Lauren nodded and pushed her cup away before getting up to walk towards the sitting room. Heather followed with her bag in hand. Lauren laid down on the settee and smoothed her dress, her belly a round lump protruding from beneath her shirt waist.
Lauren gave a little groan and rolled on the settee. “Every time I lay down, I swear there are acrobatics going on in my belly.”
“Are you having pains?” Concern was evident in Heather’s voice.
Lauren shook her head. “Just twinges.”
Heather pulled a chair next to the settee and took a string from her bag. She pulled it tight over Lauren’s belly and then held the string against a measuring stick. “The baby is growing right on schedule,” Heather grinned. She pulled out a stethoscope from her bag. She was grateful Doc Woods had a spare.
She placed the horn against Lauren’s belly and placed the earpieces to her ear. She smiled at Lauren. “The baby sounds perfect.”
“He. Jonah thinks the baby is a he.”
“Well then,” Heather agreed. “He sounds perfect.”
“I wish I could listen to him.”
Heather moved the horn at the end of the stethoscope around on Lauren’s belly, trying to gauge a distance where Lauren could hear. “You’ll need to lean forward a bit.” She helped Lauren sit up slightly on the settee and then Heather handed her the earpiece. Lauren placed them in her ears and her eyes went wide.
“It sounds like it is whooshing.” Tears started rolling down Lauren’s cheeks. She listened for a few more minutes before handing the stethoscope back to Heather. “Thank you. I could never have imagined what that sounded like!”
Heather tucked the stethoscope in her bag and pulled out a small pouch, handing it to Lauren. “This is some dry mint. It should help with the nausea.” She stood and offered her hand to assist Lauren from the settee. “I’ll be back to check on you next week, but if you need anything, just send someone to get me.”
“Thank you,” Lauren said, escorting Heather to the door. “I feel in better spirits now.”
Heather gave Lauren a quick hug. “I’m glad. I have to stop by the butcher shop and check the fire, but I’ll bring you a bone before I head to see Charity Green.”
“I hate accepting charity,” Lauren said.
Heather shook her head. “It isn’t charity. Folks need to look out for each other.” She stepped out of the house and a gust of wind caught her skirt. “I don’t remember it being so windy when I left.”
“Or cold,” Lauren said. “do you need a blanket?”
“I have one in the buggy. I’ll leave the bone by the door in case you decide to lay down.” She gave Lauren a little wave and headed to her buggy. Her horse seemed agitated. “What’s up, boy?” she said, stroking the horse’s neck. The horse calmed slightly under Heather’s touch but scraped his hoof against the dirt road. “Alright,” she soothed. “We’ll get going.”
Pulling her jacket tighter around her, she placed her medical bag inside the buggy. Lauren was correct. It wasn’t this cold when she left home.
She climbed in the buggy and leaned over to grab a blanket from underneath the seat. It was rough wool, nothing like the blanket that Millie had in her buggy. Maybe Heather would ask Altar to make a lap blanket the next time she saw the woman in town.
Placing the rough cover on her lap, she gave a little slap of the reins, guiding the horse down the row of houses towards the butcher shop.
As she passed the mercantile, she saw Altar struggling with the door. The woman’s arms were filled with knitted blankets and she held a bag with yarn hanging over the side.
Heather gave her a wave as she continued down to Stagecoach Road.
She could see the river between the buildings when she stopped at the depot. The ferry was on the other side, rocking in the turbulent water. She didn’t recall ever seeing the water so choppy before.
She dismissed her thoughts about the river as she turned at the livery and pulled into the alley that ran between the sheriff’s house and the butcher shop. The light scent of cottonwood smoke filled the air, along with the hardier scent of hickory wood.
Jackson taught her to use the cottonwood to extend the burning of whatever wood they were using to smoke the meat. One chunk of wet hardwood, surrounded by a pile of the softer cottonwood, would keep the smoke billowing in the night.
It didn’t take long to check the fire. It had gone down quite a bit, so Heather grabbed some of the wet wood from a bucket and tossed it in the cast iron oven and then laid several chunks of cottonwood around the embers. The smoke came billowing from the mouth of the oven, causing Heather to cough. She waved her hand trying to dissipate the smoke.
Then she heard it. It sounded like a whistling in the distance. She turned and looked at the sky. The clouds were dark in the distance and it looked like a storm was approaching. It must be over Grand Platte and would probably make its way towards Last Chance inside of an hour. She needed to work quickly. One thing Heather hated was being caught in the rain.
There wasn’t time to check the meat. It would have to be fine until she could return after the storm. Grabbing a few more wet chunks of wood, she tossed them inside the stove and closed the door. The wet wood would take longer to burn, so she would be good at least until the next morning.
Racing inside the shop she grabbed a sack of meat bones and an extra bag. She’d just transfer one to
