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?"