Three

December roared in with a winter storm, the likes of which had not been seen in a decade. Cattle strayed from the herd and had to be hunted down and rescued. The work meant long, cold hours on the range, but the worst of it was that Rico was away from Louisa for days on end. When Louisa worried they had misjudged the timing of the baby’s arrival, Doc Wilcox had told them the baby would come when it was good and ready and not a minute before. He also continued to assure them Louisa was weeks away from delivery. “In my years of experience, a first baby tends to be late, not early, Louisa. Come January, you’ll see I’m right. Never met a first-time mother yet who didn’t think I had miscalculated.”

After the fiasco of the meeting with Louisa’s parents a few weeks earlier, Mrs. Porterfield had taken Rico aside and quietly advised him to leave things alone. “The best thing you can do for your wife and child now, Rico, is to love and protect them. They are your priority now.”

“But Louisa misses her family, and with me away so much, her mother should be with her at the birth and…”

“Sadly, that is unlikely. However, she will have Juanita and me with her—and Maria and Amanda. My goodness, Rico, this child is going to be so welcomed into this world.”

He had to smile. Mrs. Porterfield had always been one to see the more positive side of things. Even after her husband died and she was in mourning, she had traveled that difficult road at first by simply refusing to believe he was gone, speaking aloud to him and mistaking Maria’s husband, Chet, for the man on at least two occasions. But when she was ready, she had come out of her delusions and accepted that life must move forward. He understood that this was what she was telling him to do—move on.

“We cannot know the future, Rico,” she had advised, “but shame on us if we waste the present.”

And so the days had passed. Louisa did not speak of her family but talked instead about the baby and all the hopes she had for their child. “If it is a boy, you must teach him to ride and rope and all the skills he will need for making his way,” she had announced one morning as she served Rico his breakfast before he left for the range.

“And what will you teach him?”

“Manners—and to read and write. The world is changing so very fast, and he will need every skill we can give him.”

“And if our child is a girl?” Rico’s grin faltered. “Not sure what I have to teach a girl.”

“Nonsense. You will show her how to ride and how to form good judgments when it comes to others. You will make sure she knows how to stand up for herself.”

“And you will teach her to charm a line of unsuspecting young caballeros that I will have to run off because she is far too young and far too—”

“But once she finds true love,” Louisa interrupted, her lightheartedness gone, “then you will see that no matter who he is, if she truly loves him, then you must accept him as a son.”

“I promise,” he whispered and kissed her forehead before gathering his hat and yellow slicker and heading out to the corral. But as he rode with the others through the blowing snow that made it hard to keep count on the herd, he understood that in reality—boy or girl—this child would be considered a half-breed by many, and the struggles to be faced would be monumental.

“Rico, over here!” Chet Hunter’s shout carried on the wind, and Rico kneed his horse to follow the sound.

Chet was standing near a barbed-wire fence, where a cow had gotten trapped. “It’s one of Johnson’s,” Chet said, pointing to the brand.

Without hesitation Rico slid from his saddle and knelt in the snow. Gently he freed the animal of the sharp wire prongs. “She’ll be all right,” he reported as he held back the wiring and the cow struggled to find her footing. “I saw some of the Johnson hands just over that rise. I’ll make sure she gets back to them.”

Chet nodded and studied the sky. “Looks like the worst is over. Once you’ve returned that cow, head on back to the ranch. Me and the others can handle things from here.”

Rico grinned. “You’re spoiling me.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Rico herded the stray along a trail covered with snow, but one he knew well. Chet was right. The snow had stopped falling and there was a break in the cloud cover that had kept the skies gray for days now. He felt his spirits lift with the change in conditions. Christmas was coming—their first Christmas as man and wife. And with the New Year would come the responsibilities of fatherhood. He let out a whoop of pure joy and the cow paused.

“Git along now,” Rico instructed, crowding the animal with his horse to prod it into action. “Time we both got home.”

But when he reached the trio of Johnson hands, he realized his father-in-law was one of them. He tipped his hat as the cow loped away to join the rest of the herd. “She got tangled up in some fencing,” he said. “A few scratches, but she’ll be fine.”

The two cowboys rode off to make sure the stray rejoined the herd. But George Johnson remained where he was, astride his horse, staring back at Rico.

Rico replaced the bandana to cover his mouth and nose—protection against the wind and icy snow. He nodded to his father-in-law and turned his horse to head home.

“Baby come yet?” Johnson shouted above the wind and noise of the cowboys whistling to the herd behind him.

Rico hesitated and looked back over his shoulder at the older man, trying to decide what this might be. Once again he lowered the bandana. “Not yet…Doc still says January,” he replied and inched his horse in Johnson’s direction.

“Storm’s kept us from getting any news,” Johnson called out. “My wife was worried.”

“Louisa…”

But the word was lost on the wind as Johnson kicked his horse to a full gallop and rode away.

All the rest of the ride back to the ranch Rico thought about the encounter, studying each exchange. My wife was worried. Not her mother and definitely not I was worried. Still, it signaled something, surely.

But that night as he lay next to Louisa and told her about the encounter, he felt her go still. And then she turned to him. “Did he thank you for rescuing his stock?”

“Well, no, but…”

“If he cannot show you the most basic gratitude and respect, then nothing has changed, and I doubt it ever will.”

“But he said your mother…”

“If my mother is so worried, where is she? No, she has not only chosen her husband—as she once told me—she has chosen to agree with his position, and that goes against everything she ever taught Helen and me about the importance of making up our own minds based on whatever the facts might be.”

“Louisa, I know you are hurting and…”

“How can you defend them? They have disowned their own daughter as well as this innocent child who is their own blood.”

“A decision they will come to regret—one they may well already regret,” he argued.

Louisa grimaced and he realized the pain in her expression was more physical than emotional.

“Louisa, what is it?” In spite of the doctor’s assurance that the delivery was weeks away yet, Rico worried. Louisa was so big, bigger than his mother had been with any of his siblings. “A Christmas baby might be just what’s needed,” his mother had commented one morning—her way of saying she agreed that it would not be long.

But surely it was far too soon. “I’m going to get help,” he announced as he reached for his hat.

“No! Wait!” Louisa reached out to him. “It’s a twinge and will pass.” She forced a smile as she tried to find some position that might offer more comfort. “Your mama warned me this might happen as my time came closer. You cannot worry about every little thing, Rico.”

But when she rolled onto her side, Rico saw a pink stain on the bedding. “Humor me,” he said, not wanting to alarm her. “My mother might have some advice or one of her special teas that could help.”

Louisa wrinkled her nose at the mention of tea. Juanita was well known for her home remedies that she assured friends and family alike could cure everything from a simple head cold to pneumonia. More than once during Louisa’s pregnancy, Rico’s mother had arrived bearing a steaming pot of foul-smelling liquid intended to lessen morning sickness or leg cramps or some other malady. He was always surprised when his wife gamely drank down the potion and thanked Juanita profusely.

“Be right back,” he promised and hurried away.

When he described what he had seen to his mother, half hoping she would laugh away his fears, she did not even smile. “Addie Wilcox is staying the night with Amanda,” she said. “And that young woman knows almost as much as her father does, when it comes to doctoring. You get back to your wife and make sure she stays put. I’ll wake Addie and we’ll be right there.”

By the time his mother and Addie arrived, Rico had endured Louisa’s annoyance that he was making far too much of a little discomfort and managed to keep her lying still in the bargain. But when she saw Addie, she bit her lower lip. “I really don’t think it was necessary to…”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Addie said as she sat on the side of the bed to take Louisa’s pulse. “Besides, my father has been very selfish about allowing me to be a part of this wonderful adventure that you and Rico are on.”

But Rico saw Louisa was not fooled. “What’s going on?” she demanded, looking first at her husband and then back at Addie.

“Rico noticed a little staining on the bedding here,” Addie replied calmly as she walked to the other side of the bed to examine the evidence. “It could be nothing, but let’s be sure, all right?”

“Blood?” Louisa’s eyes went wide with distress.

Rico sat where Addie had sat and held Louisa’s hand while they both watched Addie touch the stain and then bring her fingers to her nose. They did not have to ask what she’d found. Her expression told them that it was blood and it was fresh.

* * *

Louisa tightened her grip on Rico’s fingers. “Are we going to lose our baby?” It was a whisper.

“Nonsense,” Addie said, her voice cracking a little as she attempted to reassure them. “It’s not uncommon at this stage for there to be some fluid leakage. We’re going to change these linens, and once dawn breaks, I’ll take this sample to my father just to confirm, but I am fairly sure that it is nothing you need overly concern yourself with.”

Juanita turned to the cupboard and pull out fresh bedding. “Saves us doing this in the morning, when we would have anyway,” Juanita commented as she loosened the covers on the unoccupied side of the bed and wadded them in a line next to Louisa’s body.

“Let me…” Louisa gripped Rico’s shoulder as she attempted to sit up.

“You stay right there,” Juanita ordered. “I’ve changed many a bed with the person lying in it and this is no different. Rico, make yourself useful and tuck in that corner there.” She pointed to the bottom of the straw mattress. “You’ve overdone, Louisa,” she continued as she smoothed half of the sheet into place. “For the duration, I will not allow you to…”

Louisa did not listen to the rest of her mother-in-law’s monologue. She was well aware that when Juanita was upset, she tended to babble on about everything and nothing. So whatever was going on with her pregnancy, it was serious. And looking at Rico, she knew he had come to the same conclusion. As usual, his response was to try and find a solution.

“What can we do?” he asked.

Addie glanced at him and then back at Louisa. “Well, your wife here needs to stay put—bed rest for at least a week, unless my father overrules me. And you,” she said, turning to Rico, “need to stay calm and make sure Louisa follows doctor’s orders. Now, let’s get her moved to the other side of the bed so we can finish changing it and all get some sleep.”

Louisa did not tell Addie what was most worrisome about her situation—that she could not recall feeling the baby move since earlier that day. She would wait and pray and hope. She would not tell Rico.

Her mother-in-law fluffed the pillow and replaced it in its freshly washed case under her head. “You rest now,” she murmured. “Everything is going to be fine.” But she could not hide the tremor in her voice nor the unshed tears that brightened her eyes in the lamplight.

“I’ll stop by before I head back to town,” Addie promised. “The real Doc Wilcox will come out to see you tomorrow as well, so no reason to worry.” And as Rico walked his mother and Addie to the door, Addie told him to not hesitate to come get her should anything happen before morning broke.

So everyone was trying to put a brave face on the matter, when in fact they were all clearly every bit as worried as she was. Well, they did not know her when it came to facing adversity—and they did not know her child. Together they would do whatever it took to make it through the rest of this time.

After he shut the door, Rico remained standing there for a long moment, his back to her. His shoulders sagged and she knew he was crying.

“Come here, Rico,” she said softly.

“I’ll sleep in the chair,” he managed, swiping at his eyes with the back of one hand before pulling his shirt free of his trousers.

“No. We want you here with us. We’re familia, Rico.” She laid one hand on her stomach and patted the bed beside her with the other.

“You’re sure it’s okay?”

Louisa felt a bubble of laughter well within her. “It had best be all right,” she said, smiling. “After all, you lying next to me was how I got to this condition in the first place.”

He sat on the bed and pulled off his boots, then tentatively lay next to her.

“Sing to us, Rico,” she said as she rolled to her side and laid her head in the crook of his shoulder. He hummed a melody she had heard his mother sing softly as she kneaded bread or made tortillas.

“What are the words?”

“It’s a lullaby,” Rico replied. “I only know the Spanish.”

“Our child will know both English and Spanish,” she reminded him.

He smiled, leaned close to the mound of her pregnancy and sang.

“Cierras ya tus ojitos. Duermete sin temor. Close your eyes. Sleep without fear.” He sang the Spanish, then spoke the translation. “Duermete sin temor. Cuando tu despiertes, Yo estaré aquí. Sleep without fear. When you wake up, I’ll be here.” He kissed her stomach and rested his head there.

She fingered his hair. For the first time in days she felt a sense of calm, a feeling everything would be all right. And just before she dozed off, she felt the baby shift and she smiled.

* * *

A few days before Christmas, as Louisa sat by the window, bored by days and weeks of being cooped up in this small cottage, she saw Mrs. Porterfield leave the main house by the kitchen door. The older woman picked her way around puddles that had iced over during the night until she reached Louisa’s door. She had a shawl wrapped around her head and shoulders, and she was carrying a wicker basket. She knocked twice and then opened the door.

“Louisa?”

The scare they had endured a few weeks earlier had passed and not been repeated, but everyone was determined to make sure that Louisa got her rest. Struggling to her feet, she shuffled toward the door. “Mrs. Porterfield, should you be out in this weather?”

She knew Constance Porterfield had been suffering from a bout of rheumatism for nearly a week now, but she also knew that once the woman made up her mind to do something, nothing would stop her. “Old age—nothing for it,” she said dismissively. “The real question is, how are you doing? You know we all told Rico he could stay home this time? Plenty of hands to handle the herd.”

Rico had left before dawn with the other men. They would be gone until Christmas Eve, but he had promised her nothing would keep him from being with her for their first Christmas as man and wife. He planned to have a very special surprise for her.

“My husband does not like the others to think he is being given special consideration, Mrs. Porterfield.”

“Nothing we wouldn’t do for any one of them, and they surely know that. Your husband is stubborn, Louisa.” Her words were critical but delivered with a fondness Louisa knew spoke her true feelings. “I brought you a few things for the baby.” She began laying out a variety of garments, including a christening gown. “Rico and his brother Javier were both christened in this gown, as were all my children. Juanita fussed and fumed, but I tend to get my way in the end.”

Louisa fingered the fine muslin and lace of the garment. “It is so beautiful.”

“It’s seen its share of trauma. Amanda spit up all over it and the minister at her christening, and Trey…” She paused as she so often did when she spoke of her youngest. Trey Porterfield had been frail and sickly for much of his early life. Now he was a robust teenager who spent much of his time in the bunkhouse with the other hands. “Well, it swallowed Trey,” she said with a smile. “Your mother-in-law had to sew a seam down the back to keep it from slipping off him.”

Louisa looked down at her distended stomach. “I don’t think that will be a problem for this baby,” she said. “But are you sure? I was thinking perhaps I might write my mother and…”

Mrs. Porterfield continued to unpack items from the basket. Louisa did not miss the way her lips tightened and a frown creased her forehead. “Well, you see, I saw your mother and sister in town a few days ago. They were shopping for last-minute gifts, and I thought it might be an opportunity to play upon their Christmas spirit of charity and mention…”

“You asked my mother to send our family’s christening gown?” Louisa did not know whether to be touched or annoyed. Both emotions raced through her and must have shown in the tone she took, for immediately Mrs. Porterfield looked up, her face twisted into an expression of contrition.

“I know I overstepped, Louisa. It was not my place. My late husband used to say that if there was a time for not speaking, I had never observed it.”

“Please do not concern yourself, Mrs. Porterfield. Rico will be very touched by your offer of this beautiful garment for our baby—as am I. Thank you.” She forced herself to smile as she began going through the rest of the bounty laid out before her on the scarred but spotless wooden table. “You are making me realize that in a few weeks I will have need of all this—and more,” she said, fingering a tiny pair of knitted booties. “Do you think these will fit? Rico has very large feet.”

Mrs. Porterfield laughed. “How about I make us a cup of tea so we can have a nice long talk about the joys—and challenges—of being a mother?”

“I would like that.”

“Let’s get Juanita in here to be part of this. Better advice from two experienced mothers than just one, wouldn’t you say?” She went to the door, opened it, and shouted Juanita’s name.

“Is it time?” Juanita pushed her way through the door seconds later, her cheeks rosy with exertion and the effects of the cold. “What is it?” she demanded.

“A tea party,” Mrs. Porterfield said cheerfully; then she frowned. “I should have brought some of that wonderful cake you made us for supper last night, Nita.”

“The last thing I need is cake,” Louisa said with another nod toward her girth, and she realized that a day that had begun with the loneliness of long hours before Rico would return had turned into a celebration of sorts—a family gathering of women with one thing in common. She only wished her mother could join them.

* * *

“Go home, Rico,” Chet Hunter ordered as the men sat around the chuck wagon, finishing their breakfast. “And take Eduardo with you. Bunker can handle the wagon. You’ve got a day’s ride and a night on the trail ahead of you, so go, the both of you.” He jerked his thumb toward Rico’s father, who was putting out the campfire. “We’ll be starting back ourselves early tomorrow, and the two of you worrying about that baby are about as useful as a couple of adobe fence posts.”

“At least fence posts serve a purpose,” Bunker muttered as he started packing up the chuck wagon. When the others glanced his way, he grinned and added, “They hold up the fence.”

The men all laughed.

Rico’s father was watching him. Their eyes met, and as had happened throughout Rico’s youth, he received the silent order his father gave him. “All right, boss,” he agreed. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m relieved, is what I am,” Chet replied with a snort. “Got enough to do keeping up with the herd, without worrying about you. Now git along…”

“Little dogie,” the men chorused, and Rico grinned.

His father mounted one of the remuda—extra horses the cowboys traveled with whenever they were working the herd—and the two of them rode away. Wanting to get back as soon as possible, Rico led the way cross-country toward the higher cliffs that would cut the time it took to make the journey in half. Normally, with the chuck wagon and herd, they would take a longer route along the frozen creek.

But once they reached the base of the cliffs, it was slow going. The snow had drifted and made picking their way single file along narrow animal trails that offered a wall of rock on one side and sheer drop on the other more difficult. Twice Eduardo’s horse slipped and they had to stop, dismount, and make sure the animal was not injured. In good weather they were only a couple of hours’ ride from the ranch, but at this pace, Rico feared it might well be dark before they reached home.

“We should have gone the regular way,” Rico said.

“We’ll get there,” his father replied as they pressed on.

What worried Rico as much as the treacherous terrain was the way the sky had started to darken with a thick layer of clouds that promised more snow. After another hour, they decided to camp near a cave opening that would protect them from the elements. Rico built a fire and began roasting two potatoes.

“Rico?”

“You all right, Papá?” Rico turned so he could see his father.

“Just thinking about you and Louisa. She’s a fine woman and will make a good mamá. This business with her family, in time…”

“This business with her family is unfair, Papá. They have broken her heart.”

“They would say she broke theirs first.”

Rico realized that over the months since he’d married Louisa and her family had abandoned her, his father had said little about their situation. “How can you take their side in this? We’re just two people who fell in love. What does our heritage have to do with any of that?”

Eduardo was silent for a long moment. “Times are changing, son. You and your kind are seeing to that, but you have to be patient.”

“Why? If something is wrong, then why wait? What are we waiting for?”

“You can’t force something like the way folks think, Rico, and you need to consider what kind of world your baby is going to face because of what you and Louisa have started.”

“You blame us too?” Rico was incredulous. He had thought his parents, of all people, not only understood but sanctioned what he and Louisa had done. “I did not defile Louisa as her father believes. I would never do that. I love her, but more than that, I respect her. What’s so hard to understand about that?”

“Rico, you and Louisa need to accept that this is more than just the two of you.”

“I know it’s also the baby. Well, we’ll protect our child and…”

“It is also more than your child. This is about history—decades of a divide you and Louisa have bridged. Can you not understand that as much as the Johnsons may have liked you, they are afraid?”

“Of what? Me?” He handed his father one of the roasted potatoes.

“Of the same things your mother and I fear—that you will be shunned, and worse. That our grandchild will be branded in a way that will color his or her entire life.”

“But you and Mama have embraced Louisa.”

“We have a longer history of accepting what we see cannot be changed and moving forward,” his father replied. “For the Johnsons, that is not so. White people, especially those with power, do not like change foisted upon them by others. They don’t understand it, and therefore it frightens them.”

Rico pondered his father’s words later as he lay awake, listening to Eduardo snoring next to him. He got up and walked out to the edge of the cliff. In the distance were outlines of the buildings that made up the Johnson property. He thought about the large house where Louisa had grown up, where she had had her own room and space to entertain friends in the impressive formal dining room and parlor. He thought about the cramped space where she had made a home for them now, and he wondered if his father was right. Was love enough, when the differences between them were so great?

“We’re not trying to change the world,” he whispered. “We just want to live our lives and raise our family.” He hoped he spoke for Louisa, but he was no longer sure. For now she seemed content, but as the years passed, wouldn’t she want more? Was love enough?