Five

Pine Flat wasn’t much of a town. There weren’t any pines in it, either. The town had been thrown up on a flat piece of desert between mountains. A dry wash ran along the base of the near ridge. The unpainted, weathered wood of the buildings stood out in stark contrast to the backdrop of orange-gray rock, pale-green cactus, and sapphire-blue sky.

Joe pulled the brim of his hat low over his face. He rode down the single street quietly and slowly. He didn’t want to attract attention. It was after twelve o’clock. He’d timed it that way, hoping most people would be eating their midday meal. The fewer who saw him, the less chance there was of anyone recognizing him.

He stopped in front of Jones Emporium because it was the largest store in town. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to buy. He didn’t have much money. He had plenty in a bank in Denver, but he couldn’t touch that. He wouldn’t have any now if he hadn’t been in the habit of keeping a little gold dust back every time he made a shipment. After breaking out of jail, he’d made a quick trip to his claim to dig up the gold before heading south.

He hoped the law still thought he was hiding somewhere in the Colorado mountains.

“Wish me luck,” he said to General Burnside as he dismounted, “and keep your eyes open. If you see the law, go to bucking and whinnying for all you’re worth. If they catch me now, they’ll be auctioning you off before the month’s out. No telling what kind of sidewinder might buy you.”

Inside the store, four oil lamps suspended from the ceiling couldn’t dispel a gloom made worse by dark wood and no windows. “Do you have any dresses for a six-year-old girl?” Joe asked a young female clerk.

“How big is she?”

Joe held his hand barely above his waist. “About this high.”

“Over here,” the young woman said, leading him to a table covered with dresses. She showed him three of the correct size, a blue serge, a yellow party frock, and a dark blue dress with a white pinafore.

Joe bought all three.

“You got anything to make a house look like Christmas?” he asked. “Red ribbon and stuff like that?”

“Not much,” the girl said.

Joe bought ribbon, colored paper, and streamers of colored crepe paper to wrap around the tree.

That was when he found the set of paints.

“This all you got?” he asked. He opened the box. Inside were sixteen little compartments containing a rainbow of colors.

“It’s the last one,” the salesgirl said.

“I need some drawing paper.”

He was in luck. They had several pads. He bought them all. He also bought a baby’s rattle, a white dress the girl said could be used for a christening, and a thick blanket. His grandmother used to say all babies caught cold in the winter. He didn’t want Mary’s baby catching anything.

He also bought some canned fruit, a jar of jelly, a ham, a side of bacon, and a sack of flour. He bought Sarah a box of bath powder and a mirror; he bought Mary a box of scented soap and a small cameo pin.

He also bought himself a coat. It would be a long, cold trip to California.

“You got quite a haul there,” the man behind the counter said when Joe had added stick candy and a small box of chocolates to his pile.

“I don’t get home much,” Joe said. “Almost missed Christmas.”

“They’ll sure be glad to see you this time,” the man said as he sorted Joe’s purchases and added up the prices. “You’ll want this wrapped up?”

“Good and tight,” Joe said. “I’m on horseback.”

“Better be a strong horse,” the clerk said as he gave Joe the total.

Joe took out a small bag of gold dust. “Got some scales?”

“I’ll have to get Mr. Jones,” the clerk said.

Joe fidgeted while the clerk found the proprietor. He forced himself to remain outwardly calm while Hiram Jones peppered him with questions as he weighed out the proper amount of gold.

Joe was anxious to get out of town. He had drawn too much attention to himself by the amount of his purchases and paying in gold. He wanted to be gone before Mr. Jones and his clerks had a chance to spread the story.

He cussed aloud when, just as he had loaded his purchases and mounted up, Brother Samuel Hawkins came striding down the boardwalk. The man eyed Joe’s bundles with suspicion.

“That seems like a lot to be carrying all the way to California,” Brother Samuel observed.

“It’s mostly Christmas presents for Mary and the kid,” Joe said, damning Brother Samuel for his nosiness. “I decided I couldn’t leave just now. Nobody likes to be alone at Christmas. Besides, with the baby coming, Mary hasn’t been able to get to town to buy anything for the kid.”

“Mrs. Wilson needed only to ask my sister or myself. We would have been more than happy to make any purchases for her.”

Joe gathered up the reins and started General Burnside walking down the street. If the Reverend Brother Samuel wanted to talk to him, he was going to have to keep up.

“She probably didn’t want to bother anybody. She’ll most likely be mad enough to chew splinters when she sees what I’ve done. But I couldn’t do anything else. Sort of in Pete’s memory, you know.”

The Reverend Brother looked as though he didn’t like the answer but didn’t know quite how to punch a hole in it. “My sister and I were planning to visit on Christmas.”

“You come right ahead. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you. Now I gotta be going. General Burnside here is getting impatient to be home before dark.”

“I believe my sister and I will come out this afternoon.”

Joe pulled General Burnside to a halt and leveled a stony glance at Brother Samuel. “Now why would you be wanting to do a thing like that? You were just out there.”

Brother Samuel didn’t look quite so self-assured now. “I tried to explain how important it is to be scrupulous with Mrs. Wilson’s reputation.”

Joe could feel cold anger start to build in him.

“There’s nobody I know of doubting Mary except you.”

“I don’t doubt Mrs. Wilson!” Brother Samuel exclaimed.

“Sounds like it to me. I thought preachers were supposed to have faith in good people.”

“Not everybody is so high-minded.”

“Then I wouldn’t care a whit about what they thought.”

“I have to care,” Brother Samuel announced. “I intend to ask Mrs. Wilson to marry me. My wife’s reputation must be above reproach.”

Joe glared at the preacher. He was a little beetle of a man, an insect dressed in black. How dared he think of touching Mary, much less marrying her. She was too good for him. He would be too stupid to know what he had found. He’d try to hedge her in with restrictions and rules and protocol and everything else he could think of to squeeze the life and soul out of her.

Joe didn’t want Brother Samuel to marry Mary because he wanted to marry her himself.

“Mary’s reputation is good enough for you or anybody else,” Joe said, his anger rising. “I’ll break the neck of any man who says otherwise.”

“I said nothing like that! I merely said—”

“You’ve said too much. You’d better go home to your midday meal. Hunger is making you sound out of temper.”

Joe turned his horse and nearly rode into the sheriff.

“Howdy,” the sheriff said. “You’re new in town, aren’t you?”

It took Joe a moment to calm his anger enough to answer in an even voice. “Just passing through.”

“You’ve got quite a load for a traveling man.”

“Christmas,” Joe said. “For friends.”

Brother Samuel started to introduce the two men. The sheriff’s name was Howells. “I just realized I don’t know your name,” Brother Samuel said to Joe.

“Hank Frazier,” Joe said. “I used to be Pete Wilson’s partner. Just stopped off to give my respects to his widow on my way to California.”

“It’s a sad thing to happen to a new bride,” Sheriff Howells commented. “She hardly got here before her husband was killed. Then to find herself expecting a baby.”

“The Reverend here seems to think he’s the one to lend her a helping hand,” Joe said.

“She could do worse,” Sheriff Howells said. “Much worse.”

“Well, that’s none of my concern,” Joe said. “Nice to meet you, Sheriff, but I got to be on my way.”

Joe pulled his hat a little lower on his head and walked General Burnside out of town. He couldn’t decide which worried him more: the possibility that Mary might marry Brother Samuel or the chance that the sheriff had recognized him.

“This is what comes from getting hooked up with a woman,” he told General Burnside. “Normally I wouldn’t care who a pregnant woman married. Never cared two hoots about kids, especially little girls. Now look at me. I’ve spent nearly half my money, I still haven’t found the gold, and I’m running around town talking to a sheriff who probably has my picture on his wall. Worst of all, I’m jealous of some beak-nosed fool who calls himself Brother Samuel Hawkins.”

Joe rode for a few miles in silence.

“I can’t marry her. Everything was against it from the start. It’s done nothing but get worse since. Besides, who’s to say she would have me? Any sensible woman would choose the Reverend Brother Samuel over me. Now that’s a lowering thought. Samson would be laughing out of both sides of his mouth.” Of course women preferred almost any kind of man to an ex-convict. You couldn’t get much lower than that without killing a man. And if Joe could have gotten his hands on Pete right after the conviction, he might have done that.

* * *

Joe was late getting back. Mary had expected him by midafternoon. It was dusk now, and there was still no sign of him. She knew she shouldn’t try to milk the cow, but she needed to keep busy. It helped keep her mind off Joe’s absence. And she needed to be outside, away from all the Christmas decorations.

“You sure he’s coming back?” Sarah asked for the dozenth time. She was more worried about Joe than Mary was.

“Absolutely,” Mary said. “Now help me down these steps. Queen Charlotte is probably in a fret to be milked by now.”

Mary paused on her way across the yard to let a pain in her back pass. The pains had been getting worse all day. She had started to worry that something was wrong with the baby. It wasn’t supposed to come for another month. Between worry about Joe and the baby and trying to reassure Sarah that Joe would be back, she was nearly frantic.

“He wouldn’t leave Samson,” she said to Sarah. “Now stop fretting and fetch the cow.”

When Mary reached the shed, she turned to the shadowy corner where Joe slept. She could see his bedroll spread out over the deep straw. She felt even closer to him here.

Without warning, a pain wrapped itself around her and squeezed until she was sure she would faint. Clutching her belly, she fell to her knees. The pain let up long enough for her to call for Sarah before it struck again. It was blinding in its intensity. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t think. She could only sink to the straw.

The baby was coming!

“Joe will be home soon,” she told Sarah as the frightened child hovered over her. “Everything will be all right then.”

* * *

By the time the cabin came into view, Joe had made up his mind to leave the next day. He had given up any hope of finding the gold. Maybe he could come back, but for now, his time had run out. Sooner or later people would forget him.

Even Mary.

He was surprised not to see a light in the cabin. It was only dusk, but it would be dark inside. It seemed unlikely that both Mary and Sarah would be taking a nap at this time of day.

He urged General Burnside into a trot. The packages bounced noisily, but he didn’t slow down. He urged his horse into a canter when he saw the cow standing in front of the shed, lowing in distress.

Something was wrong. He was headed toward the house when he saw Sarah emerge from the shed.

“Where’s Mary?” he called as he slid from the saddle.

“In the shed,” Sarah said. The child looked badly frightened.

“What’s wrong?” Joe said, heading toward the barn at a run.

“She fell down and can’t get up again,” Sarah said. “She said the baby’s coming.”

Inside the shed, Joe dropped to his knees next to Mary. He could hardly see her in the dim interior. “What are you doing here?”

“I can’t move.”

“I’ve got to get you inside. You can’t have this child in a cowshed.” Joe slid his arms under her. “Brother Samuel would have apoplexy.”

Mary groaned when he picked her up. She groaned even louder when a pain struck.

“You had no business leaving the house,” Joe said as he carried her across the yard. “Open the door, Sarah. And turn back the bedcovers.”

Mary moaned, but she seemed relieved to be inside.

“How long have you been in pain?”

“The really bad ones started this afternoon, but my back has been hurting ever since last night.”

“You mean you were getting ready to have this baby this morning and you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t know. It’s not due for another month. I thought I had a backache.”

“How long is having a baby supposed to take?”

“It depends. Maybe five or six hours.”

“You mean I don’t have time to go back to town for Sister Rachel?”

“No,” Mary said. The word was changed into a howl by the pain. “You’re going to have to help.”

“Me!”

“You and Sarah.”

“But I don’t know anything about having babies.”

Mary tried to smile. “It pretty much happens by itself. All you have to do is keep telling me it will soon be over and that it’ll all be worth it because I’ll have a beautiful baby to show for it.”

“Shouldn’t I get hot water and things like that?”

“You won’t need water until time to clean up.”

Joe decided the baby had better come pretty much by itself. He was too dumbfounded to do anything but stand around wringing his hands. Mary was equally helpless as one pain after another gripped her in its coils.

“You’re going to have to catch the baby,” Mary managed to tell him between gasping breaths.

“In what?”

“Your hands.”

Joe looked down at his hands as if he’d never seen them before and didn’t know what they were for.

“Sarah will help you.”

But Sarah was even more upset than he was. The poor child didn’t know what was happening. He couldn’t help her. He didn’t know what was happening either.

Instinctively he reached out to take Mary’s hand. She took hold of him as if he were a lifeline and she a drowning sailor. He had no idea a woman could be so strong. When the pain hit her and she squeezed his fingers, he expected to come away with a collection of broken bones.

He directed Sarah to gather towels, put water on to heat, and find the extra blankets. But each time the pain hit Mary, Sarah would stop, her gaze shifting between Joe and Mary. Only when the pain had passed and Mary’s face was once again reasonably calm would she move.

Joe had never felt more helpless in his life. It was even worse than watching himself be convicted for a crime he hadn’t committed. Then he had had his anger to sustain him, his plans for what he would do to Pete Wilson when he got out. Now he easily understood why men got drunk and left birthing babies to the women. Joe wasn’t a drinking man, but he wished he had a drink right now. As Mary’s pains got worse, he found himself wanting a whole bottle.

“Help me sit up a little,” Mary said. “I need a pillow under my back.”

Just as Joe slid his arms around Mary, she screamed in pain.

“What!” he said, jumping back. Sarah was hitting and kicking and scratching him for all she was worth.

Joe decided they had both gone mad.

“No!” Mary managed to say as the pain started to recede. “He’s not hurting me.”

Sarah didn’t stop until Joe took her by the shoulder and pushed her away from him. Even then she would have bitten him, if he hadn’t jerked his hand back when he saw her go for him with bared teeth.

“It’s all right,” Mary said, reaching out to pull the child to her. “He’s not hurting me. It’s the baby.”

“You mean, she thinks I did that?” Joe asked.

“Her father used to hit her mother. I saw him hit Sarah once. I told him if he ever hit her again, or me, I’d kill him.”

Joe looked at Sarah and felt anger surge through him. He wasn’t proud of a lot of things he’d done, but he’d never hurt a child. “Why the hell did you think I’d hurt Mary?” he demanded.

“She doesn’t,” Mary assured him. “She’s just frightened. She doesn’t know what to think.”

“Do I look like I’m beating her?” Joe demanded, his own worry finding release in anger.

Sarah stared up at him, frightened.

“I’m trying to help her have this baby,” Joe said, “and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I can’t figure it out if I’ve got you biting and scratching like a bobcat.”

“She won’t,” Mary said, hugging the child to her. “You won’t, Sarah. I’m going to scream a lot more. Joe’s helping. You’ve got to help too.”

As though to prove her words, Mary went rigid and cried out. Joe jumped to her side, holding her hand, supporting her until the pain released its grip.

“The baby is almost here,” Mary said. “See if its head is showing.”

“Huh?” Joe said, stunned.

“See if it’s showing. If it is, you’ve got to get ready for it.”

“Can’t Sarah do it?”

“No.”

Joe had never been shy around women, but this was different. He felt that in some way he was violating Mary, and that went against his grain.

“What am I supposed to look for?”

“The muscles have to relax to allow the baby to pass. If you can see the top of its head, you know it will be born soon.”

It was easy for Joe to clear his head of coherent thoughts. He didn’t have any. To pretend he wasn’t doing what he was doing was more difficult.

“I see it,” he said, so excited he forgot his embarrassment. “I can see almost the whole top.”

“Good,” Mary said. “Then I might not die before it’s born.”

Another excruciating pain caused her to cry out.

“Hold her hand,” Joe told Sarah. “I think it’s getting ready to come.”

It seemed to Joe that the pains came one right after another, giving Mary no time to rest or recover in between. Then it was all over, and he held a baby girl in his hands. He stared down at the child, unable to believe he had just witnessed the birth of another human being, the beginning of a brand-new life. He had looked like this once. So had Mary, Pete, and Sarah. Someday this baby would be a grown woman and have her own children.

It was amazing, incredible, unbelievable.

The baby’s cry brought Joe out of his daze. “It’s a girl,” he said, handing the infant to her mother. “And she looks like you.”

Mary was exhausted, but she managed a smile. “She doesn’t look like anybody yet. But she’s beautiful just the same.”

“She’s all messed up,” Sarah said.

Mary laughed. “Yes, she is. Why don’t you help Joe clean her up?”

“Me!” Joe was counting himself lucky to have done nothing wrong so far. “I’ll bring the water to you,” he said. “I don’t know a thing about washing babies.”

“It’s simple.”

“Maybe, when I’m not shaking so much.” He held his hand up in front of him. It was quivering.

Mary managed a weak smile. “Maybe you’d better let Sarah bring me the water.”

Joe turned away from the bed and came up short. Samson sat by the door, his gaze following every movement. Outside, General Burnside and the cow stood with their noses to the window, their breath fogging the panes. They looked as if they had been watching the entire proceedings. “I forgot all about them,” he said, turning to Mary. “The presents are still tied to the saddle, and Queen Charlotte hasn’t been milked.”

“Then you’d better take care of them,” Mary said. “Sarah and I will try to have everything cleaned up by the time you get back.”

Joe stumbled out the door, too dazed by the events of the last few hours to be aware of the cold or that Samson had followed him. Like a man in a trance, he caught up General Burnside’s reins. Queen Charlotte followed on her own.

“Did you see what just happened?” he asked the animals. “Mary had a baby. It’s a tiny little thing, so tiny you can hardly imagine it growing up into a real person.”

He began to untie the ropes that held the packages to General Burnside’s back.

“One minute there were just three of us. Next minute there were four. A brand-new person, just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

Samson was sniffing the packages, with particular attention to the ones containing the ham and bacon.

“She’s got little tufts of black hair all over her head. She’s all wrinkled up from being squeezed inside Mary. Can’t be too much room inside a little woman like that, even for a tiny baby. Leave that alone,” Joe spoke sharply to Samson. “That’s Christmas dinner.”

He put all the packages inside the shed and closed the door on Samson. He unsaddled General Burnside and turned him into the corral.

“Okay, it’s your turn, Queen Charlotte.” He patted her side as he settled himself on the milking stool. He looked again, then ran his hand carefully along her side. “Looks like you’ll be having a little one come spring,” he said, the streams of milk beginning to hit the pail with rhythmic smoothness. As the milk filled the pail, the high ping thickened until it more closely resembled a rip in a piece of fabric.

“You get busy on those coyotes,” he said to Samson. “We can’t leave any hanging around. We don’t want Queen Charlotte here to lose another calf. And no telling what they might do to a baby girl. No, sir, you get up off your haunches and get going.”

Almost on cue, a coyote yip-yipped somewhere in the hills close by. A second answered.

“See, I told you there was work to be done.” But Samson had already disappeared into the night on silent feet, a growl deep in his throat.

Joe finished milking the cow and let her into the corral. He looked toward the house, at the light shining brightly through the window in the dark night, and felt a wonderful sense of peace. The horse and cow were in the corral, the chickens were safe in their pen, and it was warm and secure inside the house where Mary, Sarah, and the baby awaited his return. Everything he’d ever wanted was right here.

Only he had to leave.

But he couldn’t, not until he was sure Mary and the baby were all right. He was worried about her. She looked so worn out. Sister Rachel was coming on Christmas. He couldn’t leave until then.

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. He had to help Sarah make a bow for the front door. And he wanted to see her open her presents on Christmas morning. He wanted her to have some pretty dresses, but the biggest reason for staying was to see the expression on her face when she unwrapped them.

He wanted her to know her mother still remembered her.

He’d stay until Christmas. Then he’d go.