Wild Horses, Wild Hearts 3, page 15
“John!” she blurted as soon as she had gathered enough breath, knowing that she’d need her husband’s help now more than ever before. John, however, seemed to have been more worn out than she’d expected by her erotic ministrations and was fast asleep.
“John!” she hissed through gritted teeth, one hand pressed on her belly while the other reached over and began shaking her husband. But much like a moss covered rock left for too long in the forest, John Baldwin remained unresponsive and still.
As the second contraction began to crest within her body, Maggie made a decision.
“No way in Heaven I’m letting you sleep through this!” she shouted as she hauled her arm back as far as it would go before bringing it forward, palm backward, right across her husband’s peaceful face.
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It took an odd sort of person to appreciate being slapped full across the face first thing when they woke up, and needless to say John Baldwin was not one of those types. Be that as it may, he still found himself woken from what was possibly the most restful sleep he’d had in the past nine months by the force of the back of his wife’s hand striking him across his bristled cheeks.
“WAKE UP YOU WORTHLESS RANCH HAND!” Maggie shouted, followed immediately by a pained cry from her.
Despite the harsh awakening, the sound of his wife in pain cleared John’s head in an instant and he swiftly focused his eyes on her.
Maggie, still completely naked, was huffing and puffing like a newly minted locomotive as her hands grasped her round belly and her skin was running with bullets of sweat. It was such a sight to behold that for a moment John was left stunned.
His wife, however, noticed his lapse in action and quickly reached out a hand to grab a handful of his blond hair and painfully wrench him back to the present.
“My water broke and I’m going into labor, you fool,” she seethed through clenched teeth, pulling his face close to hers, her hot, labored breathing roiling over him.
“What?!” John cried out, his heart suddenly beating like a piston hammering away. “Right now?! But how and—?”
Maggie tightened her grip on his hair, cutting him off. “Quit jawin’ and go get my mother,” she hissed before shoving him out of bed with a push of her arm.
John managed to land on his feet only to quickly stumble over the pile made up of his clothes and boots, carelessly discarded from their earlier amorous activities. The clothes did serve to remind him that he was also without apparel, and he quickly made an effort to locate at least his trousers.
Can’t be fetchin’ Abigail naked as a jaybird, he thought as he fumbled for his pants, arduously attempting to cram his thick legs into the article of clothing. His efforts were made all the more difficult with each groan and gasp of breath he heard his wife make.
He had just hauled his trousers up and had one of the braces over his shoulder to support them when the door swung open to admit Abigail McNeal herself, the matriarch appearing with a look of concern etched across her face. She took one look at her pained daughter and one at her half-dressed son-in-law and quickly sized up the situation.
“John,” she stated firmly in an almost supernaturally calm tone, “we need to act quickly. Leyla and Chase are in the kitchen. Tell them they’re to go and fetch Doctor Wilson and Fergus immediately.”
“How did you know?” John asked dumbly.
Abigail offered a confident smile. “There’s probably folks in Cheyenne wondering what that loud shout was from right about now,” she replied.
“I heard that!” Maggie snapped before returning to her present task of trying to give birth.
“Yes, dear, I know you did,” Abigail said sweetly before looking to John again. “But let Chase and Leyla handle Doctor Wilson and Fergus, John. You’ll be needed by your wife’s side as she goes through this.”
John nodded dimly in understanding, though part of him felt that he ought to be the one to go and retrieve Dr. Wilson at least. Abigail, it seemed, had other—and likely more helpful—plans for him.
“Once you’ve set them off on their way, put a pot of water to boil on the stove top,” she directed. “Throw a few more pieces of kindling inside so it’ll keep plenty hot. Then I need you to go and tell Roaming Moon and Flowing River that I need their help quick as can be.”
John hadn’t expected his mother-in-law to request the help of his Native family, but he enjoyed a spark of happiness knowing that they’d be part of this monumental moment in his life. Casting one more loving and concerned look over his shoulder at his wife, he leapt past Abigail and trundled down the stairs to seek the help of his sister-in-law and her lover.
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“Maggie’s in labor!” John gasped, trying with all his might to catch his breath as he leaned against the kitchen stove. “Abigail wants you two to ride to Cheyenne and bring Doc Wilson and Fergus here!”
Leyla and Chase were on their feet in an instant, the chairs they’d been sitting in knocked over by the sudden action.
“But what about you, John?” Leyla asked, concern for her sister and the child racing through her like a thoroughbred horse.
“Abigail told me I’m staying right here with Maggie,” he wheezed.
Leyla was about to ask more when she felt a hand squeeze her shoulder. She looked and saw that Chase was gazing intently at her, the fires of determination blazing in them.
“C’mon, Leyla,” he said fiercely. “Your sister needs our help and we’re not getting it done standing here talking. Tell you what—let’s see who gets back here first from Cheyenne. We’ll flip a coin in the stable to decide who has to fetch whom.”
Before Leyla could get a word in edgewise, Chase spun on his heel and bolted for the kitchen door, intent on getting to the stable first.
For another moment, Leyla wrestled with the emotions churning inside of her regarding her sister and her unborn child, but the thrill of a race against the man she loved was too good to pass up.
“You’re on, Chase McAllister!” she called as she sprinted after him with every intention of reaching Whirlwind before he reached Cannonball.
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Despite Maggie, John, and Abigail continually offering to build them a proper bunkhouse, the folks of the Native tribe who had settled onto the McNeal Ranch had made do with their tipis throughout the remainder of the winter. When the snows had finally cleared up and the temperatures rose above freezing, they had constructed wigwams—sturdy structures that were more akin to their usual dwellings.
Though the appearance of the structures stood in stark contrast to the rest of the McNeal Ranch, Maggie herself had said that so long as they were all comfortable and safe, she had no issues with the wigwams. Additionally, she had also stated that anyone who came to her ranch and told her they were unbecoming would be leaving the ranch in a pine box before they’d said much more.
It was within one of the wigwams that Flowing River rested, easing his tired bones as he meditated by the fire inside. Something told him that trouble was rising and that he would be needed before long.
As if on cue, Soaring Arrow burst into the wigwam, startling Roaming Moon, Sleeping Bear, and a few others, but Flowing River didn’t move a single muscle.
The Spirits speak true once more, he thought as he opened his eyes to regard the young man. Despite the look of panic in Soaring Arrow’s eyes, Flowing River couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at his appearance.
Soaring Arrow, however, wasted no time as he relayed Abigail’s request for Flowing River and Roaming Moon to join her upstairs in helping Maggie give birth.
Flowing River offered the young man a wizened smile as he stood up, his tired bones audibly popping in a few places, but still he stood upright.
“The time has come to welcome your little one into this world, Soaring Arrow,” he rasped proudly. “Much like when I first welcomed you into this world.”
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Outside the McNeal Ranch Land, Near Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory, May 1886
“Are you sure zis is safe?!”
For the umpteenth time, Doctor Karl Wilson made his concerns regarding safety known all too well to Leyla McNeal as he clung desperately to her as her white mustang charged through the dusk back toward the McNeal Ranch.
“Safe as houses, Doc!” Leyla answered back, grinning madly as her red ponytail whipped in the breeze. “Can’t keep Maggie waiting, and besides, it looks like I’m gonna beat Chase and Uncle Fergus back to the ranch!”
Dr. Wilson didn’t care about young Leyla’s race with her show riding beau, and he especially didn’t care for being jostled on the back of the young woman’s horse, his one arm wrapped tightly around her lithe waist while the other gripped his medical bag in white-knuckled terror, but he did accept that Margaret needed his care and had every intention of getting to the ranch as swiftly as possible.
The younger McNeal sister had burst into his office not long before and informed him that her sister was in labor. It took Dr. Wilson only a few moments to gather the necessary items to attend to a birth, placing them expertly inside of his medical bag. He’d had every intention of riding alongside Leyla on his simple two-wheeled buggy, but the young woman had been rather insistent that he ride with her.
Mein Gott, of all the times for Hilda to be visiting her sister, he thought sullenly, wishing he had his wife and nurse to assist him in the upcoming endeavor. Still, I suppose this ride could be worse.
A cheer from further behind him and Leyla caused the two of them to turn their heads to see just what the source of the noise was.
“Tarnation,” Leyla gulped, her eyes going wide in disbelief.
There, less than a mile behind and gaining fast, were Chase McAllister and Fergus Finnegan. To make matters worse, Fergus wasn’t riding on the back of Cannonball like Dr. Wilson was on Whirlwind. Instead, the Irishman had managed to rouse his new horse, Ulster, and was now riding expertly alongside Chase.
Even as far away as they were, through the dying daylight, and through his all too small glasses, Dr. Wilson could see the matching looks of manic determination on the riders’ faces as they spurred their mounts forward.
That can’t be good, he thought glibly. His deduction proved true a moment later as Leyla called back to him over the roar of thundering hooves.
“Might wanna pull yourself a little tighter, Doc,” she cautioned as she pulled her hat low over her eyes. “Things are about to get interesting.”
“Leyla McNeal, don’t you dare!” he warned, though his words fell on deaf ears as he felt and heard the young redhead jab her spurs into the white horse’s sides, pushing him to move even faster. All Dr. Wilson could do was pull his arm even tighter around her waist to keep himself secured.
After tonight, I am never riding on a horse with anyone other than my lovely Hilda again! he quietly vowed as the riding became much rougher.
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“Tarnation, Fergus, where’d you learn to ride like that?!”
Chase McAllister was in awe of the skill that Fergus Finnegan was displaying, especially considering the man’s age and the beast he was riding.
The Irishman laughed as he pushed the magnificent creature that was Ulster across the Wyoming plains. “Union Cavalry, Lad!” he hollered back with a whooping cheer. “Pay close attention and you might just learn something useful!”
Chase couldn’t help but laugh at the old man’s vigor as the two of them rode in pursuit of Leyla and Dr. Wilson, the two mounted on Whirlwind not far ahead.
“Better pick up the pace, Charlie!” Fergus called as he and Ulster pulled slightly ahead of Chase and Cannonball. “Lest you want to be bested by me precious goddaughter!”
The young show rider whooped in joy as he spurred Cannonball to catch up with the old saloonkeeper and the lovely Leyla.
It looked like it was going to be a close finish for all of them. And Chase wouldn’t have had it any other way.
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McNeal Ranch Land, Near Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory, May 1886
While waiting for Leyla and Chase to return with Dr. Wilson and Uncle Fergus, Maggie had sought to ease her discomfort at the increasing contractions any way that she could.
Unfortunately for John, that currently meant gripping his hand in hers and crushing it with every ounce of strength she had in her body to devote to the task. The Kentuckian winced in silence as his wife vented her pain at him, praying that his hand and the bones inside it would be able to withstand the pressure she was putting on it.
Abigail, Flowing River, and Soaring Moon were working together to help Maggie through her contractions as they came one after another. The medicine man and the young Native woman were busy mixing a strong herbal tea to help ease the pain while Abigail rotated rags of cold water on her daughter’s forehead to regulate her body temperature.
For both Maggie and John, time seemed to lose all meaning as they waited and labored through the birth. It was as though everything outside of their bedroom had ceased to exist.
After what may has well have been a dozen hours, but in fact had only been two, Dr. Wilson appeared in the doorway, looking absolutely disheveled and being herded inside by a victoriously grinning Leyla. Behind them, Chase and Fergus appeared, grumbling in good humor.
Dr. Wilson quickly began his examination of Margaret, using his pocket watch to time her contractions while simultaneously sanitizing his equipment in the boiling hot water that Abigail provided.
It was no longer a question of “if” but “when.”
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“Breathe Maggie! BREATHE!”
“Push, Frau Baldwin! PUSH!”
To Maggie, it sounded like a hundred and one different commands were being issued to her from every side of her bed as the pressure inside of her grew by leaps and bounds. She could not see who spoke each one as her eyes were screwed shut from the agony of what was happening to her body. Beyond the sensation of pressure within her lower body, all she could feel was her mother’s comforting hands resting supportively on her shoulders and her husband’s hand gripped in hers.
This is...too much! she worried, feeling hot tears and sweat streaming down across her cheeks. I feel like I’m going to be torn in two straight up the middle!
Though it didn’t feel like much, it did strike her that with every breath she took, with every push she urged her body to give, and with every primal cry of pain she loosed from her lips, it felt like whatever was emerging from her moved another inch.
But how much more can I take?! I’ve taken falls from bucking broncos that have hurt less than this!
She felt as though she were going to pass out from the pain and exertion forced upon her.
She would have, if she hadn’t suddenly felt a pair of lips press against hers in a tender kiss. Her eyes flew open, quickly registering the sight of her husband kissing her in full view of God and everyone else gathered.
In that moment, the pain and pressure faded away as John pulled away and offered her his most loving and devoted smile.
“John?” she whispered, still unsure as to whether or not she was hallucinating.
“Push, Maggie,” he said soothingly, his free hand reaching up to brush a few tears and beads of sweat away. “Just one more push is all you need.”
Until that moment, Maggie had thought that the muscles in her lower body would be unable to exert any more effort, but now as she stared deeply into John’s loving eyes, she felt as though the effort was as simple as falling off of a horse.
Maggie McNeal Baldwin gave one final push that to anyone else would have felt like they had been struggling against a boulder, but to her it seemed as though the force was the same as if she had been pushing a door that had been left ajar open.
A loud cry pierced the air as both Maggie and John stared expectantly toward the foot of the bed.
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McNeal Ranch Land, Near Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory, June 1886
Plenty of folks often made a big hullabaloo about sunrises and sunsets, but there was far subtler daily event that many often overlooked.
Moonrise.
While not as grandiose as the sight of the sun rising or setting, there was a certain humbling majesty to watching the moon slowly climb into the darkening sky, full, proud, and ready to shine down upon all who needed it.
On one such balmy evening in late June, a pair of riders and their horses stood atop the eastern ridge that had come to be known as McNeal Hill. The riders kept close to one another, their hands locked together lovingly as they watched the moon rise, vanquishing the sun and its heat for another day.
A slight movement against her chest stole Maggie’s attention away from the moon as she gazed down at the sleeping bundle wrapped in a blanket. For a moment, she worried that the little darling would wake up, but no, aside from a tuft of golden blond hair peeking out from the blanket, little Rose Baldwin remained fast asleep against her mother’s breast.
Since the moment she had first entered the world and been nestled in Maggie’s arms, both of her parents knew that they would do anything for that little girl.
John gave Maggie’s hand a squeeze as he looked at their daughter. “I still can’t get over how beautiful she is,” he breathed.
Maggie gave her husband a loving smile. “Beauty is fine, but the real test will come when we see how she handles a horse and herding cattle.” She giggled.
The Kentuckian returned her smile with one of his own. “I reckon between us, Aunt Leyla and Uncle Chase, Uncle Guarding Wolf, and old Uncle Fergus, she’ll take to riding like an eagle to the sky.”
I know she will, Maggie thought confidently as she gently spurred Apollo forward to make their way down the hill, John and Longbow following right alongside them.
As the moon rose higher in the night sky to join the glimmering stars and bathe the McNeal Ranch in moonlight, the two riders knew that no matter what the future brought them, they’d meet it together with determination, devotion, and love.
THE END.
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