Lark wouldn’t argue with that.
Thunder and rain woke them in the night, and they moved their bedrolls under and inside the wagon for cover. By morning the trail had turned into a muddy, soupy mess. Hayes ordered the wagons to spread out more to avoid sinking too far into the mud.
Once they moved out, Lark hadn’t taken twenty paces before she was grateful for her men’s boots, already caked nearly to the knee.
“Well, this dress will never be the same.” Del, walking beside her with a shawl over her head, made a face. She’d been trying to hold her skirt out of the mud, but the bottom twelve inches was already slick with muck. “Think Mr. Hayes will postpone the river crossing?”
“He says no. The rain could go on for days and raise the river higher, so we’ll go ahead.” At least the rain was falling lighter now. Lark glanced at the Durhams’ wagon ahead. She hoped Alice wasn’t still running a fever. It could be dangerous for her to get chilled.
The wagons gathered at the edge of the Kansas River and loaded one by one onto the ferries. Despite the rain and rising water, by day’s end they all made it safely across, though one family’s mules spooked midriver and nearly dragged their wagon off the ferry before the husband got them under control. Then Lilac surprised everyone by bringing in a deer from the surrounding woodland, just as the rain cleared and the wagons circled.
Overhead, the moon lit the edges of parting clouds, stars pricking in a clean-washed black sky. Relieved chatter rose through the camp, along with cooking odors and woodsmoke.
“Thanks be to God.” Forsythia shivered and held her hands out to their sparking campfire. “I’ve never been so wet in my life.”
“Get yourself warm.” Lark draped a woolen blanket around her sister’s shoulders, worry blooming. Sythia always came down with things easily. “And no checking on the Durhams tonight. Sleep—and that’s an order.”
“Sythia.”
Forsythia woke from a deep sleep to Lilac shaking her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Sythia, but Mr. Durham says Alice is in labor.”
Oh no. Forsythia sat up from her warm cocoon of blankets and pressed her fingers to her eyes. Please, Lord, no—it’s too soon. Let this be another false alarm.
“He says to hurry. Shall I come too?” Lilac asked.
“Yes, please. You’ve got experience birthing animals.”
Please, God, please. She gathered whatever supplies she could think of. “Del, could you go for the doctor?”
“Lark already did.” Del slipped a shawl around Forsythia’s shoulders and squeezed her arm. “Want me to come too?”
“Maybe—I don’t know. Yes, we’ll need someone for Robbie, at least.”
The sisters made their way through the darkness toward the Durhams’ wagon. The moon had set, and only the stars were bright above, cold and clear. With the camp sleeping, all was silent but for the occasional whimper of a child or distant yip of a coyote.
And a moan from the Durhams’ lamplit wagon. Forsythia’s chest tightened.
“We’re here, Alice.” She climbed up, Del and Lilac staying below for the moment.
Alice lay panting on the makeshift bed with Thomas kneeling beside her, her forehead and throat shiny with sweat. Robbie huddled sniffling in the far corner, obviously just awakened.
Forsythia’s heart sank. This didn’t look like a false alarm.
“When did it start?” She climbed in to join them.
“Maybe an hour ago—I don’t know. She didn’t wake me at first.” Thomas smoothed his wife’s hair with a shaking hand.
“Thought it was . . . just the tightenings again. Didn’t want to think . . .” Alice cried out, gripping Thomas’s arm with a strength Forsythia hadn’t known she had.
They needed to get the little boy out of here. “Robbie, sweetheart, will you come to me? Del is going to take you to our wagon to sleep while we help your mama.”
Without hesitation, he crawled over the rumpled bedding to Forsythia’s arms.
Alice touched his nightshirt sleeve as he passed. “Robbie . . .”
Forsythia scooped him up and turned him around. “Say good night to Mama, Robbie. You’ll see her soon.” Please, Lord, let it be so.
Robbie waved and blew a teary kiss. Forsythia passed him down to Del’s waiting arms.
“Lilac, can you come up here? And, Mr. Durham, perhaps you could get down for a while. There’s just too little room.” And his own panic was too obvious, though she wouldn’t say that.
“I’ll be right outside.” Thomas pressed a kiss to his wife’s clammy forehead, then climbed down to make room for Lilac.
Together the sisters examined Alice as she lay spent from the last contraction. Her pulse was fast, her temperature still elevated. And when Lilac checked below her nightdress, she shook her head at Forsythia.
“She’s definitely progressing. Second baby and coming early . . . I don’t think we have much time.”
“Hello?” Dr. Brownsville’s voice came from behind the wagon.
“Thank heaven.” Forsythia crawled to look out the canvas flap. “Thank you so much for coming, Doctor.”
“How is she?” He climbed into the wagon with them, his kind eyes and black bag lending a certain steadiness to Forsythia’s heart despite their cramped quarters.
“Seems like the baby’s coming—and fast. Is there anything we can do?”
The doctor examined Alice and shook his head much as Lilac had done. “Just do our best to help her through this. And pray. Let me go see if Mr. Durham has any hot water.”
Of course. She should have thought of that first thing.
Waiting for the doctor, Forsythia and Lilac took turns cooling Alice’s forehead with a damp cloth and letting her squeeze their hands through the pains. They were coming harder and faster now, barely letting Alice catch her breath in between.
“Hold on, sweet girl. You’re doing so well.” Forsythia stroked Alice’s damp hand, so weak now even when she gripped as hard as she could.
“Please.” Alice’s voice came as merely a breath, but at the pleading in her eyes, Forsythia leaned close to hear. “If I don’t . . . make it through, take care of my boy, my . . . Robbie.”
“You will make it through, dear one.” Forsythia pressed Alice’s fingers,
