Five

Rico’s heart was in his throat as he stumbled down the stairs and knelt beside Louisa. “Querida, speak to me,” he whispered as he stroked her hair from her face. But she looked as if she were sleeping, so peaceful that he feared she was dead. “No!” he screamed as he gathered her to his chest.

She moved then, nestling closer to him. Knowing he had to get help, he laid her carefully back on the floor and covered her with his coat on top of the cloak she wore. That was when he noticed the water on the floor—a lot of water mixed with something else. He leapt to his feet and ran out the door, looking left and then right, trying to decide where to go, who to call. Tolly had left for the night to spend Christmas with his children and grandchildren. Addie Wilcox was driving back to town with the Porterfields. They had arranged to all meet at the church, but Doc Wilcox…surely he was at home. Desperate not to leave his wife, but seeing no one he might send to fetch the doctor, Rico started to run. He could see one wagon arriving early at the church, and he ran toward it.

“Help!” he shouted and three people, two women and a man, turned toward him. The women’s faces were covered by the hoods of their cloaks and the man was turned away from him, tying up the wagon. But Rico would know George Johnson anywhere.

“Mr. Johnson, it’s Louisa,” he called as he covered the distance between them. “She’s taken a fall and…we need Doc Wilcox now.”

“I’ll go,” he heard Louisa’s sister say as she jumped down from the wagon and took off running toward the doctor’s house at the far end of town.

Satisfied help would soon arrive and not really caring if his in-laws followed him, Rico ran back to the house. Louisa was lying where he’d left her, but now she was moaning and writhing with pain. As he entered the house he heard footsteps behind him, and looked around to see Louisa’s mother pulling off her gloves and adding her cloak to the ones already covering her daughter.

“We need to get her off this cold floor, Rico. George, get in here!” Her voice was a command meant to be obeyed without question.

“There’s a bedroom off the kitchen,” Rico said, but as he prepared to lift Louisa, his father-in-law took charge.

“Don’t you touch her. She could have broken her neck for all you know. We’ll wait for Doc.”

Rico knew his father-in-law had a point. He also knew the man already blamed him for Louisa’s fall.

Mrs. Johnson surveyed her surroundings. “Which way is that bedroom?” she asked, and Rico pointed toward the back of the house. “It’ll need some cleaning, I imagine,” she huffed as she hurried off. Minutes later he heard the squeal of the pump, followed by water running into a metal pan and Louisa’s mother muttering to herself. He realized she was praying.

Meanwhile Louisa seemed to drift in and out of consciousness. When Doc Wilcox arrived on the heels of Louisa’s sister, Rico saw he had not even stopped to put on his coat. In his shirtsleeves, he paused at the door. “George, get a fire going. This place is freezing. Helen, see if you can find some more lanterns and bring them to the bedroom.” Then he went to work, his calm voice doling out directions as he first examined Louisa and then instructed Rico and her father to help him carry her carefully to the bedroom. Louisa’s mother had found a fairly clean dustcover to place over the bed. She had wiped off the top of a small dressing table and pulled it closer. Helen brought a second lantern as well as Doc’s medical bag and set it there beside a pan of clean water. “We need rags,” Mrs. Johnson said. “Helen, go find Eliza McNew. She’ll have plenty of them in her store.”

The girl left the room at a run.

Rico was aware of other voices, and soon Addie, Rico’s parents, and the Porterfields all crowded around the doorway of the small bedroom. Rico stood on one side of the bed holding Louisa’s hand, while her father stood on the other.

“You and you, out,” Doc ordered, pointing to them in turn. “Addie, get over here. The rest of you go about your business.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Rico heard his mother declare.

“Nor am I,” Dorothy Johnson added. “This is my child and grandchild and I will not leave them.”

“Dorothy,” Mr. Johnson said softly as he tried to steer his wife to the door.

“No. This has gone on far too long, George.” And with that she brushed off his hand and moved to one side of her daughter’s bed.

As Mrs. Porterfield led Rico from the room, his father-in-law hesitated and then quietly followed. “I’ll see if there’s any tea in the kitchen,” Mrs. Porterfield said after they had reached the parlor and she’d urged Rico to sit so he could warm himself by the fire his father-in-law had built.

“I’ll help,” Amanda murmured.

Rico’s father stood uncertainly by the door and then stepped outside onto the porch. Through the window Rico saw him roll and light a cigarette. He stood on the edge of the porch fingering the turquoise cross he’d worn for as long as Rico could remember.

“What were you doing here?” George Johnson demanded after Helen had rushed past them bearing a stack of linens that she carried to the bedroom. He paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back.

The last thing Rico wanted right that minute was to hear a lecture from the rancher who had once respected him. “It’s where we’re gonna live from now on. I took Tolly Backus up on his offer to have me come in with him, and the house is part of the deal.” He glanced around, recalling the way Louisa’s eyes had sparkled as she took in the room and its furnishings. “It was—is—Louisa’s Christmas present.”

“So it was you insisting she get out of her sickbed to come out in this cold and take that rough ride into town.” It was not a question.

Rico had had all he could take. He stood and stepped in front of George Johnson to stop his pacing. “First of all, sir, Louisa is pregnant, not sick. Second of all, she pleaded with everyone at the ranch as well as Doc Wilcox to be allowed to be here tonight, because she knew you would be here. She has not once given up hope that you will accept me and our child. Doc gave her his blessing and here we are. I think you know Louisa well enough to know she’s that much like you—stubborn and determined to have her way.”

The older man stared at Rico for a long moment as if trying to recall something, and then to Rico’s surprise tears began to leak down the crevices of his father-in-law’s weathered face. “I don’t know what I’d do if we lost her,” he blubbered. “I’d never forgive myself.” He turned away, pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket, and blew his nose as he collapsed onto the settee, raising a puff of dust as he did.

Unsure of what to do as Louisa’s father’s tears turned to sobs, Rico sat next to him. “Louisa’s not going to die,” he said. “Doc won’t let that happen.”

“But if she loses this baby, it will kill her inside,” Johnson replied. He looked at Rico, his eyes wild with grief. “If she loses this baby, we may never get her back.”

Rico understood the man was not including him in that we but rather was admitting Louisa might never come home to him and his wife. “We’re not going to lose this baby, sir,” Rico said with a fierce certainty he did not really feel. His hand shook as he awkwardly patted George Johnson’s shoulder. “Can’t see God bringing anybody such heartache on Christmas Eve.” He walked to the window and silently prayed he was right.

They remained that way for what seemed like hours—not speaking and really not moving until finally they heard someone leave the bedroom and close the door with a click. Rico held his breath.

“Rico?” Mrs. Porterfield stood at the door to the parlor. “You have a beautiful daughter.”

And for the first time, Rico understood everything George Johnson had done or said in the past long months had been driven by one purpose—his love for his daughter and the belief he needed to protect her against the slings and arrows of this world. In that moment he understood the older man’s fears, but he could not condone the man’s animosity toward him when it had no basis in fact. He loved Louisa, had loved her for as long as he could remember. Surely that counted for more than a difference in the color of their skin. No doubt, they would face prejudice—they already had. But standing together, they would prevail, and perhaps by the time his children grew up, opinions would change. No, he understood the foundations of his father-in-law’s feelings, but he also knew the older man was wrong.

“Rico? Did you hear me?” Mrs. Porterfield came into the room and touched his forearm.

“Louisa?” he asked.

“Has had a rough time of it, but she’s resting now. Doc says she’s going to be just fine.”

“Can I see her…them?”

“Your mother and mother-in-law are making her more comfortable. Eliza sent over fresh linens for the bed and a nightgown. Give them a few minutes. Meanwhile Doc wants to talk to you.” She turned to George and added, “And you. Wait here.”

It was clear all the fire had gone out of Mr. Johnson. He remained seated, his hands dangling between his knees, his head bowed. “A girl,” he murmured finally.

“Yeah.” Rico headed for the door. “I’m going out to tell my father the news. Let me know when Doc is ready for us.”

“Rico?” The call was so faint that he thought he might have imagined it.

“Yes sir?”

“Congratulations, son.”

“Thank you, sir—and to you.”

And just like that it was over. Louisa had been right in her belief that eventually her father would come around.

“He’s afraid,” she had said more than once by way of explanation.

“Of me?” Rico had been incredulous.

“No. Of us.”

Doc’s lecture was brief and to the point. “Your wife and both your daughters have been through a lot tonight, and I will not have either of you further upsetting them.” He turned to George. “Either you get behind this thing and understand you can’t change what is, or you stay away until Louisa has had the time she needs to regain her strength. She has her mother back—that much is clear.”

“I hear you, Doc.”

Doc grunted and turned his attention to Rico. “As for you, she’s already babbling on with Addie and both mothers about fixing this place up. She’s got no strength for more than caring for that baby in there, so do what you need to do to make sure she has what she wants without having to do the work herself.”

“Yes sir, whatever she wants. Can I see her now?”

“Yes, but keep it short. She needs her rest.”

Rico started down the hall, then turned to look at Louisa’s father. He pointed over his shoulder toward the bedroom. “You coming?”

* * *

Louisa couldn’t seem to keep her eyes open, so when she saw Rico and her father standing side by side at the foot of the large bed, she thought she must be dreaming. Her mother and Rico’s were in the corner with Addie, tending the baby.

“Rico,” she said weakly, trying to bring him into focus. “We have a baby girl.”

He sat on the side of the bed and took her hands between his. “I know. Are you all right?”

She laughed and then grimaced. “I’ll be fine. Stupid of me to be so clumsy, but Doc Wilcox assures me I did no harm to our daughter.”

“As if you could hurt anything,” Rico murmured as he kissed her fingers. “Your father’s here,” he added, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Papa?”

“Right here, Louisa.” Once again his voice shook with emotion and he swiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I want you to know that me and Rico have…he’s a fine man, Louisa. He’ll make a good father.”

“Oh, Papa, I’ve prayed for this day.” She held out her hand to her father and he took it, standing on the opposite side of the bed. “Have you seen her?” she asked, looking from her father to her husband.

“Not yet,” Rico said.

“Almost ready,” Addie said as she wrapped the newborn in cloth and then presented Rico with the bundle that to him didn’t look much bigger than a small sack of corn meal.

“Hello, Little Bit,” he whispered, then added in awe, “She’s so tiny.”

“She’ll grow,” George Johnson grumbled, “and cause you no end of worry, I promise you that.”

Louisa’s mother came to stand next to her husband, her head resting on his shoulder as Juanita and Eduardo held hands from their vantage point at the foot of the bed. Addie slipped quietly from the room.

“Listen,” Louisa said. Everyone went still as they heard the bells from the church echoing on the cold night air. Louisa looked around at the two families. “It’s Christmas Day,” she said huskily.

Rico placed his little finger in the baby’s hand. “You hear that, Little Bit?”

“That child needs a name,” Rico’s mother announced.

“We decided to call a daughter Mary,” Louisa said. “Mary Isabel to honor my grandmother and Rico’s.” She looked directly at her father. “To honor them and her heritage.”

Her father bent and kissed her forehead, then he straightened and cleared his throat. “Seems to me that everybody here has had a chance to meet this young lady except for me and Eduardo. How about giving her grandfathers their turn?”

Rico stood and passed his daughter to his father-in-law, who stared at her for a long moment before handing her to Eduardo.

Seeing both sets of grandparents huddled around the child, Louisa tugged on Rico’s hand. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered.

“Are you truly all right?” he asked.

She stroked his face. “I have never been more all right in my life, Rico. I have our perfect child and my family back in our lives…and you.” She framed his face with her hands and pulled him to her, and the kiss they shared held the final release of all the anguish they had suffered over the last several months.

Her father cleared his throat and she and Rico broke apart, each grinning as they looked up at the others. “Doc said you need your rest, Louisa, so we’ll be going.”

“We most certainly will not,” his wife announced. “You men go find a bedroll so Rico can get some sleep. We’ve set up a crib for little Mary here in this bureau drawer for tonight, but first thing tomorrow, I want you to go get that cradle from the attic and bring it here.”

“And until then?” her husband demanded.

Addie stuck her head in the door. “We’ve got plenty of room at our house,” she said. “Rico can stretch out in the parlor here, and Amanda and Helen and I can take shifts until morning. Now scoot.”

Like her father, Addie was not someone to be argued with. Slowly the two families moved out into the hall after taking their turn to plant kisses on Louisa’s cheek and take one more look at the sleeping baby that Rico held, looking as if he had held babies his entire life. Once the others were gone, Rico closed the bedroom door and laid the baby in Louisa’s arms as he settled himself next to her, his arm around her shoulders. The two of them stared down at the infant.

“She’s so beautiful,” Louisa said.

“And why not?” Rico tenderly stroked her hair. “Just look at her mother. Now it’s time you got some rest.”

He reached for the baby.

“I wish she could be closer than that bureau drawer,” Louisa said. “What if she needs me in the night?”

Rico glanced from the bureau back to the bed. “Here,” he said, returning the baby to Louisa’s arms. Then he pulled the dressing table next to the bed, pulled the drawer out of the bureau and set it on top of the table, then straightened the padding the grandmothers had put inside the drawer. He held out his arms for his daughter. With something that Louisa saw as akin to reverence, he laid Mary in the drawer.

“You can reach her from there,” he said, “but promise me you’ll call for Addie or your sister if she needs anything.” He started toward the door. “I’ll be right outside.”

“Oh, no, sir,” Louisa replied with a mischievous grin. She patted the space beside her on the large bed. “You are staying right here, and if our Mary needs something in the middle of the night, her Papa can see that she has it.”

Rico laughed and pulled off his boots as he stretched out next to her so that her head rested in the crook of his shoulder.

From outside the window, Louisa could hear the muted voices of people leaving the church services, calling out holiday wishes as they headed home. From the makeshift crib, she could hear Mary making small sucking sounds as she slept. And from next to her, she heard the soft steady breathing of her husband, who had found so many ways to make all her Christmas wishes come true.