A Veiled Reflection (19 page)

He secured the brake and reins before jumping down. “Yup, she knew the little girl would die otherwise. The Navajo won't take her, and there aren't any whites in the area who would want a half-breed for a daughter.”

“How awful,” Jillian declared as she allowed Mac to help her down. As Mac's hands encircled her waist, a current of energy coursed through her body from his touch.

“You eating these days?” he questioned lightly.

She forced her thoughts to cooperate with her mouth, but it wasn't easy. She felt weak-kneed and breathless as she replied, “Of course I'm eating. Why do you ask?”

“It's just that your waist is so small. You aren't lacing your corset too tight, are you?”

“What a question!” Jillian said, her illusions of romance shattered. “You really should mind your manners, Dr. MacCallister.”

The baby's insistent cries kept Mac from replying. Instead, he turned to make his way to Mary's door. The woman was coming out to greet them even before Mac could knock.

“Oh, you two are a godsend. Here,” she said to Jillian, pushing the crying infant into her arms. “I have to go milk the goat.”

“What? But wait!” Jillian exclaimed. “I've never held a baby.”

Mary laughed and went for a bucket. “Ain't nothin' to it, child.

You just hold on and don't drop her.”

Jillian looked down at the squirming bundle. The baby cried with a fury that Jillian wouldn't have thought possible. Her face was all red and scrunched up, but her eyes were surprisingly void of tears.

“What's wrong with her?” Jillian questioned as Mac came to peer over her shoulder.

“I'd say she's probably hungry.”

“She's always hungry,” Mary chimed in. “Mainly 'cause nothin' agrees with her. She can't stand cow's milk or canned. I'm gonna try goat's milk and see if that makes any difference. Poor mite. The only thing she's got in that tummy of hers is sugar water.”

“You go ahead and get the milk,” Mac told Mary. “I'll give the baby a quick look-over, then settle her and Jillian in the rocker and come out to help you.”

“I won't need help, Mac, but given the greenish appearance of Jillian's face, I'd say she might.”

Mary laughed as she passed by them and headed to the tiny corral where she kept her goats.

“Come on,” Mac instructed. “Bring the baby inside.”

Jillian held the infant tightly, desperately afraid she might stumble and drop her. This firm grip only made the tiny girl scream louder.

“I'm hurting her, aren't I?” Jillian questioned nervously. “Here, take her.”

Mac laughed. “Stop being so afraid. She isn't going to bite. Just relax and take a few deep breaths. You aren't going to drop her.”

Jillian forced herself to do as he said. She eased her hold on the child and took a deep breath. As if sensing her efforts, the baby stopped crying and fixed her dark eyes on Jillian's face.

“See, you're a natural,” Mac said as he spread a blanket atop Mary's small kitchen table. “Now put her down here, and I'll make sure she's doing okay.”

Jillian reluctantly placed the baby on the blanket and watched as Mac unwrapped her and gently began examining her.

“With babies you have to be particularly careful of this spot on their heads,” Mac said, showing her. “It stays soft for a long time. Those bones haven't come together yet, and there isn't any protection for the brain at this point. It'll firm right up in a few months, but in the meantime, it's a pretty vulnerable spot. My grandmother used to say it's where God ran out of materials.”

Jillian thought of her own grandmother. “Mine would no doubt have said it had something to do with mankind being evil and needing someplace to let the bad humors go in and out.”

Jillian then watched in amazement as the baby grasped Mac's index finger with her own tiny fingers. How wondrous to see the intricacy of this new human being. Tiny toes and fingers, a flat little button nose, and eyes the color of charcoal.

“She's beautiful,” Jillian finally managed to say.

“She is lovely, isn't she?” Mac said, rewrapping the baby. “There you go, you can pick her back up now.”

Jillian felt a moment of nervous anxiety, but she was drawn to this child in a way that she didn't understand. Reaching out tentatively, she looked to Mac for encouragement.

“Go ahead. You can do it.”

She smiled weakly and lifted the baby slowly.

“Support her neck and head with your left hand while you put your right hand around and under her bottom,” Mac instructed.

“I see what you mean,” Jillian replied, cradling the baby close to her breast. The baby instantly began to nuzzle against her, instinctively seeking food. Jillian felt her cheeks grow hot as Mac began to laugh.

“I think I'd better hurry Mary along. Why don't you sit over here in Mary's rocker, and I'll be right back.”

Jillian nodded and let Mac help her to the chair. She watched the baby in silence, feeling a strange rush of emotions. How could anyone despise this child? How could anyone say she didn't deserve life?

“Poor, sweet girl,” Jillian whispered, gently stroking the thick black hair. “It's so sad that your mama had to die.” She shuddered involuntarily at the thought that Little Sister had died in this very house. She wondered whether Mary had arranged for Little Sister's burial or if Bear had come and taken care of the matter. Maybe Mac had taken care of the burial.

“Here we go,” Mary said, coming in with Mac. “I'll pour some of this in a bottle and we'll see how it goes.”

Jillian watched Mary work with the feeding contraption, carefully pouring the goat's milk inside.

“This has to work,” Mary said softly as she brought the bottle to Jillian. “There isn't a whole lot more I can do.”

“What about a wet nurse from the tribe?” Mac suggested.

“I doubt anyone would care to help. Bear actually came to take Little Sister's body, but he wanted nothing to do with the baby,” Mary replied. “No doubt he's set everyone against this little one, just as he set them against Little Sister.”

As if realizing the gravity of the moment, the baby easily latched on to the rubber nipple and began to drink the milk. She didn't scream or turn away, but instead watched Jillian with great interest while being fed.

“I think she likes it,” Jillian said, her voice full of hope.

“I think she just might. She's usually throwin' it all up by this time.” Mary patted Jillian's shoulder and moved to the bucket that held the remaining goat's milk. “I'd best put the rest of this in a jar and save it for later.”

Mary had just finished this task when someone could be heard calling her name in the distance. Mac went to the door and looked out.

“There's a young Navajo coming this way. A girl,” he said, turning back to Mary. “She sounds pretty upset.”

Mary put the jar aside and wiped her hands on her apron. Jillian remained seated, watching in fascination as the baby sucked greedily at the bottle.

“Dancing Star,” Mary called out to the girl from the door. Waving her forward, she urged, “Come inside, child, and tell me what's wrong.”

Jillian wondered at the scene. She supposed it wasn't common for the Navajo to come to Mary, but she couldn't be sure.

“Bear and the others . . .” the child gasped and fell silent.

“Bear and the others did what?” Mary questioned, handing the child a cup of water.

“They . . . they burned . . . the school,” the child managed to say after downing the water.

“Oh no!” Mary exclaimed. “Oh, dear Lord, help us.”

“What does this mean?” Jillian questioned.

“It means trouble,” Mac replied. “The army will never stand for this.”

Mary went to Jillian and helped her to position the baby on her shoulder. “You need to burp her like this after she eats, otherwise her tummy will hurt her. I'll pack up some more milk for you and Mac, and you can take the goat back to town with you.”

Mac nodded, but Jillian was still not sure what Mary was saying. “Why should we take the goat?”

“Child, I'm going to have to go with Dancing Star and see if I can't intercede with the army. Bear's just lashing out because of Cooper. I'm actually amazed that the man hasn't already killed Cooper, but he believed for so long that Little Sister brought this whole thing on herself. I set him straight when he came for her body. I probably shouldn't have, but I told him the truth. I told him about the rape. He pretended not to hear me, but I know he did. And now this.”

Mary's face was stricken and filled with worry.
She looks to have
aged ten years,
Jillian thought.

“Here, now,” Mary said, putting Jillian's hand on the baby's back. “Give her a few good pats and when you hear her burp, you can feed her a bit more or let her go to sleep.”

Jillian tapped very lightly against the baby's back. It felt awkward to hold the child in this position, but she supposed Mary knew what was to be done.

“No, no,” Mary said as she went about the room, picking up an assortment of things for the baby. “You aren't going to hurt her. Pat her a little more firmly.”

Jillian complied, feeling like she was surely harming the baby. Instead, with a great whoosh of air, the baby burped. It so surprised Jillian that she started and Mac laughed.

“I guess you've never had to burp a baby.”

“Have you?” Jillian asked indignantly.

Mac laughed. “Only once, but I wasn't anywhere near as successful as you.”

“Here,” Mary said, handing a rolled bundle to Mac. “There are diapers and clothes, blankets, and even another one of those bottles. I hate to impose this on you, but there's no other way. I can't take her with me.”

“We understand,” Mac spoke, taking the bundle.

“No, we don't,” Jillian replied, looking at them both as if they'd lost their minds. “What's going on?”

“I need for you to take the baby,” Mary replied. “She can't stay here alone, and I don't know what I'll find when I get to the village. The army may have . . .” She halted in mid-sentence, realizing Dancing Star was listening. “I just need for you to take her back to town and keep her there until I can come for her.”

“But I have to work at the Harvey House. What should I do with her?”

“Surely the girls will help,” Mac suggested.

Jillian felt completely overwhelmed by the prospect of this new task. “But I don't know anything about babies.”

Mary smiled. “You'll learn. Ask your Miss Carson. Seems I remember she has younger brothers and sisters.”

Jillian remembered Louisa having mentioned caring for younger siblings. Surely she could help too.

“You go ahead, Mary. We'll see to her,” Mac said, helping Jillian to her feet.

“Does she have a name?” Jillian questioned, looking down at the now sleeping infant. Funny what a difference a little food and care had made.

“No, I haven't named her. I figured I'd let someone else do that,” Mary replied. “I had hoped on findin' her a ma and pa to raise her. But you go ahead and name her, Jillian. I'm sure you'll come up with something just fine.”

Jillian nodded. It seemed no less reasonable than giving the baby over to her care. After all, giving her a name couldn't harm her.

Mac led the way to the wagon and took the baby long enough for Jillian to climb up. He touched her very gently at the elbow with his right hand as his left cradled the sleeping baby. Once again, Jillian felt a current move through her. She trembled from the touch and tried to compose herself as Mac handed her the baby.

Mac looked around and nodded. “The wind has shifted and that cool air suggests a storm. Let's get you both back to town before it turns bad.”

Jillian looked to the skies and saw a band of gray clouds on the horizon. The air had cooled, but it certainly wasn't the reason for her trembling. And it wasn't even her fear of caring for this newborn. No, her trembling was born out of something much more powerful. Her trembling was born of desire and unbidden love.

Mac jumped into the wagon and reached across Jillian to release the brake and take up the reins. He looked into her face for just a moment, and Jillian knew he saw something there that she'd not been able to hide in time. Before she knew it, he had reached up to touch her cheek ever so gently.

“You'll do just fine,” he told her. “The baby will be all right.”

She nodded and looked away quickly. Let him think that this was the only reason for her mood. Let him believe it had only to do with the baby and the storm and even the Indian troubles. Just don't let him know it has to do with loving him.

By the time Mary arrived at the little collection of hogans, the women and children were in utter chaos. Dancing Star jumped from the wagon and went in search of her mother, and before Mary could even bring the wagon to a halt, several women had come to approach her.

“Our men are gone,” one woman said. “They will hide from the army.”

“Will the army kill them?” another asked.

“Will soldiers kill us—kill our children?”

“Whoa, now!” Mary said, raising her hand for silence. She looked into the worried faces of the women. “I can't say I know for sure what will happen. Can you tell me how this started? Is it true that Bear burned down the school?”

The women nodded, their dark eyes pleading with Mary to make things right.

“Bear say it will bring Mr. Cooper,” Dancing Star's mother related.

Mary nodded. “I figured as much. He's planning on killing Cooper, ain't he?”

The woman nodded and tears came to her eyes. “He say Cooper killed his sister and left an evil spirit behind in her baby.”

“Nonsense. You need to put that from your mind. The baby is beautiful. She looks just like Little Sister. There's nothing evil about that child.”