The Diary Of Mattie Spenser (12 page)

Mr. Bondurant swung the whip again, but this time it flailed harmlessly above Brownie’s head. Then, for good measure, Mr. Bondurant cracked the lash twice more, letting it come within inches of Brownie before saying, “You come around Mrs. Spenser again, I’ll whip your eyes out. You understand, dummy?”

Brownie protested that he had done nothing, but Mr. Bondurant cut him off. “Aw, shut up, will you. You even look at Mrs. Spenser again, and I’ll tell your Pa. You know what he’ll do to you.”

Brownie was so filled with alarm that he shook and whispered piteously, “Don’t. Don’t tell. Don’t tell Pa.”

“You remember. I’ll be hanged if I ever let you near Mrs. Spenser again. Don’t you never come back here. Never. Now git!”

Brownie did not need to be told twice. He set out across the field at a run, glancing back from time to time in terror. Mr. Bondurant watched him until he disappeared, then helped me up. I tried hard to control myself but could not, and I clung to him, weeping.

Mr. Bondurant let me cry myself out, and when I had finished, he said, “You don’t need to worry now. Brownie won’t be back. He’s a mean dog. You can’t cure him, but you can put a scare into him. He fears his pa more than anything.”

“If you hadn’t come …” I said, but Mr. Bondurant shushed me.

“Now, now, Mrs. Spenser, with all in this world you got to fret over, there ain’t no cause to add somethin’ that didn’t happen. It’s me you ought to blame and not yourself, for I did not know what Brownie was up to when I seen him come this way. I thought nothing of it till I chanced to mention it to the Earley boys, and they said it’s known about that Brownie’s not to be left alone with a lady. I come here as fast as I could. The boys’ll be along directly.”

“You won’t tell them!” I said. “O, Mr. Bondurant, surely you will keep this quiet. I would be so ashamed if they knew, or Luke. He must never find out! What would he think of me!”

Mr. Bondurant studied me with his one good eye. “It’s your business,” he said, but before I could extract a promise, I saw dust to the east and fled into the house to change my dress. When I returned, Mr. Bondurant was deep in conversation with Tom and Moses, then turned to me. “I told them Brownie Osterwald crept up on you like a wild Indian and scared you.”

Tom said hotly that Brownie ought to be run out of the country, but I shook my head, telling him that such a thing would kill poor Mrs. Osterwald. Now I know the reason for her timorousness: It is worry over Brownie’s outbursts.

After the three men talked it over, Mr. Bondurant announced that henceforth he would sleep in our barn and the others would relieve him during the day. They insisted that I was not to be left alone, not even for an hour.

I protested, but Mr. Bondurant drew me aside and whispered that he thought it would be a “jim-dandy bargain” if, along with cooking for him, I would “learn” him to read. Then he asked me not to shame him by mentioning the agreement in front of the boys, for they were not aware of his ignorance. That seemed to be a fair exchange of secrets, and I agreed to the arrangement, for, despite Mr. Bondurant’s assurances, I feared Brownie’s return.

The three stayed to supper, entertaining me so heartily that all thoughts of Brownie fled. Not until the boys were gone and Mr. Bondurant comfortably settled in the barn was I allowed time to dwell on the terrible incident. Is it not unfair that I am alone in my condition, without a husband or female companionship and must encounter Brownie Osterwald? I do not know whether to hate this country for the trials it gives me or to take satisfaction in knowing I encountered its challenges and was not found wanting—not yet, anyway.

Just now, I remembered Luke’s note, which flew out of my hand when Brownie frightened me, and I grieve that the only letter I ever received from Husband has blown many miles across the prairie.

May 7, 1866. Prairie Home.

What would I do without Mr. Bondurant and the boys? Brownie appears in my dreams each night, and when I awake, I fancy I see his eyes gleaming at me in the dark, like a rat’s. I can scarce believe any man would behave in such a brutal way and blame it on Brownie’s weakened mind. O, that my husband were by my side! I would not get the slightest rest if not for the care of my good friends.

Today, Tom Earley arrived just after breakfast, relieving Mr. Bondurant for work on his own homestead. Tom brought with him a copy of the New-York Weekly Times that is only two months old, and he read parts of it aloud. The steamer Lockwood exploded her boilers whilst on the Mississippi and was wholly destroyed, with great loss of life. Musicians in New Orleans, who dared to play “Bonnie Blue Flag” and other Secession airs, were arrested.

Perhaps I do not miss civilization as much as I had thought.

Still, there is good news in the Times. In Mississippi, a newspaper editor gives cheering information about the state of the freedman: “As a general thing, they have gone to work, and seem disposed to faithfully comply with their contracts.” I guess we Northerners had greater faith in the darkies than their former masters did, for I am not at all surprised at that intelligence.

The paper also brings news of the Mormons, who, under the leadership of a son of their infamous polygamous leader, Brigham Young, are in St. Louis, laying in a supply of goods to be transported to Utah. I joked to Tom that we should request them to make their way through Colorado Territory, for I should pay a pretty penny for their wares. Tom said he should not encourage them, as one of their band might offer a pretty penny for me to add to his harem of wives. He would be lonesome without me, Tom says, and what is more, how ever would he explain my disappearance to Luke?

After discussing the events of the world, I do not feel so far from society after all.

I have been unwell since Brownie’s attack, knowing not whether it is the natural state of my condition or the result of Brownie’s blows. At times, I am cold with fear that Brownie has injured Baby. I would like to question Emmie Lou about my symptoms, but Mr. Bondurant would not allow me to visit her alone, and I cannot ask him to deliver me.

Mr. Bondurant’s bargain is not so jim-dandy for him, as I can scarcely stand up long enough to cook, and he takes my place at the stewpot. I endeavor to make up for my shortcomings by being a willing teacher, and Mr. Bondurant is the best of students. When I complimented him on how quickly he learned all twenty-six letters of the alphabet, he said slyly, “It’s twenty-five I learnt. I’m well posted with X.”

I am grateful for his company, but I long for Luke’s return, which I hope will be within the month. I have not had a second letter nor any news from home since his leaving.

May 14, 1866. Prairie Home.

My time now is spent lying in bed or sitting on the bench in the sun. The men are concerned with my poor health. Yesterday, Tom rode for Jessie, who came and recommended rest and more rest. She studied my face but did not remark on it. I think it must be bruised from Brownie’s attack, but I do not know, since the dishpan does not reflect a clear likeness. Jessie offered to stay on to tend me, but I think Mr. Bondurant was jealous, for he insisted there was nothing she could do that he could not. So she returned to Mingo, promising to come again when called for. Mr. Bondurant does most of the cooking now. He writes his name and asked me to write mine so that he could copy it. It came out “Mutt.” I said ’twas close enough.

May 17, 1866. Prairie Home.

This morning at breakfast, a tooth popped out of my mouth. Distressed as I was, I was grateful it came from the back, where its vacant place will not be noticed. Lordy, I hope this loss is due to Brownie’s blows and not my condition. If ’twere the latter, I should be toothless ere my family is complete. I suppose I am vain after all.

May 21, 1866. Prairie Home.

I felt poorly all last night, taken with cramping and sleeplessness. When the boys arrived today, I could not keep up with their jolly talk, thinking instead about the pains. I was frying doughnuts when I realized the contractions were coming with some regularity, and I said with a calm I did not feel that I thought we might be five for dinner.

At first, the men did not get my little sally, but at last, Moses grinned and said, “Hellfire and brimstone!”

There was hurried discussion amongst the three about which should ride for Jessie, at length deciding on Moses, since both Mr. Bondurant and Tom have some familiarity with doctoring, the one having aided in emergencies on the Overland Trail and the other having learned a little of medicine in the war. Mr. Bondurant said from what he knew about the subject, Moses would have ample time to reach Mingo and return before Jessie’s services were required.

Moses was scarcely gone, however, when there came a great pain, the worst I ever felt, and I did not need to be told that Baby had chosen this time to greet us. For a moment, I was distressed that two gentlemen who were not doctors would see me in a state of nakedness unknown even to my husband, but as there was nothing to be done apart from delivering the babe myself, I put thoughts of modesty aside and have since refused to think of it.

Whilst they went to the well to draw water, I changed into my nightdress. Then, at my direction, the men arranged things first-rate, spreading a clean sheet upon the table, heating the water, and setting the bellyband and other tiny garments I had made for this occasion near the stove to warm. I was gratified to see that before making the preparations, Mr. Bondurant poured water into a basin, and both men washed their hands thoroughly with soap, although Mr. Bondurant did not remove the shirt he has worn each day that he has been with me.

When Tom inquired, “Do you have knowledge of what we are about?” Mr. Bondurant replied, “I know everything there is to know about medicine. That is, keep in fear of the Lord, and keep your bowels open.”

The remark did not inspire my confidence. Still, no woman at home, not even sisters, Mother, or Carrie, could have given me better and more loving care through my ordeal than those two faithful friends. They strained and sweat as hard as I, and I fancy they even felt a little of my pain.

Once all was in readiness, we sat down to wait, the two men helping themselves to doughnuts, although I abstained. Each time the pains came, Tom grasped my hands for support, and Mr. Bondurant rubbed my lower back, which seemed ready to break in half. At their cessation, however, I was inclined to walk about the room.

We continued on in this manner for more than an hour, when the sac of waters broke, and shortly afterward, I felt a great pushing. When the thrust was over, I got upon the table (having been told beforehand by Jessie that a hard surface was preferable to a tick, and made for easier cleanup). Mr. Bondurant remembered an Indian trick, and, “be as you was needing it,” he scrubbed a piece of kindling for me to bite down on. I have it now, prettily decorated with teeth marks.

The pains came harder and harder, one scarcely stopping before the next began. And each time, I thought surely Baby would force itself into this world. Indeed, when Mr. Bondurant examined me, he agreed the little stranger would be there momentarily.

Then came a great cramping, and I pushed with all my might whilst Tom held my hands, telling me what a good girl I was. Mr. Bondurant remained in position to “catch” the baby, as he put it, but Baby had other ideas and refused to emerge without more work. There were two more pains, and I thought I would not live to see the end. My body was covered with perspiration, but still I shook as if chilled, and I am ashamed that I cried out more than once, letting the stick fall out of my mouth. Of a sudden, I felt a great stretching and pain so bad that I feared I would be split asunder. Then Mr. Bondurant shouted that the head was out. Another pain or two or three—I did not count—and Mr. Bondurant shouted that I had delivered a “biggity boy.”

The tears ran down Mr. Bondurant’s face whilst he presented Baby for inspection, muttering, “By ginger. By ginger.” Tom turned aside, but not before I saw that his eyes, too, were moist. O, Carrie was right when she said after Wee Willie was born that a baby is worth its price of pain, and I would gladly suffer it again—but not just yet.

Boykins is small but perfect in every way. He has Luke’s cheekbones and serious eyes (and his strangely shaped earlobes and two of Luke’s curious brown spots on his body; I consider all to be marks of distinction, not imperfections). He has my impatience, however, arriving as he did before he was expected. Mr. Bondurant wrapped him in warm flannel before giving him to me, and I never saw a man handle a thing as gently as he did that babe, saying over and over again, “Well, I swan!”

Both Baby and I were resting when Moses returned with Jessie, who inspected all and said she could not have done a better job herself. That pleased Tom and Mr. Bondurant enormously. She will stay a few days to make sure I am all right, perhaps even until Luke returns. O, that he were here to make this happy day complete!

Whilst Jessie fussed about the sickroom, the three men presented me with their own surprise—a “rocky chair,” as Mr. Bondurant calls it. I prize it more than anything I ever owned and do not care if they used the wood of a precious tree in its manufacture. I am grateful they did not make it out of sod!

Baby sleeps in the cunning cradle that Luke fashioned during the winter, under the Postage Stamp quilt made by my hands, whilst I rock back and forth in my handsome new chair. The others are outside just now, having given me orders to rest, but I will not until I have recorded the events of this momentous day. A great happiness and feeling of calm came over me when Mr. Bondurant handed Baby to me, and I felt I must be the first woman in the history of the world to produce such a wonderful creature. As I look through the tiny glass pane beside me, at the marblelike streaks of purple and bright pink that make up our sunset on the Great Plains, I cannot help but think that Baby will grow to manhood in this country. He is a child of the prairie, not of the great Mississippi, as I am. We are bound together, he and Luke and I, in this place. His presence means that henceforth, Colorado Territory, not Fort Madison, is “home.” I hope I am up to this challenge.