Chapter 4 – My Love

"Still . . . bleeding?"

This time I collapsed into the chair without encouragement of any kind. Bret sat down next to me, and Simon took a chair right across from us.

"Yes. I've been trying to stop it with no success."

"Is she awake?"

My brother and the doctor exchanged that look again. I wanted to know just what it meant. "She . . . she might not recognize you, Bart."

The remark that Simon had just made didn't penetrate my skull. "I don't care. I want to see her anyway."

"Alright."

The three of us made a procession into the house and back to the bedroom. Simon went in first, followed by me and flanked by Bret. Doralice lay in the middle of our bed, and she looked like she was just sleeping. My eye caught something in the corner of the room; it was a massive pile of sheets soaked through with blood. My wife's blood.

There was a chair next to the bed and I sat down in it. She didn't move, but I took one of her hands in mine and called to her. "Doralice . . . Doralice honey, it's Bart. You know, that crazy fella you married a while back. Can you hear me?" There was no sound and no movement. She was as pale as a ghost, and her hand was as cold as ice. "Do you hear me?"

My eyes traveled down the length of her body and saw the red stain on the sheet. I shuddered, and Simon was there suddenly, pulling me out of the chair. "Come on, Bart, we have to get her cleaned up again." He handed me off to Bret, who wrapped his arm around my shoulders and walked me out of the room. He leaned me up against a wall outside the bedroom and I listened to the noise inside. A low-grade moan sounded, and I knew it must be my blue-eyes; then I felt Bret's hands on my shoulders shaking me.

"Don't listen to it," he told me. "You can't listen to it; you've got to take care of that baby and pray for her."

I pulled away from him; I was in better shape than he thought I was. I stood in the hallway and waited to hear the door open again; when it did, I went straight back to the chair at her bedside. "Blue-eyes," I murmured, and she heard me. Her eyelids fluttered, and then those blue orbs opened and she tried a smile; within seconds she was asleep again. I glared up at Simon. "Can't you do something?" I demanded.

"We're doing all we can do, Bart. She needs to sleep, and I need to get the bleeding stopped."

"How long is that gonna take?" I asked, somewhat belligerently.

"I don't know, Bart. I just don't know."

XXXXXXXX

I'd fallen asleep in a chair in the living room, with the previously wiggling bundle in my arms. Around ten o'clock I heard a soft cry and woke up suddenly; the baby boy was looking for some food. Ginny took him from my arms and carried him into the bedroom; about fifteen minutes later she brought him back and handed him to me to burp. I took him, somewhat reluctantly, and he fixed me with a look from those brown eyes right before I laid him across my shoulder. They were my eyes, but they were momma's eyes lookin' at me, and as soon as he burped I had a conversation with him.

"Looks like you're stuck lookin' like me," I told him. "I've waited a long time for you, and you better live up to the way you look. You be good and behave for your momma and me, you gave her an awful bad time bein' born. She still don't feel good, so if you could cut her some slack that would be appreciated. Anything you wanna know?"

He kept right on lookin' at me and I couldn't decide if I was the best thing or the worst he'd ever seen. It was disconcerting to look down at the bundle I was holding and have somebody that looked like me lookin' back. He seemed quite content to lay in my arms, and wasn't the least upset or disturbed that it wasn't his momma holdin' him. "You don't wanna make this an everyday occurrence, bud. I've got too many four-legged beasties to raise."

"Hell of a way to talk to your flesh and blood," I heard Bret from across the room. "Mine don't look at me like that."

"I wouldn't look at you like that, either. You been awake all this time?"

He nodded. "Yeah, nothin' from Simon yet."

"He's still here?" I asked.

"Yep. You need anything? Food, water, coffee?"

I wasn't interested in any of that, but there was somethin' I needed. "Can you hold him for a minute? I need to do somethin'."

Bret came over and took the baby from me, then sat back down. "He is a little thing, ain't he?"

"We got hounds bigger than him. I'll be right back." I made my way outside, took care of my business, and came back in. Bret met me at the door.

"He woke up and was hungry again, so I sent him in with Ginny. She hasn't come back yet."

It was about fifteen minutes when Ginny came back, and I went through the burping routine again. Once I was finished, Ginny announced, "She's awake and she wants to see you."

"Any progress from Simon?"

Ginny shook her head and looked mournful. "None so far," was the answer I got. I soon found myself in the bedroom, and I was surprised to see my wife's eyes open. Nothing else had changed . . . she was still cold as ice, only now there was a slight blue tint to her lips. It almost matched her eyes, which were open and watching me.

"Doralice," I whispered, and she turned her head

"Right here," I told her and showed her the bundle I again held in my arms. She nodded and finally moved - reaching out carefully to brush some hair out of his eyes. "Do you want to hold him?"

She moved her head slightly, indicating 'no.' "Looks like you." Her eyes closed then, she'd done enough for one day.

"Should we go ahead with the name?" I wanted to catch her while she was awake, or at least coherent. We'd been talkin' for a long time about a habit that had developed with boys names in the family. All boys firsts names started with b and middle names began with j. We had an exception for that rule . . . we wanted to name him Tim Jacob Maverick. I promised I would run it by Doralice when he was born, and she'd just given us her final approval.

Ginny was still there, so I handed Tim to her and turned my entire attention to my wife. She was asleep again, and I sat down and held her hand. No change in temperature. Evidently Simon had managed to slow the bleeding down, because I was at her bedside for almost twenty minutes before he came and chased me out. "Simon?" I asked as he herded me out.

"Yes, Bart?"

"Any change?"

"The bleeding has slowed, but not stopped, I'm still working on it."

"Her lips are blue."

"I know, I'm trying to raise her temperature." Just as he said that Lily Mae walked in with an armload of blankets. I left the room quietly, with my little bundle in my arms. He was asleep again, just like his momma. I was praying that both would wake up soon.

XXXXXXXX

That day passed slowly, with Doralice sleeping most of it and me taking care of Tim. He was only eating about every two hours, and whenever someone came to see about Doralice, I got to show them Tim. I was proud of him, even if he was small. The only one that balked at the name was Maude, and she really was more confused than anything. "I thought them boys had to have an 'M' name," she asked.

"Traditionally they did, yeah, you're right. Doralice and me talked about this for months. I wanted to name him Tim, and she understood. So when he was born, we broke tradition. It's as simple as that."

When I told Bret he said, "Tim, huh?" with a raised eyebrow, but nothin' more. Pappy took it well, I thought.

"Tim. It's a good name. It fits him. Come to your grandpa, Tim. Let's let your daddy sit down for a while, huh?" Pappy talked to him, and walked with him; he even took him out on the front porch for a few minutes. When they came back in, Pappy told me, "He's real attentive when you take him outside. He likes all the bird's and the noise in the wind, and he likes to watch the squirrels. But he don't last long, that's for sure."

Bret helped me bring in the crib and put it by Dorilces' bedside the next time I got to go in. I laid Tim down in it and he kind of "oofed," and my beauty in the bed opened her eyes for a minute and reached down and touched him. "Beautiful boy," she murmured before she fell asleep again. Ginny was there to feed him, even though he hadn't cried, and I got to help. It didn't take much to fill him up, and I was right there to burp him. Doralice woke, and I put her son in her arms, and she smiled. Then he smiled at his momma. I know, it was probably gas, but I choose to think of it as a smile.

I went out to the kitchen to see everybody. Lucien had come up to the house to see if there was anything special I wanted, and Lily Mae was feeding him. I sat down with some coffee, and within two minutes I had eggs and bacon in front of me. I started to push it away and Lily said, "Eat, Mr. B. You're gonna need your strength for them two in there."

I knew better than to argue, so I put what she'd given me in my mouth and chewed it until it was small enough to swallow. I washed it down with the coffee and gallantly ate another bite, then pushed what was left away. I needed more coffee before I could answer my foreman. "Yeah, take Spreckles out of the barn and put him in the pasture with the quarter-horse mares. Other than that, just keep watch on our expectant girls. There's a couple ready to drop us a new foal any minute. And Baron . . . I'll take him out later. We both need to get out of here for a while."

Lucien nodded, then asked, "How's the misses? She doin' any better?"

I wanted to jump up and down and say 'Yes! Yes!' but I couldn't. "Not really. Doc Simon's still here, and he's tryin' to stop the blood loss . . . that's all I know."

"And the little fella?"

"He's doin' fine. Sleeps a lot. We named him Tim. Tim Jacob."

"After the Tim you lost?"

"How'd you know about that?" I was somewhat startled that he brought up Tim Demerest and seemed to know something about him.

"You know how guys in a bunkhouse are. Eventually everybody knows everything. Especially when it's that big of a loss. Hard to lose somebody like that. Even harder because he was so young and talented."

"That he was. Talented, I mean. He could make horses do things I ain't never seen. Ya know, I've seen you out there with those colts, especially the cross-breed Criollo. They respond faster to you than anybody. Keep up the good work, Lucien. There's good things happenin' in your future." I stood up and drained my coffee cup. "I gotta get back in there. See what's goin' on. I'll catch you later, when I come down to ride Baron."

"Sure thing, boss. I'll be around somewhere."

Lucien headed out the front door, and I followed him partway down the hallway. The bedroom door was closed, and I didn't know what that meant, so I sat in the living room and waited for someone to come out. They did, about ten minutes later. It was Simon, and he looked grim. "Stay there, Bart. I've something to tell you."

I've never seen Simon like that, so stern and forbidding. I tried to steel myself against what was coming. I couldn't begin to imagine what he was about to tell me.

"I thought we'd gotten the bleeding stopped, but it's started up again. She's hemorrhaging, Bart, and I can't do a damn thing to stop it. She's not gonna make it through this."

"Simon, are you telling me that Doralice is gonna die?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you, Bart."