Fated Memories

By Judith Ann McDowell

Jessie Thornton, the beautiful only child of Eathen Thornton, one of the richest most powerful men in the state of Montana, has never heard the word “no” until she sets her sights on Two Spirits, a young Blackfeet Indian her father has hired onto the ranch to tame the wild mustangs brought down out of the hills. Jessie soon finds herself fighting an uphill battle against 1903 Montana morals and small-town bigotry in her struggle to be with the man she loves.

• Language: English
• Publisher: World Castle Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Jul 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9781955086561

Judith Ann McDowell

Judith Ann McDowell is a novelist with four finished books. When not working on a manuscript, Judith along with her husband like to travel to different cities such as New Orleans to talk with people about voodoo and to talk with those who have experienced first hand, true hauntings.Judith is the mother of four grown sons Guy and David and Rhett and Nick and lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband Darrell and their two Pekingese Chi and Tai and three cats Isis and Lacy and Keefer.Judith is at present working on her next novel.

Book preview

Dedication

For Dave McDowell, my real-life Wolfer.

The greatest pain one will ever know

Is pain that touches the soul;

For the soul is immortal

And can never be erased.

Chapter One

Boston, Massachusetts 1904

A cold December wind swept along the cobblestone lane, bending age-old branches of sturdy oak and large maple and shrouding the frosted gas lamps in a whirlwind of snow and ice. Tiny flames, encased within soot-covered glass tops, burned low, and the now deserted lane leading up to a three-story stone mansion seemed lost in a thick, ever increasing fog.

Pulling back the heavy drapery, a young girl stared out into the storm-filled night. She turned as, without warning, the wall lamps flickered then dimmed, stealing the warm glow from the spacious room and leaving the far corners steeped in shadow.

Seated before a marble fireplace, a middle-aged woman glanced towards the mantelpiece, assuring herself the oil lamps still stood in readiness. She allowed the warmth of the fire to relax her and, with a relieved sigh, turned her attention to across the room.

Jessie, I wish you would come away from that window. A branch could break off that old maple and shatter the glass. Laying aside the needlepoint she had been working on, she peered over her glasses at the young girl staring into the darkness.

When her plea drew no response, the woman got to her feet, pausing a moment before walking towards her. She placed a slender, well-manicured hand on the girl’s shoulder. Jessie, what is it? What has you so troubled this evening?

I was rememberin’ the snowstorms back home, Aunt Martha, the girl declared, turning once more to stare out the window. Flames from the fireplace reflected the decorated tree onto the window, making it a part of the swirling scene outside. A fond memory crept into her thoughts of a Christmas many years ago, when she was a child of eight, and her father had given her a glass snowball that played music and sprinkled the tiny flakes inside when it was turned upside down.

Now you can have snow all year round, my little Jessie, he had told her, what seemed now a lifetime ago.

Dragging her mind back from the painful memory, she walked away from the woman watching her to take a seat beside the fire. Pulling the cumbersome, dark red gingham dress up to her knees, she settled herself, with some awkwardness, into an overstuffed chair.

It won’t be much longer, Jessie, Martha soothed, walking over to her chair to seat herself once more. According to the doctor, you have a little over three weeks, and then it will be all over.

Yes, she breathed, lifting her swollen, slippered feet with some effort onto the large ottoman, then it will be…all…over.

Martha glanced at her, a feeling of unease moving over her. Are you worrying about the birth, Jessie? Doctor Hinley says you are in excellent health. In fact, he plans to come here and stay a few days before your due date to make sure everything will go well.

That’s very thoughtful of him. She smoothed the thick material of the dress over her protruding stomach. He must be a very busy man.

My dear, Martha declared, as though stating a foregone conclusion, Doctor Hinley is the best obstetrician in all of Boston. Your parents are sparing no expense in seeing you are taken care of, believe me.

My parents, Aunt Martha? My mother is the only one who takes time to write. My father couldn’t care less! Jessie swallowed against the bitter bile, trying to fight its way upward in her tight throat at the thought of the man who had been the center of her world, now unwilling to raise a hand to help her in the slightest.

The utter contempt in the girl’s tone did not go unnoticed. Jessie, your father loves you very much. You broke his heart when you conceived this child out of wedlock, Martha tried to reason with her. It’s going to take time for that wound to heal.

The unfairness of it all seemed to threaten the last thread of Jessie’s sanity. Bracing her hands on the arms of the chair, she pulled herself forward. What about my wounds, Aunt Martha? I never wanted to come here! I wanted to stay in Montana with the man I love! But…no! The all-powerful Eathen Thornton couldn’t have that, could he? A deep flush crept up her throat to her face, turning her olive complexioned skin a bright, unhealthy red. He couldn’t let anyone know his daughter had slept with a lowly Indian! Better to ship her off to Boston where her dirty little secret could be hidden away.

Jessie’s outburst of anger, and her matter-of-fact disclosure of the man responsible for her predicament, drained Martha’s pale face to an even lighter pallor. With as much decorum as she could call forth, she replied, All right, Jessie, let’s say you had stayed in Cut Bank, where everyone knows you. Martha stood to begin pacing the floor, caught up in a chance to impart some much-needed, mature advice. Do you believe all those people are going to turn away and ignore what is happening to you? To the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the state of Montana? Her well-modulated voice rose with her passion until she all but forgot that she herself could not tolerate the man. Do you feel Eathen deserves the shame of having it known his daughter is carrying an illegitimate baby?

Eathen! Jessie’s blue eyes flashed fire. I’m sick to death of hearin’ ‘bout his embarrassment! What about me, Aunt Martha? She slapped a hand against her heaving chest. What about me?

Jessie! Settle down. Martha hastened towards her. Sweeping her long green and red plaid skirt to one side, she sat on the arm of the chair.

Jessie, she draped an arm around the girl’s shoulders, you mustn’t get yourself all upset like this. It isn’t good for the baby.

When she felt Jessie’s body stiffen, she drew back, surprised at the girl’s refusal to be brought around. Seeing the full pink mouth tremble into a childish pout, she brushed Jessie’s long, auburn hair back from her heart-shaped face, tipping the defiant chin upward.

Jessie, she admonished, no one wishes to hurt you. We want to protect you. Young girls of your breeding have an obligation to do well in life. It makes no difference whether they live in Boston, Massachusetts, or Cut Bank, Montana. They can’t take it upon themselves to conceive a child out of wedlock yet expect to keep that child. And for certain not one whose father is an…. She broke off her words, her long pink nails plucking at the lace trim bordering the sleeve of her white silk blouse.

Why don’t you say it, Aunt Martha? Jessie pulled away. Not one whose father’s an Indian.

I’m sorry, Jessie. Bright color rode high on her cheeks. I had no right to be so judgmental. I am trying to think of what is best for you.

It’s funny, you know, Jessie’s voice filled with bitter doubt, that’s what everyone says. But no one really means it. She drew her head back until her eyes were even with those of the woman seated beside her. What they’re really sayin’ is they don’t want a half-breed little bastard in the family.

Jessie! Sliding off the arm of the chair, Martha balled her hands on her slim hips. I won’t tolerate that kind of language in my house. I realize you’re upset, young lady, but this is a respectable home, and as you are now a member of this home, I will accept no less from you.

I’ll go to my room. Jessie inched herself forward in the chair.

That won’t be necessary. Martha put a restraining hand on her shoulder, breathing against the sharp stab of guilt at her outburst. As Jessie reclined back in the chair, Martha seated herself on one side of the Ottoman. Removing the girl’s tight slippers, she took Jessie’s swollen feet into her hands, briskly rubbing them while her mind whirled with ways to best approach the subject at hand. When she felt she could speak, she said, Jessie, I think it’s time we talked about what you are planning to do after the baby is born.

Lacing her fingers over her bulging stomach, Jessie stretched her legs out straighter, trying to relieve the knotted muscles in her calves. I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.

Then perhaps you should, dear. Martha pulled Jessie’s legs across her lap, kneading the knotted muscles, her slim hands working until she saw the tension in Jessie’s face begin to relax. You know, of course, you can’t take the baby home with you. Eathen has already made that quite clear. She rushed ahead with what she wanted to say as Jessie started to pull her legs away. However, John and I have talked it over, and we are fully prepared to offer you and the baby a home here with us.

That’s very generous of you and Uncle John. The awful cramping in Jessie’s calves started to ease, and she left her legs stretched out across Martha’s lap. But how will you explain us? I’m still an unwed mother.

Not according to the people here. Martha smiled, doubling her efforts to soothe and relax. Your uncle John and I have let it be known you have come to stay with us after the recent death of your husband from a hunting accident. Which reminds me, she paused, her green eyes darting towards the stairs, I have an old set of wedding rings up in my jewelry case I want you to start wearing. She gazed over at Jessie with a conspiratorial wink. We have to make this story as believable as possible, you know.

Oh, what tangled webs we weave, Jessie thought to herself, bracing an elbow on the arm of the chair as she reached the other hand behind her, trying to rub away a small cramp beginning in her lower back. Then I’m to remain in Boston the rest of my life.

I wouldn’t say that. Martha pursed her thin lips in concentration. I think in a few years, Eathen will relent and allow you to come back. Without the baby, of course.

I feel like I’m livin’ in a world that ain’t even real anymore. Jessie’s eyes closed for a brief moment against the cold truth. An empty void filled with lies and a child I gotta keep hidden as though I’m ashamed of her. She swiped at the tears seeping from beneath her thick, dark lashes.

Jessie. Jessie! Martha moved the girl’s long legs to one side out of her way. You can begin a new life. Here, with John and me. You’re young, sweetheart. She stood motionless beside Jessie’s chair for a moment, then leaned down, placing a light kiss on her damp cheek. Life doesn’t have to be over because of one mistake. And as far as the baby is concerned, we couldn’t be happier than to share our lives with him or her.

How come you and Uncle John never had children, Aunt Martha? Jessie wiped her eyes then blew her nose into the lavender-scented handkerchief Martha handed to her. You sure have enough room for them.

We tried, Jessie. Martha seated herself on the arm of the chair once more, snuggling Jessie close. I guess it wasn’t meant to be. I’m fifty-two years old, so it’s too late now. But with you and the baby here, everything could change. A childish whine crept into her otherwise soft voice. Please say you won’t begrudge us this last chance to have a baby in our home.

It looks as though I don’t have a choice. Jessie tried to inch herself out of the constricting embrace. I can’t very well live on the street with a new baby. Martha’s nearness and the sweet, cloying scent of her perfume made it hard for her to breathe. I feel like I’m bein’ backed into a corner, with nowhere to turn.

Nonsense, dear. Martha smoothed Jessie’s wild curls into place. Everyone is doing what we think is best for you. Given enough time, I’m sure you will forget all about that young man who took advantage of you. Just leave everything in our capable hands, and, I promise you, everything will work out for the best.

Too tired to argue any longer, Jessie nodded.

Withdrawing her arm from around Jessie’s shoulders, Martha glanced toward the old grandfather clock, which stood tall and stately against the north wall of the parlor. Goodness! I wonder what could be keeping your Uncle John. I hope he hasn’t been stranded in this storm. But she had no sooner gotten the words out of her mouth than the shrill ringing of the telephone beckoned her.

I’ll be right back, dear. With any luck, it is John calling to tell me he’s on his way home.

Alone in the large, well-furnished room, Jessie sat looking at all the wealth surrounding her. Sturdy walnut tables, handcrafted and shipped all the way from England, caught her eye. Firelight from the Italian marble fireplace danced in the bright sheen of the well-polished black wood of the tables, placed just so beside twin Queen Anne couches and their equally uncomfortable-looking matching chairs. Their royal blue velvet material was offset by a large East Indian rug, with its subtle hues of green and gold, which took up much of the floor space in the oversized room. A small, white, spinet piano graced one corner – placed at just the right angle so the light spilling from the window would shine on its ivory keys. From there, Jessie’s eyes moved over the many portraits done in oil, enclosed in thick wooden frames. The people in the paintings, dressed in their finest, sat with their hands folded in their laps or stood with their arms straight down by their sides, each wearing the same self-important look on his or her face as they took their turn on the immortalizing canvas. She reached out, running one hand over the papered walls of light ivory with just the slightest hint of lilac in the flowered pattern. The only understated touch that resisted Martha’s lavish hand in the entire decor.

A lot of people would give all they owned to live in a house like this, Jessie thought. But, she wasn’t one of them. Her heart ached for her own room, sitting empty in the big ranch house at home. If she could crawl into her big bed with the feathered mattress and pull the soft blankets up over her head, all this would be gone. When she woke, she would be back in familiar surroundings, and her heart wouldn’t be breaking as it was now.

John is going to stay in town tonight, Martha said, interrupting her thoughts. It seems we’re in for a big storm. I should have thought to tell him about my giving the servants the night off. I so hate to be alone in this big house. Her eyes swept the large room, lingering on dark corners the light couldn’t quite reach. The way things are shaping up, they won’t be able to get here in the morning either. Well, she drew in a deep breath, waiting for the twinge of unease to subside before releasing it from her lungs, it can’t be helped. We will have to make do alone.

I’m sure we’ll be all right, Aunt Martha. Jessie glanced up at her. At least the telephone lines ain’t down yet.

Bite your tongue! We will really be cut off from everyone if that happens. It’s times like this, I wish I hadn’t been so adamant about buying all the surrounding lots. At the time, I wanted to safeguard our privacy, and of course, since this is one of the oldest estates in Boston, preserve the historical aspect of the estate. She smoothed her hair, ash-blond and streaked with gray, neatly into place. One can never be too careful with a house as valuable as this one. Still, sometimes, she shivered, looking around the quiet room, I feel so isolated.

Why don’t you come sit down, Aunt Martha, while I go and see what the cook left us for dinner? Jessie rocked herself forward, then pushed the ottoman out of her way to get to her feet. I’m sure a hot pot of tea and somethin’ to eat will make us both feel a lot better.

Yes. Martha eased herself into a chair. I think a pot of tea and some nourishment would do us up just fine, Jessie.

The girl took but a few steps when a stabbing pain, low in her stomach, stopped her in mid-stride. With real fear clutching her heart, she stood for a moment, trying not to panic.

Jessie, what is it? Martha moved forward in her chair, her attention riveted on Jessie as she stood there, one hand pressed against her stomach.

I don’t know. I just had a sudden pain. Oh, Aunt Martha, her head snapped up, it can’t be the baby. It’s too early.

Oh, good God! Martha whispered, her hand clutching a small cameo broach pinned beneath the collar of her blouse. We aren’t taking any chances. She pushed herself to her feet. I’m going to call Doctor Hinley right now! Go sit down, Jessie, and put your feet up, Martha directed over her shoulder. Maybe this is just a false alarm.

Martha tried to quiet her jumping nerves as she hurried her steps towards the hallway and the telephone. God in heaven, please make this just a normal part of her pregnancy, she prayed. I can’t handle this alone.

Jessie turned back to the chair on shaking legs, holding onto the arms and sliding her feet around to the front. She lowered her bulk into the soft fullness of the overstuffed chair, thankful for John’s refusal to throw out the old relic. Within moments, she had another reason to be thankful, as she felt a warm gush of liquid burst from between her legs to soak the entire cushion of the chair.

Aunt Martha! she shrieked, afraid to move. Come quick! It’s the baby!

Moving faster than she ever thought possible, Martha ran down the hallway. Oh, Jessie, no! It can’t be the baby! The telephone is dead!

I’m sorry, Aunt Martha, but it is. My water just broke. I think we should try gettin’ me upstairs. Jessie tried to scoot her swollen body forward. I don’t want to ruin your furniture.

The furniture be damned! Martha squealed, unmindful of her language. You can’t climb those stairs in your condition, and I surely can’t carry you. Just stay where you are.

Alright. Jessie tried to stop shaking. But, could you get somethin’ dry to put under me? The chair is soaked.

Yes, I’ll get some towels. Just, whatever you do, don’t move!

Martha felt out of breath by the time she had climbed her way up the winding staircase to the heavy oak linen closet in the hallway. Throwing the doors of the closet wide, she pulled a stack of towels off the shelf, not caring when the stack beside them toppled to the floor. Kicking the towels out of her way, she turned to go back downstairs.

Jessie could hear the wind shrieking its way around the mansion. Like a giant angry fist, it shook the branches of the large old maple, snatching the gnarled limbs in its grasp to pound them against the window. The words to call out had already formed in her throat when the lights flickered once more then dissolved into total darkness.

Jessie spun around at the sound of shattering glass, trying to see in the dim light of the fireplace. Her nerves raging, she screamed, Aunt Martha! What happened?

It’s nothing to worry about, dear, came Martha’s distant answer from where she righted herself at the top of the stairs. I knocked a lamp off the shelf when the lights went out.

Hearing the clicking of Martha’s heels as she came down the stairs, Jessie breathed a sigh of relief.

Now then, Martha placed a stack of linen on a table beside Jessie’s chair, let me get this oil lamp lit, and then we can see to getting you taken care of.

A loud crashing sound brought both women up short as they stared in the direction of the floor-to-ceiling window. In the dim glow, they could see the branch from the large oak sticking through the broken glass. Within moments the cold north wind blew in, leaving them both shivering and shaking.

Oh no, now what are we gonna do? Jessie cried as she watched the snow swirl through the broken window.

I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. Martha replaced the glass top onto the now flickering oil lamp. We’re going to get you settled into the other room away from this wind.

As the Arctic air touched her sodden body, Jessie felt her teeth begin to chatter.

Come on, Jessie, lean on me. Martha raised the oil lamp high in one hand, placing her other arm around Jessie’s waist to support her, as the girl stood before the chair, her legs spread wide, while she held her wet dress away from her body. Before you know it, I’ll have you dry and warm in front of the fireplace in John’s den. Just don’t stop walking.

What else can go wrong tonight? Jessie moaned as she allowed Martha to lead her from the freezing room.

The pains came faster now, holding Jessie in their torturous grip until she thought her poor tormented body would be ripped in two.

If only Mama and Daddy could see me now! she murmured to herself, trying to stay calm in the face of the unrelenting pain. If only they could witness my suffering! Where is the woman who told me over and over how much she loves me? Where is her gentle touch and soft voice now, now when I need them so much? She wanted to scream out her agony and bring the ones she believed could stop such pain here, so they could witness her suffering.

But she didn’t scream, and no one came to her rescue, except for Martha, whose cold efficiency and no-nonsense attitude left little room for weakness.

The fumes from the oil lamps suddenly triggered a fond childhood memory. In her mind’s eye, Jessie could see Hattie, the woman who had taken care of her all of her life, telling her about the Bugaboos. How they would come out on storm-filled nights to carry off bad little girls. Her large black face would dissolve into laughter as Jessie, refusing to leave her side, held onto her long skirts while she walked through the shadowed rooms, lighting the large hurricane lamps. Later, curled up on her father’s lap with her mother nearby, they all sat before the massive fireplace and listened, wide-eyed, as Hattie told about the Hants far into the night, while the northern winds shrieked like banshees through the trees. But then, just as abruptly, the memory was gone, and the familiar smell of the lamps made her retch and brought a terrible sense of loss.

Is the discomfort getting worse, dear? Martha gazed at the young girl curled up on the blanketed floor.

Unable to answer right at that moment, Jessie nodded, breathing in deep breaths against the waves of pain threatening to swallow her up.

Jessie, I don’t want you to worry about anything. Martha forced calmness into her voice. Doctor Hinley briefed me on what to do in case something like this should happen. I’ll do my best to help you all I can.

I know you will, Aunt Martha. I trust you. It’s just that…I wish Mama could be here. Jessie could feel her tenuous hold on her emotions slipping away.

Of course you do, dear. Of course you do. If she knew how much you needed her right now, Martha bit her lip, trying to stay ahead of her emotions, I know she would want to be with you.

Then, why did she let Daddy send me away? I should be home, with Mama and Hattie takin’ care of me. Her body tensed, making the words she wanted to say come out in breathless pants. Hattie’s…always…been…there…for me, and I treated her just awful. I’m sorry.

Jessie. Jessie, listen to me. Martha dropped to her knees beside her. You have to breathe with the pains. If you fight against them, you will make it harder on yourself.

I don’t care! Jessie screamed, yanking away.

While she pinned both arms of the thrashing girl to the floor, Martha’s soft voice fought against the now out-of-control wailing. Knowing her strength was not great enough to allow her to continue holding Jessie, Martha let go to deliver a stinging slap across her hysterical niece’s face.

It was the shock more than the pain which brought Jessie back to her senses. With a low moan, she turned onto her side.

I’m sorry I had to do that, Jessie, Martha blew a strand of damp hair away from her face, but you left me no choice. I can’t sit by and allow you to harm yourself or the baby. Now, be a good girl and turn onto your back. Doctor Hinley said the contractions will stay steadier if you lie on your back.

As hot tears fell down her face, Jessie stretched her aching body out straight.

In the ensuing quiet, Martha tried to stay calm while flashes of her own torturous hours of suffering slipped into her mind. She could almost feel the rolling waves of pain as she labored to bring her son into the world, only to learn it had all been for nothing. The son she and John had wanted so much had been stillborn. The heartbreak of their loss had never gone away. Through the years, she had tried to conceive another child, but each time her efforts had been met with disappointment. Yet, she had never given up trying. Finally, time had called a halt to her fruitless attempts to have the child she so wanted.

What is it, Aunt Martha? Jessie asked, peering up at her. What’s wrong?

There isn’t anything wrong, Jessie. She pasted a smile on her face. I just wish for some way we can hurry this along. I hate seeing you like this.

I’m all right, Aunt Martha. Jessie rubbed a hand up and down her tight belly. Just feelin’ sorry for myself is all.

I think you’ve gained the right to a little self-indulgence.

Maybe, but I think if I want to get this over with, I need to stop whinin’ and start concentratin’ on the task at hand. It stands to reason; if I’m this uncomfortable, think what my poor little baby is goin’ through.

Hours dragged by. They could hear the awful wind continuing its monotonous howling outside the sturdy walls. Its mournful cry seeming to merge with the painful wails inside the room.

When she saw Jessie lull off between contractions, Martha rose to her feet. Putting both hands, palm down, on each side of her back, she stretched her spine until she felt some of the tautness subside.

She stared into the storm-filled night, amazed to see how much snow had accumulated in the hours she and Jessie had found themselves alone on the isolated estate.

My God, she murmured, leaning her head against the icy window. We could be stranded for days before anyone can get through to us.

Aunt Martha, where are you? Jessie called to her.

I’m over here by the window, dear. I’ll be there in a moment, she replied, willing the terror she felt at their desperate situation out of her voice.

Has the snow stopped yet?

Almost, she lied.

Thank God. Have you checked to see if the telephone lines are workin’ again?

No. No, I haven’t. I’ll go do that right now. Although she knew it would be a waste of time, she was grateful for any excuse to be out of the room and away from Jessie’s suffering, if only for a moment.

As she passed the parlor, she could hear the wind moaning behind the heavy door. Turning the knob, she peered in and almost fell to her knees at the sight meeting her eyes. Snow covered the entire room, making even the Queen Annes indiscernible. A chilling wind, blowing through the broken window, swirled the white powder into her face, forcing her to throw her hands up in protection.

She backed out of the doorway. John, you unfeeling son-of-a-bitch! Why aren’t you here?! Martha cursed her errant husband. Then, knowing she had no choice, she walked back to where Jessie lay, waiting for her.

Is everything all right, Aunt Martha?

Yes, Jessie, everything is fine. The telephone lines still aren’t working, but I’m sure they will be soon. We’re used to this in Boston. It happens every year. She couldn’t seem to stop her rambling.

I think I’m ready for some more dry towels. The ones under me now are so wet I’m startin’ to get a chill.

Well, we can’t have that now, can we? Martha took up one of the clean towels she had waiting nearby.

Thank you for helpin’ me through this, Aunt Martha. You may not be Mama, but I don’t know what I’d do right now without you.

I’m sorry, I’m not Doctor Hinley. It’s a good thing he versed me so well in what to do, or we would really be in trouble. She kept her shaking hands busy with folding the large towels.

I trust you. I know you’ll make sure everything goes all right.

Wish I could be as sure, Martha thought.

Hattie always said, ‘If a woman dies in childbirth, she goes straight to heaven.’ Do you believe that, Aunt Martha?

Don’t talk like that, Jessie. Her heart jumped at Jessie’s words. You’re not going to die. This is your first baby. First babies are always the hardest to have. Remember? I told you that.

Yes, I remember. But just in case something did happen to me, you and Uncle John would see to it my baby has a good and lovin’ home, wouldn’t you?

Well…of…course…we would, Jessie. We already talked about you and the baby living with us. Martha turned Jessie onto her side, rolled the soaked towel as close to her bared bottom as she could, then rolled her back to lift the soiled linen away. We know you won’t want to stay here forever. She dropped the towel into a nearby pail. Someday, when you meet the right man for you and the right father for your baby, you’ll leave us. She wouldn’t let herself think of that day, not right now. With a slight toss of her head, she smiled, meeting Jessie’s steady gaze. Until that day comes, you’ll both live here with us.

And, Jessie persisted, you’ll make sure Mama comes to see the baby as often as possible?

I’d be hard put to try and keep her away. Martha lathered her hands with a bar of soap then rinsed them in the wash pan sitting on the raised hearth. This baby is going to be her first grandchild.

Thank you, Aunt Martha, Jessie whispered, seeming to relax. I can rest a lot easier knowin’ everything’ll be all right.

Now, Martha said, kneeling down, lift up your hips, and I’ll place these towels beneath you.

As Jessie planted her heels to lift herself up, a wave of pain stronger than any before rolled over her.

I feel like I have to push, she panted.

Try to control that urge until I see what’s happening!

Martha needed only a glance to know the baby was at last ready to make its long-awaited entrance into the world. She slipped a dry towel beneath Jessie’s hips then sat back on her heels. The head is crowning, Jessie. Go ahead and push.

With all her might, Jessie bore down until she felt the slippery baby slide the rest of the way from her body.

You have a beautiful little daughter, Jessie! Martha squealed, as proud as if she herself had given birth to the child.

Is she all right? Jessie breathed, trying to sit up.

She’s just fine, dear. Now lay back until I cut the cord, then I’ll hand her to you.

Voicing a small prayer to steady her shaking hand, Martha tied off the cord, then cut the life-sustaining link between mother and child. When she finished doing everything Doctor Hinley had told her needed to be done, she propped Jessie upright against the front of a nearby chair, then handed the mewling baby into her waiting arms.

Cradling the baby in the crook of her arm, Jessie smiled down into the black, almond-shaped eyes of her daughter.

You look just like your daddy, my darlin’’, she laughed, hugging the baby close.

Oh dear, Martha said without thinking.

Just look at her, Aunt Martha. Jessie glanced up. She has the same dark hair and coloring as Two Spirits. Even her eyes are like his.

She is a beautiful child, Martha agreed, pulling the blanket to one side. Have you decided yet what you are going to name her?

Oh yes! Two Spirits chose her name as soon as he knew I carried his child.

What name did he choose? Martha braced herself.

He said to name her Tia.

Why, that’s a beautiful name, Jessie, she declared,