By Delahay
I'm known by Jess, sometimes Jess Harper but that makes me nervous. I have warrants hanging over me in Jasper and Harris counties in Texas, so I don't usually put Jess with Harper. The warrants were just for drunk and disorderly, but I didn't want to go back to Texas any time soon. I'd had nothing but bad luck there.
It had been a little over ten years since The War. I could remember when my squad was manning a fifteen pounder. My best friend was suppose to chock the wheels so the recoil of the cannon wouldn't cause it to roll back. I still don't know if he forgot or just didn't bother to do it. Either way, the chock wasn't there and, when I pulled the lanyard, the wheel of the cannon rolled over my right knee. The surgeon wanted to take the leg off, said it would cause me trouble for the rest of my life. He was right about that and, right now, every move my mule made drove another nail into my knee.
Once I lost any use of my right leg I could count on, the Army had no use for me. To be honest, I no longer felt the U.S. had the right to kill the American natives and take their land at will. I was beginning to think it made us no better than King George's Red Coats.
I'd tried working as a cowhand for a while, but my leg just couldn't take those long days in the saddle. So I decided to sell off what few possessions I had to buy a mule, a pick and shovel, a few other supplies I thought I'd need, and try prospecting for gold. I'd heard that up in the Dakota territory, Crazy Horse and his brethren weren't happy about the desecration of their hallowed Black Hills since gold had been found there, but that didn't stop the thousands of people flooding into Deadwood looking to get rich.
It seems folks were finding gold or silver in far off places in wild and untamed lands. I spent a year in the Colorado territory, and had no more luck than most other prospectors. I was hoping things would change for the better soon, and decided next I'd try my luck around the Nevada territory. That's the bad thing about luck though, it can go just as fast as it comes.
I'd met up with some other travelers on the trail and we decided to make camp together. With roving bands of Indians raiding in the area, I figured there was safety in numbers. I had my poke tied under one of the bags on my mule. That small sack held what little gold I had left of what I had managed to scrounge out of the ground. When I woke the next morning, all I had left was my bedroll, my old shotgun, and a tin cup half full of coffee. And my mule with the worn out old saddle on it. Of course my poke and the little bit of gold in it was gone. So much for safety in numbers. I may have been better off with the Indians. There was nothing I could do but get back on my mule and keep riding.
With no water or supplies, I wasn't sure how long I'd last on my own. As I rode, the creaking of saddle leather was a cry for oil. My mule was worn out and we both needed water. I was choking on dust. I had my bandanna pulled up to try to catch a little air but my eyes were tearing so bad, there was mud caked on my face.
After riding so many miles I was beginning to wish I had gone along with the doctor's advice about taking off my leg, although I'm not sure how easy riding would have been with one leg, but I decided to try not to think too much about it. Wasn't nothing I could do about it anyway. I was still surrounded by a whole lot of nothing when I saw a flash of lightning behind a ridge, and a thunderhead that towered over the hills. I knew we were in store for some really nasty weather.
I knew I needed to find some place I could hole up in to weather the storm. I hoped to find a cave high enough above the river bed I'd been riding along to avoid any flash floods, preferably one that was not already occupied by local wildlife.
I looked around my immediate area. Since the guys I'd been with had all cut and run, I only had myself to worry about, although I wouldn't be sorry if my former companions met with ill fortune. I saw a dark opening high up on a ridge, so I climbed up and found a cave with a fair sized opening, big enough for both me and my mule to fit through. I fired two rounds from my 12 gauge to see if I had any company. The inside of the small cave lit up well enough I was reasonably sure no one was home.
I gathered up all the loose limbs I could find lying around, knowing I would probably need every stick I could find to keep a fire going. It was April in New Mexico and I knew the weather could do anything, and change without notice, so I wanted to be prepared.
I got a fire going so there was a little light, then went back down the trail for my mule. With a little coaxing, I managed to get Bones to follow me and guided him up to the opening. I called my mule Bones since he wasn't much more than that when I bought him, and wasn't much more after his time with me. I stripped all the tack off him and gave him some grass I'd gathered for his supper. Then I built up my fire, stretched out under the saddle blanket, and lay my head on the saddle..
I don't know how long I'd been sleeping when I heard something that sounded like a train coming down the river bed from somewhere upstream. It didn't take me long to figure out a big storm, further up the mountain, had sent a flash flood crashing down through the break in the rocks the river had once flowed through.
When the storm turned loose its demons, it was unlike anything I'd seen before. The cave we wer in was a good thirty feet above the creek bed. Now the water was up so high, six inches more and I'd have been sharing my shelter with some fish. At least, for the moment, we had water to drink. I wish my former companions had left me a canteen so I could carry some with me. Traveling gets rough quick with no water around.
I wondered if maybe this storm, along with all my other recent setbacks, should be taken as signs that, just perhaps, I wasn't meant to make my way as a gold miner. I was remembering a girl I knew back in Denver, called herself Dallas, I'd taken a shine to. She'd made it clear she didn't mind sharing her time with me, and I thought maybe I should head back and find her. Perhaps I could find work more suitable for a worn-out former soldier who carries bad luck around with him in a tote sack. Anyway, at least I still had my old tin cup. I decided from now on I would consider it to be my lucky charm. Surely it had to be time some good luck came my way, didn't it?
So I made up my mind to head back to Denver and try to find Dallas. The time we'd spent together had seemed to work out well enough for us. But with so little to my name, I'd felt I had to do something to try to make my fortune. That hadn't turned out very well, but I still hoped she'd be happy to see me anyway. I was also hoping she hadn't moved on, or found a substitute she figure'd would stick around longer. After all, I couldn't expect her to wait around forever.
After the flood water receded, and there was enough daylight to see, I led Bones out of the cave and down to the now dry creek bed. I took it very slow and careful. There's something about a flash flood that brings out a lot of rattlers with bad dispositions, and loosens the rocks one might step on. A broken leg wouldn't help Bones or me any.
There was debris everywhere. For a place with so few trees, the water had carried a lot of broken branches along with it. Even with the sun hidding behind an overcast sky, the day was warming up fast. As I looked around I spotted a buzzard with its wings spread out, riding on a hot updraft, precise and mindlessly a part of the world around it. I had no idea what the time was. The clouds made seeing the position of the sun kind of hard, but I could tell the morning was dying.
Perhaps it was the gloom of the day, but dark and heavy thoughts filled my mind with despair. When the pain of the past caught up with me, and joined with the bleakness of the landscape, I doubled my effort to move forward. Towards late afternoon, the sun came out from behind the clouds and rose above the horizon, blurred and blood red. I reached in my pocket and found I still had a little tobacco and some paper, so I rolled a cigarette. I found my box of matches, only to discover they had gotten wet. It's funny, when everything goes bad you can't but think about the people who were your best friends, who you would do anything in the world for. Then you find out they're just using you for a rung up the ladder, or to make someone else jealous. If that don't make you feel like a foolish idiot, nothing else will, with no explanations or apologies.
The dry river bed I was following made its way out of the mountains and continued on through the gates of Hell. There was nothing but sand, rocks and tumbleweed for as far as the eye could see. I could make out something white about twenty or thirty yards ahead of me. When I got closer, I found the sun-bleached skull of an unlucky cow. I guess some of the scavengers that run in the night had drug the rest away. Seeing the skull made me think about the big question that I'd been trying to ignore for some time, which was where I might find us some water. Despite the rain the night before, there was none in sight now. I knew I would have to find some very soon. I couldn't help but think of how close I'd come to drowning the night before. Now I'd have been happy to see a little of that water lying around. At least all that rain had settled the dust for a while.
By Delahay
There was a shimmering in the distance. It almost made me think I was seeing an ocean, but I knew it was just heat rising so I kept following the dry river bed. I was getting mighty thirsty and I was also beginning to feel weak. A man can go a quite a while without food, but just a few days without water, a little less out there where we were. I wasn't sure how long Bones could make it.
My mind was wondering, so at first I thought I was imagining things, but my ears were picking up a slooshing sound. I suddenly realized I was hearing splashing, and looked down to see that Bones was walking in water. He abruptly stopped and took a good, long drink. The water from the flash flood had collected in a low spot. As Bones splash deeper into the water and continued to drink, I literally threw myself face first into this beautiful oasis of life. Then I happened to think that my matches were wet again, as well as my tobacco and paper.
I had almost died from the heat that day, but when the sun slid below the horizon it suddenly got very, very cold. Using something I'd learned in the Army, I scooped out a trench in the sand and covered myself with it. In the Army we called it “digging our grave”. It wasn't exactly toasty. To tell the truth, I froze until the warm sand dried my clothes. Sometimes you just have to grin and bear it. This was one of those times. The main thing is, I survived.
The next morning was the opening of a day much like the one before. It was hard to leave the pool of water knowing the hot, dry landscape ahead of me. Moving forward in the growing oppressive heat was becoming quite a challenge. I had gone maybe ten miles or so when I came across one of the bags I had been using to carry oats. I began keeping a closer watch ahead and, sure enough, I started seeing boot prints and horse tracks as the ground grew softer. I wondered if I was following the trail of my old traveling companions who had taken my supplies and gold.
A bit further along the river bed I found where my old friends, or whoever had made the tracks I'd been following, had turned right over a small bluff. If I had found my old traveling buddies, I figured I should give them a chance to apologize for the inconvenience they had caused me. Considering Bones and I both could have died out there without food or water. As I climbed down the other side of the bluff, I noticed a change in the wind, if you could really call it wind. The air was moving slightly anyway. In it was the smell of burning mesquite. With just a quick glance around, the lack of any trees would tell anyone it wasn't a forest fire I was smelling. I wondered if it really could be my pals who'd left me to die. Maybe they were baking me a cake.
To the northeast, I could see a small stand of trees on the horizon, with a tail of smoke rising from it. I could tell there was no way I could get anywhere near there in daylight without being seen, so I guessedI had some time on my hands to enjoy the sunshine.
I figured if I left Bones by the water, with some food available, he'd stay there. It's funny how animals can be more trustworthy than some people. He certainly seemed happy enough to stay where he was anyway.
I was watching to the west as the sunset. It sat on the horizon for a moment, then suddenly disappeared like a candle going out, followed by a strange flash of green. I thought I'd never figure out why that sometimes happened.
After a while, I figured it was time to go visit old friends. I don't know why I was so convinced I'd find my erstwhile traveling companion up ahead. But I planned to be prepared either way. It was already getting cold so I wore the saddle blanket like a poncho. I had ten 12 gauge double-aught buck shot. I guess it doesn't sound scary but I've seen it tear a man's arm off. I didn't know if there was any water up ahead so I drank four cups from the pool I'd found and headed out walking.
No matter what something looks like it is, after you've walked a while you find out it's twice as far as you thought. When I finally got close, then yards from the camp, I could smell the rot gut whiskey. Sure enough, it was my old friends. Between the bragging and b.s., I doubt if they believed what each other was saying. I could see them plain as day, dancing like loons around the campfire.
I braced myself and yelled out, "Cherokee, I believe you have some of my property."
"Now who would that be, playing hide-n-seek out there in the dark? What you think Cherokee?" I heard Charlie say.
"It smells like a Yankee, one-legged war hero." Cherokee replied. "I bet there weren't two dollars worth of gold in your little bag Jess. That other junk you had weren't hardly worth stealin'. That mule of your'n ain't nothin' but bones. I s'pose you still got your little scatter gun we left ya, or you wouldn't be visiting."
I called out, "Cherokee, Charlie, Banks, if you boys were half as smart as you think you are, with me somewhere in the dark and you standing around that fire, you could already be dead.
"I'll be your huckleberry".
As I talked, I kept moving so they couldn't home in on the sound of my voice, at the same time I was working my way toward the south end of their camp where they had their horses tied. I knew they had a Winchester and a Henry in saddle holsters, waiting for me there.
Just as I made it to the horses, I realized Banks must have had the same idea. He broke off from the other two and headed towards the horses, scanning the dark beyond the light from the campfire for my location. I watched him coming with my shotgun lying across a saddle. When he got within about twenty yards or so, I fired one barrel and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. I grabbed the Winchester and faded back into the darkness.
I'd had my fill of death and killing during the war. I had hoped to get out of this without having to take another life, but it wasn't working out that way. At this point, it seemed the best I could hope for would be that the next one to die would not be me.
As I slipped into the shadows someone fired a round, apparently aiming for where my last shot had come from, and hit the horse I had been standing beside. It tried to bolt and I was able to use the Winchester to take out Cherokee in the confusion of the panicked horses. It had been a while since the war, and I used a musket back then, but I managed to sink a .44 into Cherokee where his nose kept his eyes from bumping into each other.
Charlie got cold feet once both his partners were down. He called out "Don't shoot!" as he threw his Navy Colt on the ground and reached for the sky. I yelled "Lose the gun belt and that knife I know you've got in your boot. And empty your pockets while you're at it. I don't want any surprises." I also wanted to see if there was anything familiar in them. Like my gold poke. A lone silver dollar fell to the ground. I told him to just keep it.
I got a rope from one of the saddles and tied Charlie to a handy tree so I could search for my missing things, my gold, my papa's old watch, and any of my other meager possessions they had stolen. After rounding up everything I could find, I made some coffee. I poured a cup for Charlie, tied his hands in front so he could drink it, and poured another into my old tin cup for me. I asked Charlie, "How'd you come to be mixed up with the likes of Banks and Cherokee You ain't like those two."
"I don't know Jess. I guess I was just a little lost and driftin' for a while. I think I needed someone to tell me what to do since I didn't seem to know anymore."
I shook my head, "Lost seems like a good place for you right now. You might want to start over with a new name and give some honest work a try. You just don't strike me as the same sort of low-life as the two you've been riding with. This situation might hold a silver lining in it for you. You ain't killed no one yet, so's you got a chance to turn things around."
"You ain't looking for a sidekick are ya?" he asked me.
"I think I've had all the company I want to last me a while. I believe I'll just stick to four-legged friends for a bit."
We sat there a few hours, 'til I could see the edge of the Sun coming up in the east. I untied Charlie and gave him the shotgun and the shells. I tied the hammers down in case I might have misjudged him, but I couldn't leave him out there unarmed. The horse that had been shot just had a flesh wound, so I told Charlie to get on it and make dust. He said, "Thanks, Jess. I'm right sorry for all the trouble we caused you, 'specially since you been so decent to me."
"Just get on that horse and get out. I don't ever want to run across you again, alright?"
“Sure thing, Jess. I sure 'preciate you being so decent after what we done.”
After he mounted up, I pointed the Winchester in the air and pulled the trigger. By the time the smoke cleared Charlie and the horse were almost lost in a cloud of dust.
I loaded up everything I'd found that appeared to be mine, I wasn't counting the horses and the firearms I'd acquired, I thought I'd won those by default, and headed back to the waterhole where I'd left Bones. Damned but when you run across some good luck, you always seem to end up paying for it. When I got back to where Bones should have been, I found a pack of wolves instead, having a meal. I shot a couple of them and the rest ran off. They stopped, not quite out of sight, and sat there waiting for me to leave so they could finish their dinner. Damn! At times I hated this cruel, nasty country. I sure hoped I'd make it back to Denver where things were civilized.
By Delahay
I guess it had been nine or ten days since I said goodbye to Cherokee and his sidekick Banks. I'd made it to Fort Cummings and found my way to the telegraph office. I wanted to send a telegram to Dallas to let her know I was headed her way but, of course, the wire was down again. Those Injuns sure hated the talking wires and kept cutting down the poles.
On my way out of the office, I glanced at the wall and saw a picture of my old friend, Cherokee Bill, and right next to him was his good buddy, Banks. Turns out those two had dead or alive rewards on them. Both had been making a living as road agents, robbing settlers and killing the ones who tried to stand up to them. They were suspected of killing at least fifty. I felt like Cherokee had reached out of the grave and robbed me again. Cherokee would have been worth $500. They must have thought Banks wasn't quite as bad since he was only worth $250.
I talked to a Sergeant Major at the fort, told him about my run-in with Cherokee and Banks, and about how their health had taken a bad turn for the worse. I said I would have brought them in if I'd known they were worth something. He took down all the information I gave him about where and how they'd met their end, told me he'd send a couple of soldiers out to look for them. Said if Cherokee had a hole between his eyes like I'd said the Army would send me two hundred dollars for him and a hundred and twenty-five for Banks if I let him know where to send it. Told me I would have gotten the whole amount if I'd brought them in myself. I thanked him and walked out thinking, "When buffaloes have wings." I knew that was money I'd never see. I wondered if soldiers were allowed to collect rewards.
As I headed out of Cummings, I started thinking of Dallas, about how much I missed her and maybe I should never have left Denver. From the moment I met that girl, I felt like I'd known her all my life. I'd never met anyone else quite like her and I should have known better than to walk away from the best thing that had ever happened to me. But I always felt like I wasn't quite good enough for her and, maybe, she'd be better off with someone with a bit more to his name. Since then, though, I'd started thinking, money isn't everything. She'd told me the same thing before I left. I hope she meant it. I also hope she hadn't found anyone else while I was gone. Someone with sense enough to know when he's found something worth more than anything else in the world. I guessed it'd take time and a couple of weeks of hard riding to find out.
Life's funny. You can be headed downhill, hitting every rock along the way, then turn a corner and the sun is shining and everything appears to be going right. That's how it felt my life was going about then. I'd made it through New Mexico and was now in the mountains near Chrystal Springs, riding a trail above a river. I didn't know how high up I was but it was enough to make me a little nervous. Mountain lion liked to hang out in places like that. But it was a pleasant enough ride. I could smell spruce in the air and there were flowers blooming all around. It was easy to feel like everything was going right in my life. But suddenly the peace was broken by a shot ringing out in the clear mountain air. With the echo it made, it sounded like it could have come from six different directions, but I didn't have time to think about that. Something slammed into me and I felt myself flying off my horse. I'd been hit! I was lying on the ground with a hole in my upper back. This was bad news, and I was in big trouble now. I'd never been hit like this before.
I closed my eyes for a what seemed like just a minute or so. When I opened them again, I was looking up into the face of Charlie, the guy I'd let go. Apparently he hadn't appreciated it as much as he'd said. He stood looking down at me, as I fought not to slide into the dark and listen to what he was saying. His words s"I want to thank ya, Jess, for all ya done for me. I hate havin' to pay ya back like this, but we seem to be headin' to the same place and I don't need no one around who knows me. See, one of them travelers me and Cherokee killed, well, I kept his paperwork and things, decided I'd be him. He had a letter of credit for a bank in Denver with all these papers and things, so's people there would know who he was. He also had a letter about his account at a big bank back east. My name's John Wilcox now. Seems I'm an important man. This letter to the bank says I'm rich. Bad side to all this, I gotta take ya out. You're the only one 'round here knows who I really am. Since they got them Wanted posters up for Cherokee and Banks, it won't be long before I'm up on the wall too. So I can't be me no more. I feel real bad 'bout this. You been real good to me, it wouldn't be right me leavin' ya here like this. You understand, don't ya?"
I shut my eyes again, trying to make sense of what was going on. I heard the ratchet of a lever action. Then I didn't hear or feel anything else.
When a man's time is up, and he has no options for changing his fate, it tends to bring a kind of peaceful feeling. He realizes there is nothing left to worry about anymore. The best he can hope for is to go out as fast and painlessly as possible.
I heard the shot but felt nothing, didn't hear the hammer hit the firing pin. I forced my eyes open in time to see Charlie's body fall backward, off the trail and down the hill.
The next time I floated out of the darkness, I felt movement, as if I was traveling in a wagon over a rough road. I came to realize I was in a buckboard, wrapped in a wool blanket. As I drifted in and out of my senses, I could hear an older man with a heavy German accent and, not as often, the voice of a young woman.
When I finally resurfaced to a full awareness of my surroundings, I thought I must have died and had actually made it to Heaven. There was a beautiful young lady, with long, white-blonde hair, looking down at me. I discovered her name was Helga and I was happy to hear she was the daughter of the man I'd heard speaking earlier. It would have been terrible to wake to such a sight and find out the woman was married. Her father introduced himself as Hermann Klein. I learned that the Klein family had emigrated to North America some years back, raising a few sheep and growing just about enough crops to feed themselves and their livestock. After a few years in the east, they'd decided to travel into a less settled area. I was sorry to hear Frau Klein had become ill and passed on the journey west.
Herr Klein started telling me what he had seen of my last encounter with my former trail buddy, Charlie. He'd been driving his wagon along the mountain trail when he heard a gunshot. He looked up to see me fall off my horse and saw Charlie approach as I was lying on the ground. When he saw Charlie was about to send me to my maker, after shooting me in the back and while I was wounded and unarmed, he knew he had to do something to help. Klein told me he was a religious man, believed killing anyone was a terrible thing to do, but that he could not have just sat there and watched Charlie shoot me. He said he didn't know yet if I was a good man or not, but believed Charlie must have been up to no good to shoot someone down like that.
I told him my story of how I had come to be where I was when he and his daughter found me. I don't know how much he believed, but he had searched Charlie's body for any kind of identification after he'd got me in the wagon. He found the papers Wilcox had been carrying. We agreed they should be turned over to the nearest Sheriff, maybe the man had some family who should be notified.
It turned out Lady Luck was looking out for me more than I thought. The wound on my back wasn't near as bad as it could have been. It was shallow enough I thought Charlie's shot must have gone through something else before it hit me. I was just glad Herr Klein had come along to take out Charlie before he got off that second shot.
I found myself wondering about ole Charlie, he sure didn't act like such a bad sort to me when I met him. Maybe he had some of his own demons hiding somewhere in the back of his head. There was a lot of that going on after the war. I knew I had a few my of own keeping me company.
By Delahay
The next day I was feeling a lot more like my old self and was able to get up and around a bit. The little cabin I found myself in was typical for settlers in this area. Klein was proud to tell me he had built most of it himself, with a little help from a couple of drifters passing through who'd been happy to work for something to eat and a warm place to sleep.
I found it much easier to talk with Helga. She didn't have as heavy an accent as her father, besides, she was much prettier than he was. She shyly told me how pleasant it was to talk to a man who wasn't her father. Said she hoped to be married one day but didn't have many chances to meet anyone out in the wilderness. Seemed she and her father had been heading for Denver when they realized they wouldn't make it before winter weather set in. In fact, they had been talking about continuing their journey now that the weather was better.
I told Helga she'd have no trouble finding a decent fellow to marry, as pretty and sweet as she was. Heck, I'd buy the ring if I wasn't old enough to be her father, and there was Dallas to think of... maybe. Dallas could have gotten tired of waiting for me a long time ago.
Helga said I was selling myself short, I didn't look so old to her. Besides, she thought younger men didn't have much sense. The ones she had known spent most of their time drinking and looking for trouble. I told her I didn't go looking for trouble, but it sure found me often enough. And my drinking days were done.
I tried to fight it, but I felt myself growing closer to Helga, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. She was one of the kindest people I had ever met, and, no doubt, deserved a far better man than me. I was uncomfortable about what might be happening between Helga and me, not knowing where I stood with Dallas, even though we had never made any promises to each other or plans for the future. I found myself hoping that Dallas was happily married by now.
The fourth day of my stay with the Kleins, Herr Klein asked me to please address him as Abe. His middle name was Abraham and he preferred it to Hermann. This worked fine for me, what did I care what he wanted to be called?
I had awakened that morning from a vivid dream. My dream started back in Pennington Gap Va., just before my family moved to what would become West Virginia after the war broke out. The dream moved on, as we did when Papa took a job working in a coal mine in a place called Clarksburg. While we were there he tried supplementing our income by farming, but he soon found out the only thing that would grow there were rocks. He only lasted six months as a coal miner before he died in a mine collapse. It wasn't long after his death that the war started, so my brother Aron and I joined the Union Army. It wasn't like there was any other work available around there.
My brother made it as far as Shiloh, a place I'd never heard of before I learned he had died there. Smallpox took my mother and sister less than a year later. All of these events flowed through my dream in a series of clear visions, like acts in a play. Dreams like this make a man glad to wake up, and think twice about closing his eyes again. I had awakened feeling alone and lonely, thinking of all I had lost.
Waking in the cabin, even with a hurricane lamp burning, seemed like being in a cave, it was so dark. I got up, opened a window to let some light in, and found a note Abe had left saying he had business in town. Not that there was really a town anywhere nearby, it was more of a trading post for trappers and people passing through on their way to Denver. It didn't have an official name but people hereabouts called it Hays Crossing. In the note, Abe asked me to keep an eye on Helga for him and to cut some firewood.
After a couple of hours splitting firewood, I began to wonder where Helga had gotten to. I hadn't seen her since I woke up. I walked across the little clearing, where the cabin nestled up against a small hill, towards the sound of a stream I could hear coming from a stand of aspens. The noise of water flowing over rocks grew louder as I approached the spring, but other sounds attracted my attention as I began to hear splashing and the lovely trill of a woman's laugh.
I crested a small rise and was greeted by the most beautiful thing I had seen in many a year. There stood Helga, with the morning sun gleaming on her wet skin. There was a lot of wet skin for me to see too since she was not wearing a stitch of clothing. I stood, stunned, for what felt like hours, but could only have been a moment. I knew that I shouldn't have stared at her like that. After all, her father had saved my life, taken me in, shared his food and shelter with me, but I could not help myself. It had been a very long time since I had seen such an enticing vision, and I had never seen a woman quite like Helga.
After standing in a stupor, like a man who'd lost his wits, I became aware that Helga was looking back at me. She made no attempt to cover her stunning body. Instead, like a Siren in an ancient tale, she beckoned to me. I felt like I was falling down a long, dark hole, incapable of forming a coherent thought, but my feet moved forward of their own accord.
What is love? Is it the physical attraction to another person, or something deeper that reaches into one's soul and makes a person believe that there is more to life than pain and suffering? I don't know exactly what it was I felt as I reached out for Helga but, at that moment, nothing in the world could have stopped what happened next.
My feet moved of their own accord, I walked as if in a dream. Perhaps I was, or maybe I had died and was now in Heaven. Since the moment I had met Helga, a need had been growing inside me. Not just the need for the physical touch of another, but the deeper, stronger ache that comes from our very souls.
As we fell into each others' arms, Helga tore at my clothes in a frenzy. She seemed as frantic, as needy as I was. Helga threw my clothes by the side of the stream as we fell to the ground. Our bodies entwined as we made love like it was meant to be, as if we belonged together and had been waiting for this moment for all our lives. I wasn't sure about Helga yet, but I was in love.
As the fire in our bodies cooled we began to talk, about our lives, our hopes, and dreams. I told Helga how nice it was that Abe needed to go into town, but I dreaded his return under the circumstances. I was surprised by Helga's laugh. I asked her about that, as I saw little funny in the idea of her father returning to see us like we were.
She gave me a sly look and said, "He didn't need to go to town. We just went a few days ago, remember? That was the day we found you. He did tell me just last night how much he thought of you, how you were just the kind of man he hoped I would marry one day."
I didn't know what to think about that. I never thought I had much to offer a woman in the way of a husband. That was why I left Dallas behind in Denver.
The thought of Dallas gave me pause, but this was definitely not the time to think of another woman. I did come to a realization at the moment, though. What I had felt for
Dallas was a dim shadow of what I felt at that moment for Helga. I knew I had never really loved Dallas. She just represented a dream of what I had always wanted, a home, family.
Despite Helga's optimistic outlook, I was apprehensive about seeing Abe when he returned. I soon discovered my fears were groundless when he greeted me warmly and asked, with a certain sparkle in his eye, if I had enjoyed my morning. He soon became much more serious, though, when he said he hoped he hadn't been wrong about me. I knew this was the part where he would ask me about my "intentions" where his daughter was concerned. I suspected he already knew what they were, or he would not have left us alone. I began to think he had a higher opinion of me than I did of myself. I only hoped I could live up to it.
Abe was overjoyed when I asked for Helga's hand, and the rest of her as well, even when I explained that I wasn't sure how I would support her. I had nothing to my name and a bad leg to boot. I didn't imagine I was any father's ideal husband for his only child. Abe didn't seem too worried about that, though, and I wondered if he knew something I did not.
It seemed a little like Abe was dealing from his sleeve, the way he set up Helga and me. But I knew what I was getting into and Abe wasn't cheating in any way. I also understood his position. He was getting up in years and, after the war, most of the guys who made it back couldn't take care of themselves, much less anyone else. To be honest, I don't think he expected things to get quite so out of hand but, then again, what he didn't see couldn't hurt him. Could be that he understood how certain feelings are hard to deny when they come upon you.
Whatever he was thinking about the whole situation, he seemed more excited than Helga when I asked his permission to marry his daughter. He rummaged up a bottle of whiskey and got his fiddle down from a shelf. Don't take this the wrong way, I think Abe is a fine man and a good father, but he tortured us with that fiddle for a good two hours. The whiskey helped quite a bit but I was sure happy when he got tired.
We thought we would have to settle for a civil ceremony, there weren't many preachers to be found where we were. Rabbis were even scarcer. We headed into what passed for a town to see what we could do to formalize our situation. In small settlements like this one, people will use any excuse for a get-together or celebration. Everyone living in the vicinity was happy to be witnesses to a marriage. As luck would have it, there was even a preacher passing through when we arrived so it worked out well all around.
By Delahay
We all settled down to the rhythm of the season for a while. There were crops to tend and livestock to look after. I felt as if I had finally found a home where I belonged, something I had never expected to have. During the war, when every day was just a struggle to survive, I would dream of having just a simple place with someone who cared about me. It seems little enough to ask for but, for so many people, such things are as far away as the moon. I kept wondering when I would wake up from this impossible dream.
The next time Abe went into town Helga came looking for me as I was chopping firewood. I could tell she had something on her mind, something she wanted to tell me. She hadn't been feeling well lately but insisted, whenever I asked, that she was fine and there was nothing to worry about. I wondered now if I should have been worried after all.
Well, now I really had something to worry about. I had discovered that I could be both delighted and terrified at the same time. But what did I know about raising a child? Of course, I knew that it was a natural thing to happen, people did it all the time didn't they? All I could think about, though, was everything that can, and frequently did go wrong. How could there be so many people in the world when so many things were against us?
Too many things were trying to go through my mind at the same time. My fears for Helga's safety were warring with my joy at the idea of having a child with the woman I loved. I had to put aside my negative thoughts, though, so we could celebrate the news and start thinking of how to tell Abe he was going to be a grandfather. I had no doubt he would be thrilled, but I also suspected he would share my apprehensions about the danger to Helga. There were no doctors within a hundred miles of our little homestead and my medical knowledge was limited to battlefield measures to keep someone from bleeding to death. I knew Abe had some experience with birthing calves and lambs but this was something else entirely.
As I expected, Abe was overjoyed at our news. Unfortunately, he brought up a whole new worry that I hadn't even known existed but then explained it was something we would not have to worry about. He told me that there was some type of terrible disease that could affect children if both of their parents were Jewish. Despite his own religious beliefs, he was glad that I did not share his heritage. I was more than happy to be able to eliminate at least one concern.
Despite both her father's and my concerns, Helga refused to worry about anything. She decided that this was meant to be and was sure that everything would be well. I did my best to hide my fears from her and let her happiness and joy soothe my nerves. After all, she was the one doing the hard part. I had to hope she knew better than I did. Helga did say that her mother had told her all she could about what to expect, and what to do when she had a child of her own, but had also said that no one could ever explain everything. It was different for each person and impossible to really understand until one experienced it. I wasn't sure if I found that comforting or not.
The days came and went. With Helga and Abe around and plenty to do, time flew. This was a long way from the lean days when I wasn't sure where I'd sleep at night, or where my next meal was coming from.
Four months into her pregnancy, Helga began to show, though even I was smart enough not to say anything about it. I begin thinking, though, that she would need some help soon, preferably from another woman. One who knew what to expect and do. I discussed this with Abe, who agreed with me. I really don't think he was looking forward to being the one to help with the delivery any more than I was.
Abe told me we should ask around at what passed for a church, but more as a saloon, the next time we went into town. We did try talking to some of the, uh, "ladies", a term I use loosely but who am I to talk? They mostly eyed Abe and playfully pulled at the purple threads mixed in the fringe that hung from the edges of his coat and sleeves. I'd been around enough people, a lot of them natives, to know not to trifle with what a person was wearing. One can never know what it means to them.
We finally found a woman, Beatrice, who seemed to know what she was doing, and, at least, kept her mouth shut. Some of the words that came out of the mouths of those women, well, I'd never even heard them before. We told the woman the situation and she said she'd be happy to help, for a certain price, of course. We soon discovered our mistake. There are times when one person's "help" is another person's hurt.
One day while Abe was out working I just barely stopped Beatrice from starting a fire with some scrolls I had seen Abe reading. They had strange writing on them that didn't look like the alphabet that I'd learned, but Abe was able to understand them. He called them The Torah and they seemed mighty important to him. Beatrice said they looked like useless trash to her and a four-year-old could draw something better. Said it looked no better than something the heathen Indians would do.
I paid Beatrice for her time and took her back to town before Abe came back to the cabin. When I got back and explained what had happened, Helga was not happy with either Abe or me. She mentioned it would have been nice if we had consulted her before inflicting that woman on any of us, and that she would find her own help.
Most of the time it felt like I had known Helga my entire life. But at other times I realized there were a few things I still had to learn. One thing I quickly discovered was that once she made up her mind about something, neither Hell nor high water would change it.
I tried explaining the menagerie of morons Abe and I had found to choose from in town when we tried to find someone to help Helga when she needed it. I then learned the reason why Abe would often throw both hands in the air and walk off babbling after a conversation with my beloved. In fact, I found myself doing the same thing. Abe saw me doing this one day, looked at me strangely and said, "Helga"?
I answered "Yep".
I got up early, just before dusk, and went out to start feeding the critters. It could sure get dark out there when there was no moon out. After the animals were all fed I stumbled along by lantern light to check the fence line. There were four or five places where the rams were determined to escape any chance they got. It was a never ending battle, they'd tear up the fences in their bids for freedom, then I'd spend my time fixing them again. I don't know why the stupid things were so anxious to get away. They had food and shelter where they were now, out there in the wilderness they were likely to meet up with wolves or mountain lions. Even I shied away from roaming around too far from home without a rifle by my side, having someone to watch my back would be even better.
As I made my way back to the cabin I saw Abe out front sharpening the ax.
"Guten morgen," he called out.
I frequently had a little trouble understanding Abe. His heavy accent was difficult to follow at times but even I could follow this greeting.
"Morning, Abe," I replied. "Helga sleeping in?"
"No, she ver gone ven I get up today. I think she go to get das help she vant."
I was concerned when he said this. Where could she be planning to find that kind of help around these parts?
I asked Abe, "You got any idea where she was heading?"
"No, she don't tell me. Ve just haff to vait. You can cook das breakfast?"
"Not so much. I might be able to scramble some eggs if you think you can handle the coffee."
"O.K. I try."
So I cooked some eggs that weren't too burnt and Abe made some coffee that was somewhat better than drinking tar and we called it breakfast. I admit, we made quite a bit more of a mess than seemed called for, considering what we'd cooked. But I was a bit too worried about where Helga had gone off to at the time to think much about anything else. I probably could even have managed to choke down actual tar with my eggs at that moment. It was too easy to think of all the bad things she could run into out in the wilderness. Heck, earlier I was thinking the same thing about the stupid sheep that kept trying to escape. Of course, Helga was a lot smarter, but there were a lot of different kinds of problems she could come across. Not all dangerous animals walked around on four legs. I found that out the hard way too many times.
As the day wore on my worry grew. I'd never in my life known that kind of fear and concern for another person, never had anyone I cared for so much in harms way. I'd gotten to the point of actually pacing back and forth when I heard Abe call out.
"Jess, der vagon, it comes!"
I noticed he seemed a little perturbed as he pointed towards a cloud of dust coming our way. It was odd to see him flustered at all, so I squinted in the direction he was pointing and my gaze fell on a strange looking party. Helga was holding the reins but I wasn't sure exactly who or what was seated next to her. The figure was wrapped in a colorful blanket and dressed in buckskins, with a rifle between its' knees and a tomahawk stuck through a braided leather belt. A tall, domed hat flopped on top of a head that was barely visible under the wide brim. There was something that looked like a cradle in the back of the wagon and a burro was tied to the back, looking comical as its little legs trotted fast to keep up. As they came a little closer I could make out a goat in the wagon and a chicken riding on the burro's head, wings flapping as it struggled to stay on its' bouncing perch.
"Abe," I gasped, "what has she gotten us into?"
By Delahay
As I watched the wagon and its assorted characters approach, mixed feelings were fighting their way through my mind. Relief that Helga was back, apparently unharmed, was kept company by something almost like rage that she had placed herself in harm's way by taking off like she had. Bewilderment was there as well, along with a small amount of humor at the ridiculous sight the menagerie made as they made their way along. But overall, I think what I was feeling most was overwhelmed. I'd never known a man could be paralyzed by struggling with so many different emotions at one time.
I stood transfixed as the wagon rolled to a halt. Before I could form a coherent thought, or make any sound beyond "uh", Abe stepped forward to help Helga and her passenger down from their perch. When Helga was safely back on her feet, I finally managed to get my own unstuck from the ground and rushed forward to wrap my arms around her. I held her tight for a moment, overcome with relief that she was back safe and sound. But soon, all those pent up emotions came crashing back through me and planted my foot in my mouth. I pushed Helga back and held her at arm's length as the words began tumbling out of my mouth without stopping by my brain for instructions.
"What in God's name did you think you were doing? Where have you been? Do you have any idea how worried we've been? You could have been killed! There are dangerous wild animals out there! There are dangerous people out there! Are you crazy? What were you thinking. Have you lost your mind?”
I may have said a few more things, all in a very loud voice, but I couldn't really keep up with all of it. Through it all, I somehow failed to notice that Helga was looking less than pleased with me. As my tirade finally wound down, I slowly became aware that she was standing with her arms crossed, her foot tapping, and with a decidedly annoyed look on her face. After a brief moment of simmering silence she snapped,
"I know what I'm doing. Help unload the wagon." Then she stomped off in high dudgeon.
She stalked over to the creature in the buckskins and floppy hat. As I cautiously approached, I realized that it was an old Indian woman with long white braids and skin as dark and wrinkled as a walnut.
I could see Abe was no less upset than I was, but I guess he had more experience dealing with Helga, or maybe women in general, than I did. He was standing stock still, looking a bit bemused, but managed to keep silent. He collected himself after a minute or so, and walked to the wagon to lift out what I now saw was a pregnant nanny goat. I decided it would be best not to ask why it had been brought along.
I would later learn that the Indian woman was the widow of a much-respected medicine man from a local tribe of Utes. She called herself something that sounded like "Oota" and had learned some English from a missionary who had lived with her people for a while She also had a very bossy manner. After raking an unimpressed glance over me she pointed at the wagon, said "cradle", then walked into the cabin carrying a bundle wrapped in skins.
When I carried the cradle into the cabin I found Oota waving burning sage around as she walked along the walls and across the floor. She even made a few passes around me with the smoldering herbs. Abe got the same treatment when he walked in. As she walked, I could hear her chanting in a language I'd never heard. I could only assume that she was trying to rid the cabin of evil spirits, or maybe bugs. At least I hoped that was what she was doing.
Then Helga bustled in, barking orders like a seasoned Drill Sergeant.
"Don't just stand there! The wagon won't unload itself. Look at this place! It's a mess. What were the two of you doing while I was gone? We need to get everything cleaned up.” She stopped and placed her hands on her hips and demanded,
“Well? Do I have to do everything myself?"
I had heard that pregnant women could get a little grumpy and unpredictable. I didn't have much experience with the phenomena myself, but I found myself wondering. Just what on Earth had happened to my sweet, loving wife. And, perhaps a more important thought was, am I going to survive this?
We managed to settle into a routine again as Oota became a valued member of our little household. She was a bundle of energy and seemed determined to keep us all busy, getting everything sorted out to her satisfaction. Her no-nonsense, take charge attitude soothed my nerves somewhat as the baby's arrival approached. As the baby grew, Helga's increasingly restless sleep had me taking to sleeping outside on the porch, or in the stable if the weather turned bad. It was the only way I was able to get any rest at the time.
Just before dawn one day, I woke to the sound of screaming. For one terrifying moment, I was back at Chancellorsville, laying wounded among the dead, listening to the agonized screams of the maimed, and hoarse moans of the dying. As I shook off the dregs of sleep, I realized where I was and rushed into the cabin. I found my way blocked by Abe and Oota. Oota was telling Abe he was not needed, that he should go outside. When she spotted me, she scowled and said sharply, while making shooing motions with her hands. “Baby come. You, outside! Both you, outside. No good here.”
I could still hear Helga screaming from the little room in the back where our bed was. I stood, frozen in place, not sure which way to move. Then Abe seemed to shake himself out of his own paralysis, and took my arm.
"Jess,” he said. “Maybe best if we see to das animals.”
There was a worried, almost scared look to his face. I wasn't sure what to make of that. He'd always seemed so calm and sure of himself. Except, of course, when it came to dealing with Helga. Oota gave me a push about then, just as I heard Helga curse for the first time in my hearing.
“Damn you Jess Harper, this is all your fault. Where the hell are you? I'm gonna kill you! You hear me?”
I made up my mind right then and there that I did not want to be in that cabin. Abe and I made tracks for the door at a smart pace, nearly running into each other at the door.
After seeing to the stock, Abe and I waited on the porch, trying to ignore the noises and screams coming from inside, and pretending we weren't worried. It had been twelve hours since we'd been jerked awake, and we were both praying everything was alright. I'd heard stories about women who'd died in childbirth, and others about how the baby didn't make it either. I knew these thoughts were not helpful, but I could not seem to make them stop.
Then, after one last long, drawn-out screech, silence fell abruptly. The sudden quiet was soon interrupted by a loud wail. After a few more minutes, Oota appeared in the doorway smiling.
“Mr. Jess, come see you bay-bee. Miss Heel-ga good.”
I was apprehensive walking inside. After all the screaming I'd heard earlier, I wasn't sure what to expect. To my surprise, Helga was sitting up and smiling, with the baby lying beside her. She looked like she'd been through the wringer, completely worn out. But I'd never seen a more beautiful sight. I strained to hear as she whispered hoarsely,
“What should we name her?”
By Delahay
I soon realized that I should have tried t goet as much sleep as possible while I still could. It became quite elusive in a very short time. Who knew such a small creature could make so much noise? When I said as much to Helga, who looked as sleep deprived as I felt, she said rather sharply,
“Well how else is she supposed to let us know something is wrong or that she needs something? It's not like she can talk.”
I decided it would be better to just keep such observations to myself. After a few tense days,everyone's nerves seemed stretched pretty tight. But that changed drastically on the fourth day. I'd slept on the porch again, since Oota was staying close to Helga to help with the baby, each of them sleeping whenever they could. That morning Oota, looked much more worried than tired though. Her English may have been better than my mastery of her language, but conversations were still a mite garbled. She met me outside the cabin and and spoke in a hushed voice.
“Miss Heel-ga, too hot. Sick, needs medicine.”
Her words struck terror in my heart. Exhaustion and jangled nerves vanished as I stood frozen in fear. I'd heard of child bed fever. My Aunt Margaret had died from it when I was a boy. I remembered the look on my mother's drawn, tear-streaked face when she returned home after tending to her sister. Since then I'd heard of many other women who died of fever soon after giving birth.
I was pulled from my thoughts by Oota tugging on my sleeve.
“Mr. Jess get medicine. Go up mountain. Need snow or ice. Need this.”
She showed me a crude drawing she had made on a piece of bark. I was surprised to actually recognize the plant. My mother called it fever wort and had used it for many ailments. Then Oota said,
“Have bark from trees at stream, for drink. You go. Need much snow.”
I realized she was talking about the willow trees that grew by the stream. That was another thing I recalled my mother using. She would make tea from willow bark any time someone was feverish. I shuddered at the memory of how terrible it tasted. No amount of honey could make it better.
I ran inside to see Helga before I left. She was sleeping restlessly so I tried not to wake her as I leaned over to kiss her forehead. Her skin was burning hot. I hurried back out to saddle my horse and set off as fast as I could. I'd seen a patch of the plants Oota showed me near the timberline the last time I went up the mountain to hunt for deer. I'd have to go a little higher if I wanted to find snow or ice. I saw Abe standing on the porch wringing his hands as I rode away. He looked much older to me somehow.
After about an hour's ride I found the patch of fever wort. I had no idea how much was needed so I grabbed as much as I could stuff in a bag. I had to ride another four hours to reach the snowline. I compacted the snow as much as I could and wrapped it in pieces of sheepskin before putting it in my saddlebags. I'd put some straw in the bags before I left and hoped it would help keep the snow from melting before I got back. I also hoped the clouds hiding the sun and the shade of the trees would help. My horse was looking a little tuckered by this time but I didn't have time to give him a rest. I had no idea how long I had before the snow melted. Saddlebags full of water wouldn't be very useful. At least going down the mountain would be a lot easier than going up.
I raced back to the cabin as fast as possible over the rocky ground. My horse shied suddenly as we approached the clearing around the cabin, nearly throwing me from the saddle. Leaving the treeline, I saw Oota standing in front of the cabin with a rifle in her hands, yelling words I could not understand. To my surprise, she raised the rifle and pointed it in my direction. My thoughts froze in horror as I waited for the shot, unable to understand why Oota would shoot at me. I managed to duck, a futile gesture I thought, as the report of the rifle filled my ears. Something hit me hard, but I could not understand why it felt as if I'd been struck from behind. My horse reared and I found myself on the ground, struggling to get out from beneath what I finally understood to be the body of a mountain lion Oota had killed as it pounced at me.
Later, when there was a chance to think about it at leisure, I would be amazed by Oota's ability and accuracy with a rifle. As it was, I got up and dusted myself off, grateful and surprised to still be alive. As I limped toward the cabin Oota rushed out to meet me.
"Mr. Jess o.k?" She asked.
I managed some sort of a response, still shaking from recent events. Oota, on the other hand, was all business.
"You bring medicine Mr. Jess? Where medicine?"
I said, "in my saddle bag. Did you see where the horse went?"
She pointed to the stable and started toward it, leaving me to catch up. "How is Helga? I asked.
Oota answered, "Still too hot, need medicine," as she strode quickly towards the stable.
We found the terrified horse quivering in a corner of its' stall, dripping sweat, with the whites of its eyes still showing. I managed to quiet it enough to retrieve the saddlebags and handed them to Oota. She took them and rushed back out. I knew the horse needed tending to, but it was all I could do to get the saddle off of it before hurrying to the cabin. I spared just a moment to hope that I had not foundered it, but otherwise the horse would have to see to itself for a while.
Approaching the cabin, I saw Abe on the porch holding my daughter. "Helga?" I asked.
"Not good", he replied, looking more worried than I'd ever seen him. "She's burning up with fever and delirious. Doesn't even know who I am."
I patted his shoulder, stopped to gently kiss my daughter, and walked past him to the door, afraid of what I would see if I went in.
A low moan came from inside. I stopped in the doorway, then forced my feet to take me further and face my fear. Helga was thrashing around on the bed, covered in sweat, the blankets tangled around her. Oota was placing snow in cloths and putting them around Helga's body. "Mr. Jess, take," she said, holding out a wet cloth. "Put on her head. Talk"
I assumed Oota wanted me to put the cloth on Helga's forehead to help cool her, and perhaps she thought speaking to her would offer comfort, but I had no idea what to say. As I hesitated, unsure and, quite frankly, terrified by the sight of just how sick my wife was, Oota snapped, "Now, Mr. Jess."
I once again got my feet unstuck from the floor, took the cloth Oota offered, and placed it on Helga's head. She was thrashing around so much, I had to hold it in place. As hot as she was, the cloth quickly grew warm so I put it in the bowl of ice water I found next to the bed. Then I squeezed it out before returning it to Helga's forehead. I did this over and over throughout the afternoon and night. I also prayed more than I had ever done in my life; more than before or during any battle I had ever faced. More than when I watched men, broken and bleeding, crying for their mothers, dying in the mud in nameless places far from home. I offered God my life and soul if He would only allow Helga to live. I had finally found the one thing on Earth that meant more to me than anything and everything else, and I could do nothing but watch her suffer. I wondered if was I being punished for my sins. If so, why was Helga the one paying?
My prayers were silent, Abe's were not, and through the night I heard Oota chanting something in her own language. She also brought tea for Helga to drink, made from the plants I had gathered up the mountain, and kept putting snow wrapped in cloth around Helga's burning body. A faint memory stirred in my head, a memory of my mother, a cool cloth in her hand, placing it on my head as fever raged through me. A fleeting thought from my childhood, a feeling of being loved and cared for.
I don't know how it could have happened, but I obviously must have dozed off because I woke to early morning sunshine. I was confused, why I was sitting in a chair instead of in bed with Helga? Then I remembered. I straightened with a gasp as my gaze went to Helga's sleeping form. I realized suddenly that Helga was doing exactly that, sleeping. Not thrashing around in delirium, but sleeping. I felt her forehead and was amazed and elated to find it cool. My knees gave way in relief as I thanked God for sparing her life.
Abe was asleep in a chair, and the baby was in the cradle by the bed. My ecstatic cry woke them both and the baby started wailing. Oota came rushing in from outside. She looked as exhausted as I felt, but she pushed past me to lay her hand on Helga's head, brushing the tangled hair back from her face. As she turned to smile at me Helga opened her eyes and said weakly,
"Why is the baby crying?"
By Delahay
“Darker days I thought I'd never see than that time. But time held all the cards. Looking back, what I had been going through were the golden days.
“The baby was just crying because she was hungry. It was a good thing Oota had brought the goat with her. Its milk seemed to be an acceptable substitute for mother's milk, and Helga was in no condition to feed a baby. But she recovered quicker than I would have thought, and was soon up and about and back to her normal self. I'd never been so happy to be bossed around by a woman. I knew it was something I would never take fro granted again. At least, most of the time.
“Little Mary grew like a weed. She was the sunshine in all of our lives. We named her Mary Rachel after my mother and Abe's. Helga and I both really got a kick out of watching Abe having tea parties with Mary and the dolls her mother made for her. Abe proved quite good at making toys for Mary out of things I would never have thought of, rocks, pieces of wood and string. Such simple things that could bring so much joy.
“Abe also built this bench we're sitting on. Helga and I would sit on it most evenings, enjoying a few minutes of quiet at the end of the day; watching the light fade into darkness. I carved our initials in it, just like a schoolboy. They've faded with age, but they're still visible if you look.
“I'm glad Abe had the time he did with his granddaughter. We lost him the fall of her twelfth year. He's buried out back, I go out there to talk to him sometimes. I wasn't sure how old he was then, Helga said she was pretty sure he was sixty-eight but said he was never really sure himself. Oota had a real practical way of looking at dying, said we go back to the Earth that we came from, live on in all the plants that grow. I like to think she was right about that. She still took it hard when he passed though. She and Abe had gotten real close over time. I was glad she was there for him, always thought they should have just gone ahead and got married. Don't know why they didn't. I'll tell you this, Abe was the finest man I ever met.
“I thought losing Abe was the worst thing that could happen. I just didn't know how much worse it could get. The next winter was the coldest we'd ever seen. Oota went to visit her people, traded some of our salted meat for some blankets. She found most of her people had died from what sounded like small pox. We didn't know then that the U.S. Army had come up with a new way to “handle” the Natives. Seems they decided giving out blankets contaminated with small pox was a good way to get rid of them. We found out about that the hard way, when Oota and Helga both got sick. I thank God every day that he spared little Mary, I don't think I would have wanted to go on living if I'd lost her too.
“You said you were Abe's nephew, didn't you? That's a fine recommendation as far as I'm concerned. I'm sorry son, but I've forgotten your name. My mind's not as sharp as it used to be. And what do you call that buggy you rode up in? I ain't never seen one that could get around without a horse to pull it along. Amazing things people are coming up with these days.”
“It's called an automobile, Mr. Harper. And my name's Joshua. Uncle Abe wrote to mother and me so much about you and cousin Helga, I feel like I know you. He thought pretty highly of you too. Said he knew you were a good man from the moment he met you. Mother always said Uncle Abe could read a man's soul. She called it a gift from God. I wish I'd been able to travel here while he was still alive. Mother wanted me to go back to the old country to attend Rabbinical school. So I haven't been back here long. Sometimes I wonder if I go too far to make my mother happy. But I'm so glad to finally meet you. It would have been nice if I could have met Uncle Abe.”
“I'm right proud to hear that Abe thought well of me. I have to say, you gave me quite a shock when I first saw you. I swear, you're the spit and image of Abe when we first met, it took me back quite a ways. I told you about the first time we met, didn't I?
“Yes sir, you did. Said Uncle Abe saved your life when a man who's life you'd spared would have shot you. I'd heard Uncle Abe's side of the story before from a letter he wrote to my mother. Abe said he didn't know at the time what had happened between the two of you, but no good man would shoot anyone who was on the ground and unarmed. He'd also seen you shot off your horse just before then. He regretted having to take a life, but he never regretted saving yours. Not that he ever made much of doing so. He felt a man just did what he had to do, then moved on.”
“That's right, I remember now. Like I said, my memory's not like it once was. And that sounds just like Abe. He wasn't one to dwell on things. I know Mary sure would love to meet you. She lives in Denver now with her husband and two boys, Josh and Jess. She married a fine man and they're doing well. I wish you could have met Oota., Mary called her Memaw, and Oota loved my girl like she was her own. It's been over twenty years now since Oota died and I lost Helga. I'm an old man now, time just slips away on me.
“So you're a Rabbi? Abe would be so proud of you. But what do I call you? I've always called a Man of God 'Preacher', but I know that wouldn't work for you. But here, now. I've just been rambling on all this time. You said there was something you wanted to tell me about Abe?”
“Yes sir, Mr. Harper, I did. And you could call me Rabbi, but I would really prefer Joshua. We are family after all, and I'd be honored if you considered me to be your nephew.
“I didn't so much want to tell you about Uncle Abe as about what he did. See, it was because of him that I was able to go to school in the first place. It was the same for my two younger brothers as well. Apparently Abe found gold out here somewhere, but was afraid to let anyone around here know about it. He'd seen how gold fever could affect people, seen people and places torn apart by greed and corruption. He didn't want the same thing to happen to this place. Seeing how nice it is around here, I can see what he meant. I've heard of a lot of towns in this country that rose and fell because of that precious metal, and Abe had seen too much of what people are capable of. From what he had to say, you've seen your share as well. I think Abe didn't want to burden you with such a secret, one many would kill for.”
“Well, heh! Ain't that something? Abe never said nothing 'bout that. That's just like him though, looking after all of us. I did wonder from time to time how he was always able to go into town and get supplies any time he wanted. I just figured he was pretty good at trading the furs we collected, and tools he made, for what we needed. Next time I visit him I'll have to say something to him and his secrets. I'm glad I never tried playing poker with him, and that he kept secrets so well. Something like that could ruin this place. Makes me glad he sent his gold back east to your mother.
“I knew that there was a little bit of gold found from time to time around here, but everyone seemed to think it washed down from a lot further upstream, up closer to Denver. So we never had a big gold rush like some places did. At one time I'd thought about trying my hand at prospecting gold, but never gave it another thought after I met Abe and Helga. So Abe sent most of what he found back home to his sister then? That's good to hear. We didn't need it, so I'm glad you and your family got some use out of it.”
“Well there's a little more to it than that, Mr. Harper. Uncle Abe didn't just want to help out my brothers and me. He sent a lot of gold back east over the years, and my mother was a pretty shrewd investor. She followed Abe's wishes and set things up so everything would be divided up after the last of us finished school. I've got papers here covering your share of everything. You can have the money wired to the bank in Denver if you like. Your part is the biggest share since my brothers and I deducted the cost of our tuition from our part. We won't really miss it, over the years Mother's investments have done very well indeed.”
“What are you talking about, young man? Sorry, I meant to say Josua. I'd be proud to call you family. But there ain't nothing I need, and my Mary is doing just fine with her family. I wouldn't know what to do with any more than I've got right here.”
“Well Mr. Harper, you may see it that way, but Abe's wishes were very clear. I doubt if he understood just how much money would be available when the time came, but he insisted that you and your family were to get an equal share. You can do as you like after the transfer is made, but Abe wanted you to have it.”
“That sure was thoughtful of old Abe. I suppose Mary and her young man could find something to do with a few extra dollars. Maybe they could get one of those fancy buggies like you rode up in. And Mary always has been one to take in strays, animals and humans both. She has a big heart and can't stand to see anything suffering. I imagine she could put anything Abe left us to good use. How much are you talking about anyway?
"You can see right here on the papers I brought you Mr. Harper. This line right here.”
“Three hundred and seventy dollars! Yeah, that a good bit of money. But I don't really need anything. Just give it to Mary and her family. They'll put it to good use.”
“No, Mr. Harper, you don't understand. Your share comes to just over $370,000.00. I imagine if you don't want it, Cousin Mary could help a lot of strays with it."
“Are you serious, Joshua? What would anyone do with that kind of money? I'm sure I wouldn't know. Why don't you just go ahead and see about sending it to my Mary. I reckon she and her man can figure out what to do with it.
“Would you like some blackberry wine, Josua? Abe taught me to make it years ago, but I don't think mine's ever turned out as good as his. Everyone loved Abe's blackberry wine. Especially Oota. She'd never tasted anything like it before she met Abe. I think mine's not bad though, and I've got plenty. We had more blackberries than I could pick this season. I think the birds and critters got more than I did.”
“I'd love some Mr. Harper. My mother made it too. She said Uncle Abe's was better than anyone else's so I wouldn't worry too much about how yours might compare. I'm sure it's just fine.”
“Please, call me Jess, young man. Nobody calls me Mr. Harper. I'll be back in just a minute.”
By Delahay
My name is Joshua Greenberg. I guess it's up to me to finish Jess's story. I don't know how old he was, but he sure saw a lot of history in this country. No one hardly even thinks about the Civil War anymore, even though it still affects a lot of people. We've come a long way since then. We still have our problems, who doesn't? But I can only hope that there are more people like Jess and my Uncle Abe in the world. They were good men, and the world was a better place when they were in it. Women like cousin Helga and Oota certainly did their part as well. And from what I've seen of her, Cousin Mary and her family will continue to set examples for others as they move through life. But that is yet to come.
Shortly after Jess had gone in, I heard a noise in the cabin, like something had fallen. I went inside to see what had happened, and found Jess on the floor next to a table that held a bottle of wine and two glasses. He had an old, battered tin cup in his hand. Since he was holding it, I guessed he must have wanted to show it to me for some reason. There was an empty space on the mantle, as if that was where it usually sat. I thought that old cup must have meant something special to him, since he'd kept it when all the other things in the cabin were a lot newer and much nicer - and since it seemed as if he'd wanted me to see it. I wondered if, maybe, it was the same one he'd mentioned early in his story; when he spoke about surviving a storm and being glad he, at least, still had his tin cup. Perhaps that was why he wanted to show it to me. It could have been a reminder of a different time in his life, before he found what was really important to him.
We buried Jess next to Helga, Abe, and Oota. I don't know what religion he followed. Cousin Mary said he was a Christian, and he had a crucifix over his mantel. But he wore a Star of David necklace. Mary told me it was one that Abe had once worn, and my mother had one just like it. Perhaps Jess wore it in Abe's memory. But Mary also said they had celebrated Jewish holidays too, as well as participating in ceremonies Oota held with the changing of the seasons. I thought of what an interesting household they must have had. After a little discussion, we just went ahead and had both the star and cross put on Jess' headstone. People may have thought that was strange, but we didn't much care. Mary and her family liked it, and I think Jess would have too.
After the funeral, as I was standing in that little plot behind the cabin, I thought of what it showed about how people can live in this world. About how people can come together if they don't let themselves get caught up in what others think of them. Buried there were two Jews, a Christian, and a Native American. People from very different cultures, who loved, respected, and cared for each other in life. They may not have been considered equals by most people while they lived, but death doesn't care what we think.
I sat for a while on the bench made by an uncle I'd never met, after burying a man I had known for such a short, but significant time, and understood what Uncle Abe had seen in Jess Harper. I was honored to have known the man, if even for such a limited span, and thought he seemed much like my uncle. They'd both embraced a simple life without all the trapping most of us see as civilization. As my thoughts drifted, it seemed as if the two men had become one person, who had affected me more than hundreds of others I had met.
I looked across the peaceful meadow before me and thought how beautiful this wild country was. It had seen little of any lasting imprint of the hand of man, but I knew it would only be a matter of time 'til that changed. People were racing across the continent now, eager to settle new lands.
But the lonely beauty of nature left me feeling small and insignificant. Like, no matter what we do here, the universe takes no notice. The sound of the wind through the trees was like the haunting tones of a Native American flute I'd heard played as I passed through a small town on my way here. The rustle of the leaves giving way to the breeze reminded me of the fleeting impact any of us can ever have on the land.
By Delahay
Synopsis: Jess Harper, a Civil War vet, is traveling to Denver to see a girl he had left behind when he went off to seek his fortune, hoping she is still single and happy to see him. Earlier in his travels, Jess was robbed by his three companions. He later found them and, after killing two, Cherokee Bill and Banks, he retrieved his possessions and let the third one, Charlie, leave. Charlie later caught up with Jess, shot him in the back, then aimed a gun at him as he was lying on the ground. Charlie had killed a wealthy man named Wilcox. Wilcox had been heading to Denver and Charlie meant to impersonate him using papers found on the body. Charlie knew Jess could identify him as an impostor. He was saved by a settler, Hermann Klein and his daughter who came upon the scene as Charlie was about to shoot Jess. Jess has been recovering at the Klein's cabin. During this time he has come to admire Klein's daughter, Helga. When Klein goes away for the day he asks Jess to keep an eye on Helga for him. When Jess goes looking for Helga he finds her, naked, bathing in a stream. Rather than being upset, Helga welcomes Jess. Rather than being upset with Jess, Helga's father is pleased that Jess wants to marry his daughter. Now that Helga is expecting, Abe and Jess want to find someone to help Helga with the delivery and caring for the baby.
The days came and went. With Helga and Abe around and plenty to do, time flew. This was a long way from the lean days when I wasn't sure where I'd sleep at night, or where my next meal was coming from.
Four months into her pregnancy, Helga began to show, though even I was smart enough not to say anything about it. I begin thinking, though, that she would need some help soon, preferably from another woman. One who knew what to expect and do. I discussed this with Abe, who agreed with me. I really don't think he was looking forward to being the one to help with the delivery any more than I was.
Abe told me we should ask around at what passed for a church, but more as a saloon, the next time we went into town. We did try talking to some of the, uh, "ladies", a term I use loosely but who am I to talk? They mostly eyed Abe and playfully pulled at the purple threads mixed in the fringe that hung from the edges of his coat and sleeves. I'd been around enough people, a lot of them natives, to know not to trifle with what a person was wearing. One can never know what it means to them.
We finally found a woman, Beatrice, who seemed to know what she was doing, and, at least, kept her mouth shut. Some of the words I that came out of the mouths of those women, well, I'd never even heard them before. We told the woman the situation and she said she'd be happy to help, for a certain price, of course. We soon discovered our mistake. There are times when one person's "help" is another person's hurt.
One day while Abe was out working I just barely stopped Beatrice from starting a fire with some scrolls I had seen Abe reading. They had strange writing on them that didn't look like the alphabet that I'd learned, but Abe was able to understand them. He called them The Torah and they seemed mighty important to him. Beatrice said they looked like useless trash to her and a four-year-old could draw something better. Said it looked no better than something the heathen Indians would do.
I paid Beatrice for her time and took her back to town before Abe came back to the cabin. When I got back and explained what had happened Helga was not happy with either Abe or me. She mentioned it would have been nice if we had consulted her before inflicting that woman on any of us and she would find her own help.
Most of the time it felt like I had known Helga my entire life. But at other times I realized there were a few things I still had to learn. One thing I quickly discovered was that once she made up her mind about something, neither Hell nor high water would change it.
I tried explaining the menagerie of morons Abe and I had found to choose from in town when we tried to find someone to help Helga when she needed it. I then learned the reason why Abe would often throw both hands in the air and walk off babbling after a conversation with my beloved. In fact, I found myself doing the same thing. Abe saw me doing this one day, looked at me strangely and said, "Helga"? I answered "Yep".
| Author Notes | In some Jewish cultures, I believe it is mostly orthodox, some garments have fringes which have a religious meaning I don't understand well enough to explain. At times those fringes have purple threads mixed in made from a dye prepared from the blood of a particular mollusk. Once again, I do not remember what the significance of the color is and would not feel competent or qualified to explain if I did. |
By Delahay
Synopsis: Jess Harper, a Civil War vet, is traveling to Denver to see a girl he had left behind when he went off to seek his fortune, hoping she is still single and happy to see him. Earlier in his travels, Jess was robbed by his three companions. He later found them and, after killing two, Cherokee Bill and Banks, he retrieved his possessions and let the third one, Charlie, leave. Charlie later caught up with Jess, shot him in the back, then aimed a gun at him as he was lying on the ground. Charlie had killed a wealthy man named Wilcox. Wilcox had been heading to Denver and Charlie meant to impersonate him using papers found on the body. Charlie knew Jess could identify him as an impostor. He was saved by a settler, Hermann Klein and his daughter who came upon the scene as Charlie was about to shoot Jess. He has been recovering at the Klein's cabin. During this time he has come to admire Klein's daughter, Helga. When Klein goes away for the day he asks Jess to keep an eye on Helga for him. When Jess goes looking for Helga he finds her, naked, bathing in a stream. Rather than being upset, Helga welcomes Jess. Rather than being upset with Jess, Helga's father is pleased that Jess wants to marry his daughter. Now that Helga is expecting, Abe and Jess want to find someone to help Helga with the delivery and caring for the baby. The person they find does not work out well so Helga states she will find someone one her own.
I got up early, just before dusk, and went out to start feeding the critters. It could sure get dark out there when there was no moon out. After the animals were all fed I stumbled along by lantern light to check the fence line. There were four or five places where the rams were determined to escape any chance they got. It was a never ending battle, they'd tear up the fences in their bids for freedom, then I'd spend my time fixing them again. I don't know why the stupid things were so anxious to get away. They had food and shelter where they were now, out there in the wilderness they were likely to meet up with wolves or mountain lions. Even I shied away from roaming around too far from home without a rifle by my side, having someone to watch my back would be even better.
As I made my way back to the cabin I saw Abe out front sharpening the ax.
"Guten morgen," he called out.
I frequently had a little trouble understanding Abe. His heavy accent was difficult to follow at times but even I could follow this greeting.
"Morning, Abe," I replied. "Helga sleeping in?"
"No, she vere gone ven I get up today. I think she go to get der help she vant."
I was concerned when he said this. Where could she be planning to find that kind of help around these parts?
I asked Abe, "You got any idea where she was heading?"
"No, she don't tell me. Ve just haff to vait. You can cook der breakfast?"
"Not so much. I might be able to scramble some eggs if you think you can handle the coffee."
"O.K. I try."
So I cooked some eggs that weren't too burnt and Abe made some coffee that was a bit better than drinking tar and we called it breakfast. I was worried enough about where Helga had gotten off to that I probably would have managed to choke down actual tar. It was too easy to think of all the bad things she could run into out in the wilderness. Heck, earlier I was thinking the same thing about the stupid sheep that kept trying to escape. Of course, Helga was a lot smarter but there were a lot of different dangers she might come across. Not all dangerous wild animals walked around on four legs. I found that out the hard way too many times.
As the day wore on my worry grew. I'd never in my life known this kind of fear and concern for another person, never had anyone to feel it for. I'd gotten to the point where I was pacing back and forth when I heard Abe call out.
"Jess, der vagon, it comes!"
I noticed he was pale and his hand shook as he pointed towards a cloud of dust coming our way. I looked where he was pointing and my gaze met a strange-looking party. Helga was holding the reins but I wasn't sure exactly who or what was seated next to her. The figure was wrapped in a blanket and dressed in buckskins. There was a tomahawk stuck through a leather belt and a rifle was held between their knees. A tall, domed hat flopped on top of a head that was barely visible under the wide brim. There was something that looked like a cradle in the back of the wagon and a burro was tied to the back, looking comical as its little legs trotted fast to keep up. As they came a little closer I could make out a chicken riding on the back of the burro.
"Abe," I asked, "what has she gotten us into?"
By Delahay
Synopsis: Jess Harper, a Civil War vet, is traveling through the west trying to make a life for himself after the war. Earlier in his travels, Jess was robbed by his three companions. He later found them, killed two of them, retrieved his possessions then let the third one, Charlie, leave. Charlie later caught up with Jess, shot him in the back, then aimed a gun at him as he was lying on the ground. He was saved by a settler, Hermann (Abe) Klein and his daughter Helga. While recovering with the Kleins, Jess falls for and marries Helga. Now that Helga is expecting, Abe and Jess want to find someone to help Helga with the baby. The person they find does not work out well so Helga states she will find someone on her own. She disappears one morning and is gone all day before Jess and Abe spot Helga approaching in the wagon.
Previously: I looked where he was pointing and my gaze met a strange looking party. Helga was holding the reins but I wasn't sure exactly who or what was seated next to her. The figure was wrapped in a blanket and dressed in buckskins. There was a tomahawk stuck through a leather belt and a rifle was held between their knees. A tall, domed hat flopped on top of a head that was barely visible under the wide brim. There was something that looked like a cradle in the back of the wagon and a burro was tied to the back, looking comical as its little legs trotted fast to keep up. As they came a little closer I could make out a chicken riding on the back of the burro.
"Abe," I asked, "what has she gotten us into?
Now: As I watched the wagon and its assorted characters approach, different feelings were fighting their way through my mind. Relief that Helga was back, apparently unharmed, was kept company by something almost like rage that she had placed herself in harm's way by taking off like she had. A small amount of humor at the ridiculous sight the menagerie made flickered through me as well but was overwhelmed.
I stood transfixed by my warring thoughts as the wagon rolled to a halt. Before I could form a coherent thought, or make any sound beyond "um", Abe stepped forward to help Helga and her passenger down from their perch. When Helga was safely back on her feet, I finally managed to get my own unstuck from the ground and rushed forward to wrap my arms around her. I held her tight for a moment before all my fear and anger came crashing back through me. I pushed her back and held her at arm's length as the words began tumbling out of my mouth without stopping by my brain for instructions.
"What in God's name did you think you were doing? Where have you been? Do you have any idea how worried we have been? You could have been killed! There are dangerous wild animals out there! There are dangerous people out there! Are you crazy? What were you thinking?"
I may have said a few more things, all in a very loud voice, but I couldn't really keep up with all of it. Through it all, I somehow failed to notice that Helga was looking less than pleased with me. As my tirade finally wound down I realized that she was standing with her arms crossed, her foot tapping, with an offended look on her face. After a moment she snapped,
" I know what I'm doing. Help me unload the wagon."
Then she stomped off .
She walked to the creature in the buckskins and floppy hat. As I approached I realized that it was an old Indian woman with long white braids with skin as dark and wrinkled as a walnut.
I could see Abe was no less upset than I was, but I guess he had more experience dealing with Helga than I did. He was standing stock still, clenching his jaw until I thought his teeth would break. Then he seemed to shake himself and walked to the wagon to help unload.
The Indian turned out to be the widow of a much-respected medicine man of a local tribe of Utes in the area. She called herself something that sounded like "Oota" and had learned some English from a missionary who had lived with her people for a while. She also had a very bossy manner. After raking an unimpressed glance over me she pointed at the wagon and said "cradle" then walked into the cabin carrying a bundle wrapped in skins.
I carried the cradle into the cabin to find Oota waving burning sage around as she walked along the walls and across the floor. She even made a few passes around me with the smoldering herbs. Abe got the same treatment when he walked in. As she walked, I could hear her chanting in a language I did not understand. I could only assume that she was trying to rid the cabin of evil spirits. At least I hoped that was what she was doing.
Helga bustled in, barking orders like a Drill Sergeant.
"Don't just stand there! The wagon won't unload itself. This place is a mess, we have to get it cleaned up! Do I have to do everything myself?"
I had heard that pregnant women can get a little grumpy and unpredictable. I didn't have much experience with the phenomena myself, but I found myself wondering. Just what on Earth had happened to my sweet, loving wife. Was I going to survive this?
| Author Notes | The Utes are a tribe of Native Americans from an area made up of parts of Utah and Colorado. |
By Delahay
Synopsis: Jess Harper, a Civil War vet,was traveling through the west trying to make a life for himself after the war. Jess was robbed by three traveling companions. He found them, killed two, retrieved his possessions, then let the third one, Charlie, leave. Charlie later caught up with Jess, shot him in the back, then aimed a gun at him as he was lying on the ground. Jess was saved by a settler, Abe Klein, and his daughter Helga. While recovering with the Kleins, Jess fell for and marries Helga. When Helga became pregnant, Abe and Jess tried to find someone to help Helga with the baby. The person they found did not work out well so Helga stated she would find someone on her own. She disappeared one morning and was gone for most of the day before returning with an old Native woman who takes charge of preparing for the birth.
Due to Helga's increasingly restless sleep, I had taken to sleeping outside on the porch. It was the only way I was going to get any rest these days. Just before dawn one day I woke to the sound of screaming. At first I thought I was back at Shiloh, laying among the dead, listening to the screams of the dying. As I shook off the dregs of my dream, I realized where I was and rushed inside the cabin. My way was blocked by Abe and Oota. I heard the Oota telling Abe he was not needed, that he should go outside. Than she turned to me then and said sharply,
“Baby come. You, outside. Both you, outside. You no good here.”
I could still hear Helga screaming behind the curtain where our bed was. I stood, frozen in place, not sure which way to go. Then Abe seemed to shake himself out of his own paralysis, and took my arm.
“Jess,” he said. “Maybe it'd be best if we saw to the livestock.”
There was a worried, almost scared look to his face. I wasn't sure what to make of that. He'd always seemed so calm and sure of himself. Except, of course, when it came to dealing with Helga. Oota gave me a push about then, just as I heard Helga curse for the first time in my hearing.
“Damn you Jess Harper, this is all your fault, where the hell are you? I'm gonna kill you!”
I made up my mind right then and there that I did not want to be in that cabin. Abe and I made tracks for the door at a smart pace.
After seeing to the stock, Abe and I waited on the porch, trying to ignore the noises and screams coming from inside, and pretending we weren't worried. It had been twelve hours since Helga's water broke and we were both praying everything was alright. I'd heard too many stories about women who'd died in childbirth, and many more about how the baby didn't make it either.
Suddenly the screaming stopped and the sudden quiet was interrupted by a loud, long wail. After a few more minutes, Oota appeared in the doorway,
“Mr. Jess, come see you bay-bee. Miss Heel-ga good.”
I was apprehensive walking inside. After all the screaming I'd heard earlier, I wasn't sure what to expect. To my surprise, Helga was sitting up and smiling. She looked like she'd been through the wringer, but I'd never seen a more beautiful sight. She asked,
“What should we name her?”
By Delahay
Synopsis: Jess Harper, a Civil War vet,was traveling through the west trying to make a life for himself after the war. Jess was robbed by three traveling companions. He found them, killed two, retrieved his possessions, then let the third one, Charlie, leave. Charlie later caught up with Jess, shot him in the back, then aimed a gun at him as he was lying on the ground. Jess was saved by a settler, Abe Klein, and his daughter Helga. While recovering with the Kleins, Jess fell for and marries Helga. When Helga became pregnant, Abe and Jess tried to find someone to help Helga with the baby. The person they found did not work out well so Helga stated she would find someone on her own. She disappeared one morning and was gone for most of the day before returning with an old Native woman who takes charge of preparing for the birth. one morning Early Jess is awakened by screaming. Helga is in labor. After a very long and tense day, Helga delivers a healthy baby girl.
I soon realized that I should have tried to get as much sleep as possible while I still could. It became quite elusive in a very short time. Who knew such a small creature could make so much noise? When I said as much to Helga, who looked as sleep deprived as I did, she said rather sharply,
“Well how else is she supposedto let us know something is wrong or that she needs something? It's not like she can talk.”
I decided it would be better to just keep such observations to myself. After a few tense days, as everyone's nerves seemed to stretch tighter, I noticed that Oota was looking more worried than tired. Her English may have been better than my mastery of her language, but conversations were still a mite garbled. She pulled me out of the cabin and and spoke in a hushed voice.
“Miss Heel-ga, too hot. Sick, needs medicine.”
Her words struck terror in my heart. I'd heard of childbed fever, my Aunt died from it when I was a boy. Since then I'd heard of many other women who died of fever after giving birth.
I was pulled from my thoughts by Oota pulling on my sleeve.
“Mr. Jess must get medicine. Go high up mountain. Get this plant.”
She showed me a crude drawing she had made on a piece of bark. I was surprised to actually recognize the plant. My mother called it feverwort and used it for many ailments. Oota also said,
“I find trees by stream, boil bark for medicine. Need snow or ice too if you find.”
I realized she was talking about the willow trees that grew by the stream. That was another thing I recalled my mother using. She would make a tea from willow bark any time someone was feverish. I remembered how terrible it tasted.
I ran inside to see Helga before I left. She was sleeping restlessly so I kissed her forehead. She felt like she was on fire. I ran outside to saddle my horse and set off as fast as I could. I'd seen a patch of the plants Oota showed me near the timberline the last time I went up the mountain to hunt for deer. I'd have to go a little higher if I wanted to find snow or ice. I saw Abe standing on the porch wringing his hands as I rode away. He looked much older to me somehow.
After about an hour's ride I found the patch of feverwort. I had no idea how much was needed so I grabbed as much as I could stuff in a bag. I had to ride another four hours to reach the snowline. I compacted it as much as I could and wrapped it in pieces of sheepskin before putting it in my saddlebags. I'd put some straw in the bags before I left and hoped it would help keep the snow from melting before I got back. I also hoped the clouds hiding the sun and the shade of the trees would help. My horse was looking a little tuckered by this time but I didn't have time to give him a rest. I had no idea how long I had before the snow melted. Saddlebags full of water wouldn't be very useful. At least going down the mountain would be a lot easier than going up.
By Delahay
Synopsis: Jess Harper, a Civil War vet,was traveling through the west trying to make a life for himself after the war. Jess was robbed by three traveling companions. He found them, killed two, retrieved his possessions, then let the third one, Charlie, leave. Charlie later caught up with Jess, shot him in the back, then aimed a gun at him as he was lying on the ground. Jess was saved by a settler, Abe Klein, and his daughter Helga. While recovering with the Kleins, Jess fell for and marries Helga. When Helga became pregnant, Abe and Jess tried to find someone to help Helga with the baby. The person they found did not work out well so Helga stated she would find someone on her own. She disappeared one morning and was gone for most of the day before returning with an old Native woman, called Oota, who takes charge of preparing for the birth. Early one morning, Jess is awakened by screaming. Helga is in labor. After a very long and tense day, Helga delivers a healthy baby girl. Soon, however, Helga develops a fever and Oota sends Jess up into the mountains to bring back herbs to make medicine and snow to help cool Helga.
I raced back to the cabin as fast as possible over the rocky ground. My horse shied suddenly as we approached the clearing nearly throwing me from the saddle. Leaving the treeline, I saw Oota standing in front of the cabin with a rifle in her hands, yelling words I could not understand. To my surprise, she raised the rifle and pointed it in my direction. My thoughts froze in horror as I waited for the shot, unable to understand why Oota would shoot at me. I managed to duck, a futile gesture I thought, as the report of the rifle filled my ears. Something hit me hard, but I could not understand why it felt as if I'd been struck from behind. My horse reared and I found myself on the ground, struggling to get out from beneath what I finally understood to be the body of a mountain lion Oota had killed as it pounced at me.
Later, when there was a chance to think about it at leisure, I would be amazed by Oota's ability and accuracy with a rifle. As it was, I got up and dusted myself off, grateful and surprised to still be alive. As I limped toward the cabin Oota rushed out to meet me.
"Mr. Jess o.k?" She asked.
I managed some sort of a response, still shaking from recent events. Oota, on the other hand was all business.
"You bring medicine Mr. Jess? Where medicine?"
I said, "in my saddle bag. Did you see where the horse went?"
She pointed to the stable and started toward it, leaving me to catch up. "How is Helga? I asked.
Oota answered, "Still too hot, need medicine," as she strode quickly forward.
We found the terrified horse in its stall, quivering in a corner, dripping with sweat with the whites of its eyes still showing. I managed to quiet it enough to retrieve the saddle bags and handed them to Oota. She took them and rushed back out. I knew the horse needed tending to but it was all I could do to get the saddle off of it before hurrying to the cabin. I spared just a moment to hope that I had not foundered it, but otherwise the horse would have to see to itself for a while.
Approaching the cabin, I saw Abe on the porch holding my daughter. "How's Helga doing?" I asked him.
"Not good", he replied, looking more worried than I'd ever seen him. "She's burning up with fever and delirious. Doesn't even know who I am."
I patted his shoulder, stopped to gently kiss my daughter, and walked past him to the door, afraid of what I would see if I went in.
I could hear moaning from inside. I stopped in the doorway, unable to make myself enter. I could see Helga thrashing around on the bed, covered in sweat, with the blankets tangled around her. Oota was placing snow in cloths and putting them around Helga's body. "Mr. Jess, take this," she said, holding out a wet cloth. "Put on her head. Talk"
I assumed Oota wanted me to put the cloth on Helga's forehead to help cool her, and perhaps she thought speaking to her would offer comfort, but I had no idea what to say. As I hesitated, unsure and, quite frankly, terrified by the sight of just how sick my wife was, Oota snapped, "Now, Mr. Jess."
I got my feet unstuck from the floor, took the cloth Oota offered, and placed it on Helga's head. She was thrashing around so much, I had to hold it in place. As hot as she was, the cloth quickly grew warm so I put it in the bowl of ice water I found next to the bed. Then I squeezed it out before returning it to Helga's forehead. I did this over and over throughout the afternoon and night. I also prayed more than I had ever done in my life; more than before or during any battle I had ever faced. More than when I watched men, broken and bleeding, crying for their mothers, dying in the mud in nameless places far from home. I offered God my life and soul if he would only allow Helga to live. I had finally found the one thing on Earth that meant more to me than anything and everything else, and I could do nothing but watch her suffer. I wondered if was I being punished for my sins. If so, why was Helga the one paying?
My prayers were silent, Abe's were not, and through the night I heard Oota chanting something in her own language. She also brought tea for Helga to drink, made from the plants I had gathered up the mountain, and kept putting snow wrapped in cloth around Helga's burning body. A faint memory stirred in my head, a memory of my mother, a cool cloth in her hand, placing it on my head as fever raged through me. A fleeting thought from my childhood, a feeling of being loved and cared for.
I don't know how it could have happened, but I obviously must have dozed off because I woke to early morning sunshine. I was confused, why I was sitting in a chair instead of in bed with Helga? Then I remembered. I straightened with a gasp as my gaze went to Helga's sleeping form. I realized suddenly that Helga was doing exactly that, sleeping. Not thrashing around in delirium, but sleeping. I felt her forehead and was amazed and elated to find it cool.
My ecstatic cry woke Abe and the baby who started crying, and brought Oota rushing in from outside. She looked as exhausted as I felt, but she pushed by me to lay her hand on Helga's head, brushing the tangled hair back from her face. As she turned to smile at me Helga opened her eyes and said weakly,
"Why is the baby crying?"
| Author Notes | Founder, also known as laminitis. A painful condition in a horse's feet where the hoof wall separates from the coffin bone. A sever case leaves a horse profoundly lame and the horse must be humanely euthanized. The cause is frequently unknown but some believe that very hard riding can bring it on. |
By Delahay
Jess Harper, a Civil War vet,was traveling through the west trying to make a life for himself after the war. Jess was robbed by three traveling companions. He found them, killed two, retrieved his possessions, then let the third one, Charlie, leave. Charlie later caught up with Jess, shot him in the back, then aimed a gun at him as he was lying on the ground. Jess was saved by a settler, Abe Klein, and his daughter Helga. While recovering with the Kleins, Jess fell for and marries Helga. When Helga became pregnant, Abe and Jess tried to find someone to help Helga with the baby. The person they found did not work out well so Helga stated she would find someone on her own. She disappeared one morning and was gone for most of the day before returning with an old Native woman, called Oota, who takes charge of preparing for the birth. Early one morning, Jess is awakened by screaming. Helga is in labor. After a very long and tense day, Helga delivers a healthy baby girl. Soon, however, Helga develops a fever and Oota sends Jess up into the mountains to bring back herbs to make medicine and snow to help cool Helga. Oota is able to bring down Helga's fever and she recovers. When she wakes, her first words are, "Why is the baby crying?"
Darker days I thought I'd never see at that time. But time held all the cards. What I had been going through were the golden days.
The baby was just crying because she was hungry. It was a good thing Oota had brought the goat with her. Its milk seemed to be an acceptable substitute for mother's milk and Helga was in no condition to feed a baby. But she recovered quicker than I expected, and was soon up and about and back to her normal self.
“Little Mary grew like a weed. She was the sunshine in all of our lives. Helga and I both really got a kick out of watching Abe having tea parties with Mary and the dolls her mother made for her. Abe proved quite good at making toys for Mary out of things I would never have thought of, rocks, pieces of wood and string. Such simple things that could bring so much joy.
“Abe also built this bench we're sitting on. Helga and I would sit on it most evenings, enjoying a few minutes of quiet at the end of the day. I carved our initials in it, just like a schoolboy. They've faded with age, but they're still visible if you look.
“I'm glad Abe had the time he did with his granddaughter. We lost him the fall of her twelfth year. He's buried out back, I go out there to talk to him sometimes. I wasn't sure how old he was then, Helga said she was pretty sure he was sixty-eight but said he was never really sure himself. Oota had a real practical way of looking at dying, said we go back to the Earth that we came from, live on in all the plants that grow. I like to think she was right about that. She still took it hard when he passed though. She and Abe had gotten real close over time. I was glad she was there for him, always thought they should have just gone ahead and got married. Don't know why they didn't. I'll tell you this, Abe was the finest man I ever met.
“I thought losing Abe was the worst thing that could happen. I just didn't know how much worse it could get. The next winter was the coldest we'd ever seen. Oota went to visit her people, traded some of our salted meat for some blankets. She found most of her people had died from what sounded like small pox. We didn't know then that the U.S. Army had come up with a new way to “handle” the Natives. Seems they decided giving out blankets contaminated with small pox was a good way to get rid of them. We found out about that the hard way, when Oota and Helga both got sick. I thank God every day that he spared little Mary, I don't think I would have wanted to go on living if I'd lost her too.
“You said you were Abe's nephew, didn't you? That's a fine recommendation as far as I'm concerned. I'm sorry son, but I've forgotten your name. My mind's not as sharp as it used to be. And what do you call that buggy you rode up in? I ain't never seen one that could get around without a horse to pull it along. Amazing things people are coming up with these days.”
“It's called an automobile, Mr. Harper. And my name's Joshua. Uncle Abe wrote to mother and me so much about you and cousin Helga, I feel like I know you. He thought pretty highly of you too. Said he knew you were a good man from the moment he met you. Mother always said Uncle Abe could read a man's soul. She called it a gift from God. I wish I'd been able to travel here while he was still alive. Mother wanted me to go back to the old country to attend Rabbinical school. I haven't been back here long. I'm so glad to finally meet you.”
“I'm right proud to hear you say that Abe thought well of me. I have to say, you gave me quite a shock when I first saw you. I swear, you're the spit and image of Abe when we first met, it took me back quite a ways. I did tell you about the first time we met, didn't I? That's right, I did, I remember now. Like I said, my memory's not like it once was.
“Mary sure would love to meet you. She's in Denver with her husband and two boys, Josh and Jess. She married a fine man and they're doing well. I wish you could have met Oota., Mary called her Memaw. It's been twenty years now since Oota died and I lost Helga. I'm an old man now, time just slips away on me.
“But here, now. I've just been rambling on all this time. You said there was something you wanted to tell me about Abe?”
| Author Notes |
Spit and image probably came from 'spirit and image' and was once a common phrase meaning someone looked almost exactly like someone else, usually a relative.
There are stories going back to colonial days about giving items contaminated with small pox to Native Americans. The first instance I found related that the British did this in 1763. I've heard and read about other times this may have happened with the U.S. Army doing the same thing. |
By Delahay
Jess Harper, a Civil War vet,was traveling through the west trying to make a life for himself after the war. Jess was robbed by three traveling companions. He found them, killed two, retrieved his possessions, then let the third one, Charlie, leave. Charlie later caught up with Jess, shot him in the back, then aimed a gun at him as he was lying on the ground. Jess was saved by a settler, Abe Klein, and his daughter Helga. While recovering with the Kleins, Jess fell for and marries Helga. When Helga became pregnant, she found an Native woman called Oota, to help with the birth and the baby. Helga delivers a baby girl. In the last chapter it was revealed that Jess has been telling his story to Abe's nephew.
Previously: “But here, now. I've just been rambling on all this time. You said there was something you wanted to tell me about Abe?”
“Yes sir, Mr. Harper, I did. Actually it wasn't so much about him as about what he did. See, it was because of him that I was able to go to school in the first place. Same for my two younger brothers as well. Apparently Abe found gold out here somewhere but was afraid to let anyone around here know about it. He'd seen how gold fever could affect people, seen people and places torn apart by greed and corruption. He didn't want the same thing to happen to this place as had happened in others. Seeing how nice it is around here, I can see what he meant. There have been a lot of towns in this country rise and fall because of that precious metal, and Abe had seen too much of what people are capable of. From what he had to say, you've seen your share as well.”
“Well ain't that something? Abe never told me anything about that. Although I did wonder from time to time how he was always able to go into town and get supplies any time he wanted. I just figured he was pretty good at trading the furs we collected and tools he made for what we needed. I knew that there was a little bit of gold found from time to time around here, but everyone seemed to think it washed down from a lot further upstream, up closer to Denver. I guess he must have sent most of what he found back home to his sister then? That's good to hear. We didn't need it, so I'm glad you and your family got some use out of it.”
“That's the thing Mr. Harper. He didn't just want to help out my brothers and me. He sent a lot of gold back east over the years and my mother was a pretty shrewd investor. She followed Abe's wishes and set things up so everything would be divided up after the last of us finished school. I've got papers here covering your share of everything. You can have the money wired to the bank in Denver if you like. Your part is the biggest share since my brothers and I deducted the cost of our tuition from our part. We won't really miss it, over the years Mother's investments have done very well indeed.”
“What are you talking about? I don't really need anything, and my Mary is doing just fine with her family. I wouldn't know what to do with any more than I've got right here.”
“Well Mr. Harper, you may see it that way, but Abe's wishes were very clear. I doubt if he understood just how much money would be available when the time came, but he insisted that you and your family were to get an equal share. You can do as you like after the transfer is made, but Abe wanted you to have it.”
“That sure was nice of old Abe, I guess Mary and her young man could find something to do with a few extra dollars. Maybe they could get one of those fancy buggy's you rode up in. And Mary always has been one to take in strays, animals and humans both. She has a big heart and can't stand to see anything suffering. I imagine she could put anything Abe left us to good use. How much are you talking about anyway?
"As you can see right here on the papers I brought you Mr. Harper, your share comes to just over $370,000.00. I imagine if you don't want it, your daughter could help a lot of strays."
“Are you serious, Mr.? I wouldn't know what to do with that kind of money. Why don't you just go ahead and see about sending it to my Mary. I reckon she and her man can figure out what to do with it.
“Would you like some blackberry wine? Abe taught me to make it but I don't think I ever made it as good as he did. I still think it's not bad though.”
“I'd love some Mr. Harper. My mother used to make that too, said Uncle Abe made it better than anyone else though, so I wouldn't worry too much about how yours might compare.”
“Please, call me Jess. Nobody calls me Mr. Harper. I'll be back in just a minute.”
My name is Joshua Klein. I guess it's up to me to finish Jess's story. I don't know how old he was but he sure saw a lot of history in this country. People hardly even think about the Civil War anymore. We've come a long way since then. We still have our problems but I can only hope that there are more people like Jess and my Uncle Abe in the world.
I heard a noise in the cabin and went inside to see what happened. I found Jess on the floor next to a table with a bottle of wine and two glasses on it. He had an old, battered tin cup in his hand. I guess he wanted to show it to me for some reason. There was an empty space on the mantle, like that was where he kept it. I had to wonder if that old cup meant something special to him since he kept it around, and most of the things in the cabin were a lot newer and nicer. I thought maybe it was the same one he mentioned early in his story, about surviving a storm and being glad he, at least, still had his tin cup.
I buried him next to Abe, Helga, and Oota. I don't know what religion he followed. He had a crucifix over his mantel, but he wore a Star of David necklace. I went ahead and had both put on his headstone. I thought that little plot behind the cabin said a lot about this country. Buried there were two Jews, a Christian, and a Native American.
| Author Notes | I finally got around to finishing this story. I had to struggle some to do so, I never intended it to get this far. Jess was supposed to have died when Charlie shot him several chapters ago. |
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