“Chores? You can’t do any work. You’ll hurt the baby.” His gaze landed on the parfleches of water and his eyes bulged. “My God! You’ve been toting that water and … and whatever you’ve been doing outside. Copper, sit down this minute. No, better yet, get into bed.”

“I’m not getting into bed.” She placed her hands on his shoulders and looked him squarely in the eyes. “Listen to me, Tucker Jones. Yelling and stomping isn’t helping me a bit. You’re making me nervous, that’s what you’re doing.” She leaned forward, peering intently into his eyes. “Simmer down, you hear?”

He released his breath and it washed warmly over her face and stirred wisps of her fiery hair. “I admire your courage, Copper, but too much courage can make a person act foolishly. The Indians might think you’re more than human, but I don’t.”

She removed her hands from his shoulders and
stepped back to give him a stern look. “You going to help me or gripe all the live-long day?”

He hung his head in defeat. “I’m tired of fighting you, Copper. I’ll help.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re a man of your word. We struck a trade, didn’t we? Help me push this trunk away from the foot of the bed.”

“Why?”

“You’ll be standing where that trunk is, that’s why. Got to have a clear view of what’s happening. We’ll need to hang some lanterns from those hooks up there”—she pointed them out—“so you’ll have decent light should the baby come in the dead of night. During the day, if the sun’s out, we’ll have some light coming in the window. But if it’s cloudy and gray, it’ll be too dark for you to see the baby’s coming.”

Tucker’s knees trembled and he sat down with a thump. Cold sweat bathed his forehead and his stomach flopped over. He stared at the foot of the bed and imagined himself standing there, watching Copper’s baby crown between her legs. Bile churned up into his throat. He swallowed to keep from gagging.

“What’s ailing you now?” Copper asked, laying a hand flat across his sweaty forehead.

“Copper, I’ll pass out when your time comes. I know I will.”

“Pass out? You got to be funning me. A battle-hardened man like you isn’t going to faint at the sight of new life.” She patted the top of his head. “You’ll bear up, just like me. You’ll see. Now help me shove the trunk out of the way.”

He forced himself to his feet again. “I’ll do it. Will you please sit down and rest? Lord, woman, you’re about to give birth!”

“I’m not about to do anything but lose my temper with you.” She let him push the trunk off to one side. “That’ll do. I’ll fill some extra lamps and
you can hang them. You’re tall enough to reach those hooks.”

He shook his head, watching as she funneled oil into the lamps. “You’re a wonder.”

She scoffed at him. “I’m a woman. And I need you to be my man.”

Her words added iron to his backbone. He felt himself straighten to stand tall and proud. Later, he wondered if it was an age-old instinct; the sudden rush of power in a man when a woman asked him to be strong for her … strong
with
her. All he knew for sure was that her request transformed his lion’s yawn into a roar. Come heaven or hell, he knew he’d see her through the ordeal. He’d be her man until she no longer needed him. By God, he owed her that.

“Shouldn’t you get into bed?” Tucker asked, when Copper’s pain passed and he thought she could respond. She was squatting near the bunks, her skirt hitched up around her thighs, her face bloodred from the agony of her exertion.

“This is the way I was taught. It’s the Crow way. When I feel its crown, I’ll get in bed.” She let her head drop and filled her lungs with air, then blew it out through her mouth in a long gush.

“What can I do?”

“Wash your hands, then don’t touch me. Just the baby. Touch only the baby.”

He nodded, understanding that she didn’t want infection to set in. “Do you have any rubbing alcohol?”

She pointed a shaking finger at a high shelf. Tucker rummaged through the dusty bottles until he found the one he wanted. He set it beside the mount of clean rags on the foot of Copper’s bunk. He noticed the poultice and vaguely recalled her fashioning it one evening. Little by little, task by task, she had prepared herself for this. He only wished he’d done the same. But how could he
have? Some lessons had to be learned in the doing, not in the planning.

He stared at the ropes she’d tied to the head of the bed and realized they were pulls for her hands when the labor became so intense that she’d need something to hold onto. That her pain could worsen and not kill her was unthinkable to him.

Another contraction ripped through her. Copper flung back her head and bared her teeth. A groan, beginning low and crescendoing along with the pain, tore at her throat. Pink fluid seeped from her body and pooled on the rock-hewn floor between her widely planted feet. The contraction lasted a full minute. Tucker ached with her, grimacing and gnashing his teeth, wishing he could share her agony. She slumped, her hair hanging in wet ropes, her skin flushed hot pink.

“Help me …” She panted, then forced herself to breathe deeply. “Got to get this dress off. It’s time.”

He tugged the leather shift up over her head and tossed it aside. Her body glistened with sweat. It occurred to him that this was the first time he had ever removed a woman’s clothing for reasons other than sex. The sight of her swollen stomach and full, blue-veined breasts educated him to the drastic changes a woman went through to bear a child. A shiver raced down his spine and his gut knotted. God, was he really going to do this? Was he really going to help deliver a baby into the world?

The bunk was ready and she reclined on it, moving as if her limbs were filled with lead. Tucker could only imagine how every muscle must ache; how her poor, tortured body must throb. He guided her hands through the loops and pressed her fingers around the rope. She’d looped rags around the footrails and he slipped her feet through them, positioning her knees wide apart
and giving him access to the opening of the birth canal.

The next contraction lifted her hips off the bed and made her howl. He was surprised that she cried out his name. Oddly, it made him more frustrated with his inability to assuage her.

“I’m here, Copper.” His eyes filled with sympathetic tears as he gazed at her swollen genitals. Fluid spilled from her, creating a dark pink circle on the sheet. “Lord have mercy on us,” he whispered, grabbing clean rags and dousing two of them with alcohol. “Help me do the right thing,” he prayed.

He bathed her thighs, stomach and privates with the cleansing fluid while she writhed and moaned and chanted in the Crow language. The next minute of pain undulated the ridge of her stomach. Then Tucker saw the dark crown of the baby’s head.

“I see it.” His gaze sought hers. “Bear down now, Copper. Let’s get this behind us.”

“It’s coming qu–quicker than the last t–time.” She gripped the rope tugs and ground her teeth as pain washed over her.

Tucker removed his belt and made her take the thick leather flap between her teeth. “Bite on that, sugar.” Horrified, Tucker saw her flesh tear as the baby forced its way into the world.

“Christ.” Tucker stared at the rip in Copper’s flesh and the oozing blood. He wanted desperately to do something—anything—to lessen her agony. If only he could take her pain, but he couldn’t. His torture was to watch hers. All for the bite of an apple, he thought, recalling his Bible studies. God certainly believed in getting His pound of flesh.

With the next contraction, the baby’s head emerged and slipped free, face down. Nature turned it sideways, just as Copper had told him it would. He could hear her voice in his head telling
him not to try to turn the baby; that the baby would do that by itself. Copper whimpered and then sucked in air. The area between her legs seemed to swell. She shook all over. Even her face jiggled. Fear struck Tucker a blow.

She spat out his belt. “Get out of there!” she screamed, knuckles white, veins standing out in her temples and in her neck and down her slim, white arms.

The baby’s shoulders cleared, and then in one slippery slide, the newborn plopped into Tucker’s waiting hands. He stared at it and at the twisted cord connecting it to its mother. The baby twitched. Tucker jerked, only then comprehending that he held a new life in his hands—that he was the first to touch this tiny human.

“Oh, Copper. Here it is, darlin’. Here’s the baby.” He held it up for her glazed eyes. He realized she was still in too much pain to take much notice of her achievement. After what she’d been through, it was a wonder to Tucker that she was still conscious.

As Copper had instructed, he laid the child on her stomach and took up the length of sterilized cords Copper had prepared for the separation. His hands trembled and he stared at them, feeling completely out of control. He took a minute to breathe deeply and gather his wits. His breath shuddered out of him and he had to laugh at his own emotional state. He stared at his trembling hands and at the beet-red baby on Copper’s stomach—a baby that had been
in
her stomach only minutes ago.

“Have you cut it?”

“No … I am, though.” His voice came out choked and foreign. “Got sweat in my eyes.” He ran a knuckle across them, clearing them of his tears. “That’s better.” Tucker tied off the cord and severed it. “Done, Copper.”

“Girl or boy?” she asked, breathlessly.

“Dagburn it, I didn’t even look. Uh …” He turned the baby toward him. “A girl.” He poked a finger between the baby’s soft lips and cleaned out her mouth. “Breathe, darlin’,” he crooned. “Take a big, ole breath for me.” He pinched the baby’s cheek. Pinched harder. The baby made a terrible face, scooped in a breath, and let it out in a hiccuping cry. Tucker fell in love. “Yes, yes, sweetcheeks. That’s the last time ole Tucker makes you cry. That’s a promise.” Laughing, he pressed a kiss to the babe’s button nose.

“Oh … oh … oh!
Tuckeeer!
”

Tucker placed the baby in the cradle. He pressed the heel of one hand against Copper’s hot stomach as she had told him to, should she have trouble delivering the afterbirth. She’d thought of everything, and now he was glad of it.

“Push, Copper. Once more and it’ll all be over.”

The afterbirth gushed out of her, ending her ordeal. Tucker turned his face and held his breath for a few moments before inhaling again.

“I’m s–sorry.” Copper’s voice was so weak it sounded foreign to him.

“Sorry? Hush your mouth, woman. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Why, you’ve just been through a miracle!” He met her gaze across the valley between her knees, anxious to make her understand that the experience had not repulsed him, but had replenished him. “The pain I’ve suffered is nothing compared to what you’ve just gone through, lady.”