8

Copper felt guilty as she rode Chessie across the forest floor. The little girls had pitched a fit when she left, and it was wash day. But instead of scrubbing grass stains from the knees of Jack’s trousers or starching the girls’ Sunday dresses, she was off on a lark. Well, maybe not a lark, but she was out of the house. When she left, Manda was separating whites from darks while Remy was building a fire under the washtub. Lilly was charged with keeping her brother and sisters out from underfoot, a task she was very good at. It made Copper wonder if Lilly might be a schoolteacher one day.

Chessie paused at the edge of a pond. She was a cautious mare and wouldn’t venture into the water unless Copper strongly urged her to. Copper dismounted. The still water reflected the blue sky and a few white buttermilk clouds. It was wide, but it didn’t seem deep. Water could fool the eye, however. They could go around, but stands of silver tulip tree saplings banked the pool, and besides, Chessie needed to learn to deal with the fear of losing her footing.

It hadn’t happened yet, but there was sure to come a day when both horse and rider would need to cross a swollen body of water to get to a patient up some holler or another. This area was notorious for violent flooding, especially in the spring and in the winter when snowmelt turned quietly meandering creeks into lethal rivers. Copper should know—many years ago her own mother had drowned in one such flood.

She picked up a good-size rock and lobbed it to the center of the pool. It hit bottom with a plunk and a smallish splash. A frog with legs like bouncing springs jumped from the water’s edge, startling both her and Chessie. Crouching down, Copper watched skimmer bugs skate across the surface of the water. It was amazing how creation worked. This newly formed pool was already a home for some of God’s most fascinating creatures.

Copper stood and took a crudely drawn map from her pocket and studied it. If she kept following Goose Creek for about two miles, veered left at the big rock, then right at the bent sycamore, she’d wind up at the Mortons’. At least that was what Mr. Morton’s X marks the spot indicated. Maybe she should pray there was only one big rock on this trail. She hefted herself into the saddle, then urged Chessie on.

Mr. Morton had called John aside in the churchyard yesterday to ask his permission for Copper to call on his wife. Mr. Morton didn’t attend their church, but he knew where to find John on a Sunday morning. Copper was a little aggravated that he hadn’t asked for her directly. John didn’t tell her what she could or couldn’t do. The man was respectful, though, tipping his hat when John introduced them and answering her questions thoughtfully.

Evidently, Mrs. Morton had lost three babies in the past. Mr. Morton told Copper he had heard from kin about the lady who caught babies on Troublesome Creek and so had come in search of her. It was a smart move on his part and unusual. Most folks still waited until labor was well under way to seek help.

Copper prided herself on making some inroads into that old-fashioned way of doing things. Generally it was another woman who told her of a sister or a daughter or a friend who was newly in the family way. Copper would take the information and start preconfinement visits. People were learning they could trust her, except for the Stills. She could stand in the middle of the week and see both ways to Sunday on that one.

The Stills had a right to be upset. The law, under the direction of a traveling nurse with the state board of health located in Bowling Green, had forced Adie Still to leave her family, after all. But as Copper saw it, the Stills’ anger was futile and misdirected. It was not her fault, nor the law’s, that Adie had an active, contagious disease. It was nobody’s fault that the traveling nurse, backed up by the sheriff, did not believe Adie could be properly quarantined from her family unless she left that family. Adie’s husband, Isa, had a reputation and it was not a good one. The only neighbor he had not feuded with over property lines or straying livestock was John.

Naively, Copper had thought she could help the whole family by providing a safe place for Adie until the baby was born. She had imagined herself taking care of Adie and her household until Adie had her baby and regained her strength. So she volunteered the little house and her services, but the Stills were not appreciative. Clannish people, Copper mused. Though they had lived on Troublesome Creek as long as she could remember, she had rarely seen them.

One day in late April when she was shopping at the dry goods store in town, she’d spotted Adie through the store’s plate-glass window. Her husband walked ahead of her, a long-handled pistol in a holster on his hip, a row of silver-tipped bullets on the belt. The oldest boy walked shoulder to shoulder with his father. The barrel of the boy’s shotgun pointed toward the ground. Adie, with a sack of sugar on her shoulder and a five-pound bucket of lard in her hand, struggled to keep up. A string of stairstep children followed her like ducks. Adie was obviously expectant. She was carrying the baby high, and it stuck out round as a pumpkin on her thin frame. To Copper’s practiced eye, the woman looked ill. Of course she had to visit the Still house—and she didn’t wait for an invitation.

John had warned her not to get involved with their reclusive neighbors. “The only way to get along with a Still is to stay away from a Still.”

“How could I not offer my help to Adie?” Copper had demanded of him.

“No good will come of it,” he had responded angrily.

Maybe John was right, but she truly had no choice. Midwifery was her ministry, and she could not pick and choose to whom she would minister. She had discovered her calling while living in Lexington with her first husband. Life in the city was stifling to Copper. Playing the socialite wife of an up-and-coming doctor bored her to tears. She had a beautiful home with servants at her beck and call, lovely gowns, and too many fancy hats and pairs of gloves to count, but she was terribly unhappy. In the midst of such plenty she yearned for more.

Her unhappiness had spilled over into her relationship with Simon. She wanted him to bring her back to the mountains. It seemed to her she’d left herself behind when they married. She’d become like a shell lying useless on the beach—pretty on the outside but empty within.

Thankfully, her husband had seen to the root of her problem and began to involve her in his medical practice. Looking back, Copper could see the finger of God directing her paths. What seemed such a hardship at the time was ultimately what enabled her to minister to the women of Troublesome Creek and beyond. Women like Adie Still. God was so good.

Copper’s mind had wandered so that Chessie had to nicker to bring her back. Goodness, they’d almost passed the big rock. The boulder loomed over the trail, casting horse and rider into heavy shadow. She reached out and patted its cool gray surface as she rode by. Alert now, she watched for the next point of interest and guided Chessie to the right just past the bent sycamore.

She soon arrived at the Mortons’ simple abode. A drift of smoke from the cabin’s chimney told her there was life inside. “Hello,” she called out. “Is anyone to home?”

Two women—one young, one middle-aged—looked out around the doorframe.

Copper waved. “Hey, Mrs. Morton. I’m Copper Pelfrey.”

She could see her welcome on their faces even before they stepped out onto the porch and invited her in. Two peas in a pod, Copper thought, eyeing the women’s short statures and ample figures. The ladies had to be mother and daughter.

“Come in. Come in,” the younger woman said. “I’m Emerald and this is my mother, Ruby. We’re ever so glad to see you.”

“I’m glad to be here. I met Mr. Morton on Sunday, and he asked me to come.”

Ruby pulled out a chair and indicated for Copper to have a seat at the kitchen table. “You two sit whilst I check my cake.”

“Smells wonderful,” Copper said.

Ruby cracked the oven door and looked in. “It’s a pork cake—my specialty.” She laid the oven door down and pulled a pan onto its surface, prodding the center of the batter with a long splinter. “Five more minutes—give or take.” The cake went back in the oven, and she closed the door.

“I’ve never had pork cake,” Copper said. “What’s in it?”

Ruby wrapped a dishrag around the handle of a coffeepot and poured coffee into waiting mugs. “The main ingredient is a goodly slab of fat salt pork, about a pound. Now you got to chop it real fine and soak it in strong, boiling hot coffee before you add your soda, brown sugar, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg . . . What am I forgetting, Emerald? They’s something else.”

“The raisins, Mommy. You forgot to say raisins.”

“Oh, my aching back,” Ruby said. “My head won’t hold on to nothing anymore. It’s like a sieve.” She offered Copper a cream pitcher. “Four cups of stoned raisins or currants. Then you got to dredge the fruit in a little flour, you understand. Dredge them or they’ll settle to the bottom.”

Copper sipped her cream- and sugar-laced drink. She hadn’t liked coffee until she started delivering babies at all hours of the night. Now she appreciated the jolt of energy a cup gave her.

Ruby bustled about, refilling the cups, hustling to the pantry for more sugar, skimming thick yellow cream from a jug of milk.

Maybe Emerald looked like a younger version of her mother, but their temperaments did not seem to match. She didn’t lift a finger to help her mother.

“I feel a draft,” Emerald said.

Ruby darted out of the room and came back with a knit shawl, which she draped around her daughter’s shoulders. “Here,” she said, pulling up a low stool, “rest your feet.” Back at the stove, Ruby removed the cake from the oven, set the pan on a shelf, and lifted the coffeepot.

Copper laid her hand across her cup. “Thank you, but no more for me.”

“Would you druther have tea? Or I could fetch a bucket of fresh water. Why don’t I do that?” Ruby took a granite bucket from the top of the food safe. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’m sorry to put your mother to so much trouble,” Copper said.

“Oh, she don’t mind. Mommy’s bound and determined this baby’s going to draw air,” Emerald said, patting her belly. “Between her and my husband, they won’t let me do a thing. I don’t know if that’s good or not. I ain’t sure what the right thing to do is.”

“Maybe I can help,” Copper said, “if you want me to.”

Tears spurted from Emerald’s lustrous green eyes. It was easy to see where she’d gotten her name. “I’d surely appreciate it. I don’t know if I can stand to go through another disappointment. I just about lost my mind after burying the third one.”

Copper murmured understanding.

Emerald looked up shyly from downcast eyes. Her eyelashes were thick and long. “Sometimes I think it would be better if we put all that to rest. But you know how it is—I don’t want to lose my man, either.”

Copper understood. It was a point of contention in many a marriage. “Tell me about your other confinements and about your labors.”

Through tears Emerald shared her history. She was twenty-one and had delivered three stillborn babes in three years. With Copper’s prodding, she was able to relay some specifics: the babies, two girls and a boy, were all full-term with good weights, and there were no outward signs of disease or disability. The only unusual aspect of her deliveries was that her babies were in such a hurry to be born that their feet came first.

Ah, Copper thought, footling breech. That explains it. “Did you have an attendant?”

“With the last one I did,” Emerald said.

“Did she try to turn the baby in the womb? make it come out headfirst?”

“I was too busy to rightly take notice.”

“Have you figured your due date?” Copper asked.

“Would you mind to get the calendar?” Emerald pointed to the wall by the door, where a calendar hung from a nail. “I’ve kept track of my monthlies there.”

Copper fetched it.

Emerald turned the pages back. “Looks like I was last ill on January 10.”

“So if we count back three months from January 10 . . .” Copper took a small notebook and a pencil from her doctor’s kit and made a notation. “We get October 10. Add seven days and looks like your date of confinement is October 17. What a nice month to have a baby.”

Ruby hustled into the house with a full bucket of water and set it on the table. “Whew,” she said, wiping her forehead with the back of one hand, “I’m out of breath. The least thing wears me out anymore.”

Emerald started to rise, but her mother laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Mommy, I wish you’d let me help.”

“You’ll have plenty to do once you get me a grandbaby.” From behind her daughter’s chair, Ruby kneaded Emerald’s shoulders. “You ain’t losing this one if I have any say in the matter.”

Emerald reached up and clasped her mother’s hands. The simple displays of affection between mother and daughter nearly brought Copper to tears.

Ruby poured goblets of cold water and sliced the still-warm cake. A sudden breeze blew the scent of rain in through the open kitchen door. “Oh, my aching back. I’d best get the laundry off the line.”

“Poor Mommy,” Emerald said as she and Copper watched Ruby scurry outside, the woven laundry basket against her hip. “I don’t know how she keeps a-going like she does.”

Copper tasted the cake. It was not to her liking. “It might be best if I put you on my list of rounds. What do you think?”

“Oh, would you? Everybody says you’re the best.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Copper replied, mashing a bit of cake with her fork. “Would you be willing to stay at my house when your time draws near?”

“I’ll do anything. You can hang me upside down by my toes if need be,” Emerald said, her eyes sparkling. “You give me hope.”

Copper waited until the light rain dissipated before she started home. She used the time to explain to both women what she thought might have been the cause of Emerald’s losses. Emerald seemed relieved, as if just knowing what happened lessened her fear. Copper also left a simple laxative for Emerald comprised of senna, cream of tartar, sulfur, and ginger for easing her piles and to keep her from straining, possibly bringing on an early labor.

Ruby protested when Copper said Emerald should return to light housekeeping, but Copper prevailed. It was a rare illness that justified inactivity. “Just don’t do any chores that require you to reach overhead, like hanging clothes on the line,” she told Emerald. “You don’t want to cause the cord to wrap around the baby’s neck.”

Copper was at ease as she rode Chessie home. She had delivered breech babies before and was confident she could help Emerald. Chessie didn’t even pause when they came to the pool of standing water. Copper figured the mare was anxious to get home, where she would get an extra rasher of sweet timothy hay. She reined in Chessie only once when an unfamiliar dog waddled across their path. It looked like she’d be dropping a litter soon. Copper wondered who she belonged to.

Copper unfolded her handkerchief and let the piece of pork cake she had secreted there fall to the ground. The dog scarfed it up and wagged her tail for more.

Copper pointed back up the trail. “There’s a whole cake back there. You’re welcome to it.”

The dog cocked her head as if trying to understand. Something in the animal’s manner reminded Copper of her old hound Paw-paw. My, she missed that dog. Maybe they should think of getting the children a pet. Lilly had waged a campaign to get one for months. She’d talk to John about it.

The beagle followed Chessie for a short time, then trotted away in response to a sudden piercing whistle.

Good, Copper thought. The dog wasn’t lost and following her home. She wouldn’t mind the children having one pet, but they didn’t need a brood of pups.