VII.
The badge – his badge…always that badge.
Keeping her from him, he from her; never allowing them even a second together, only half-stolen moments of frustration. If not for that badge—
But Dulcey stopped her inner rant. That badge was the very thing that'd brought him into her life. And there were times when she could see beyond it, to that deepest part of Jim, and hold him in her closest respect and affection. So she could not let him down, no matter how much it came between them. It was the greatest part of him, of who he was. If she could not accept it, then she could not accept him. Even if it meant him dashing off to the first signs of trouble, ordering her Inn closed and bringing her waifs to care for. He cared, he did care…
She hurried back to the sheeted cell and slipped through the open door – it'd been too much trouble to lock and unlock, and besides, Rachel Rose was deep into labor now and could not be moved. Dulcey still didn't favor the situation, even if the three soldiers had been released to help with the held-up train. Four men still remained, though they hunched against the ball walls. But it was too late to do anything about it now.
"Here," she said, handing over the fresh towels, noting the deepening shadows slanting through the barred windows at the last cells – the Spring evening would be coming in soon. How had the day slipped away? There would be supper to cook, if she had a moment…
Martha Kihlgren reached out to the take the rest but was suddenly struck from behind; she stumbled and went down in a flail of towels and a spray of water. Rachel Rose loomed over her, holding the dripping ewer, arm raised to strike again.
"Stop!" Dulcey cried out. "Don't hurt her – what are you doing?"
"Leave me be – let me out!" the other girl commanded, swaying, her eyes black with pain and anger.
"Out?" Dulcey repeated with incredulous confusion. "Oh, but you can't…"
"I'm going, you hear me?" Rachel Rose shouted, trembling hard and hiccupping a little. Her tormented look was a fresh glaze of pain pierced by what looked like hopelessness. "I'm not having this baby here – my baby…" She cringed as a contraction hit her, but swung the ewer again. "I am not—my baby," she gasped. "Leave me be!"
Dulcey moved toward her despite the threat, sensing the true need underneath the raging emotion; she needed someone to act as her friend, someone to care.. "Rachel Rose…" she began soothingly, even when the girl made a swipe at her. "Now there is no need for this. It's all right."
"It's not! It's all wrong. And I can't! I can't do it!"
"Of course you can," Dulcey told her quietly.
"I can't – I'm afraid!" Rachel Rose cried back. She sobbed and wobbled a little, the ewer still clutched hard in her fist. "I'm afraid – of everything. I ain't got nothing and this baby – my baby…" Her look tore through Dulcey's heart. "I don't know what to do."
Mrs. Kihlgren had straightened but Dulcey put out a hand to hold her back. "Well, to start with," Dulcey began calmly, though her knees were threatening to betray her weight. But the girl was helpless, truly so. "You're going to have your baby, and Mrs. Kihlgren and I are going to help you." She took the girl's arm, pulled the ewer from her shaking grasp and gave it to Martha. "And the rest will come. We'll help you, all right? Let us help…" She slid her arm around the quaking shoulders, let the other woman lean on her, then held as another birth pain hit and she stiffened, breathing fast.
"Don't leave me," she pleaded through gasps.
"We won't," Dulcey promised.
They got her re-settled and Martha pulled the sheets closed, then sat down and gave out directions. Rachel Rose gulped down her fear and nodded, bore down through the next pain while Dulcey helped hold her.
Again – and again – and—
It seemed to go on and on. The girl soaked herself in sweat, kept at it, refrained from crying out. Now Martha was telling her to push – push! One more time – push, dear, let's greet this child…
And then it was done and the girl had fallen back exhausted and Mrs. Kihlgren was busy with her hands and then there was a noise and a sputtering little cry. "You did it, dear," she beamed, holding up a little blanketed bundle. "A fine boy."
"A son," Dulcey exclaimed wondrously. "Oh, Rachel Rose, congratulations!"
The girl was crying afresh and trying to smile as she took her newborn into her arms, all red face, pink gums, slitted eyes and a matted wisp of dark hair. "My baby," she whispered fervently. "My boy – my son…" She looked up to Dulcey and Martha. "You – oh thank you…"
"Nonsense – you did all the work, dear," Martha praised her. "Now, there are other things to do…" She shooed Dulcey out with dirty linens and water and requested fresh.
"Is it all right with her, Miss?" one of the jailed cowboys asked worriedly as she slipped out of the cell. The others were standing at their doors, all wearing the same collective look of concern.
"Yes," Dulcey nodded. "It's a boy…"
"Praise be," said another.
"A boy…" the word went around among them in hushed tones, sharing the news that temporarily erased hardships, poor excuses and bad choices from before them.
"Looks like I'm too late," Dr. Kihlgren announced from the doorway. "How was the birth?"
"All right," Dulcey told him, breaking back into a smile. But then a terrible thought slammed into her chest and splintered the feelings she'd been holding there. And she was terrified to ask but she had to know... "What will happen to the baby?"
"Be sent off to the orphans home," Kihlgren replied in a lowered voice, moustaches twitching into a frown. "Or maybe someone hereabouts would be willing to take him in. But most farmers are stacked up waiting for that Outlet to open and they're barely getting by as it is."
Dulcey looked back at the tiny thing held protectively in Rachel Rose's arms. Orphan's home – dear life, no!
To think she had been so selfish with her own wants. She swallowed the notions with crusted guilt – what celebrations could this girl have, what birthdays could she share with her son? Their future held only bleakness and poverty. This fresh sweet life that had emerged among the despair was just a bare hope. And it would soon be crushed.
"She's asking for you," Mrs. Kihlgren told her.
"About the baby…" Dulcey stammered out to her. That innocent baby…
Martha shook her head. "We'll see if there's someone who can take him. But she's facing a jail sentence, Dulcey. By the time that's over she might not be able to get the boy back. Don't upset her, all right? Just be her friend – I think she needs one right now."
Dulcey somehow swallowed it back and managed a smile at the exhausted girl, but her lips felt stiff. And this girl was perceptive. "Can I get you anything, Rachel Rose?"
The other girl shook her head. "Would you like to hold him?" she then asked shyly.
"Oh," said Dulcey, so wanting to but afraid to be so forward as to ask. This tiniest thing – the tiniest human being… "Oh, I – yes, if – if…"
Rachel Rose held the newborn up. Dulcey gently took him, amazed at how he squirmed so in her hands. The little mouth opened, toothless, his eyes blinked with a bleary gaze and he emitted a tiny squeak. She could not help but marvel at the skin with the very veins running underneath, the defined hairline, the barely visible brows and a wisp of eyelashes. Delicate, yet so perfect. Seeing him, holding him, even the very new scent of him pulled at her. One day she wanted this, a child of her own, born from her very self, a creation that she would have a hand in making…
"Oh," she said again, curling him close – she could feel his every little breath, tiny but sure. "Oh, Rachel Rose, he is beautiful – I never…"
"The doc's wife showed me how to feed him, so he shouldn't cry now. If – if he needs changing…?"
"I'd be happy to help," Dulcey gushed. She sat on the stool with the bundle in her arms, found herself rocking. "How do you feel?"
"Better now. Not sure what'll happen though…"
It came rushing back over them, both powerless to do anything but realize it.
"I always wanted so much," Rachel Rose began. "Never had more than rags and dirt. Too many mouths at the table and never enough for everyone. I ran as soon as I could, but it wasn't much better on my own…Del, he came along and was different. He promised me – the money was for him…" She pointed to the baby. "I don't want him to be hungry and poor. It was wrong, I know, but without any land to farm we had nothing – but each other." She signed heavily. "I don't expect he'll be back… I thought maybe – I thought he loved me…" She looked up to Dulcey, unshed tears reflecting the painful truth. "He just used me, didn't he? Left me to get caught so he could get away."
"I don't know," Dulcey answered in an unsteady whisper. She could not give the girl optimism where none existed, but to just deny her everything... "It certainly won't be good for him if he keeps running. Marshal Crown…" she hesitated, then completed the rest. "He can be very persistent with lawbreakers. It's his duty, his job…" And Jim was an expert tracker, she knew. She'd heard talk of a special commendation waiting for him in Washington. He deserved it, certainly. He worked hard for the badge he wore, gave it pride. Denied himself much because of it. And, she thought a trifle sadly, held off others as well…
"If I go to jail," Rachel Rose began slowly, "what will happen to my baby?"
Fear chilled her inside. "Rachel Rose, you shouldn't worry about…"
"What will happen?" she insisted, then seemed to sense the truth. "They'll take him, won't they? Take him from me…"
"I'm sure it would only be temporary…" Dulcey tried weakly.
"I got nothing, then," Rachel Rose said bleakly. She bit her lip, caught back a raw sob. "Nothing…"
"I can ask the Marshal to talk to the judge," Dulcey offered – something, she had to do something. How could mother and son be forever separated? "Under these special circumstances…"
"No, you can't ask that of him." Rachel Rose wiped at her running nose, swiped at the spilling tears. "You'd ruin it between you and him."
That this girl could think of others when her own future was empty. I don't deserve this kindness...
"I can ask and I will," Dulcey told her. "He's fair, he'll listen."
"Ain't worth it," Rachel Rose huskily replied. She shook her head. "I just ain't worth it."
