Chapter 8

Emilie turned a page and yawned. This baby had been good to her all these months, she hadn't had any nausea, but the sleepiness… she could fall asleep at any time of the day and it was never enough. She caressed her belly and the baby moved, tickling her inside, making her laugh. The baby's touch was light and gentle, like the wings of a little bird. Emilie sighed in contentment. She didn't miss anything of her old life. Not the fame, not the suitors, not the fancy parties, not all those whimsical people orbiting around her like lonely planets around a shiny star. She was more than happy with her present life.

Emilie went back to her page. "To me, the spectacle of a man drifting serenely along through such a queer yarn without ever smiling, was exquisitely absurd."

Exquisitely absurd. Like those tales the newspaper had been telling about her being the "royal mistress"(*). She had been hurt so badly by those rumors she had decided to leave the country for a while and let it all blow over. She had come to America and that had been the best decision she had ever made. She had met the charming young barrister by the name of Jarrod Thomas Barkley, Esq., at the Governor's ball and her life had changed forever.

Oh, concentrating on her reading wasn't possible. She could just as well close the book and indulge in the sweet thoughts that had been tugging at her sleeve all day. She closed her eyes and visualized the beloved face of her handsome husband. "Lillie, my life", his deep, warm voice pronouncing her childhood nickname echoed in her ears. "Oh, Jarrod my love," her inner voice called him as her lips moved to silently form his name. The image of his blue, blue eyes filled her closed eyes as the warm feeling of their mutual love enveloped her like a soft blanket.

As he entered the parlor of the luxury apartment they had bought in Nob Hill, Jarrod smiled at the sight of his heavenly beautiful wife fast asleep on their settee. So abandoned, a protective hand on her pregnant belly and the other hand holding a book, the delicate head resting on the stuffed seat back, she looked so vulnerable. He wanted to protect her, to protect the child that was inside her, their child. He was born to protect them. It was so clear now his whole life, all the things he had done so far had just been a prelude to this moment.

Moved to tears by the surge of love that overwhelmed his heart, Jarrod came closer and sat on the border of the settee. He looked at the title of the book. The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, and Other Sketches by Mark Twain. The book his mother had given him the last time she had come to San Francisco. From her last letter, even though she hadn't really said anything, he could tell she was worried. He knew her too well. She was worried and he believed it all had to do with Nick's wife. Jarrod hadn't known Sabrina long, but that small amount of time had been more than enough to learn how untrustworthy she was. She was false as water(**), he quoted in his mind. And mean. When they had announced the pregnancy to the family, Sabrina had nonchalantly thrown a nasty comment which in his memory, still infuriated him.

"So what will you call this baby, Jarrod? Bertie?" She had asked derisively, a smile on the unperturbed, beautiful face. Jarrod groaned in disgust at the memory. Wanting to divert his mind from the disturbing thought, he focused once again on Emilie's angelic face. Oh, God, how beautiful she was. Her mouth was slightly open as she breathed steadily. Her lips curved almost imperceptibly upwards and her eyes moved underneath her lids for a pleasant dream passing by.

He reached out and cupped her warm cheek with his open palm. She sighed. Jarrod bent and whispered thoughtfully in her perfectly chiseled ear. "I better cover you up, my life, before you catch a cold." When he gingerly pulled the book out of her hands, she opened her eyes. She didn't move from her position and just smiled at him the most fond smile.

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't want to wake you, my life," he said regretfully, laying down the book on the tea table.

"Oh, Jarrod, my love. It's such a joy to wake up to the sight of your eyes," she replied from the same position she had been, just reaching out and taking his hand. He bent to kiss her on her lips. "I love you, Lillie," he said. He wanted to go back to the ranch once the baby was born. She could sure use Mother's help and he was missing his home and brothers and sister. He would have already gone if it wasn't for Sabrina. He and Emilie had discussed and decided to wait for Nick's house to be finished, but now he was feeling the urge to go and check on his mother as soon as possible.

"What are you thinking, my love?" Emilie asked.

"You know, my life, I was thinking about making a little trip to the ranch. You can still travel this early in the pregnancy and I am a little worried for Mother. She wouldn't tell me but I know there's something wrong."

"Oh, yes, my beloved, you know I will follow you to the ends of the earth. I've been feeling so lonely and I'm missing your…" Suddenly, Emilie sucked some air through her teeth and clutched Jarrod's hand.

"Lillie? Lillie are you alright?" Jarrod asked worriedly, her hand still in his, all his senses already on full alert.

"Just… Just like a… tightening in the stomach, my love, I don't think it is anything bad," she reassured him, smiling weakly for his benefit.

But Jarrod was already on his feet. "I'll get the doctor," he said resolutely and quickly left the room before he could see Emilie struggle in the throes of another uncomfortable contraction.

"So where did you say you're from, Thomson?" Nick asked hammering the last staple in order to attach the wire as Heath was holding the post still with both hands in the hole he had dug.

"I didn't say it," Heath responded matter-of-factly as he left the post and carefully unrolled another ball of wire. They were ready for the next one.

Nick laid the hammer on the top of the post and rested his fists on his hips, frowning. "Alright. Would you care to tell me where are you from, Thomson?"

Heath sighed. "Mining camp," came his evasive response as he offered the extremity of the wire to Nick. Nick didn't take it just as yet. "What mining camp?" he asked, finally taking the wire from a relieved Heath and making it turn around the post, as the other man took a firm hold of it.

"Strawberry."

"Strawberry," Nick repeated. "I have already heard this name."

Heath didn't comment and the two men went on working together in companionable silence and in perfect synergy.

"You know what, Thomson? As much as enjoy your company, we might save some time if we split up."

"We probably would, as late as it's gettin'."

"Tell you what. I'll go further down the line and you follow up here."

"Alright, Barkley."

"It'll be dark before you're through, you better spend the night in the line shack."

"That's what I figured."

"Sounds like you were looking for an excuse to spend the night out on the range, Thomson."

"Well, once in a while I like to be off by myself, boss," Heath confirmed.

"You know, Thomson, sometimes I'd like to do that myself," Nick said with a sadder tone than he intended.

"Just say the word, Barkley. You take the bunk and I'll sleep on the floor. I've slept in worse places," Heath suggested.

Nick thought for a little while, then shrugged. "Nah, or Sabrina will have my hide," he said with a awkward laugh that sounded false to his own ears.

Heath said nothing and gave Nick a little, sympathetic smile.

"You have to come over to dinner sometime, Thomson," Nick said and turned to get his horse before Heath could reply.

Heath watched him ride away. Sighing deeply, he went back to his task. He wanted to complete the section before sunset. He looked around and since there was no one in sight, he took off his shirt, revealing his well-built chest, and used it to mop his sweated forehead.

Yes, he would finish the section. Hard work had always been the best way for avoiding pesky thoughts.

(*) My Emilie is loosely inspired by Lillie Langtry ( wiki/Lillie_Langtry). She was indeed the Prince of Wales, Albert Edward, later Edward VII, Queen Victoria's son's mistress. Like Langtry, my Emilie was an English actress and knew the Prince of Wales, but in my story she never was his mistress. Lillie Langtry was married and had a daughter, probably not from her husband. She was a close friend of Oscar Wilde's and she had a reputation for being the most beautiful woman in the world.

(**) Quote from Shakespeare's Othello, Act V, Scene II