The Enchanted Land (25 page)

Morgan’s entire body swelled and stretched. After the first few months, she could no longer get her feet into her own shoes. Lupita brought her an old pair of
huaraches
to wear. Morgan still wore Lupita’s clothes. The Mexican cotton blouse that had once swallowed her tiny frame now nearly burst at the seams. Her plump shoulders and bosom strained against the embroidered fabric.

One day as Jake and Paul watched her heading toward the trees for her daily walk, Paul commented, “A duck. She looks just like a duck.” They both laughed at the apt comparison. Morgan heard their laughter and waved.

“She’s somethin’.” Jake watched her go. “Even if you told her to her face she looked like a duck, she wouldn’t care. Sometimes when you talk to her, she don’t even hear you.”

“Women! I never understood them, especially one that changes as much as Morgan. She’s all sweet when Seth’s here and then she comes back spittin’ fire. Now she’s like one of the hens, just settin’ on her eggs.”

Jake grinned, showing his near-toothless gums. “That she is, a hen on her nest.”

January of 1851 was very cold, and there were some days when Lupita made Morgan stay in the house and forget her walk. Morgan was just as content to sit by the fire, nibbling on
bizcochitos
and
empañaditas
, as she was walking.

The baby became more and more active. Morgan rubbed her enormous stomach and was pleased with each kick. She never thought of the actual birth, only of the time when she’d hold her daughter in her arms.

In the ninth month, Morgan stopped her walks altogether. Her hands were swollen too badly to sew and her feet no longer fit the old
huaraches
.

Jake became more nervous with every passing day. “When’s that baby going to be born?” he demanded.

Neither Morgan nor Lupita paid any attention to him.

“You women don’t seem to understand that that child is very close to being my grandchild. I’m worried. I’ve seen lots of women going to have babies, but never one to gain as much weight as her.”

Morgan smiled at him. “Lupita, you know what I’d really like to have? Strawberries. I can taste them, so red and juicy. In Kentucky, we used to have the sweetest strawberries. And peaches! The juice would run down your arm. I think I could eat a bushel basket of peaches. And—”

“See! That’s what I mean. It just ain’t healthy for a woman to eat that much, or even a man to eat that much. She’s so fat now somebody has to help her in and out of the chair. That baby’s going to smother to death. Lord! If that baby ain’t born soon, I’m goin’ to go crazy.” He grabbed his coat and stormed out into the cold air.

As Paul watched him go, pipe in hand, he heard Morgan. “And blackberries. I’d risk a body covered in chiggers for a pint of blackberries right now.” He laughed to himself.

Lupita had begun to sleep in the big house. When she heard Morgan stirring in the bedroom, she was quickly in the room with her. Morgan was trying to change the bedclothes.

At the sight of Lupita, she began her explanation. “I guess Jake is right—I do eat too much. My stomach hurts and when I finally did go to sleep, I woke up again to find I’d wet the bed. I hope you won’t tell him; he’ll worry even more.”

Lupita went to Morgan and guided her to a chair. “Now sit down and I’ll change the bed. Does your stomach still hurt?”

“Yes, it … oh… Lupita. The baby! Lupita, it’s the baby, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Very soon now you will have a new baby.”

“I’m so glad. Victoria. How about Victoria?”

“What the hell’s going on in here? I suppose she got up to get something to eat.”

“Out! We are going to have a baby.”

“Oh.” Jake’s face became somber. “I’ll get the doctor.” He turned toward the door.

“I need no doctor meddling in this. I have felt the baby and he is in the right position. I’ve delivered too many to let some man tell me what to do. Now get out, both of you,” she said as Paul came in the front door. “I’ll call you when we have a new little Colter.”

The delivery was easy. It seemed only minutes before Lupita was saying, “There’s the head. Push again. Good. Slowly … ah.”

Morgan fell back on the pillows, her hair damp with sweat. “Victoria. Let me see my little girl.”

“Morgan, little madonna, your little girl is a boy. A very large and healthy boy.”

Quickly she finished washing the baby and wrapped him in a clean cotton blanket. Morgan put her arms out to the baby. Lupita finished cleaning the mother and checking to make sure there were no complications with the afterbirth.

She could hear Jake and Paul in the next room. “They’ll want to see you, now. Is it all right?”

“Yes. He’s beautiful, isn’t he, Lupita? Lots of hair, too. Look at his little hands.”

Quietly, Jake and Paul looked down on Morgan and her new son. “He’s going to be as big as his pa.”

“What’s his name? Cecilia?” Paul laughed.

Morgan smiled up at him. “Adam. My own sweet little Adam.” As she said the name, Adam screwed up his face, opened his mouth and let out a lusty yell.

“The baby is hungry. You will have to leave now and we will quiet him.”

“Hungry!” Jake was indignant. “He’s been eating like a pig for nine months and now he’s not ten minutes old and he’s hungry!”

They all laughed while Lupita shooed the men out. Morgan and Lupita were alone with the baby. It was some time before Morgan’s milk was enough for Adam’s huge appetite.

In the morning, Jake was relieved to see that Morgan ate only a normal breakfast. Lupita laughed at him. “You think your little girl is going to look like me? No. It was only the baby wanting so much to eat. She will soon be as slim as she was before. You will see. Already Adam gives her much exercise. He is a healthy baby.”

From the day of Adam’s birth, he never lacked for someone to give him attention. It seemed to Morgan that sometimes she had to fight to get to hold her own son. At first she had been almost afraid of him, but she soon realized his strength. He loved water and happily drenched his mother when she bathed him.

For the first three months, Morgan was content to stay in the house and see to the needs of her young son. But after a while, she began to grow restless. Gone was the placidity of her pregnancy. She began to ride for a short time each day and the weight she had gained melted off her, leaving her body smooth and slim once again.

As she studied her body at night, she found very little change. Her breasts were fuller because she was still nursing him, but her stomach was again flat and her legs were slim. She remembered her pregnancy as if it were a long dream, and she shuddered to remember the enormous amount of weight she had gained. “Oh well,” she murmured aloud, “at least there won’t be any more children.” The thought brought Seth to mind, and for the first time in months, she again felt anger and resentment. He had treated her unforgivably.

Lupita’s cottons once again swallowed Morgan. So, on one of his trips into Santa Fe for supplies, Paul returned with Mrs. Sanchez and several bolts of fabric. For three weeks Mrs. Sanchez stayed at the Colter ranch, and the three women sewed constantly on Morgan’s new wardrobe. There were two riding habits, several day dresses, and more dresses for shopping or visiting. Morgan had brought evening gowns from San Francisco.

Morgan wrote to Theron often, and he was delighted with the news of the baby. Theron and Jeannette were well. He had not hired another assistant. His clients still asked about her. As always, Theron begged her to return.

His letters always made Morgan a little sad. Although she was surrounded by people she loved and who loved her, there were times when she was lonely.

By August, 1851, Adam was six months old. He was a happy child and liked everyone. Frank came to visit and Adam was immediately taken with him. Frank carried
him about on his horse and Adam laughed happily. Sometimes Morgan accused Jake and Paul of making fools of themselves over the little boy.

In September, Morgan turned twenty-one. Lupita planned a party. Morgan wore a deep blue satin gown that Theron had bought her. When she tried it on, she was surprised to find it loose.

“You have lost too much weight. You do not eat enough. I have watched you and you are pining for something—or someone.”

Morgan shook her head as the larger woman pinned the waist of her dress. “That’s silly, Lupita. I’m perfectly happy. I have everything I need right here.”

“Except a man.”

“I have Adam.”

“Yes,
señora
.”

“Lupita, don’t use that trick. I am happy and I mean it, and stop playing the docile servant.”

“Whatever the
señora
wants.”

“Lupita!” But she was gone. Morgan smiled to herself. She’s wrong, she thought, I’ve just lost weight because I try to keep Adam from crawling into the stove. Anyone would lose weight running after Adam. She kissed her sleeping son, his blond hair curling about his face. He moved and made a few sucking motions with his mouth. A deep dimple appeared briefly in his cheek. Just like Seth, she thought. Just like Seth. She tried to brush the idea from her mind and went outside to greet her guests.

Many of the people there that night were strangers, and Morgan was glad when the party was over. When she had removed her satin gown and slipped into her plain cotton nightgown, she gazed at the bed and began to cry.

“What’s wrong with me?” she asked. “I have everything, but I want more.” Her voice woke Adam, and
she was glad to go and comfort him. It was a long time before she went to sleep.

The snows began early that year and the winter dragged on and on. Adam seemed to grow some each day, and she and Lupita were busy sewing clothes for him. Jake and Paul whittled wooden horses and cows for him, gradually creating an entire wooden ranch, complete with house, barn, fences, wagons, and men. Lupita filled the little toy house with furniture and food. She even made a replica of Adam. Adam rewarded everyone with squeals of laughter and a sometimes rather sticky hug.

Morgan’s memories of Seth increased day by day and she began to be very restless. She wanted to go away from the ranch for a while. She worried about Seth’s return.

In February, Adam was one year old. Lupita and Morgan baked an enormous cake, and Frank and Louisa brought their six children to share in the celebration. Adam was shy around the other children for a few minutes, but quickly recovered. Frank tossed Adam into the air. “Goin’ to be as big as your pa, ain’t you?”

Jake grinned. “Looks more like him every day. Doesn’t seem to have his pa’s stubborn streak though, or at least not yet.”

Lupita watched as Morgan’s face whitened at the mention of Seth. Lupita knew the memories tormented her and she felt the pain her little mistress felt.

Soon after Adam’s birthday, Morgan wrote to her father’s lawyer in Albuquerque. She stated briefly that she had fulfilled the terms of the will and would like to know about her inheritance. She hoped she and Adam could go away together, possibly even to Europe.

She waited expectantly for weeks for an answer to her letter, but none came. She thought she might write
again, but Lupita told her to wait a bit longer. The mails in New Mexico were very slow.

Now when Morgan went for her morning ride, Adam went with her. Often they took a basket of food to make a picnic.

Neither of them saw the pair of eyes that watched them every day. As the sun was going down and Jake, Paul, and Adam walked around the house, none of them sensed their quiet observer. Once the horse Adam played near was stung by a wasp, and the horse reared. Only Adam saw the strong brown arms that pulled the unsteady toddler from beneath the iron-clad hooves.

It had been nearly two months since Morgan wrote the letter. She sat under a tree some distance from the ranch house, a place where she often brought Adam to play and picnic. The stream that watered the ranch flowed here, and the grass was green and the shade cool. Their horse, grazing nearby, whinnied, but for the moment Morgan was lost in thought. She decided to send another letter to the lawyer. Why hadn’t he replied?

“Eat.” Adam smiled at his mother as she lifted him from the horse.

“No, not eat. I’m mama, remember, Adam?”

“Ma ma ma.”

“Yes, that’s right. Look Adam, a butterfly.” She pointed, but Adam continued to stare at his mother. He tried to form words, but none would come. His eyes lifted from Morgan’s to an area just behind her head. He laughed at what he saw there.

Morgan laughed with him. His dimpled smiles were infectious. Still smiling, she turned to look at what he saw. Her hand flew to her mouth in alarm. Quickly she stood up and held Adam behind her. He struggled to see around her skirts.

An Indian sat majestically on a black-and-white
pony. He was slim, his hair straight and black, falling just to his earlobes. It glistened in the morning sunlight. He was naked from the waist up. There was a rawhide strip around his neck which held a little leather pouch, decorated by black and red beads.

His legs were clad in buckskin with fringe down the sides. He looked exactly like the Apaches who had taken her to San Francisco. Her voice shook. “What do you want?”

The Indian dismounted fluidly. He stared at Morgan and at Adam and took a step closer. Morgan turned and picked up Adam, pulling him close to her. He pushed her away. He wanted to walk, not to be carried. Morgan pulled him even tighter.

“Go away. Leave us alone.” Adam frowned at his mother. What was wrong?

“I’m really sorry to have frightened you so. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Gordon Matthews.”

Morgan’s eyes widened. The Indian’s voice was deep, rather musical. It was refined. His words were carefully articulated and the endings sharply pronounced, unlike the Kentuckians Morgan had always known.

He watched her closely, as if waiting for something. When she pulled Adam closer, Gordon shrugged and sat down on the bank of the little stream.

“Yes,” he said. “You do look like your pictures.” He turned and smiled up at her, showing even, white teeth. “I really shouldn’t do this, I know. Uncle Charley used to say I played at being an Indian. It
is
really rather ostentatious of me, isn’t it?”