Pioneer Passion (28 page)

What was she thinking holding him close to
her breasts, trying not to breathe in the cheap perfume? She didn’t
want to be reminded that it wasn’t her bed he had been in that
night. With a disgruntled sigh, she pulled off the sleeve of his
shirt and pushed him with a grunt onto the pillow. He called, “Anna
Rose,” and Rusty punched him in the ribs producing a groan. She
swore loudly while she removed his pants and couldn’t understand
why in hell she was making him comfortable. She should let him lay
in his own sweaty male scent mixed with that awful toilet
water.

“Ugh! It’s disgusting!” she snapped aloud.
“What kinda woman thought that smell could attract a man?” she
grumbled. But then she looked at him and sighed. “It attracted you,
didn’t it?” she sighed. Maybe she wasn’t woman enough for him. With
an aching heart and troubled mind she covered him up and went to
sleep on the couch, her mind boggled with so many hurtful notions.
Had he grown tired of her already? How could she ever let him back
into her bed after tonight? What was she going to do now that she
was certain she was pregnant? Too tired, confused and heart-broken,
she believed sleep was the only salvation.

But sleep didn’t come easily.

That morning, Susan passed the parlor and
puckered her lips into a frown seeing her friend sleeping on the
sofa. It amazed her that Rusty slept through the rooster’s crow,
and the banging of the pots and pans. The aroma of coffee and food
didn’t stir her either; it wasn’t until she shook Rusty’s shoulder
that her friend opened her weary eyes and blinked.

“Wake up sleepy head,” she teased and saw the
dark shadows circling the ivory skin under the tired eyes. She also
noticed how pale and thin Rusty looked lately. But the girl was
working every day to make enough money to buy her husband a present
and it was taking its toll on her. Was there trouble between the
newlyweds again?

Groggy, Rusty looked at her and yawned. The
sleepy-eyed girl attempted to smile but failed. “I know what you’re
thinking,” she said before Susan asked, “but Guy and I didn’t
fight, not yet.” Her lips quivered. “He came home inebriated and I
decided to sleep here.”

Rusty’s excuse sounded lame but she wouldn’t
pry and she shrugged, wishing she could say the right words to
comfort her friend. “Come on. A hot cup of coffee and a good
breakfast will make you feel better,” she insisted. But, the sound
of a buckboard approaching pulled Rusty’s brows together in thought
and Susan also pondered on whom was calling.

“Who can that be so early?” asked Rusty.

Susan snorted, “It’s not that early, my
sleepy friend.”

“Oh,” Rusty gasped. “My sleepy mind didn’t
register that it wasn’t as early as I thought.”

Susan went to the door as Rusty pulled on her
robe. She opened door in time to see Wilbur Brown come running up
the porch steps. His face was etched in fear and his pale blue eyes
were swollen red. His carrot-colored hair was plastered against his
distraught face and he looked as if the devil himself was chasing
him. She stiffened with dread assuming that something was terribly
wrong and heard Rusty’s loud gasp behind her. The farmer was
breathless upon reaching the front door. He gulped and before Susan
could inquire, he grabbed Rusty pulling the girl helplessly
outside. “Please! Come! You must help me!” he begged.

“W-what happened? W-what’s the m-matter?”

Susan shivered, feeling the cold January day
chill her bones and saw Rusty tremble.

“It’s Bonnie… p-please. S-she’s been in
l-labor all day and last night,” he rasped. Sweat and tears mingled
and they ran down the man’s flushed cheeks. Wilbur rambled on, his
voice wild with emotion. Although they knew something was
dreadfully wrong, Rusty shouted, “But… what can I do? Get a
doctor!”

“Been in town, Doc’s not there. Please,
you’re a woman. Women know about these things!”

“Mattie?!” Rusty turned to her.

Susan clutched her soiled apron, and wailed,
“The men are on the range, and Mattie went into town earlier for
supplies.”

“But… but I smelled coffee and food when I
awoke,” stated Rusty.

Susan bit her lip. “That was me in the
kitchen cooking your breakfast. Oh! What are we going to do?”
Shivering more from fright now, she sat on the bench, no longer
trusting her wobbling legs. She watched the overwrought man pull
Rusty into the wagon without protest. He handed her friend a
patched blanket from under the seat and the buckboard pulled
out.

Susan stared with her jaw slack and her
stomach clenched tight.

Rusty had spent the last half hour in fear
and frustration, not knowing what to do for the suffering woman. If
only Mattie were here, she’d know what to do. Wilbur had assured
her that his wife’s last three births were easy and swift.
Something was dreadfully wrong and the man was in sheer panic, as
was she. Her heart went out to her poor friend who lay in bed, damp
with perspiration that poured from her pain-wracked body. Bonnie’s
hands were gripped tightly to the headboard as she chewed on
swollen red lips causing them to bleed. Rusty’s stomach knotted and
she wrung her hands not knowing what to do for the woman who’s body
convulsed every so often making her scream out. Her husband
continued to wipe his wife’s face with a cool cloth but she told
him that it did noting to relieve the pain. Tossing her head wildly
the heels of her feet dug into the damp sheets. Wilbur looked
beseechingly at his mate with so much pain and terror etched on his
face that Rusty knew she had to try something.

“Wilbur, I have a feeling the baby is turned
the wrong way. I remember when I was a child one of our cows
labored for two days. Pa had to turn the calf around inside the
womb.”

Intense shock touched his pale face at her
suggestion. Wiping the sweat beading on her forehead she prayed she
was right and that she was brave enough to do what she recalled her
father had done with the calf. Trying to keep her voice from
cracking she ordered, “Wilbur, sit next to Bonnie and hold her.
Continue to talk to her; she must stay awake to be able to
push.”

The woman nodded, as she looked so terrified
and Rusty believed that the woman probably thought that she might
die. The poor thing cried out to God to release her from the
gripping pain.

Her heart went out to woman.

“Bonnie, you have three other children and a
husband to think, you must pray for strength and guidance from God.
Only moments ago you water broke and Rusty assured her the baby
would follow. But, no such luck, and Bonnie drifted in and out of
consciousness.

Dear Lord! Rusty shuddered. Would she suffer
like this when her time came? Now was not the time to worry, she
had to concentrate. Please God, help me, she prayed, biting her
lower lip. Sweating, salt poured into her eyes making her blink
away the burning sensation. Holding her breath, she placed her
trembling hands on Bonnie’s abdomen and slowly kneaded the woman’s
stomach until she felt, what she believed was the baby’s head. She
was correct about the infant’s position when she felt it was not
near the birth canal.

“Bonnie, you must bend your knees high.”
Rusty nodded to Wilbur who was trying not to look as embarrassed as
she felt. He understood her and helped his weakened wife bring her
knees up. She sat in the bed directly in front of Bonnie’s raised
legs. “Hold her tightly Wilbur so I don’t harm the baby.”

The woman screamed in agony as she carefully
inserted her hands into the birth canal. Her first attempt to
secure a firm grip was successful but she lost her hold when Bonnie
began thrashing. Wilbur tried hugging his wife but still another
excruciating pain made Bonnie nearly slip from his grip.
Frustrated, Rusty tried again, seeing Bonnie lapse into
unconsciousness. After many labored minutes the baby shifted into
the proper position. Bonnie moaned and Wilbur shook her gently over
and over until she blinked and opened her dazed eyes. Then Rusty
yelled, “Push! Bonnie push!” She heard the woman grunt as her whole
body trembled with unbearable agony.

“Push, Bonnie,” pleaded Wilbur.

“I can’t...I can’t,” Bonnie sobbed.

Wilbur cried, “Please Bonnie… please make an
effort.”

Bonnie lay in her husband’s arms like a limp
rag doll and Rusty knew the poor woman was on the brink of passing
out again but with her last bit of strength, the poor thing pushed
with all her might.

“Again!” Rusty shouted, continuing to guide
the baby’s head. “It’s coming,” she gasped, seeing it crown. To her
amazement, a tiny form whooshed out with a gush of blood and body
fluids onto the sheets. She heard a scream but didn’t realize it
came from her own lips.

Rusty stared, transfixed. A bloody lump lay
on the bed without a sound. Her heart pounded for a second and then
she snapped out of her mesmerized state, knowing that she had to do
something, and fast! She picked up his child, seeing its red face
slowly turn blue. The baby wasn’t breathing and she held her breath
too. Rusty quickly wiped the mucus from its tiny nostrils and
mouth, turned it upside down and smacked it firmly on the little
rump. She hit once, twice, then an ear-shattering howl that brought
tears to her eyes.

“It’s a girl,” Rusty whispered to Bonnie who
had lapsed into unconsciousness.

The new father looked at the screaming infant
with tears clouding his vision. After the cord was cut Wilbur asked
her to wash the child while he tended to his wife. “I remember
after the other births the doctor pushed on her stomach to get the
afterbirth out and then he packed Bonnie with rags to staunch the
flow of blood. I’m worried that she had lost too much already and
might die.”

Rusty said she would look after the infant
and Wilbur picked up his wife to assist in the removal of the
crimson sheets when the bedroom door flew open slamming against the
wall. The farmer stood immobile with Bonnie in his arm.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Guy moaned, feeling his big sore head and
tried to sit. The room swayed and he lay his aching head back down
on the pillow taking a moment to sort through his benumbed
thoughts. He realized he was in his own bed. Alone? He lifted the
blanket and saw he was clad only in his long johns, but he didn’t
remember undressing and only slightly recalled how he found his way
home. He groaned as bits and pieces of yesterday slipped though the
holes in his dazed brain and he remembered going into town for
Rusty’s gift and seeing the marshal. Rubbing his swollen eyes,
suspecting they were bloodshot, he strained to bring other facts
into focus. Something was keeping them back and he wasn’t sure if
he really wanted to summon the demons that made him drink. God! It
hurt to think. God, it felt like TNT exploded in his brain. But
think he did, and total recall brought bile to rise and he rolled
over swallowing the bitter taste of truth in his mouth and
heart.

On shaky legs, he lifted himself out of bed-a
big mistake because the floor tilted. He waited a moment or two and
then with great effort he poured water from the pitcher into the
basin. But splashing his face only renewed the pain in his head,
multiplying the pounding. He cupped his hand and scooped up some
water and swished around a mouthful before spitting it back into
the basin. It did nothing to remove the sour taste on his tongue.
Returning to bed, he sat heavily on the edge of the mattress and
clasped his pulsating temples in his hands. He groaned and now
questioned the cause he had for having a few drinks; at the time
liquor was his only answer. He didn’t mean to get sloshed but when
that pretty red head put her soft hand on his arm and smiled
sweetly, it was his undoing. After a few more drinks, she began to
smell… hmmm? Strange perfume, he now thought.

It was all seeping back. The more he drank
the more the woman smelled like roses. Two tipsy to stand, he
almost tripped up the stairs as the red head helped him to her
room. He remembered falling face first into the big bed, then
rolling over and glaring at the ceiling with a hazy vision. But his
mind was playing tricks; the tiny woman seemed to be taller than
she first appeared. The pretty young thing removed her clothes.
Wasn’t her hair a dull red, why did it look so bright and shiny
now? He reached out and called her name, then blackness.

Now, he dragged his hurting body out of the
room deciding that a cup of coffee would revive him. Not wanting
any hostile words with Rusty, he tip toed into the kitchen. He was
in luck. No one was about but a fresh pot of brewed coffee still
sat on the stove. It wasn’t hot but it would do. On his way out
later, he noticed a pillow and blanket on the sofa and realized
that his wife had slept there last night. He was not surprised but
sorely disappointed.

Things were not going well for Guy as he
continued to search the grounds for his wife. Some of the pain in
his head had lessened but not in his heart. He needed to confront
his wife for an explanation before setting things straight with
Nick, or whatever his name was. What hurt him most was how she had
used her body to lie to him. She bewitched him and he was a chump
ten times over for falling into her scheme. But even now, knowing
what she had done, he still wanted her; he didn’t want to let her
go. He laughed bitterly realizing that he had become the love sick
jerk he once accused Kyle of being.

On the way to the barn he bumped into his
foreman and Susan talking. Susan’s pert face was crinkled in a deep
frown, but when she spotted him her eyes brightened. The girl ran
over to him but stopped short, and then sputtered, trying to tell
him something. He put his hands up, signing her to slow down. His
head still ached some and her non-stop prattle was causing his ears
to ring. Susan nervously explained to Guy about Mr. Brown’s strange
visit earlier and how he pulled Rusty, wearing only her nightgown
and robe into his wagon, and then they drove away.