A Journey of the Heart Collection (50 page)

“Agreed. I would want her taken care of.” Isaac gripped Jacob's hand again. “Whatever happens, will you promise me you will try to learn to love your new wife? Amelia wouldn't want you to marry just for convenience. She intended for you to be happy.”

Jacob was silent a moment, then returned the pressure of Isaac's fingers. “I don't see how I can ever love anyone but Amelia, but I will try.”

“That's all I ask.” The two men looked at one another a moment. “Take care, Jacob.”

Jacob nodded. “I'll be careful. And Godspeed, my friend.”

With a last handshake, Isaac swung up onto Buck and urged him toward the gate. He heard a cry behind him and turned to see Emmie running across the parade ground toward him with her navy cloak flying behind her in the wind. He dismounted and caught her in his arms.

“Be safe.” She cupped his cheeks in her gloved hands and reached up to kiss him.

The touch of her lips on his and the sweet scent of her breath on his face warmed him clear through. He kissed her for a long moment, then pulled away to stare into her face. “It's going to be all right, Emmie. Jacob has released you. I have every reason to get through and bring relief to the fort. Don't give up on me, no matter what.”

Tears sparkled in her violet-blue eyes. “I won't. I'll be waiting for you.”

A soldier opened the gate and saluted as Isaac slipped outside into the blinding snow. He had thought long and
hard about what would be the best way to accomplish his mission. He decided to avoid obvious trails and travel by night as much as possible. That would help keep him warm during the frigid nights, and he could avoid confrontation with the Indians. He had left by a back gate and counted on the Sioux being occupied with celebrating their victory. The detail of men riding out to retrieve the dead would divert the Indians also.

The blizzard intensified out on the plain with no fort walls to block the wind. Isaac's mustache was soon coated with snow and ice, and he wished he had a full beard like many of the men wore. He had to stop often and walk his horse through the snowdrifts. It had to be at least twenty or thirty below zero even without the wind.

He found it hard to stay awake as he clung to the pommel. The wind cut through even his buffalo robe, and he swayed in the saddle. He had to hang on and get help for Emmie and his friends. Clutching the pommel with both hands, he fought to stay mounted.

As his horse rounded a grove of trees, he lost his tenuous grip and pitched sideways from the saddle into a drift. He felt nice and warm away from the wind. He'd just lay here and get warm for a few minutes. He closed his eyes and slid into unconsciousness.

SEVEN

E
mmie awoke near dawn on Christmas Eve to a cold room with the fire out. Isaac had been gone three days. He hadn't had a fire or shelter in all that time.

The sentry's cry came. “Five o'clock and all's well.”

All's well. No one really believed that. The mood at the fort had been a peculiar one the last few days. Everyone seemed on edge as though they were listening for some sound beyond the log walls of the stockade. Rand and Jacob along with their detachment had
come back two days ago with the rest of the bodies of the slain soldiers. The Sioux hadn't bothered them at all. Rand said he wasn't sure if they were holed up in camp because of the blizzard or simply too busy celebrating their victory.

Jacob told them that before they left to recover the bodies, Colonel Carrington had opened the magazine and cut the Bormann fuses of round case shot. He opened the boxes of ammunition and adjusted them so that by lighting a single match, the whole lot would go up. His instructions were that if the Indians attacked in overwhelming numbers, the women and children were to be put in the magazine and blown up rather than have any captured alive. Thankfully, that had not happened, but Emmie couldn't forget that the magazine was still readied for such an eventuality.

It had taken several days to dig the grave site in the frozen ground for the slain men. It was so cold the men could only work in fifteen-minute shifts.

Joel voiced all their fears when he innocently remarked, “How come they can only work for fifteen minutes when Isaac and John are out in the wind all the time?”

Emmie wondered the same thing. The snowstorm
would subside for a few hours, and then the snow would swirl down again in a blinding curtain. The soldiers had done all they could to keep a ten-foot trench dug around the stockade. If they had allowed the drifts to pile up, the Indians could have walked right over the tops of the logs in the stockade.

Normally today they would be wrapping presents and preparing food for a feast on Christmas day. She sighed and slipped out of bed to get the fire going, then pulled on her warmest dress, the worn blue wool one, and quickly combed her hair and washed her face in the cracked bowl on the stand by her bed.

She could try to make Christmas a little festive for Joel and Sarah. She would go to Jacob's and check on Gabrielle, then see about what she could use for a tree. There were none on the fort grounds, but maybe Joel could find her a branch or something. Joel had been staying at Jacob's for appearance's sake, so Morning Song could take care of the baby. The added benefit of her staying at Jacob's was her safety. There had been a few pointed remarks flung her way by some of the survivors of the massacre.

Emmie had caught Morning Song staring at Jacob with a longing expression a few times and hoped the
young woman wasn't headed for heartbreak. Jacob was still too buttoned up by grief to notice another woman.

By the time Sarah and Rand came into the kitchen, the room had lost its chill. Emmie looked up as Sarah sat next to her and pulled the teapot over to pour a cup of tea. Rand sat next to Sarah to pull on his boots.

Emmie studied Sarah's drawn face. “You look as though you haven't slept all night.”

Sarah sighed. “I'm feeling a bit poorly. My back hurts strangely. The pain seems to come and go.”

Emmie narrowed her eyes and looked Sarah over. “I think perhaps Dr. Horton ought to take a look at you. It could be the baby.”

Rand reared his head abruptly. “The baby? It isn't time yet.”

“Not quite,” Emmie said. “But it's not unusual for one to make his appearance a few weeks early.”

“I'll get the doc.” Rand grabbed his greatcoat and hurried out the door.

Sarah put her hand to her back. “I did wonder. But I didn't want it to be the baby yet. I'm afraid, Emmie.” Tears pooled in her eyes as she looked up. “I don't want to leave Rand and my baby. What if something goes wrong?”

Emmie's chest felt heavy, and she shook her head. “Don't talk like that. Nothing is going to go wrong. Now you go get undressed and climb into bed so the doctor can check you.”

Sarah nodded and went to the bedroom. A few minutes later Rand and Dr. Horton opened the door and hurried inside. Both were red faced from the biting wind. Rand's brown mustache and the doctor's beard were coated with snow. Dr. Horton tapped on the bedroom door and went right in.

Rand stared blankly at the shut door, then sank onto a chair. “I'm so afraid, Emmie. What if—?” He broke off his words in midsentence.

“Sarah is strong. She'll be fine.” Emmie had to cling to that belief.

They sat in silence until the doctor opened the door and came back into the kitchen. “The baby's coming. Unfortunately Sarah is having back labor, so she'll be uncomfortable. It may help to rub her back, or she may not want you to touch her. It varies from woman to woman. I'll check back in a couple of hours. If the situation changes, send for me.”

He left a small bottle of laudanum with them in case the pain got worse. When the door closed behind him, Emmie and Rand went to the bedroom.

Sarah bore a wan smile and held out her hand for Emmie. “You were right.”

Emmie squeezed her hand. “The doctor says it will be a while yet, so try to rest while you can. We all may have a wonderful Christmas present after all.”

“Oh, I hope it doesn't take that long.” Sarah moaned as she burrowed deeper under the covers.

Rand and Emmie tiptoed out of the room and shut the door behind them. “I'll run over and tell Jacob and Joel,” Rand said. “Morning Song will want to be here too. And we may need her.”

Emmie nodded. “It wouldn't hurt for Jacob to keep you company.”

Rand grimaced. “He may not be able to stand it after losing Amelia.” He went toward the door. “If Sarah wakes up and asks for me, tell her I'll be right back.”

She sighed and sat at the table. A thousand “what ifs” rang in her head. What if she lost both Isaac and Sarah? She shuddered at the thought. Even losing one would devastate her. She just couldn't think about it. She stood. She would keep busy and the day would soon be over. The baby would be here and soon there would be news of Isaac.

By the time she had cleaned the kitchen, Rand was back. Jacob, Morning Song, and Joel were with him. Jacob had baby Gabrielle wrapped up in a buffalo robe, and her blue eyes peered up at her surroundings as soon as her father unwrapped her. Joel carried John over and set him down to play by a bucket of toys on the rug near the fire.

Morning Song took off her cloak and hurried to the bedroom to check on Sarah. “She is still sleeping,” she announced when she came back out. “That is good. She will need strength.”

Emmie walked over to Jacob and held out her arms for the baby. Jacob kissed his daughter's fuzzy head, then handed her to Emmie and went to sit beside his brother. Everyone seemed quiet and subdued, and Amelia's spirit seemed to hover very near. Emmie knew no one could forget the terrible outcome of Gabrielle's birth. As she cuddled the baby, her own baby moved for the first time in her womb. She gulped and pressed a hand to her stomach.

Tears pricked her eyes as she thought about what the future held for her and her baby. Everything was such a mess.

Through the long day Sarah's pains gradually
intensified. Joel kept little John occupied while Morning Song and Emmie took turns caring for Gabrielle and tending to Sarah.

Dr. Horton popped in several times to check on Sarah's progress. “It will be a while,” he kept saying.

Rand and Jacob grew quieter and more strained as the day wore on. Several times when Emmie came out of the bedroom, she saw them with their heads bent in prayer. The wind, howling around the corners of the house and whistling through the cracks around the doors and windows, put everyone on edge.

After supper Sarah's labor began in earnest. With Rand on one side and Emmie hovering behind him, Dr. Horton tried to give her a small dose of laudanum.

She shook her head. “I don't want to risk any harm to the baby.”

He snorted, but he put his bottle away without protest.

Sarah did not let out one cry when the pains came but only gripped Emmie's hand tighter. An occasional soft groan passed her lips. By ten o'clock the doctor had settled in with them for the night.

“It could be any time,” he said finally.

Morning Song fed Gabrielle one last time and put
her down for the night, then pulled up a chair beside her friend's bed. “Baby will come soon now.” She and Emmie took turns bathing Sarah's face with a wet cloth and rubbing her back during the contractions.

Just after midnight on Christmas day, Sarah gave one last mighty push, and a tiny baby boy slid into the world. He squalled in protest when Dr. Horton wiped the mucus away from his nose and mouth. Emmie grinned at the strong, lusty protest. She wrapped him in a bit of flannel and laid him in Sarah's arms.

Sarah stroked a finger down his cheek. “Isn't he beautiful? He looks just like his daddy.”

“I'll get Rand now.” Emmie closed the door behind her and found Rand just outside the door. Joel and John were asleep on a rug by the fire. Jacob sat at the table with his head in his hands. He and Rand looked pale and haggard.