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McNeal Ranch, Near Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory, October 1885
Something’s not right here, Margaret thought sleepily, her mind and body already able to discern that something was off, even through the fog of lethargy that still clouded her mind.
Though she kept her eyes closed, she could at least tell that she was still beneath the bearskin blanket on hers and John’s bed given how warm she felt. However, she didn’t feel as warm as she normally did when she woke up and that was what gave her pause for concern.
She idly wondered if her husband was feeling the same lack of warmth as she was. Reaching her arm back, she encountered nothing but empty sheets. Turning around, she realized that she was alone in the bed for once rather than the other way around.
Now where could that man be? she questioned. It can’t be that late in the day already, can it?
Slightly worried that she had slept in, Maggie cast a glance at the curtains covering the window. Seeing that the sun’s rays of light were coming in horizontally rather than an angle, she breathed a sigh of relief.
It’s still early, she thought as she lay back in the bed, pulling the thick blanket tighter over herself. John couldn’t have left too long ago, but I wonder what could have gotten him up this early to begin with. Couldn’t be something with the ranch because he knows better than to try and keep anything like that from me.
As her mind puzzled over the whereabouts of her husband, her hands, acting of their own volition, once again found their way to her soft belly and slowly began to massage it. All too quickly the memories of what she’d learned the previous night came flooding back to her and with them all of the confused emotions that were whirling within her being.
I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised, she thought with a wry chuckle. John and I haven’t exactly been lacking in our conjugal duties. Still, so soon?
A tremor of worry run through Maggie as she worried over how she could effectively run the ranch that her father had left to her when she’d suddenly have a baby to take care of.
It shouldn’t be too bad, right? She attempted to rationalize, even as her hands pressed against her middle, which she swore felt like it had grown since she’d felt it the night before. I won’t give birth until around May, so I can leave the winter tending of the cattle to John and the boys. And I can probably keep riding until January if I take things easy on Apollo. And as for show riding, I can—
Maggie’s thoughts stopped dead in their tracks and her heart felt like it had turned into a leaden weight in her chest.
My show riding, she thought, implications echoing throughout her mind and feelings of dread creeping in with them. How will I be able to keep up with my show riding with a little one to take care of?
The short answer she was already dreading having to admit would be that she would have to choose one or the other and that riding her horse for the joy and applause of the crowds had no chance of beating out a new life.
Maggie McNeal was never one to back down from a challenge, and she knew that she would tackle being a mother with the same bravado and grit that she’d handled everything in her life.
The difference is, she reflected, was that all those other times I could control the variables around me and come out on top. This...this is a whole different herd of cattle.
Thinking about the future that was certain to come, and the child inside her, spun Maggie in a spiral of anxieties and worries. Even as she managed to answer one set of problems, three more arose to take their place. Before long, it felt as though the room itself was spinning, and that proved far too much for her. Moving faster than she’d thought possible, she swiftly maneuvered to the side of the bed, thrust her arms down beneath it, and latched onto the chamber pot stored underneath just as she felt her stomach heave what contents were left in it up and past her lips.
Thankfully, it wasn’t much and it hadn’t lasted long, but the vomiting left Maggie feeling drained. She returned the barely filled ceramic pot to the floor, not even bothering to move it back under the bed (especially if she needed it again), and allowed herself to fall onto her back again, her brunette curls strewn messily across the pillow.
Further proof that the Good Lord is a man, she thought ruefully as her hands returned to their protective position atop her stomach, trying to quell her digestive system and soothe the life inside. I’ve known a few vindictive gals in my time, but I can’t imagine any of them would wish this kinda torture on another woman.
Knowing that the vomiting and other ailments were assuredly going to continue only made her feel worse. Luckily, her stomach apparently had nothing left to give, but the feeling of nausea persisted.
Maggie sighed, having no choice but to accept her circumstances for the time being. There was nothing she could do it about it, so much like a bucking bronco, she’d just have to ride it out.
Still, I guess it’s not that bad, she mused, a glimmer of optimism sparking to life in her mind. After all, I don’t think I could have asked for a better man to give me children than John Baldwin.
The thought that her child would be a product of her and John’s love continued to bring light into the angst riddled corners of her mind. Her hands began circling her belly in gentle motions as she thought about it. Possibilities that she had overlooked before started to spring forth in her mind like precious gems that had been hidden under ordinary stones.
Leyla and I were already ready to ride by the time we both could walk, she recalled, remembering back to her childhood when she and her younger sister would listen to their father tell stories of horses and riding as well as demonstrating his abilities. A child born of John and me would be a natural rider.
Visions of a pretty little blond-haired girl or a brown-haired boy, or vice versa, expertly riding atop a horse began flickering through Maggie’s mind in rapid succession. With each passing possibility of what their child would be capable of, Maggie could feel her heart swelling with love and hope.
A show rider without equal, she thought dreamily. The best rancher in the whole west, maybe even the whole country!
A sudden rumbling pulled Maggie from her dreams and brought her firmly back to the present reality of the fact that her stomach was empty. Her body and her child were demanding that she feed them both.
At any other time in her life, Maggie might have felt annoyed at her body for acting in such a way. But now, knowing that she was responsible for the life growing inside of her, she giggled at the bodily reaction.
Not even born yet and already so needy, she thought happily, giving her stomach another loving rub. We’ll have to do a lot of work to teach you how to make it out here on the plains, little one. And I’ll be there to help you every step of the way.
Feeling slightly relieved about her impending motherhood, Maggie reluctantly slid from under the covers and proceeded to put on one of her thicker wool nightgowns before leaving the bedroom and making her way downstairs, where she prayed that her mother had something, anything, ready for breakfast.
***
ABIGAIL MCNEAL HAD just prepared a plate of ham and eggs when her older daughter appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, her hair wild and her eyes still showing traces of sleep. The elder redhead smiled as she placed the plate down on the table, at which Maggie swiftly sat down and began digging into the meal.
Healthy appetite, Abigail thought amusedly, watching as her daughter tore into the food like a wolf. That’s good. She’ll keep that child well fed and strong with each passing day.
“Good morning to you, Maggie,” she greeted cheerfully, her happiness still strong in the wake of the joyous news.
“Mwornwing Mwamwa,” Maggie said through a mouthful of egg, her hunger seeming to have the edge over the manners that Abigail knew full well she had instilled in both of her daughters. Still, Abigail let the slight breach of common etiquette slide as she also knew all too well just how hungry a pregnant woman could be.
As Maggie continued to eat, Abigail set about cooking more. She knew that John would be back before long and would likely be just as hungry from having to ride all the way to Cheyenne and back so early in the morning.
However, as soon as Abigail had finished the next skillet full of ham and eggs, her daughter was immediately up and standing next to her with an empty plate and an expectant look on her beautiful face.
The normally unflappable Abigail was caught off guard by the action, years of expecting her daughter to eschew seconds at breakfast working against her. But she simply smiled and transferred the contents of the skillet to her daughter’s plate without a fuss.
Maggie nodded her thanks to her mother and returned to her seat at the kitchen table. This time, however, she ate at a slower pace than before.
Abigail couldn’t help but continue smiling, memories of when she had been pregnant with Maggie and Leyla running through her mind.
“Mama?” Maggie spoke, this time with an empty mouth. “Do you know where John is this morning? It’s rare that he’s out of bed before I am, and I couldn’t think of any reason he’d be up so early other than something on the ranch needing his attention.”
The older woman turned her head to regard her daughter as her hands continued tending to the contents of the skillet atop the stove. “Oh, I’m sorry about that, Maggie,” Abigail said apologetically, “but I sent John off to Cheyenne so he could send a telegram off to Leyla and let her know that she’s going to be an aunt. He should be back before much longer.”
“That’s right...Leyla,” Maggie voiced in a dazed tone, as though the fact that she had a sister was just dawning on her. “She and Chase are right around California now, right?”
“That’s what their last telegram said,” Abigail replied with a smile. “And that’s farther west than anyone in our family has traveled so far. Though Lord knows that your father had dreams of moving further to California as well.”
“Papa wanted to go to California?” Maggie queried, a puzzled look etching itself across her face. “Why’d he want to do that?”
“You know your father, Maggie,” Abigail chuckled as she recalled her husband. “He figured that raising cattle and horses in California would have been perfect. That is, until I told him that all the good land out that way was already taken and the only spots left were along or in the mountains and that cattle aren’t much for those hills.”
“How’d you know all that?” Maggie asked, her eyes full of uncharacteristic wonder at having never been told this before.
Abigail smiled knowingly at her daughter. “Because, my little Maggie, while your father was usually reading fantastic tales to you and Leyla, I was the one reading the newspaper and keeping up with all the comings and goings of the land here and further west. The ranch may have been your father’s, but we ran it together.”
The pride with which Abigail spoke the final part of the story seemed to resonate with Maggie, a contemplative look settling on her face as she continued to eat.
A comfortable silence settled on the kitchen afterward, Abigail continuing to cook breakfast for the rest of the homestead while Maggie ate her fill of the simple but delicious food. It was only when Abigail attempted to offer her daughter a cup of coffee that the silence was broken. Maggie held up her hand as her face went pale with the onset of nausea.
Abigail quickly pulled the steaming cup of coffee away from Maggie and looked at it in mild confusion for a moment before a memory of her own past rose up, giving her a nostalgic chuckle.
“I see you’re just like me, then,” Abigail grinned, setting the cup off to the side. “Back when I was carrying you and Leyla I could hardly stand the sight of coffee for the first few months, let alone the smell.”
The two women chuckled at their newfound connection, sharing a small but tender moment between mother and daughter that so many often missed.
Abigail was just beginning to tell her daughter a story about her own experiences during her first pregnancy when the door to the kitchen swung open to admit none other than John Baldwin. Despite the earliness of the day, the Kentucky-born ranch boss wore a grin that threatened to outshine the sun outside.
“Good morning ladies,” he sang, making a beeline for his wife and placing a loving kiss on her lips and a protective hand on her stomach. “The news has been relayed in Miss Leyla’s direction, and she’ll hopefully receive it before long.”
“Thank you again, John,” Abigail said gratefully. “I’ll have a plate ready for you in just another moment so—”
“Hold just a moment there, Abigail,” John said excitedly. “I’ve got more good news for you both.”
Both women eyed the cowboy curiously, both of them unused to seeing him in such a perpetual state of joy, like a child waiting anxiously for Christmas morning.
John reached into one of the interior pockets of his duster and pulled out a piece of pale yellow paper—the telegram he’d received earlier. “Just before I left the telegraph office, Silas said he had a message for me. Looks like a few members of my Native family are finally making their way west as well and they’ll be passing through Cheyenne sometime in the winter!”
Maggie and Abigail were gob smacked at the news John had just told them. They both knew that John, unlike many other men of the day, was more than comfortable with the Natives and, as he had said, he considered them family. Now, in the wake of the news that he was set to have even more new family, it seemed that his old family was set to appear as well.
If there’s any man who deserves it, it’s John Baldwin, Abigail thought delightedly.
She was preparing to ask a few more questions when a sniffle interrupted her.
***
THE SNIFFLE CAUGHT the occupants of the kitchen off guard, especially the one who had uttered it. Maggie now found herself under the concerned stares of her mother and her husband as she felt tears begin to stream down her face and a few sobs choke up her throat.
Why...why am I crying? she questioned, trying to make sense of the sudden rush of emotion inside her. But the more she tried to figure it out, the more it seemed to pile on and the more her tears and sobs came unbidden.
Perhaps most confusing of all was the fact that it wasn’t sadness driving her tears but happiness.
I’m making a damn fool of myself! she cried out in her mind, trying to will her emotions to stop, but they ignored her like a wild mustang fresh from the plains. I must...stop...oh Blazes...
The internal maelstrom of emotions coursing through her was being brought to heel as John stepped forward and wrapped his wife in his arms, her face buried against his firm chest and her tears soaking his shirt. His hands gently caressed her long hair as he tried to soothe her.
For a few moments, the only sound in the kitchen was that of Maggie crying her happiness out. Happiness at what she’d accomplished, happiness at the knowledge that she was pregnant, and happiness that John was going to be reunited with the people who’d meant so much to him while he was growing up. All of it had become more than Maggie was able to take, and her emotions had finally gotten the better of her.
“What’s all this about then?” said a voice, jolting everyone from the somber moment.
All eyes in the room turned to see Fergus standing in the doorway to the kitchen, one side of his bushy white chops flattened against his face—evidence of sleeping on his side all night—and one of the braces of his trousers hung at his hip, but he was still reasonably presentable.
Fergus yawned and affected a look of amused annoyance, one hand reaching up to scratch at his chops in an attempt to rouse them back to normal. “I was having a lovely dream about a buxom young lass I knew back in Galway when I find myself awoken to the sound of me blessed goddaughter in tears. Has this pillock you call a husband said something to offend you? If he has, I’ll take him outside right now.”
Like a lever being thrown, something about her godfather’s disheveled appearance and his playful attempt at humor triggered laughter inside of Maggie, a laughter that she was no more able to control than the tears that had been flowing from her eyes a moment before. It started as a giggle but it quickly evolved into full guffaws as she laughed herself silly.
Before long, John, Abigail, and Fergus joined in on the laughter, the three of them knowing that a good laugh could often relieve even the tensest of situations.
When the laughter finally subsided and Fergus was filled in on the details, the Irishman gave the young man he’d befriended so many months before a hearty slap on the back.
“Good on ya, Johnny boy,” he crowed cheerfully. “Better your family coming this way than mine, says I.”
Another round of laughter sprung up from the joke, but it could be said that humor was what was needed the most at that moment.
Although, Maggie pondered quietly, I’m itching to get back in the saddle today. I aim to keep riding as long as I can before this little bundle inside me makes it impossible.
***
SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA, October 1885
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE GRAND CITY OF SAN FRANCISCO, I THANK YOU ONE AND ALL FOR YOUR PRAISE THIS EVENING! IT IS WITH A HEAVY HEART THAT I MUST SAY THAT OUR TIME TOGETHER DRAWS TO A CLOSE.”
A collective groan rose from the audience gathered beneath the massive tent under which the Professor Monro Wild West Show performed. It was the final night of the show’s run in the far western city, and all hoped that it wouldn’t end.
Professor Monro, however, had no intention of leaving his audience wanting for anything.
“NOW, NOW,” he projected, a curious grin beneath his waxed mustache. “ALL GOOD THINGS MUST COME TO AN END, BUT I WILL LEAVE ALL OF YOU WITH A FINAL PERFORMANCE FROM OUR TWO STAR RIDERS, CHASE MCALLISTER AND LEYLA MCNEAL!”
The crowd erupted into thunderous applause as Chase and Leyla entered the tent once more atop their horses, charging at full speed around the center as though they were racing one another. Without so much as another word from Professor Monro, the two launched into a routine that they’d been practicing ever since they’d left Laramie two months prior.
For the first part of the act, the two ensured that Whirlwind and Cannonball were matched in speed. Then, with a practiced ease that made it look like child’s play, the two maneuvered their bodies so that they were riding sidesaddle, the both of them positioned on the interior sides of their horses so that they were facing one another.
Chase, giving the young redhead a rakish smile, reached out with his free hand to grasp Leyla’s before bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to it, all while their horses galloped around the perimeter. Leyla affected a brief look of shock before pulling her hand away and giving Chase what looked to the crowd to be a full slap across the face.
The audience roared in laughter at the comedic display before the two of them joined hands once again. Further along the curve, a pair of clowns quickly set up a fence obstacle before they tumbled merrily away.
Chase and Leyla maintained their sidesaddle standing with their hands locked together as their horses leapt in unison over the obstacle and landed safely on the other side. The two riders’ hands were still held together and the audience wildly cheered its approval.
But soon Chase pulled his hand from Leyla’s and remounted his saddle and spurred Cannonball ahead of the redheaded rider and her white colt, attempting to leave her in his dust.
Leyla simply narrowed her eyes and retrieved a lasso strung at her hip. However, instead of attempting to lasso the rider who had just spurned her straight away, she hooked her left foot tightly into the stirrup before she allowed her body to drape back perpendicularly across Whirlwind’s body. Her left foot and the stirrup that held it were all that kept her from falling out of the saddle and risking a trampling from her own horse.
Once she was positioned correctly, Leyla began twirling the lasso in a practiced manner that would have made even the most veteran ranch hand envious. Her narrowed eyes remained fixed on Chase’s form for a moment longer before she released the lasso and sent it flying through the air.
The lasso soared straight and true, encircling Chase’s body and restricting the movements of his arms. All around them, the audience cheered, laughed, and pleaded for more.
Alas, it was not to be, as Chase brought Cannonball to a stop and Leyla sidled up alongside them atop Whirlwind, the two riders bowing at the hip in their saddles to thunderous applause.
The final act had been performed and the western show’s run in San Francisco had come to an end.
***
AS THE CAST AND CREW of the traveling show waited for the audience to filter out from beneath their tent, Leyla couldn’t help but pull Chase away to give him a passionate kiss following their act.
The two of them laughed once again and made their way over to where the other show riders were gathering in order to help facilitate the disassembly and packing away of all of the show’s components.
Throughout the night, the performers and laborers worked in tandem to see that the tent and all of the effects that belonged to the show were safely packed away in the train that was their home. Riders and horses alike moved as one in order to ensure that nothing was left behind.
The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon when the draft horses were loaded into the stock car and the door was latched shut, signifying the true finish to their performance in San Francisco. A ragged cheer rose up from the gathered performers and laborers as they realized that they could finally rest.
However, before everyone could board the train, Professor Monro stepped atop one of the exterior platforms on a car in order to address them all.
“Another marvelous performance, my fine equine thespians and harlequins,” he congratulated, his eyes showing his exhaustion and delight. “It is my pleasure to announce to you all that you’ve all earned a break from this traveling life we know.”
A murmur of confusion rose up from those gathered on the ground. Leyla fixed Chase with a worried look only to see her expression mirrored on his own.
“Allow me to elucidate, my fine fellows and ladies,” the professor continued. “Many of you will recall the difficulty with which we had operating during last winter. As such, I’ve struck a small bargain with Misters Barnum and Bailey to make use of their winter quarters down in Florida. We shall have our animals and equipment well cared for while we enjoy the sunshine and warmth of the south until the spring arrives.”
The idea of being able to rest in a warm place rather than travel in the cold and snow generated a hum of agreement throughout the gathered performers and workers, many of them yearning for such a respite from their traveling lifestyle.
The professor continued his explanation. “However, I do know that some of you would like to make use of this time in order to visit friends and loved ones. I’m certainly in favor of such a course, but all this humble showman asks is that you cable the rest of us in the spring to let us know if you’ll be rejoining us.”
Leyla looked at Chase with a hopeful gleam in her eyes at the possibility of being able to return to Cheyenne and her family.
Before Leyla could give voice to her hopes, the professor spoke out one last time. “On a final note, as always, Giuseppe was kind enough to collect the various correspondences for all of you so that you may know of all that awaits you back home. Now then, let’s see what we have here...”
The promise of telegrams from home gave everyone gathered a much needed boost of energy as the professor called out the names of those lucky enough to receive something. Chase and Leyla were preparing to retire to the show riders’ car when the professor barked out Leyla’s name.
Leyla spun on her heels, surprised that her mother or sister had sent anything out to her when she was as far away as she was. For a moment, she feared the worst until she took the telegram in hand and let her eyes examine the contents.
“Leyla?” Chase queried, his eyes and voice full of concern. “What is it? Is something wrong at the ranch?”
Leyla’s hands started to tremble and her eyes began brimming with tears. However, when she looked up into the face of the man she loved, her smile was wider than any he’d seen before.
“Maggie’s gonna be a mama,” she choked, trying to keep her sobs restrained.
Chase’s eyes quickly mimicked dinner plates in wonder as the words of what his lover had said settled into his mind. Instead of saying anything, though, he simply stepped forward and wrapped Leyla in his arms as she cried tears of joy.
“Well then,” he whispered soothingly, “I reckon that settles matters then. Looks like you and I are heading back to Cheyenne.”
Leyla’s head snapped up to look at Chase, her eyes twinkling hopefully in the early morning light. “Chase,” she breathed, “you don’t have to come with me. You should go with the show down to Florida and relax and—”
Chase interrupted her by pressing a finger delicately to her lips. “Who needs the sun in Florida when I’ve got you to keep me warm through the winter?” he asked in his eternally charming manner. “Besides, your sister and John are likely gonna need another experienced rider or two through the winter while Maggie’s laid up.”
Leyla sighed at the show rider’s logic, amazed that he was ready to follow her into the cold and snowy winters of the Wyoming Territory to help her family.
“How will we get there?” she asked, the realization dawning on her that riding their horses all the way back was not only slow but dangerous, and that shipping them along on another train might be expensive.
As if reading her thoughts, Chase bent down and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “I’m sure the professor won’t mind letting us and our mounts off when the train passes through Cheyenne,” he assured.
With her worries on the matter effectively answered, Leyla decided to simply enjoy the moment and pressed herself closer against Chase’s body. Though the show was over for a few months, the two already had another adventure ahead of them.
