The Milch Bride (10 page)

The red pony was solid and firm, more bitable she hoped then
knuckles or braids.

“Are you going to embroider the face and body?” Rubye asked
over her shoulder, as Hattie shook it, watching the legs ring.

“Wish I could. Think I’ll draw them on.”

Rubye blew loudly in disgust as usual. “With what, coffee?”

Hattie went inside the bedroom, not surprised to hear Jackie
crying as soon as she disappeared from sight. She came back with her ink pot
and pen. Carefully, she painted eyes, nostrils and mouth, and then painted all four
little hoofs black. J.D. chortled and grabbed for it, while Hattie held it over
him, blowing on the cloth to dry the ink.

Hattie laughed down at the baby. “Almost ready, big cowboy.
We need to get a mane and tail fastened on.”

Rubye lifted him up, while he kicked and grabbed at the pony.
“Goodness, he’s getting to be a handful.”

“Eighteen pounds, according to Thompson’s vegetable scale. Of
course he was wiggling on the scale.

“Feels more like forty, don’t you bucko?”

“He’s nice and solid though, no fat folds and wrinkles.”

“That’s why Mrs. Dawson keeps complaining. No double chins
or dumpling arms.”

“He weighs what Dr. Padgett predicts. That should be good
enough for anyone.”

Hattie sealed the ink bottle, cleaned her quill. Then she
hunted through the thread, yarn, ribbon and lace in the sewing basket until she
settled on the thin blue ribbon. Making loops around her finger, she cut the
end after making ten loops. She sewed the end of the ribbon to the top of the
horse’s head, then fastened each loop carefully as she worked down the neck. Finally,
she made six loops about twice as long, fastened the top of all of them at the
end of his rump, and then cut the loops to make strands for his tail.

Watching the eager boy, Hattie carefully walked the pony
across the seat of the horsehair stuffed sofa, making each hoof ring and the
ribbon mane and tail flutter. Finally, she raised it high and kissed its little
painted nose.

She held it out to J.D. and he clapped his hands and
squealed in delight. As soon as he grabbed it, he bit it hard.

“Dr. Padgett says babies grow teeth after six months, though
some get one as early as three months or as late as nine months. I’m sure he’s
getting his first tooth.”

While Rubye was content to hold the baby, Hattie got up and
folded all the clean clothes and hurried to put them away. She held the full
basket when she heard a familiar buggy pulling into the yard.

Hattie sighed, glad that Rubye was outside with the baby. She
waved to the couple, then sped around clearing up the quilt, the sewing basket
and scraps. She also stopped in front of the mirror to comb and neaten her hair
and check that she was buttoned straight and neat.

As Hattie hurried to the porch she saw Irene Dawson reach
for the baby and saw him drop his new toy as she lifted him. Immediately he
began to howl and tried to grab for it.

“What on earth is the matter with him?” she asked Rubye as
the boy twisted around in her arms, almost toppling to the ground.

Charles Dawson stepped forward and grabbed the toy and put
an arm around the squirming boy. He held out the toy, “Is this what you need,
boy?”

J.D. swallowed the tears that had filled his eyes and
chortled as he grabbed the toy, clutching it against his belly.

 “Good Lord,” Irene Dawson fumed. “So much fuss over
nothing.”

They swept into the house, settling in the two leather
chairs by the fire. Rubye excused herself. “I’ve got to fix some food, the men
will be in soon, please excuse me.”

For a few minutes, all were quiet. Hattie folded her hands,
self-conscious of her pricked and dyed fingers. Finally Irene Dawson broke the
silence when she tried to take the stuffed horse to examine it. J.D. howled in
outrage.

Hattie watched the contest until Irene finally gave up and
released the little horse. J.D.’s triumph rang out as he shook the horse,
making the mane and tail wave. When Charles Dawson tapped one of the little
black hoofs, the pony jingled and the baby laughed.

“Why is he drooling so much?” Irene demanded.

Hattie hesitated, never having been spoken to directly
before. “Dr. Padgett lists it as a sign that he’s teething.”

“Nonsense, he’s much too young for that.”

“Dr. Padgett says they can cut teeth as young as three
months. He’s nearly four and a half months and he’s been fussier than usual,
just like the book says.”

“Well,” she rose, clearly annoyed. “At least you can read. Where
did he get this disgusting toy?”

Hattie bit her tongue, breathed deep until she could control
her anger. “I made it.”

“Of course you did. Here, take him, he needs changing.”

“He’s getting stronger,” the banker added as he tugged at
the horse and J.D. pulled it in closer.

Hattie swept forward, again curtsied and took the baby,
wrinkling her nose. “I’ll change him and bring him back in a few minutes.”

“Did you ever get his weight?” Irene called after her.

“Eighteen pounds, last week at Thompson’s store.”

“So little,” she complained.

“I’ll bring you the baby diary and the book so you can check
the charts in the back.

Hattie laid the baby in the crib, then carried out the books
for them to read. Without a word, she returned to the baby, cleaned and dressed
him, then nursed him a little before walking back to the grandparents, the baby
riding on her hip.

Charles Dawson smiled up and took the baby, letting him
stand on his legs while his wife studied the baby advice book.

“Very well,” she declared primly.

Hattie knew he was two pounds more than Padgett predicted,
strong and plump, but not fat. He grew stronger every day, playing with the
cowhands and his Daddy every evening. She knew the woman would be bragging
about his teething so soon. Donna’s child was more than perfect, even if Irene
didn’t like to think he could have messy pants like a normal baby.

At the sound of the men arriving, Hattie walked out to the
kitchen, shrugging when Rubye raised her eyebrows at her. She took the bowls
Rubye handed her, then counted out spoons and returned to the dining room to
set the table.

Rubye carried out the big pot of chili and Hattie scurried
behind her with the cornbread and onions. Rubye invited the Dawsons to join
them for supper as usual.

Hattie didn’t wait for the refusal, just hurried back for
the pitchers of cold water and sweet milk as Rubye hurried back for two more
bowls and spoons. No sooner was the table set, then the men began to file in,
faces still dripping from being dunked and splashed by cold well water to
remove the worst of the dust from their hands and faces.

Hattie added the crock of butter and the bowl of pickle
relish and retreated toward the bedroom.

Jackson took the baby from Charlie Dawson, smiling at the
boy. “What you got there big fella?”

Hattie turned and stared, trapped by curiosity, as J.D.
raised his little horse up to his Daddy. Jackson held it, turning it around,
studying the blue ribbon mane and tail, the little painted face. When he tilted
it, he heard a bell, and J.D. reached out to pat it, making another hoof ring. When
Jackson shook it, the baby chortled and the cowhands laughed.

“That’s a pretty pony, fella.”  J.D. pushed it back at him
and Jackson raised his eyebrows.

“He’s waiting for you to kiss it,” Hattie called. The Dawsons
stared at her sternly. Jackson blushed, and then kissed the nose of the pony.

Everyone laughed. J.D. took his pony back and bit it hard on
the nose. The cowboys clapped.

Rubye bustled about filling bowls and glasses, even as
Hattie disappeared into the bedroom. When Rubye reached James Boyd’s chair, she
paused. “He needs some toys. Maybe someone could whittle something for him,
too.”

James looked up at her. “Sure, I reckon I could, if you’re
asking Miss White?”

Rubye bustled on, ignoring the looks between the cowhands.

<><><> 

Finally, the company was gone, and Hattie emerged to clear
the table and sit down to her own bowl of chili and wedge of corn bread.

She had heard all the talk as she glimpsed the table through
her open door. The talk about rustlers and lean times for the settlers was hard
to ignore. Dawson had confided that more than usual were coming in, asking for
loans. She noticed that he didn’t say whether he granted any to the desperate
men.

Most of all, she was surprised to see Irene Dawson seated at
a table of cowhands. She didn’t eat, merely took turns holding J.D., studying
the boy and how much he was enjoying his toy. Hattie wondered what it must feel
like to lose a daughter and only be able to touch her when you saw or held your
grandson. So what if the woman was conceited and full of airs. She loved J.D. Even
the stuffy banker came because he loved the little boy. If anything ever
happened to Jackson, heaven forbid, at least she knew the couple would make
sure J.D. grew up well cared for and loved.

It was Saturday night when she first felt a wave of cramps. The
first time in months, but she knew the morning would bring the return of her
monthly flow. J.D. was so fussy, even the pony and the hand-carved lamb that
James had made for the baby did nothing to soothe him. Hattie could see a
little blister near the center of his lower gum. Instead of providing comfort, nursing
irritated him. She had spooned some warm oatmeal in him that morning, to help
fill his tummy, but he had wanted to nurse, at least until she gave him her
breast. He would nurse a minute, give her a hard bite, and then cry in
frustration. She had been near tears as well from the sharp little bites and
the need to empty her full and achy breasts.

Finally, she pumped some milk into a bottle and tried to
feed him that way. But he bit the rubber nipple savagely and the milk dribbled
out of his mouth, then came too fast and made him cough. Finally, only when
they were both exhausted, had he relaxed and nursed briefly, wincing and
stopping when his gum hurt too badly, but unwilling to give up long enough to
cry. Eventually they both slept.

Sunday morning, Hattie rose to cook some apples into sauce
for the fussy baby. Balancing him on her lap, she alternated feeding his thin
gruel and the still warm applesauce. Hungry, he ate it all as quickly as she
could spoon it in, rake it off his chin, and spoon it in again.

Rubye came in, tying an apron around her waist, stopping to
enjoy the spectacle of J.D. eating. When he gave an ‘hmm’ sound, both women
laughed.

“Rubye, the baby is fussy, and I just started my monthly.
J.D. and I will have to stay home.”

<><><> 

The older woman stared at them both. It was true that the
baby was eating and at the moment looked content, but there had been lots of
tantrums the last few days, (something that was totally out of character for
J.D.) with lots of crying and complaining. Rubye couldn’t imagine the preacher
or congregation would be happy to have a squalling baby at the service. As for
Hattie using her flow as an excuse, well it was a first since she had come to
the ranch.

“I thought your Dr. Padgett said you wouldn’t have a flow
while you were breast-feeding the baby?” Rubye barked.

Without realizing it, Hattie lowered her voice to a whisper.
“He said most mothers wouldn’t. He said it was possible, just not likely to be
regular and monthly. Mainly, it was advice that a woman was unlikely to be
fertile and conceive again as long as she was still nursing the last baby. None
of that relates to me.”

She snorted, “Well I reckon everyone will understand,
especially if they’ve heard all the fussing and hollering the last day or two. And
they only have to look at you to know how bad you’re feeling.” She flung the
last words as she pranced into the kitchen to prepare Sunday breakfast.

Hattie wiped J.D.’s face and rose, shocked to see Jackson
standing at the door to the study, staring across at them. Her face flushed,
just at the thought of what he might have heard, praying their voices had been
too low for him to hear the last of the conversation. Flustered, she grabbed
J.D. and hurried into the kitchen. I can finish dinner if you want so it’s
ready to serve when you get home.

Rubye blew angrily, “Don’t worry yourself. I’ll put on that
big rump roast before we leave. If you add potatoes and some vegetables to the
big pot about ten, it should all be ready to eat when we get back.”  Hattie
nodded and took off for her bedroom, juggling J.D. on her hip again, a toy clutched
in both hands.

As she entered the room, she heard a loud wail. Frightened,
she sank down into a chair and turned the baby so she could see his face,
searching for blood or any sign of injury. When she checked his mouth, she
could see the little blister had popped, probably when he bit down on the hard
edge of his little carved lamb. When she stared in his eyes she saw him grin,
then he turned to nuzzle her breast.

She felt the milk start to flow from her heavy, swollen
breasts, soaking her shirt before she could even open the buttons. As the baby
relaxed against her, suckling contentedly, she felt so relieved. The tight
pressure in her throbbing breast eased along with the frustration that had
built the last two days when she had not been able to meet his needs. Almost in
tears, she smiled down at the sweet baby in her arms. She looked up in shock to
see Jackson standing there, staring and smiling down at them both.

Horrified, she realized how exposed she was, and raised her
hand to hide herself.

Jackson continued to smile and walked over to the crib for a
blanket to hand her.

Hattie took it, blushing as she became aware she had
revealed herself again in reaching for it.

He looked sheepish. “I heard the baby scream, I was worried
about him.”

“The blister on his gum broke. He’s finally able to nurse
again.”

“Does that mean the tooth has come through? Will he …” He
swallowed in embarrassment, had almost asked if the boy would bite her.

Rubye came in with a plate of eggs and bacon, plopping it
down on the dresser. “Eat it!”  She turned and stared at Jackson. “What are you
doing in here?”

“I heard the baby scream.”

“He heard the baby scream.”

They answered at the same time.

“Harrumph!” she snorted. “Are you ready for a plate of
breakfast?” Rubye asked Jackson, but looked pointedly at Hattie, “Do you want
coffee, or just milk?”

“Both please.”

“All right,”

Jackson started to tell Rubye about having a backache, but
it was Sunday and he couldn’t start the day with a lie. “Can I have coffee
too?”

Rubye headed out and as soon as she turned, Hattie looked up
at him. “You were about to say?”

He shook his head. He managed not to say anything, but then
thought, what would it matter if she knew. “Some of the hands are staying home
from church with me. We want to prepare for the rustlers, try to catch them if
we can.”

“Do you think you have a chance?”

He shrugged. “They rustled a few head last week while folks
were at church. We want to be ready in case they come again.”

Rubye set coffee and milk on the dresser, handed Jackson a
mug. “Your breakfast is getting cold. Get out of here.”

As she herded him out, she asked. “You might what?”

He repeated what he had told Hattie. “Some two-legged coyotes
are dodging the cows with calves in the south pasture. Plan to keep a few of
the boy’s home this morning to help exterminate them.”

“So you’re staying home on a Sunday morning, not going to
church?”

He glared at her tone. “I just told you we are. I’ll have
James Boyd drive you and the other men into church.”

Men began filing in for breakfast and Rubye stormed back
into the kitchen, banging pans in case Jackson didn’t know what she thought of
his plans.

Rubye left to get ready for church before the men finished
eating and left James Boyd to clean up. The two of them and the newer hands
finally left for church.

Rubye cast a suspicious glance back at the house. It felt
strange to be leaving so many behind. Especially since that girl had stayed
home the same morning as Jackson. But even as they wheeled onto the track
toward church, she saw Jackson and four of the men ride off south from the
ranch. Satisfied she turned back around, wondering how she would satisfy Irene
Dawson when her bundle of joy didn’t arrive.

<><><> 

As soon as they were out of sight of the ranch, Jackson had the
men split up to head for the four quadrants and look for signs of any intruders.

Coming over a rise, Jackson saw the fleeting shadows of a
rider and spurred his horse forward. To his left he heard the loud braying of a
mule, quickly joined by another. Henry and Pepper for sure. He unsheathed his
rifle and cocked it while riding along the ridge, reining at the end of it.

He sighted at the end of the draw, holding his breath. The
first to emerge were the two mules and Hattie’s old horse, Nugget. Alongside
appeared two riders, who were both hazing the lead mules and a dozen cattle. Calmly
Jackson took aim and fired. The lead rider dropped the reins and sagged forward
but managed to grab the mane and pommel of the saddle to hang on. Jackson
changed his aim, ejecting the shell and cocking as he swung to the left. The
other rider screamed and pulled to the left, cursing as he whipped his horse
into the woods. As he disappeared, Jackson fired, levered in another shell and
fired again. He grinned as he heard a loud scream.

Jackson shoved in more shells, yelled ‘whoa,’ and watched as
Henry stopped on a dime. Pepper followed and the cows bunched up behind them
and stopped. From behind, Jackson heard riders and waited, hoping it was Cliff
or Hank. He breathed a deep sigh as he saw Cliff’s tan hat and buckskin pony.

“Careful partner, I hit one, he rode off down the trail, but
I only winged the one that rode into that brush thicket.”

Cliff drew his rifle and gingerly rode around the cows.

“Reckon we better get these animals back,” Jackson said as
he rode around the other side of the herd.

He reined up and stared around, the hair on the back of his
neck bristling. He reached out and grabbed Cliff, pulling him down between
their horses as shots rang out. They stood trapped between their horses, the
cattle bawling. Jackson swept off his hat and slapped the flank of the nearest
cow, yelling giddy-up in a loud voice.

Henry spun around and charged back up the draw, the cattle
following, the two men crouched down between their horses, hanging onto the
stirrup as they ran. Two more shots snapped branches overhead and pinged off
the rocks of the cliff.

“Must be a third one. I thought I saw a rider before I came
out on the ridge.”

“Do you need to go after him?”

Jackson climbed back in the saddle, Cliff looked around,
then mounted too.

“Let’s wait until the other men get back, then we’ll trail
them. Let’s get these animals back to the ranch, first. I want to get the
sheriff out and a couple of the neighbors.”

“Damn rustlers. Why’d they take the mules?”

“They couldn’t get the cows to move without them. Hey,
where’s the horse?”

Cliff pulled rein, waited until all the animals were past,
then wheeled his horse back the way they’d come. A gun barked, and Cliff spun
around again.

“Let’s cut a blaze, boss.”

Jackson rode, moving the cattle ahead of them.

“I figure if we catch them, we’ve got enough evidence to
string ‘em up. I want witnesses though.”

“Sure, when we get back, I’ll send Tony to town, Hank to
church, see who’s still there that might want to ride on the hunt.”

Jackson had the stock back in the paddock and the rest of
the men sent to neighboring ranches for more men to form a posse. He knew he
had wounded two of the rustlers, maybe worse. Although all he could see were a
dozen cows that should never have been hazed from their pasture, somewhere
there were more missing Harper Creek cattle. Only when he found them and the
rest of Hattie’s rustled animals, would he be satisfied. Seeing the men hung
for it would be some comfort.

The adrenaline from the fight left him all at once, even as
he walked toward the house. He washed up, knocked the dust off his boots and
pants, and then stepped into the cool shadows of the house, only to hold up
short. Hattie had spread a quilt on the waxed planks of the floor and she lay
on it smiling and playing with a naked J.D. He lay in the beams of sunlight,
cooing and making little noises as she tried to catch his wiggling body to
diaper. The edge of her skirt had been kicked up to show the lace of her petticoat
and reveal one stocking-clad slim ankle. Her blouse was wet and two buttons
were open. It was plain she had just bathed the baby.

Jackson poked his hat back with one finger and grinned. As
usual, J.D. noticed him first and waved his arms even more excitedly. Hattie
quickly sat up, self-consciously buttoning the blouse and pulling her skirt
down over her shoeless feet, before turning back to the giggling baby.

Unable to resist his command, Jackson sank to the edge of
the quilt, leaning down to blow bubbles on the tender neck and belly. J.D. went
wild, wiggling and laughing. Jackson leaned back laughing too. Hattie used the
breather both were taking to get a diaper on the baby.

“Why the quilt?”

Hattie blushed again and Jackson enjoyed the sight of her
pink face, startled blue eyes, and the way her hand rested tenderly on the
baby’s chest.

“Dr. Padgett says he should be able to roll-over, and he
hasn’t done it yet? He has just rolled onto his side, not from front to back,
or back to front yet. I thought on a firmer flat surface, he might be able to
roll all the way over.”

Jackson laughed and J.D. made a gasping sound and opened his
eyes wide to stare at his Daddy. Hattie laughed at his look of astonishment and
J.D. rolled in her direction, grabbing at his foot as he rolled. Jackson
chuckled at her delight and J.D. rolled back over toward him. Hattie lay down
on the quilt and Jackie flipped over, raising up on his arms to look at her
like a little shell-less turtle, then rolled over to face her. Hattie clapped
her hands. “You did it. Did you see that, daddy? He made a 360-degree-turn.”

They smiled at each other, each touching the laughing baby
between them.