Spring for Susannah (6 page)

Jake seemed interested, in the food, if not in the story.

“Ah, but if Father had not died, I would be in Detroit, drying herbs for medicines, accompanying him on calls, serving as his second pair of hands. I knew the names of his instruments and could thread needles faster than any heavy-handed farmer. I would have helped him every day if Mother hadn't intervened.”

Next, a few leaves of parsley. “Do dogs think about their parents? I failed both of mine. Father wanted a son. Mother wanted a daughter who would marry well.” Susannah frowned at her own brooding. “Enough. They're gone and buried. Moping won't help. Besides, if I was in Detroit, I wouldn't have met a good dog like you.”

Jake raised a hopeful eyebrow at the stew. Susannah gave it a good stirring. Celery or peas would make it better, but she didn't have either.

Jake lifted his head, listened, then dashed out. Moments later a shadow filled the doorway. Susannah startled and dropped the ladle.
Jesse
.

“Hey!” Two steps brought him to the bed made with a new quilt and white sheets. “I thought you didn't have a dowry.”

Susannah wiped the dipper with a dish towel. “Ellen packed some linens I sewed.”

Damp, clean hands lifted the edge of a pillowcase. “Look at all this fancy stitching. Must have taken years—” He ducked his head. “Sorry. Guess I put my foot right in it.”

“It's all right. I know I'm an old maid. I turned thirty last spring.” She filled the bowls.

“Well, you're not an old maid any longer. Look here, a little
S
stitched on this pillowcase!”

“A girl is supposed to embroider her future husband's initials next to hers while she's engaged.” Susannah sat on the stool and sliced a loaf of sourdough. “Supper is ready.”

His voice deepened. “This isn't the engagement you were planning when you did all that fancy stitching.”

“Thank you for taking me in.”

“Thanks for coming.” He took her hands and said grace. His thumbs rubbed her wrists. “So soft.”

She pulled away, skin tingling. “Your food is getting cold.”

“Laundry and a hot meal. You're a hard worker.” He tried the soup. “You've added some different flavors.”

“I'm sorry. I should have asked first.”

“Best I've had in years. What is it?”

“It's parsley from Mother's garden.”

“Ah, what you planted by the door.”

“With peppermint, rosemary, sage. I told them to grow like the apple tree.”

“Good.”

“Good?” For the first time that evening she met his gaze. “You don't think it's odd, talking to plants?”

He shook his head. “No. All these years I've been talking to God, my crops, Jake. And you.”

“How could you talk to me?”

“I figured if God provided a wife for Adam in the Garden of Eden, He'd surely provide for me. I'd talk to you, tell you to hurry home. Don't girls dream about a handsome prince on a white horse?”

“If you've been dreaming about a princess, I'm afraid I've disappointed you.”

He cupped a hand at his mouth, announcing in heraldic fashion, “Presenting Susannah, Princess of Plums on the Plains.” He winked, then leaned forward, serious again. “Tell me what happened with the banker.”

Susannah chased a chunk of potato around her bowl and tried to keep her voice steady. “Nothing. Ellen stopped him.”

“Did the two of you talk about it?”

“There was nothing to talk about. Nothing happened.”

“And ‘nothing' makes you jump every time I get near you.” He tipped his bowl, mopping up with a biscuit. “You know he can't find you here. I'll keep you safe.”

“It's not a problem.”

“Well then, what is? I've promised never to hurt you. I've promised not to go in debt. I'll build you a decent house soon as I can pay cash. I'll get a haircut the minute there's a barber within a hundred miles.”

His thumb slid under the cuff of her sleeve. “Say, you're not pining away for some poor soldier who didn't make it back from the War, are you? My older brother's sweetheart moped around for two years. They weren't even engaged. Or maybe there's someone else you'd rather marry, maybe someone who didn't ask in time.”

“There's no one.”

“So what is the problem? Are you homesick? Miss your folks? Just tell me what's got you so fidgety, and I'll fix it.”

“It's nothing.”

He dropped her hand, almost pushing her away. “I'm going to check on the oxen.” Lighting the lantern, he flung open the door. The dog rushed in, wolfed down her leavings, then plopped next to the bed. He panted, contented and relaxed.

“Jake, you're going to get fat off my nervous stomach.” Susannah's voice wobbled as she scoured the kettle with sand. “Why does this soddy feel like plenty of room when it's just you and me, but when there's one more person, it's filled to overcrowding? I don't know where to stand, how to move, what to say. You seem pretty happy here; you probably don't have any idea what I'm talking about.” Her hands paused in midair over the dishpan. “Maybe I should have put his sheets back on the bed. What if he thinks—”

“Susannah—” The door banged open. Jesse paused on the threshold to catch his breath. “Don't suppose your pa said much about cows.”

Chapter 5

Yes, Lord, she's got a secret. And it's a good one!

S
usannah's father had, in fact, said quite a lot about cows, all of which her mother forbade her to repeat in polite society. But the look on Jesse's face told her this was no time to think about propriety. “What seems to be the problem?”

“C'mon. Quick.” With a tip of his head, he rushed back into the night. Susannah caught up with him at the stable door. She inhaled the strong bovine odor, a welcome change from the emptiness of Dakota's air. Jesse hooked the lantern on a low-hung rafter. “Two years I've had this pair, and now . . .”

The bull gave them a glance, then turned his attention back to chewing his cud. The cow lay on the straw, abdominal muscles rippling with strain, trumpeting her distress.

“I can't afford to lose her. If you know anything, tell me. Please.”

“Your Ma Ox is about to drop a calf. They must be Milking Devonshires. There's hot water on the stove. We'll need soap and rags.”

“I'll get it.” He returned in a moment. “Thank God you're here! What else?”

Susannah had watched her father and assisted him often enough to know what needed to be done. She remembered how Father would calm the anxious farmer by asking questions. “You've never seen a cow drop a calf before?”

“We raised pigs. They pop out.” He made the noise with his mouth.

Susannah rolled her sleeves up and lathered her arms. “What did your family do for milk?”

“My uncle had a large dairy across the road. Used to be one big farm until Grandpa Mason divided it between his sons.” The cow moaned again and he mopped his brow. “Is she dying?”

“I'll do what I can, but she may not be receptive to my help. There's no way to tie her up. You still have your boots on? If you could, please sit on her shoulders. Slow and easy. Put your heels on her horns. Steady, now.”

The cow protested with a long high-pitched moo. Holding the tail with her left hand, Susannah knelt behind the animal and reached into the birth canal. Wet. Good. The bag of waters hadn't been broken long; the cow should have enough energy left to do her job, once the calf was in position.

Jesse glanced over his shoulder, his face pale. “What are you doing?”

“Checking the position of the calf—or I should say calves. Congratulations. You've got twins.”

“Two?”

“Yes. She's struggling because both are trying to come out at once. I'll untangle them and give one a head start.”

The pressure increased. Susannah pulled back. Too late. Her wrist caught between the first calf' s head and the cow's pelvis. Her bones ground together and she bit down on a scream.

Jesse turned. “Susannah?”

“Stay-right—where—you-are.” Susannah's words came out in gasps. “Contraction. Over soon.”

“No sense you getting hurt. Get out of there. I'll buy another cow.”

“I can't. I'm stuck.”

“How much longer?”

“Don't know.” She exhaled. “Easing up. There. It's over.” She pulled her arm out, gritting her teeth as circulation prickled back into her fingers. “We need to switch places.”

“You're hurt?” He stood.

“No, my reach isn't long enough, which is one of the reasons they don't let women into veterinary school. Wash up.” She moved her hand above the cow's rump, demonstrating the necessary motions. “You'll go in, push the head down, unfold two legs forward. You'll feel a third leg on your right. It belongs to the twin. Push that back. It takes a fair amount of force, more than you might expect. Any questions?”

Soap glistened on his long well-muscled arms. “What if she has another contraction?”

“Work fast.” Susannah straddled the neck. “Ready.”

“Lord, help us.”

“Straight in,” Susannah said. “What do you feel?”

“Nose. An ear. She's fighting me.”

“That's normal. Put your palm between the ears and push. Easy there, Ma. Reach down the neck and find the knees.”

His grunt turned into a yell, then he hushed himself.

“Contraction?”

“Not exactly.” The unmistakable smell of fresh manure filled the stable.

“You probably compressed the intestine. Did you unfold the legs? Be sure the other is out of the way.”

“Yes. Got it.”

“Switch places with me again.” She glanced at him as he stepped past. “Father always carried an extra set of clothes.”

He shrugged out of his shirt. “You might have warned me.”

“Sorry.” Susannah checked the calves. “Leg, leg, head. Good.”

“I have some rope if you think we should pull them.”

“No. She'll deliver on her own.” She washed. “Why don't you get some sleep? I'll stay and keep an eye on her.”

He nodded and shuffled out. She dimmed the lantern and settled into the straw to wait.

The cow groaned, waking Susannah. Sometime in the night Jesse had returned, covered them both with a blanket, then fallen asleep next to her.

Susannah slid away from his warmth and resumed her position behind the cow. Two pointed hooves peeked out, then slipped back. When they made a second appearance, she grabbed and held on. “C'mon, Mama. You can do this,” she whispered. A nose came next, then the whole head. Susannah wiped the steaming membranes from its face. Another spasm and the body squeezed out. The calf' s head bobbed on its slender neck, ears flapping.

“Perfect.” She rubbed him with a handful of straw, admiring the swirl of hair between his eyes, the curve of his ears, the triangle of his head. “So strong. And here comes your twin.”

Susannah cleaned the second. When Ma Ox took over, she sat back on her heels. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“I couldn't agree more.”

She jumped. Jesse was awake and watching her, his hair tousled and lit with red from the sunbeam coming through the door. She looked down. Her bare arms and apron were covered with mucus and blood. She'd discarded all decorum, showing off and ordering her husband about. He would surely send her back. “Please forgive me.” She washed off in the bucket.

He pulled her into the warm circle of the blanket. “What for? I write away for a wife and get a veterinary surgeon. Best bargain ever.” He pulled a piece of straw from her hair. “Here I thought you were too little, too city-girl, to be a farmer's wife. Never been so happy to be proved wrong.”

He aimed for a kiss, but she tucked into his shoulder. “I didn't do anything. You got them into position.”

“If you hadn't been here telling me what to do, I'd have lost them all.” The calves made it to their feet. “Twins. What a deal!”

“You have one of each. The female might be a freemartin, sterile. They should stay in here today, at least until the afterbirth—” She paused and ducked her head. “Mother would wash my mouth out with soap.”

“Us farmers pay good money to hear someone spout big veterinary words.” He cradled the back of her neck, his thumb rubbing her tense muscles. “I'm so glad to hear you talk, you can say anything to me.”

“But it's not ladylike.”

“Susannah, you'll be a lady whatever you say. Starting with, ‘Fix me breakfast, farm boy!'”