SEPTEMBER 20th, 1885
Woody and I were working in the barn when Bug found us.
"Back from Sweet Grass?" I asked lazily, but then I could see his solemn, black eyes were wide, and he shook his head.
"I stopped by the Seely place," he said, trying to remain calm, I suppose now. "Mr. Seely sent me to fetch you. The baby is coming." He was out of breath.
"It's too soon!" I said, and I looked at Woody. He nodded in understanding.
"Come on, Jo. I'll take you." He turned to hitch the wagon while I ran back to the house with Bug.
She lay on her bed in their dusty little soddy when we arrived, gripping the sheets in pain while Matt paced at the foot of her bed.
"How long has she been laboring?" I shouted out to him as I flew to her bedside.
"Since yesterday," he mumbled.
"Yesterday?" I hissed at him. "And you didn't think to fetch me any sooner?" He mumbled something, some feeble apology. I sent him outside so I could turn my attention to Lily. Her skin was cold and pale, and she shivered in her thin nightgown. The strands of her sweat-drenched hair stuck to her damp cheeks.
I called her name softly, but she seemed at first not to see or hear. I called again, and she reached out her hand.
"Jo! It's too soon! It's too soon, isn't it?" she said, and I put a hand on her forehead. I could not lie, even to her, but I smiled weakly.
"Listen to me, Lily. You need to do just as I say. Do you understand me?"
She nodded at me with fearful eyes.
I did what I could to speed things, but poor Lily was already too weakened. She labored on for the rest of the afternoon until her little body could do no more. The men stood helplessly in the doorway, listening to her screams, the way men have done in childbirth since time began.
Shortly before sundown, she gave one last push, and the tiny form slipped silently into the world. I held the still, perfect little body in my hands. Ten perfect toes and fingers, a pink, rosebud mouth.
"Jo! Baby is here! Tell me! Is it a boy or a girl!" Lily had collapsed, exhausted, against the bed.
There was nothing I could do. I wrapped the body in the little quilt its mother had made. "A girl," I said quietly.
"A girl! O! a girl! I wanted a girl!" she said, but she then frowned and tried to lift herself on her elbows. "What's wrong, Jo? She's not crying! What's wrong!"
I sadly carried the fragile little bundle to Lily, and she let out an agonizing cry. Matt burst in the roon, and when he saw us there, he, too, cried out once, and collapsed on his knees at the bedside.
I left them there alone and stepped out into the sunset. Bug and Woody knew all without me saying a word. Woody removed his had and stood with his head hung low while we listened to their ragged sobs within. It struck Bug particularly hard, and he separated himself from us and walked some distance away.
I sat with Lily while the men prepared a grave. She rocked the baby and crooned it a lullaby through her tears until Matt came in and took it from her as she cried out in anguish. I watched through the window while he laid the baby, still wrapped in her mother's quilt, in a little patch of earth.
I felt her clutch at my hand. "They say babies who've not been baptized won't go to heaven. Do you think that's so, Jo?"
"I don't believe that for a minute," I said shaking my head. "Baby's in heaven, Lily."
She seemed to smile a little with relief. "I think so, too," she said.
We left them there with their grief. I have attended more than one birth here. Most of them with happy outcomes, many of them, not. That is the harsh reality of life here. Still, I could not help cry for this baby as we rode back home. She held so much hope, and it had all been dashed away.
Bug disappeared as soon as we got back. I was exhausted and collapsed on the bed. Woody came in the house and stood there in the doorway. No one could speak.
"You did the best you could, Jo," he said softly.
I could only nod. I opened my mouth then to say something, but he had already gone.
OCTOBER 3rd, 1885
It has been too hard to write. I did not plan to write today, as I felt nothing important enough had happened. O, how I wish that were true.
We were about our chores this afternoon when we saw a horse thunder up the road to the house. It was Eddie, pale and out of breath. He jumped off the horse almost before he had come to a halt.
"There's news, Miss Jo," he huffed, and I could tell it was very bad news indeed. Matt Seely, who apparently had been missing since last night, was found dead on the road from Sweet Grass with a knife under his ribs.
O, what has happened to our peaceful prairie home!
